Texas Iron Page 21
“Why not?”
“Well, there are several directions the marshal could come from. Burkett would have to use too many men to cover them, and he’s gonna want to use those men on us.
No, I think he’s gonna try and take us before the marshal gets here.”
“Tonight?”
“Not tonight,” Sam said. “He’s got to get his information first. Sometime tomorrow, he and his men will come.”
“And we be ready?”
“As ready as we can be.”
The man Chuck Conners sent into town for Burkett was Jackie Doaks. Doaks rode in and headed straight for the saloon. It was there that he heard the story about Sam McCall, Coffin, and John Burkett.
He circulated around town and gradually put together the setup. It was almost eleven P.M. when he mounted his horse and rode back to the ranch. He had watched theMcCall brothers carry supplies into the jail, and it was clear that they intended to spend some time in there.
Maybe a long time.
When Doaks gave Conners the story, Conners took it in to Burkett.
“They’re not stupid,” Burkett said. “They know we’ll be coming for them, and they’ve decided to barricade themselves in the jail.”
“How do we get them out?”
“Oh, there are any number of ways,” Burkett said. “I’d like to try and get them out alive first. I want to put my hands on Sam McCall.”
“And if that doesn’t work?”
“Then they’ll die in there.”
“What about Coffin?”
“Coffin didn’t do the job,” Burkett said. “As far as I’m concerned, he’s dead already.”
Conners stood still and quiet and waited for his instructions.
“All right,” Burkett said. “I want all the men to have a good breakfast in the morning before we go to town. Tell Cook to make it a big spread.”
“Yessir.”
“Some of them won’t be coming back.”
Jubal took the first watch. He started out by playing solitaire, then walking to the window and looking out every so often. Once or twice he went in the back and looked at Coffin while he slept. He was tempted to put a bullet in the man, but he knew that he and Sam had to stay together on this.
He went back into the office and sat behind the desk. He started thinking about Evan, about how little they knew each other. How could three brothers grow so farapart, he wondered? How could they let that happen—and worse, leave their parents behind to die?
When this was over he was going to have to see what Sam wanted to do. If he wanted to split up—well, he’d abide by his wishes but maybe, just maybe, he’d want to stay together. Maybe they’d stay, or they could leave and ride together.
And what about Serena? There were times when Jubal thought she was in love with Evan and times when he thought she loved Sam. What was going to happen there?
How did Sam feel about her?
These were all questions that could be answered only after this was all over—if they were all around to ask and answer them.
Sam took over at 4 A.M. He went through many of the same motions Jubal had before him. Coffee, solitaire, the window; he even spent a few minutes looking at Coffin, thinking the same thoughts.
Finally he settled behind the desk, his feet propped up.
His gun was holstered and his rifle across his lap.
He thought about Evan, as Jubal had. He wondered if he and Jubal were thinking the same things. They probably were. After all, they were brothers, weren’t they? Sure, they and Evan, three brothers who hadn’t seen each other—
Sam stopped and dropped his feet to the floor. He was sure that Jubal had already gone through this. There was no point in his mulling it over again.
He walked around the room a few times, then set up the checkerboard and started playing a game against himself. When he got tired of that he finally got around to thinking about Serena.
She was a fine girl who would make some man a finewife. Maybe she would have made Evan a fine wife. As far as Sam went, there wasn’t room in his life for a wife, fine or otherwise…but if there were…
He watched the boarded-up windows, waiting for the first hint of daylight. Burkett and his men might come with the light, or they might wait until later.
Sam wondered how long they’d be able to hold out against Burkett’s superior numbers. With all the supplies they had inside, Burkett could still outwait them. He wouldn’t have the time to do that, though, so he’d have to find a way to force them out.
Fire came to Sam’s mind first, and then explosives.
He wondered how long it would take Burkett to think of one or both of them.
“What’s for breakfast?” Jubal asked, sitting up and rubbing his hands over his face.
“What else?” Sam asked. He was standing at the potbellied stove. He turned and grinned at his brother.
“Beans. Want ’em hot?”
“Ah, warm’s okay.”
While Sam dished out the beans Jubal poured water into a bowl and washed his face. When he was done he accepted the cup of beans from Sam.
“Coffin still asleep?”
“I guess,” Sam said. “I’ll give him some beans if there’s any left.”
Sam walked over to where Jubal was sitting on his cot and handed him a cup of coffee.
“I found extra cups last night.”
“Good, we can eat and drink at the same time. We’re living in style.”
“Yeah,” Sam said, settling himself behind the desk.
“Tell me, Sam,” Jubal said, “what were you thinkin’ about last night, while I was asleep?”
“Oh, probably the same things you were thinkin’ about.
Mostly about Evan.”
“Yeah, Evan,” Jubal said, shaking his head. “I was thinkin’ about you, too…I mean, about us.”
“Yeah?”
“Where you gonna go after this, Sam?”
“I don’t know,” Sam said. “I don’t usually know where I’m headin’ next.”
“What about your future? Don’t you have any goals?”
