C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
As the sun rose on King's Settlement, a pall of smoke lay over the burned-out shells of what had once been houses. Those who were burned out, as well as the luckier residents of the little settlement whose houses had not been destroyed, were picking through the twisted and blackened rubble to see what they could salvage.
“La fotografÃa de mi madre! Ella sobrevivir!”
one woman cried happily as she pulled a photograph out of the ashes. As she had stated, her mother's picture had survived.
The morning air was permeated with the aroma of coffee, bacon, biscuits, and eggs, because the ranch cook had brought up the chuck wagon and prepared breakfast for everyone. Sally contributed freshly made doughnuts she had made back at the main house, and here and there could be seen a cowboy, or an entire family, eating their breakfast from tin plates.
Pearlie and the others returned from their sortie just as breakfast was being served and, with a broad smile, Cal pointed out that fact to him.
“Pearlie, you don't ever need to buy yourself a pocket watch,” Cal said. “You always know when it's mealtime.”
“I was just lucky,” Pearlie said. He didn't go to the chuck wagon, but grabbed a couple of the doughnuts and a cup of coffee instead. There was a line waiting for breakfast, and despite his known chowhound tendencies, Pearlie was hanging back until all the men who had ridden out with him were fed.
“What did you see?” Smoke asked.
“A lot of men,” Pearlie said around a bite of doughnut. “A hell of a lot of men. Fifty, sixty, maybe more.”
“So you did catch up with them?” Cal asked.
“Yes, thanks to Barrett,” Pearlie said. He dunked the doughnut in his coffee, then took another bite. “Barrett knew another ford across the Santa Gertrudis. We took that, got across before they did, then waited for them, and hit them when they came across.”
“What? You attacked sixty men with ten?” Smoke asked. “Pearlie, that's a dumb thing to do. It's a wonder you are still alive.”
“I didn't attack them head-on,” Pearlie replied, a little stung by Smoke's remark. “I waited until they passed before I attacked. That way, they had no idea how many of us there were, so they skedaddled. Ha! You should have seen them run.”
Smoke realized that his reprimand had hurt Pearlie's feelings, and he ameliorated his remark by reaching out to squeeze Pearlie's shoulder.
“I'm sorry about the sharpness of tone,” he apologized. “But I was worried about you. I should have known better. You did it just right, and I'm proud of you.”
Now, under Smoke's praise, Pearlie beamed. “Thanks,” he said. “I just asked myself, what would Smoke do, and I did it.”
“So, did you get any of them?” Cal asked.
“Yes,” Pearlie replied. “We killed three, and we wounded at least one.”
“Good!” Cal said. “By damn, we made the sons of bitches pay for what they did here.”
“Not enough,” Smoke replied. “Even counting the four that were killed here, that still leaves us with four more dead than they had. And six more wounded.”
Pearlie was about to take another bite of his second doughnut when he heard that, and he paused.
“You mean we had eleven killed?”
“Yes,” Smoke said.
Pearlie shook his head. “Damn.”
“And that's not the worst of it,” Cal put it. “Most of the dead are women and kids, including one baby.”
Pearlie was quiet for a long moment.
“You all right?” Smoke asked.
“Yeah,” Pearlie said. He sighed. “Listen, Smoke, we've got to find that son of a bitch and kill him. I mean, this has nothing to do with you doing a favor for a friend now, or anything like that. This has become personal.”
“How has it become personal?” Cal asked. “You don't know any of the people who were killed.”
“It's personal for me,” Pearlie said.
“Yeah,” Smoke said, looking out at the faces of the people of King's Settlement as they went about the business of trying to pick up the pieces of their lives. “It's that way for me too.”
Once again, a mass funeral was held at King's Settlement. Places were reserved in the little church for Smoke, Sally, Pearlie, and Cal, but they declined, saying it was more important that those who actually knew the deceased be able to attend.
After the service inside, everyone moved out to the cemetery, where Smoke and the others who had not found room in the church joined the mourners. Eleven new graves were added to the cemetery. The still-fresh mounds of the most recent victims of Major Jack Brandt were prominent by their newness.
The most poignant of all the graveside rites was the one for the burial of little Carmelita Juarez. Rosita was not the only one to shed tears over this burial. There were very few dry eyes in the gathering as the small coffin was lowered into the ground.
Afterward, as the mourners returned to their homes, Smoke, Sally, Pearlie, and Cal joined Captain Richard and Henrietta King, Alice King, and Bob Kleberg for dinner at the big house.
“Smoke,” Kleberg said over the dinner table. “Richard and I have been talking.”
“Oh?”
“This has turned out to be a lot more than you bargained for,” Kleberg said. “I know it is more than we bargained for. So, if you want to get on the train and go back to Colorado, I want you to know that we would understand.”
“Could you pass the mashed potatoes, please?” Smoke asked Alice, who was sitting in front of them.
“Of course,” Alice said.
Smoke spooned a second helping of mashed potatoes onto his plate before he answered.
“Are you afraid that we are eating you out of house and home, Captain King?” Smoke asked with a smile. “If so, that is a legitimate worry. You certainly do set a fine table.”
“I'll say,” Pearlie said as he helped himself to some more peas.
“And, as you can see by Pearlie's appetite, you know now why I suggested that he and Cal bunk and eat with the cowboys.”
