The Last Buckaroo Page 3

  “It’s a horse, Katie …”

  “Well, he’s had it since it was a colt …”

  “Hank, it is,” Ralph said rather than argue.

  “Okay, then I’ll go,” Katie said. “Just come to the tavern when you’re done and I’ll pay you.”

  “I said I’d take care of it, Katie.”

  “I don’t want to feel obligated, Ralph. I’d rather pay than be obliged to anyone …”

  “Listen Katie, I’m owed plenty of favors in this town. I’ll get it done proper and it won’t cost me a plug nickel. So don’t worry your pretty head about it, all right?”

  “Well, okay then,” Katie said reluctantly. “But at least come by the tavern for a beer on me.”

  “That I’ll do,” Ralph said cheerfully. “Goodnight, Katie.”

  “Goodnight, Ralph,” she said and walked away. Now for that bath and some serious thought on what she could do to get Yancey Burke released from that jail.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Katie paid a visit to the county jail first thing the following morning. She was escorted back to the cell area by none other than Preston Ames himself.

  “How much time do I have, Sheriff?” she asked.

  He grabbed a nearby chair, slid it near the bars of Yancey’s cell and said, “You can stay all day for all I care, Misses Peck. I should really frisk you for hacksaw blades, though,” he said and smiled as best he could through the heavily furrowed face. “No touching allowed, so keep your hands to yourself, both of you. I’ll be watching through the window.”

  Once the sheriff was gone she looked back to see if in fact he was watching through the small glass in the door, and found sure enough he was.

  “How are you, Yance?” she said, noticing he looked terrible. “Are they treating you all right?”

  “I guess,” he said and stood from the iron bunk that was bolted to the floor. “I just feel so bad about Hank.”

  “They’re burying him today … down by the river … near the trestle.”

  “Who is?”

  “Ralph Longley from the hotel is getting it done.”

  “Good. I was so worried they would just dump the old boy somewhere and let the buzzards have him. Tell Ralph thanks. I’ll settle with him once I get out.”

  “I’ll tell him,” Katie said. “Do you plan to hire an attorney, Yance?”

  “I don’t know any.”

  “Bryce Herford is probably the best in town. Would you like me to talk to him?”

  “If you want. I just hate I’m stuck in here for something I didn’t do.”

  “I know,” she said, looked about the place for other prisoners, and saw none in the three remaining cells.

  “I want to thank you for being my friend, Katie. I hate to be the one hiding behind a woman’s skirt, but I don’t know what I’d do without you right now. Frankly, after what you told me last night, I’m a little scared.”

  “And you have a right to be,” she said and started to reach through the bars to comfort him, but pulled back when she remembered what Ames had said. “Just be brave, okay?”

  “What choice do I have?” he said with a nervous chuckle.

  “That’s the spirit,” she said cheerfully, even though she didn’t feel it. “I’ll go over to Mister Herford’s office now, then. Maybe I can see him before I need to be at work.”

  “Thanks, Katie.”

  “You bet. I’ll come again tomorrow morning … let you know what he had to say.”

  “Thanks.” He smiled. This time it seemed genuine.

  When Katie finally got to the tavern to open for the day, there was a crowd milling about at the door. “Hold on!” She ran up and stuck the key in the lock.

  “You’re late, Katie,” someone said.

  “What’s ten minutes? You guys must have one powerful thirst.” She looked about at the large group and tried to remember when so many showed up right at noon. “What’s the celebration?”

  “Well, it’s not every day the most despised man in the county dies. We thought we’d give old Clyde a proper send off,” one of them said. “Too bad Yancey Burke is in jail — we’d buy him a few beers for what he done.”

  “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Tom … Yancey didn’t kill Clyde Banyon, if that’s what you’re trying to say,” Katie said as she led the way in. “But I’d be obliged if you guys will help me find out who did.” She began filling mugs and sliding them down the bar.

  “Just how are we supposed to do that, Katie?”