“Goals,” Sam repeated. “Now there’s a word I haven’t thought about in a long time. No, Jube, I’m afraid I’m plumb outta goals at my age. I guess it’d be nice if I was just left alone for the next twenty years, if I didn’t have anybody tryin’ to kill me, or if I didn’t have to kill anyone else. I guess those’re my goals.”
“They’re not bad goals.”
“What about you? What’re your goals?”
“I don’t rightly know.”
“You’re only twenty-four, Jube,” Sam said. “You’ve gotta have goals.”
“What was your goal when you were twenty-four?”
“I don’t know…probably something stupid like wanting to be the fastest gun in the West.”
“You accomplished that.”
“Maybe I did,” Sam said, “but when I got there it didn’t mean anythin’ to me any more. I hope you’re smarter at twenty-four than I was.”
“Well, I think I’m smarter than I was before I went up on that hangman’s scaffold.”
“I hope so.”
“Did you think about Serena last night?”
Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat and said, “Some.”
“She’s a nice woman, huh?”
“Real nice.”
“Make a fine wife, huh?”
“You gonna ask her?”
“Hey, no, not me! I thought maybe you.”
“Not me, Jube,” Sam said. “There’s no room in my life for a woman. You’re young, though. Why wouldn’t you ask her?”
“She’s older than me.”
“So?”
“How’d we get on this subject?”
Sam smiled at his brother’s discomfort and said, “You brought it up.”
Jubal put his spoon in his cup and laid it on the floor with a clatter.
“She wouldn’t have me.”
“Why not?”
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sp; “Ah, she’d probably be comparing me to you and Evan all the time.”
“I don’t think so,” Sam said. “Maybe when this is all over you should stay around a while, let her get to know you better.”
“Stay here?” Jubal asked. “In Vengeance Creek?”
“Why not?”
“Sam, I left here.”
“Well, do yourself a favor,” Sam said. “Look at your reason for leaving, and see if you still want to go.”
“Hey!” Coffin shouted from his cell. “Do I get some breakfast?”
Sam got up, walked over to the can of beans on the stove, and looked inside.
“Yeah,” he said, “he gets breakfast.”
“What’s that?” Jubal said sometime later.
“Sounds like horses,” Sam said, “a lot of them.”
They each went to a window and looked out the gun-port in the shutters. Lincoln Burkett was riding downMain Street with about thirty men or more. They were riding at a leisurely pace, seemingly without a care in the world. The tip-off was when they rode past the jail each man turned his head and looked at it.
Sam found it interesting that Lincoln Burkett was the only man who didn’t look. He already knew they were there.
“It’s gonna start,” Sam said. “Any minute now.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Burkett sent some of his men to look the town over. One of the men, Bud Poke, came back and said he had found Tom Kelly.
“Show me,” Burkett said.
“He ain’t wearin’ a badge, boss.”
Burkett looked at Conners and said, “Go and see the mayor.”
“Right.”
Burkett and Poke walked over to the café where Kelly was having breakfast.
“Looks like you lost your badge, Tom,” Burkett said.
Kelly looked up from his meal at the two men.
“Mr. Burkett—” Kelly said, starting to get up.
Burkett put his hand on Kelly’s shoulder and pushed him back down, then sat across from him.
“Tell me what happened…”
Conners met Burkett coming out of the café.
“Kelly’s not sheriff any more,” Burkett said. “He gave up his badge rather than face McCall. Damn it!”
“You ain’t gonna like this, boss,” Conners said. “Sam McCall’s the new sheriff.”
“What?”
“The mayor says he picked up the badge when Kelly put it down. There was nothing he could do about it.”
“That incompetent—well, if McCall thinks this is going to change anything, he’s wrong.”
“But…he’s the law now.”
“He wasn’t elected,” Burkett said, “and the mayor will swear afterward that he didn’t appoint him. Badge or no badge, Sam McCall is a dead man.”
“What do you see?” Sam asked.
He was seated behind the desk while Jubal was positioned at a window.
“Nothing,” Jubal said. “The town looks quiet. I guess Burkett and his men must have put their horses in the livery.”
“The Swede wouldn’t be able to accommodate that many horses,” Sam said. “They’re probably in a corral behind the livery.”
“Same thing.”
“He hasn’t even got a man watching the jail?”
“Not that I can see through this hole,” Jubal said. “If I open the shutter—”
“Forget that,” Sam said. “He’s probably got a man up on a rooftop. If you open that shutter you’ll be dead.”
Jubal turned and looked at Sam.
“You don’t think the fact that you’re now the sheriff will keep him from—”
“I wasn’t elected, Jube,” Sam said, “and I wasn’t even appointed. I don’t know that I’d stand up in court as sheriff of Vengeance Creek.”
“Why did you take the badge, then?”
Sam shrugged. “It shut the mayor up, didn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Jubal said, “I guess it did.”
“You want some coffee?”
“I’m up to here with coffee. I could use a beer, though.”
“Sorry, no beer.”
“I could go down to the saloon and get two—”
“If you walk out that door,” Sam said, “you’re a dead man.”
“I guess I could do without a beer.”
