The Family Jensen (24 page)

Sandy’s horse hadn’t broken its leg in the fall, but it was lame, so Sandy traded mounts with one of the Crow warriors who had sprung the trap on Bannerman’s hired killers. Accompanied by Crazy Bear and three warriors, Matt, Preacher, and Sandy rode on to Buffalo Flat. The Indians drew a bit of attention but didn’t cause a panic as they rode down the street. Folks were used to seeing the Crow around there.

Jason Garrard emerged from his hotel and lifted a hand in greeting to Matt, who reined in and nodded to him. “Mister Garrard.”

“That’s Mayor Garrard now,” the man said with a smile. “I’ve decided to go into politics.” He looked a little less friendly as he nodded to his son-in-law. “Sandy.”

“Hello, Mr. Garrard,” Sandy said. “It’s good to see you again.”

From the looks of it, an uneasy truce existed between the two men, Matt thought. They had to get along with each other because of Robin, but they might not ever genuinely like each other.

Matt considered Garrard an ally of sorts. The man had put his shady dealings behind him and was working for the betterment of the entire community. Matt said, “A federal judge will be on the stagecoach when it comes in, Mr. Garrard. He’s going to hold a hearing about Sandy’s claim to the upper portion of the valley. Is there a place in town big enough to have a hearing like that?”

“Sure. You can use the lobby of the hotel. Should be plenty of room in there, and we can bring in chairs from the dining room, as well as a table for the judge.”

“That would be fine. Thanks.”

Garrard nodded to Crazy Bear and the three warriors. “Will the, ah, Indians be coming in?”

“I think that would be a good idea,” Matt said.

“Well, all right. Maybe having some savages around won’t spook my guests too much.”

Matt glanced at Crazy Bear, knowing that the chief understood English. His face remained as impassively ugly as ever.

The men dismounted. Garrard said to Sandy, “How are my daughter and granddaughter?”

“They’re fine,” Sandy told him. “We’ll be spending more time in town soon.”

“I hope so. I want Emily to grow up knowing her grandpa.”

It took Matt a second, then he realized that Emily was Moon Fawn’s white name. She was a lucky little girl, he thought. She would grow up experiencing both worlds, Indian and white.

Preacher said, “You and Sandy go on inside, Matt.” He inclined his head toward Crazy Bear and the Crow warriors. “Me and these fellas will stay out here. We ain’t too fond of havin’ hard roofs over our heads. Never quite got used to it.”

Matt nodded. “All right. You keep an eye out for Smoke and that stagecoach.”

Garrard enlisted the help of his desk clerk and began preparing the hotel lobby for the hearing. Matt and Sandy pitched in, and so did some curious traveling salesmen who were staying at the hotel. The drummers didn’t know what was going on, but anything that broke up the monotony of their lives was welcome. Before long, they had the sofas that normally sat in the lobby moved out of the way and had set up several rows of chairs from the dining room.

“This may interfere with your business,” Sandy said to his father-in-law.

“Not enough to worry about,” Garrard replied. He smiled. “Besides, having such an important proceeding here might just increase business in the long run.”

A short time later, Preacher stuck his head in the front door. “There’s some dust comin’ south o’ town!” he called. “Could be the stagecoach.”

They crowded onto the hotel porch and watched the vehicle come up the street flanked by Smoke and Halliday. The presence of the Indians and rumors of what was about to happen at the hotel had spread around town, and quite a crowd was gathering. The coach’s driver slowed his team to let the townspeople get out of the way. The leather-lunged old jehu bellowed fiery curses that caused women to put their hands protectively over the ears of their children.

Smoke and Halliday dismounted and tied their horses at the hitch rail in front of the hotel. With a big grin on his face, Smoke bounded onto the porch, shook Matt’s hand, and slapped Preacher on the back.

“You made it,” he said. “Any trouble?”

“Oh, just a little dustup with about thirty o’ Bannerman’s boys,” Preacher drawled. “Nothin’ we couldn’t handle.”

