low-silled window over the town and the hillside and we sat talking for awhile
and at last I got up and she came with me to the door. She put her hand on my
sleeve. “Stay here, Tye … don’t go.”
“Got to … busy day today.”
Folks were crowded along the street and there were wagons drawn up where the
speaking was to be—with many people taking their places early so they could be
close enough to hear. When I got down to the office Orrin was there in his black
frock coat and string tie. He grinned at me, but beyond the grin his eyes were
serious.
“You get up there and talk,” I said, “you’re the speaker of this family.”
Me, I stayed at the office. Cap was out and around, nosing after news like a
smart old coon dog looking up trails in the dust or the berry patches. There was
no sign of Tom Sunday, and around the jail everything was quiet. Nor was
Jonathan Pritts anywhere in sight. My guards were restless, most of them men
with families who wanted to be with them on a big day like this.
Ma and the boys came in about noon, Ma riding in the buckboard with Joe driving.
Ollie had held a place for them where Ma could hear the speaking, and it would
be the first time she had ever heard Orrin make a speech. Folks were mighty
impressed with speechmaking those days, and a man who could talk right up and
make his words sound like something, well, he rated mighty high up there. He was
a big man.
That day I was wearing black broadcloth pants down over my boots, a style just
then coming in, and I had on a gray shirt with a black string tie and a black,
braided Spanish-style jacket and a black hat. My gun was on, and I was carrying
a spare tucked into my waistband out of sight under my jacket.
About noon Caribou Brown rode into town with Doubleout Sam. Shea saw them ride
in and reported to me at once and I went down to the saloon where they had
bellied up to the bar.
“All right, boys. Finish your drink and ride out.”
They turned around on me, the both of them, but they knew me pretty well by
then. “You’re a hard man,” Brown said. “Can’t a man stay around for the fun?”
“Sorry.”
They had their drinks but they didn’t like it and when they finished them I was
standing right there. “If you boys start right now you can make Vegas,” I told
them. “You’ll have trouble if you think you can stay. I’ll throw you both in
jail and you’ll be there next month at this time.”
“On what charge?” Sam didn’t like it.
“Loitering, obstructing justice, interfering with an officer, peddling without a
license … I’ll think of something.”
“Oh, damn you!”Brown said. “Come on, Sam … let’s ride.”
They started for the door.
“Boys?”
They turned. “Don’t circle around. I’ve got some deputies who are mighty
concerned about the town today. You’re known men and if you come back they’ll be
shooting on sight.”
They rode out of town and I was glad to see them go. Both were known trouble
makers of the old Settlement crowd and they had been in several shootings.
The streets began to grow empty as folks drifted toward the speechmaking and the
band concert, which was going full blast. Going slow along the walks the streets
were so empty the sound of my heels was loud. When I reached the adobe where
Fetterson was held, I stopped by. Shea was on guard there.
“Hello, Fett,” I said.
He got up and came to the bars. “That right? That they shot into my cell? Into a
dummy?”
“What did you expect? You can hang him, Fetterson, and he knows that. He’s got
to do something … or run!”
Fetterson rubbed his jaw. The man looked worried. “How does a man get into these
things?” he asked suddenly. “Damn it, I played square with him.”
“He’s wrong, Fett. He cares nothing for you except in so far as you are useful
and when your usefulness is ended, so’s his interest. You’re too good a man to
be wasted, Fett … you’re loyal to a man who does not understand loyalty.”
“Maybe … maybe.”
He listened to the band, which was playing My Darling Nelly Gray. “Sounds like a
good time,” he said wistfully.
“I’ve got to go,” I said, “the speaking starts in a few minutes.”
He was still standing by the bars when I went out. Shea got up and walked
outside with me. “Are you expecting trouble?”
“At any minute.”
“All right,” he cradled the shotgun in his arms, “I just don’t want to miss all
the fun.”
From the gathering place beyond the buildings I could hear Ollie introducing
somebody. Pausing, I listened. It was the speaker from Santa Fe—the one who
preceded Orrin—and I could hear his rolling tones, although he was too far away
to distinguish more than a word or two, and when it happened, it happened so
suddenly that I was taken by surprise.
They came into the street below the jail and they came suddenly and they were on
foot. Obviously they had been hidden during the night in the houses of some of
the citizens, and there were eight of.them and they had rifles. Everyone of them
was a familiar face, all were from the old Settlement crowd, and they had me
dead to rights.
They were near the jail and there was a man inside. There were probably two men
inside. Up the street behind me Shea could do little unless I gave him room, but
I had to be where I could do the most damage.
Turning at right angles I walked right into the middle of the street and then I
faced them. Sixty yards separated us. Looking at those rifles and shotguns I
knew I was in trouble and plenty of it, but I knew this was what I had been
waiting for.
There were eight of them and they would be confident, but they would also be
aware that I was going to get off at least one shot and probably one man would
be killed … nobody would want to be that man.
“What are you boys getting out of this?” I asked them coolly. “Fifty dollars
apiece? It’s a cinch Jonathan isn’t going to pay more than that … hope you
collected in advance.”
“We want the keys!” The man talking was named Stott. “Toss them over here!”
“You’re talking, Stott … but are you watching? You boys are going to get it
from the jail.”
“The keys!”
Stott I was going to kill. He was the leader. I was going to get him and as many
more as possible. There was a rustle of movement down the street behind them.
There was movement down there but I didn’t dare take my eyes off them. So I
started to walk. I started right down the street toward them, hoping to get so
close they would endanger each other if they started shooting. Beyond them I
could see movement and when I realized who it was I was so startled they might
have killed me.
It was Dru.
She wasn’t alone. She had six buckskin-clad riders with her and they all had
Winchesters and they looked like they wanted to start shooting.
“All right,” I said, “the fun’s over. Drop your gun belts.”
Stott was angry. “What are you trying—” Behind him seven Winchesters were cocked
on signal, and he looked sharply around. And after that it was settled … they
were not nearly so anxious for trouble and when they were disarmed, they were
jailed along with the others.
Dru walked her horse up to the front of the jail. “Miguel saw them coming,” she
said, “so we rode down to help.”
“Help? You did it all.”
We talked there in the street and then I walked beside her horse over to the
speaking. When this was over I was going to go after Jonathan Pritts. I was
going to arrest him but oddly enough, I did not want him jailed. He was an old
man, and defeat now would ruin him enough and he was whipped. When this was over
he would be arrested, but if St. Vrain, Romero, and the others agreed, I’d just
send him out of town with his daughter and a buckboard … they deserved each
other.
Orrin was introduced. He got up and walked to the front of the platform and he
started to speak in that fine Welsh voice of his. He spoke quietly, with none of
that oratory they had been hearing. He just talked to them as he would to
friends in his own home, yet as he continued his voice grew in power and