“How about lunch?”
Jubal made a face and said, “Beans?”
Sam nodded.
“I’ll skip it.”
“I could open a can of fruit.”
“Wait a minute—”
“You want the beans?”
“No,” Jubal said, “something’s happening.”
“What?”
“Come and see for yourself.”
“All right,” Burkett said to Conners, “set the men up the way we discussed.”
“Right, boss.”
“I’ll be at the saloon. Let me know when they’re all in place.”
“Yessir.”
Conners turned to the men, who were all gathered by the corral behind the livery, and said, “All right, boys.
Take up your positions. There’s to be no shooting until you hear it from me or Mr. Burkett. Understood?”
They all nodded.
“Then get moving.”
Sam took up position at the other window, and he and Jubal watched while Burkett’s men moved into what was obviously prearranged positions across from the jail.
“Counting?” Sam asked.
“Twenty? Maybe more?”
“The rest must be on the rooftops.”
“Did you see Burkett?”
“No, not yet,” Sam said. “He’ll come along later, to give us a chance to come out quietly.”
Jubal looked at Sam and said, “Have you been through this before?”
“Once or twice,” Sam said, “in different surroundings, but the basic situation was the same.”
“What did you do those times?”
“Hold fast and wait for help to arrive.”
Jubal frowned.
“Isn’t that what they did at the Alamo?”
“Let’s hope that’s the only resemblance to this situation.”
When Chuck Conners entered the saloon Lincoln Burkett was seated at a back table with a bottle of whiskey. It was early enough that he was the only customer in the place. Burkett had not yet gone to the undertaker’s to see his son’s body. He wouldn’t do that until he could tell his dead son that he had killed Sam McCall.
Conners approached the table and waited to be noticed. Burkett poured himself another drink and downed it before doing so.
“Well?”
“All the men are in position, sir.”
“All right,” Burkett said, picking up his hat and standing up. “Let’s get this done.”
Sam and Jubal were at their positions at the windows, holding their rifles, when Lincoln Burkett strode into view across the street, Chuck Conners at his elbow. Conners, like all of the other men, was holding a rifle. Burkett had no rifle, and his handgun was in his holster.
“Hello in the jail! McCall!” Burkett called out.
“I hear you, Burkett,” Sam replied.
“Come on out, McCall,” Burkett said. “Let’s finish this like men.”
“Sure,” Sam called out, “me against thirty of your men.”
“Just you and me McCall,” Burkett said.
“He’s lying,” Jubal said.
“Of course he is.”
“McCall!” Burkett shouted. “I’ll let your brother come out. I have no quarrel with him.”
Jubal looked at Sam, who seemed to be considering the offer.
“This is Jubal McCall, Burkett!” Jubal shouted. “I’m staying right here.”
“You’re a foolish young man.”
“No,” Jubal said, “your son was a foolish young man. He tried to backshoot my brother, and he paid for it.”
“Then you’ll both die!” Burkett yelled. Burkett turned to his men and said, “Fire!”
Sam and Jubal hit the floor as lead began to rain down on the jail. From inside it almost sounded like rain. Chunks of lead chewed up the wooden shutters, but they stayed in place, relatively intact, except that a lot more light was shining through them when the shooting stopped.
“Is it over?” Jubal asked. He lifted his head and wood splinters fell off it to the floor.
“For the moment,” Sam said, brushing himself off.
“How are we ever to get off a shot?”
“Quiet, Jube,” Sam said. “Let’s here what he has to say.”
“McCall!”
“We’re still here.”
“Send out Coffin.”
“Why?” Sam called. “So you can have another gun? No, thanks. I’m holding Coffin until the federal marshal arrives, and then I’m turning him over for the murder of my brother.”
“Your brother, my son,” Burkett said. “They’re both dead. How many more have to die?”
“That’s up to you, Burkett.”
Sam and Jubal heard Burkett shout, “Fire!” and they ducked down again.
When the second volley of shots sounded Serena bolted for the door of the store. Her father, moving more swiftly than even he thought he could move, grabbed her by the arms, stopping her.
“Let me go!”
“We’ll have to stay here, Serena,” Miller said. “We can’t give Sam anything else to think about, and if you’re on the street, that’s what you’re going to do.”
“Someone has to help them.”
“And you’re that someone?” Miller asked. “Are you going to take a rifle and go out there and help them? You’ll do more harm than good out there, Serena, believe me.”
As most of the townspeople had done, Dude Miller had closed his store, locked it, and remained inside. There was no one on the street except Lincoln Burkett and his men.
As they stood there, eyes locked, the second volley of shots ceased and it became quiet again.
“I want to hear what they’re saying, Papa.”
Dude Miller frowned, but he said, “All right. Let’s open the door a crack.”
They did so, and found that they could hear both Lincoln Burkett and Sam McCall.
“You can’t hold out, McCall. We’ll chew that building to pieces.”
“Go ahead and chew, then,” Sam called back. “We ain’t comin’ out.”
“You know,” Jubal said. “It’d be a lot simpler if you had killed Coffin and we had John Burkett in here.”