Smoke nodded. “Glad to hear it.” He turned to nod toward the bearded man climbing out of the coach. “Meet Judge Starr.”

Garrard stepped forward. “Judge Starr!” he said. “Welcome to Buffalo Flat! Allow me to introduce myself. I’m the mayor of this community, Jason Garrard—”

“Don’t bother with the political glad handing, Garrard,” Starr snapped. “I’m here on legal business, and I don’t have time for it.”

Garrard blinked in surprise, but recovered quickly and said, “Of course. Right this way, Your Honor. We have a courtroom set up inside.”

“Much obliged,” Starr said as he followed Garrard into the building.

“Did Bannerman make a try for the judge?” Matt asked Smoke.

“He sure did,” Smoke replied. “He sent eight men to stop the coach, and I’m sure if they’d succeeded, they would have killed Starr.”

“But they didn’t, thanks to you and Halliday.”

Smoke shrugged. “That was the plan. We carried it out.”

“That leaves the hearing.” Matt looked up and down the street. “I wonder where Bannerman is. You don’t think he went with any of his men to carry out those attacks, do you?”

Smoke shook his head. “Not hardly. He’d want to be here in case his men failed to stop the hearing from taking place. He’s probably been keeping an eye on the town, so I expect he’ll show up soon.”

A few minutes later, Smoke proved to be a prophet. A dozen riders entered Buffalo Flat from the north end of town and came slowly along the street. Silence gradually spread through the chattering crowd as the men rode past. Smoke, Matt, and Preacher watched them approach and recognized Reece Bannerman riding in the lead. Lew Torrance was just behind him and to his right. The other ten men were cut from the same cloth as Torrance: hardened gunfighters whose killing skills were for sale to the highest bidder.

“Looks like he saved the cream of the crop to come into town with him,” Smoke commented.

“Or the worst of the worst,” Matt said.

“That’s ’cause he knows this is where the final showdown’ll be, if there is one,” Preacher said. “If the judge don’t rule the way Bannerman wants him to, he’ll try to kill ever’-body on the other side and scare the townspeople into back-in’ him up when the law comes in. He’ll find a way to blame ever’thing on us and Crazy Bear. He’ll say we went loco and killed that judge before they gunned us down.”

“You think he’d really murder a federal judge?” Matt asked.

Preacher squinted at him. “I seen fellas like Bannerman before. They get to thinkin’ they’re above the law—man’s law, God’s law, any other kind of law—and if they got enough guns on their side, sometimes they’re right. So, yeah, I think he’d try to wipe us all out, and if folks around here know what’s good for ’em, they’d keep the truth to theirselves.”

“Then it’s up to us to make sure that doesn’t happen,” Smoke said. His face was set in grim lines. He hooked his thumbs in his gunbelt and stepped to the front edge of the hotel porch as Bannerman and the crew of gun-wolves pulled rein in the street.

“If you’re lookin’ for the hearing, Bannerman, this is it,” Smoke said.

“Who’re you?” Bannerman snapped.

“That’s right, we haven’t met, have we? Name’s Smoke Jensen.”

Torrance said, “I told you about him, Mr. Bannerman. He and the other Jensen are related somehow.”

“What about that filthy old codger?” Bannerman asked as he glared at Preacher.

The old mountain man bristled instantly. “Filthy, am I?” he demanded. “Well, I’d rather be a mite dirty on the outside than rotten on the inside like you, Bannerman. As for who I am…they call me Preacher.”

Several of the gunmen recognized the name and frowned in surprise. “Preacher?” one of them repeated. “That ain’t possible. Preacher’s been dead for years.”

“Then I’m mighty spry for a corpse, sonny,” Preacher shot back, his lip curling in a snarl. His hand hovered over the butt of his Colt. “Care to find out just how spry?”

“Stop it,” Bannerman ordered his man. “We’re here to attend a hearing, not to get in some fracas with an old lunatic.” He dismounted and looped his reins around the hitch rail. “Come on.”

Smoke moved to block Bannerman’s path as the cattleman started up the steps. “You plan on bringing that whole bunch in with you?”