  “Ask around. Somebody must have seen or heard something. For every helpful bit of information I get, there’s a beer in it for the man that brings it.”

  “Hey! You heard her!” someone yelled and they all cheered.

  An abundance of customers, some she couldn’t recall seeing before, continued to come throughout the day and Katie made the same announcement several more times.

  Finally at supper hour the place thinned out somewhat and she had a chance to catch up on washing the glasses and mugs that’d piled up throughout the afternoon. But then an hour later they all flowed right back in again, and stayed until closing time. She found it hard to have to ask so many paying customers to leave, but she had to: it was the law. “Lets go, people. We don’t want a visit from Sheriff Ames, do we?” Sadly then they all filed out — the celebration, it seemed, was over. But it wasn’t.

  Katie was mopping the floor when she heard loud noises coming from outside. She didn’t want to unlock the front door for fear a mob would flow through it. Instead she ran to the back with her keys, went outside and locked up behind. She then slipped between the buildings as she’d done the night before and arrived at the main street. What she heard and saw near took her breath away. Automobiles, wagons and saddle horses were roaming the street up and back past the sheriff’s office and the passengers of them were all shouting in cadence, “FREE YANCEY BURKE … FREE YANCEY BURKE … FREE YANCEY BURKE …” There were at least a hundred of them, with more coming from up the street, horns honking and headlights flashing.

  It all ended a short time later, however, when the sheriff and three of his deputies filed out to the platform in front with shotguns and began firing just over the heads of those nearest. This scattered the group and before long all was disappointingly quiet again. Sadly Katie went back to her mopping. But it wasn’t over just yet.

  Katie was on her walk home when she heard them coming, engines roaring and dust flying all the way down the main street, she saw from the alley. Again she ran to see what was to take place. She got there in time to catch some of it. People hanging out of automobile windows and standing on running boards were hurtling rocks and bricks and, most frightening of all, Molotov cocktails at the sheriff’s office — which also included the jail. Window glass shattered and before long it appeared the building was ablaze.

  “Oh my God!” she screamed and ran toward it.

  Before she arrived, however, the sheriff and deputies were back out with the shotguns, once again scattering the mob. Soon thereafter the fire was also extinguished from within.

  The interior of the building was still plenty smoky when from it two deputies emerged with Yancey Burke, by his arms, between them. He was quickly loaded into the Ford and out of town they went at a high rate of speed.

  Once they were gone Preston Ames stepped out onto the platform, looked up and down the now quiet street. He then settled his eyes on Katie. She was on the sidewalk across the street, her lantern held away from the lacy blue dress she wore, glaring back at him.

  “If I was a bettin’ man, Misses Peck,” he said with volume, “my money would go down on the side you had something to do with what happened here tonight.”

  “And if I was a bettin’ woman, I’d take that bet, Sheriff,” Katie replied, turned and walked away. “You’d lose, Sheriff!”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Katie showed up at the sheriff’s office the following morning with a lawyer by her side. She figured Preston Ames would not disclose wh
ere he’d taken Yancey Burke, so she sought the advice of Bryce Herford, Yancey’s newly hired attorney.

  Workers were sweeping up glass, preparing to install new plate windows, when they arrived. “Sheriff,” Katie acknowledged, seeing him behind his desk, looking as though a goodly amount of his snowy hair had been singed black in the fire of last night.

  “What can I do for you, Katie? You do know Yancey is no longer here?”

  “She does,” Herford jumped in, angry the sheriff hadn’t acknowledged him the second he came through the door. But then their standing feud was old news in town. “So where is he, Preston?”

  “I don’t have to tell you that, Bryce.”

  “I’m here to inform you — you do! I’m his lawyer and I demand access to my client. It’s the law, Preston!” The sandy haired attorney, of some age, stood to his full height of six feet and gripped the lapels of his charcoal grey suit coat.

  “Not when the prisoner’s safety is an issue. He’d be barbeque now if it wasn’t for our quick action. Yancey is where those thugs can’t get at him. And that’s where he’s staying until the trial starts in two weeks.”