“If you ask me, Smoke, you had us bunk out there so you could keep all this good food to yourself,” Pearlie said as he grabbed two more biscuits. “Oh, not that food out there isn't good,” he added quickly. “I don't want you to think I don't enjoy it or anything.”
“Mr. Jensen, did you ask me if I'm afraid you are eating me out of house and home? No, no, of course not,” King sputtered. “Why would you ask such a thing? Why would you even think such a thing?”
“I was just wondering why you were trying to get rid of us, that's all,” Smoke said.
“Smoke,” Sally said, scolding him. Then she smiled at King. “Captain King, I think what my husband is trying to tell you, in his very clumsy way”âshe looked back at Smoke with a scowl on her faceâ“is that he is more than willing to stay and see this through with you. In fact, after the events of the last few days, I think he is more determined than ever.”
“Damn right,” Pearlie said resolutely. Then, quickly, he put his hand over his lips.
“Excuse me, Mrs. King, Miss Alice, and Miss Sally,” Pearlie said. “I didn't mean to be profane and go swearing like that.”
Henrietta laughed. “Young man, don't you worry about a thing,” she said. “Just knowing that you are willing to stay and help us is all we need.”
“Thank you, ma'am. Uh, do we have any dessert?”
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Because Brandt's men tended to stay up all night drinking, or pursuing other forms of nocturnal entertainment, they slept through most of the day. Shortly after they arrived in town, they took over the hotel, without offering any compensation to the owner, sometimes crowding from six to eight into a single room. But as citizens of the town began leaving town, Brandt's men started moving into the houses the fleeing townspeople had abandoned.
The mayor of the town, Julio Hernandez, watched with great dismay as the citizens of his town kept leaving. At the rate they were going, Concepcion would be a ghost town within another few days.
Of course, he thought, it might be better off as a ghost town. Anything would be better than what was happening now, with this army of outlaws taking over everything.
It was mid-afternoon, and Julio was standing at the front door of his office, looking out, when he saw three of the citizens of the town coming toward his office. Tad Beeker, the owner of the hotel, was the only American in the group.
“Mr. Mayor,” Beeker said. “If you don't mind, we would like a word with you.”
“All right,” Julio said, not sure what the visit was about.
“Something has to be done,” Beeker said.
“Something has to be done?
No comprendo
.”
“Well, let me put it in plain English for you, Señor Hernandez,” Beeker said in an exasperated tone of voice. “We want something done about Brandt and his men.”
“What would you have me do?”
“Well, for starters, you could present him with a bill,” Beeker said. “It's bad enough that they ran all my paying customers off. They aren't paying to stay in the hotel.”
“I am the mayor of the town, Señor Beeker. I am not a bill collector.”
“But you also represent the law. And the law says that a businessman who is charging a fair price has to be paid. Otherwise, it's the same as stealin'.”
“Are you feeding them? Are you keeping the rooms and the bed clothing clean?” Julio asked.
“Hell, no, I'm not,” Beeker said angrily. “Not for those sons of bitches.” He pointed toward the hotel.
“What about you two?” Julio asked. “Do you also have a
queja
? A complaint?”
“SÃ,”
Manuel said. “Many have now moved out of the hotel and are staying in houses. Some are staying in my sister's house.”
“Yes,” Julio said. “Well, that is the fault of your sister. She is the one who left. If we had all stuck together in the beginning . . .”
“We would have all been killed together,” Manuel said.
Julio paused for a moment, then nodded. “I think you are right,” he said. “Which brings me back to my question. You are here complaining to me about it. What do you expect me to do?”
“Run them out,” Beeker said.
“And how should I do that?”
“I don't know. Pass an ordinance or something. Issue a proclamation. Do whatever it takes, just run them out of town.”
“If you want someone run out of town, Mr. Beeker, I suggest you come to me,” a new voice suddenly said. “As your sheriff, that is my job.”
Beeker felt his blood run cold and, nervously, he turned to see Brandt standing just inside the door.
“Come to you?” Beeker said. His voice was subdued.
“Yes, come to me. I want to run a good town here. I want to keep order, so, if you are having a problem, just come to me.”
“I . . . uh . . . am having no problem,” Beeker mumbled. “Mr. Mayor, I have to go,” he said, starting toward the door.
“I do too,” Manuel said.
“Me too,” the third visitor said.
Within seconds after Brandt had entered the room, everyone else had departed.
“Well, now,” Brandt said, laughing as he watched them leave. “Did I step in some sheep shit or something? What do you think made them all run off like that?”
“I think they just had business to tend to,” Julio said nervously.
“What could possibly be more important business than keeping order in our town? And you have to admit, outside of that unfortunate incident when one of the citizens of your town was accidentally killed . . .”
“Accidentally?” Julio replied. “Tomas was shot right between the eyes!”
“Yes, but my man wasn't aiming to hit him between the eyes. He wanted to shoot off his hat. Surely, you can see that he didn't do it on purpose.”
“But, Señor, surely you can see how trying to shoot off a man's hat is not the thing a man should be doing. It is loco.”
“I agree,” Brandt said. “That's why I have punished the guilty person. He cannot come back to the saloon. If I see him there, I will put him in jail and this I promise you. Now, what else is bothering you?”
Julio sighed. “Nothing, Señor,” he said. “Nothng is bothering me.”
Brandt sighed. “I didn't think so. Listen, Mayor, you don't mind if we use your office for a while, do you? I have some meetings planned, and the sheriff's office just isn't set up for what I need to do.”