  “Those thugs as you call them are citizens of this county, Preston. And as I understand it they were not here to harm Mister Burke, but more so to protect the man from you! After all these years it looks as though the people have wised up to your way of serving up the law, and they’re not going to tolerate it any longer!”

  “Well, if they want me out, they know what they can do about it,” Preston Ames said. “Until that happens, I guess you’ll be dealing with me, Bryce.”

  “Let me tell you who you’ll be dealing with, Sheriff. If Yancey Burke isn’t back in Blazedale by noon tomorrow, I’m calling the U.S. Marshals office in Billings and asking for a full investigation. And while I’m at it I’ll ask them to look into a few other cases you and Judge Samuels have railroaded through that court of his.”

  “Is that a threat, Bryce?” Ames twisted his face into an ugly snarl and leaped to his feet. He grabbed Herford by the lapels and with lightning speed shoved him against the wall. “Where’s that pistol you’re in a habit of carrying?” His hands were all over the elderly man. “Aha!” He came out with a revolver from under the coat.

  Katie screamed and began backing away.

  “As an officer of the court, I’m allowed to carry a gun anywhere I want!” Herford insisted.

  “Not in my county! Striker!” Preston shouted.

  Deputy Striker came on a run from the jail area, looking as though he’d been awakened from a nap. “Yes, sir …”

  “Lock this bastard up!”

  “You’re making a big mistake, Preston!” Bryce shouted as Striker dragged him into the jail area and shoved him into a cell.

  “Yeah, well, take it up with whoever you want,” Sheriff Ames said and focused his attention on Katie, who was frozen in place near the open doorway. “Anything else I can do for you, Misses Peck?”

  Katie, frightened for her safety, backed the remainder of the way through the doorway, then set out on a run, where to, she didn’t know. When she finally came to her senses she was in the tavern with the door locked behind her. Glancing at the clock on the wall she saw it was just after ten, two hours before it was time to open. “Oh, God!” she buried her face in her hands. “What now?”

  Going behind the bar, she looked around for something to do that may ease her mind, maybe something to clean. Nothing. Everything appeared spotless. Then while eyeing the rubble of the catch all lower shelf, she remembered under there somewhere was a sawed off shotgun. It came with the place when Helmer bought it. She didn’t think he even knew it was there. Actually she hadn’t found it herself for a good year after the purchase.

  Digging where she thought it should be, before a lot of other stuff had found a home there, she finally came up with it, covered in dust. Grabbing a rag from nearby, she wiped it clean before opening it to find it was loaded in both barrels with twelve gage shells marked 00 Buck. Having no idea what that meant she closed the gun and tried to decide on a place to put it, so it would be handy if needed in a hurry. On the other hand, maybe she should just put it back where it was and forget it was even there. No doubt she was now frightened out of her wits of Preston Ames. After what she’d seen today there was no telling how far that man would go if crossed. And she planned to do plenty of that if his intention was to railroad Yancey Burke all the way to the gallows.

  A knock came at the door and Katie found herself whirling in circles with the short shotgun in her hands, searching for a place it put it. Finally she held it behind her and went to see who was there. Careful not to make a noise, she put her eye to a fine shrinkage crack in the heavy door that had opened between two of the planks over the years. She hoped now it wouldn’t be the white hair of Preston Ames she saw at that level, standing on her tiptoes.

  Thank God it wasn’t! It was the bald head of Ralph Longley on the other side of it, and she quickly threw the lock. “Ralph!” she said as the door came open. Then nervously she grabbed his arm, pulled him through and relocked the door. “Oh, God! I’m glad you’re here.” Her back fell against it.

  Ralph didn’t know what to think of Katie’s strange conduct. Could it be, after all these years, he was about to have his dreams answered? Had she found something in him she liked after all?

  “Listen, Sheriff Ames has Bryce Herford locked up in his jail. You should of seen him … he was like a wild man the way he pounced on that old man …”

  “Herford’s out, Katie. I just saw him walking down the street.”

  “I wonder how ... It couldn’t have happened more than twenty minutes ago.”

  “I suppose Preston cooled down and came to his senses. Those two have been carrying on like that for years.”

  “They have?”

  “They have. Bryce will threaten Preston, and Preston loses it after a time and has him jailed. Nothing ever comes of it. Just two old men who’ve been at each other’s throats for the past forty years.”

  “Maybe it’s a game they play so Bryce can impress a new client?” Katie said. “Only this time it backfired on him.” But then maybe Preston did what he did to frighten Katie. If that were the case, it worked. She was still trembling.

  “You’re a client of Bryce’s, Katie?”

  “I hired him for Yancey. Not a good idea?” She went to the end of the bar, rounded it and put the shotgun away.

  “Everybody knows there isn’t a decent lawyer in all of Burr County,” Ralph said. “If there was maybe Sheriff Ames and Judge Samuels would have been put out of business by now.”

  “Now you tell me!”

  “I didn’t know you were looking. But I’ll tell you who I’d get. He’s one guy Preston Ames and Judge Samuels hate to see come around. And it’s not that he’s that great a lawyer. It’s just that the people here that make up the juries like him so much. They vote acquittal every time. He’s a real character.”

  “Does this character have a name?”

  “Woody Clampett. He’s originally from Texas, as is the case with most of the people around here, originally.”

  “Where do I find this Woody Clampett?”

  “Terryville. It’s located in the next county west. In fact, I’ll bet that’s where they took Yancey,” Ralph said, as if just enlightened by a revelation. “It’s all over town, what happened last night.”

  “You really think that’s where he is?” Katie said excitedly and sat a beer up for Ralph.

  “It’s the closest jail around, unless you want to travel near eighty miles in the other direction.” Ralph took a long drink of the beer.

  “They weren’t gone long enough for that,” Katie said. “The sheriff’s car was back over there at nine this morning, when I first looked down the street. How’d you know I was here, Ralph?”

  “I saw you run across the street, from the sheriff’s office. I was going to tell you we got old Hank put under, just like you asked. Jessie Homes painted Ha
nk on the marker. We used a good sized rock. I didn’t think a cross was appropriate for a horse.”

  “Why not?” She gathered a hurt look.

  “Because they’re not saintly … if you know what I mean.”

  “I’m sure Yance thought of Hank as being more than just a beast of burden,” she said. “All things bright and beautiful … All creatures great and small … All things wise and wonderful … The Lord God made them all …” Katie made her point.

  “Well,” Ralph said and rubbed a hand over his clean shaven face. “I have some new lumber, if it’s a cross you want, Katie?”

  “No, Ralph. You did fine. I do appreciate it … Yancey, too. He said he’d settle with you when he got out. Would you like another beer?”

  “No thanks, Katie. I got to get back.”

  “Well, then, thanks for the information. I’ll go over to the phone office shortly and give that Woody Clampett a call. I assume it’s long distance to Terryville?”

  “It is. Nothing leaves Blazedale that isn’t. Make sure Marta doesn’t listen in once she’s made the connection. She has a habit of doing that, and then telling it all over town.”

  “What is it that she doesn’t tell all over town? I don’t know where that woman gets all her information.” Katie chuckled.

  “Rubbernecking! Like I said …” Ralph laughed with her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  When Katie arrived back at the tavern to open at noon, she was disappointed there wasn’t a crowd waiting, as there had been the morning before. But perhaps those involved in the riot at the sheriff’s office last night felt it too soon to be showing their faces about town. However, some customers did begin to trickle in as time went on. The first was an old farmer, Jake Pearson, from north of town, who came in frequently for a double shot of whiskey, of which he sipped while smoking his pipe. Generally he had little or nothing to say, but today he couldn’t seem to shut up.

  “Clyde Banyon was put under early this morning …”