“They have a right to come in. A hearing like this is open to the public, isn’t it?”

“Indeed it is,” Judge Starr boomed from the front entrance of the hotel. “And I’d like to get started, so everyone come inside.” He looked at Crazy Bear and the other three Crow. “Including you gentlemen.”

“Wait just a minute!” Bannerman said. “No offense, Your Honor, but you can’t mean to let those savages attend.”

“They have a stake in the matter, and they’re citizens, according to the Treaty of 1868 and subsequent judicial decisions.”

Sandy stood behind Judge Starr and nodded. Clearly, he was familiar with the law regarding those matters.

“All right, blast it,” Bannerman said. “But it seems to me letting them in is making a mockery of the legal system.”

“I warn you, Mr. Bannerman, don’t tell me how to conduct legal proceedings,” Starr said.

Bannerman grimaced and said, “Sorry, Your Honor. I meant no disrespect.”

Starr jerked his head. “Let’s go.”

Everyone filed inside. The chairs filled up quickly with spectators, but Smoke, Matt, Preacher, and Halliday weren’t among them. They remained standing and arrayed themselves against a side wall where they could keep an eye on the entire room. Torrance and several of the gunmen took up similar positions on the opposite wall.

Bannerman consulted with a tall, slender man in an expensive suit. Smoke had never seen him before, but he recalled what Halliday had said about the Indian Ring sending a lawyer to represent Bannerman.

Sandy took a seat in the front row, as far as he could get from where Bannerman and the Eastern lawyer were sitting at the other end. Crazy Bear and the three warriors stood in the rear of the room. Some of the spectators glanced around at the hostile forces on three sides of them and began to look a little nervous, as they realized maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to sit in the middle.

Judge Starr walked behind the table that had been placed at the front of the room, and Garrard took it upon himself to call out, “All rise!”, as if he were a bailiff.

Starr glanced at him and said with dry amusement, “Thank you, Mayor.” Then he looked at the crowd in the room and went on, “Be seated.”

The spectators sat down. Smoke and his companions, Torrance and the gunfighters, and the Indians all stayed on their feet where they could move fast if they needed to.

“Federal court for the Western District, Fifth Circuit, is now in session,” Starr proclaimed. “In the absence of a bailiff, I’ll just say it myself, modesty be hanged. The Honorable Errol Starr presiding. This is a special hearing regarding a question of land ownership and homestead rights. Is anybody taking this down?”

A man in the second row said, “I am, Your Honor. I’m the editor of the Buffalo Flat
Sentinel.
”

“Newspaperman, eh? Well, I suppose that’s better than nothing.” Starr leaned over in his chair and reached into a carpetbag he had carried in from the stagecoach. He took out a gavel and rapped it sharply on the table in front of him. “Should’ve done that first.
Now
court’s in session, The Honorable Errol Starr presiding, et cetera, et cetera. This hearing is to establish the validity of a land claim by one Sandor Little Bear. Is Mr. Little Bear present?”

Sandy stood up. “Yes, Your Honor, right here.”

“You have documentation of the aforementioned claim, Mr. Little Bear?”

“I do, Your Honor. If I may approach the bench to introduce the deed into evidence?”

Starr nodded. “Come ahead.”

Bannerman looked at the lawyer, who jumped to his feet and said, “Objection, Your Honor. My client and I have not had an opportunity to examine this so-called deed before it is entered into evidence.”

“That’s because
I’m
the one who’ll examine it and determine its validity, counsel,” Starr said. “Objection overruled.”

The lawyer sat down but didn’t look happy about it. Bannerman’s neck was getting red, Smoke observed. Bannerman didn’t like anything about the proceeding. His ambition was in the hands of a man he hadn’t had a chance to bribe, bully, or murder, and he couldn’t control what was going to happen.

Sandy took the deed from his coat, unfolded it, placed it on the table in front of Starr, and smoothed it out. He said, “You’ll note, Your Honor, the dates on which the claim was filed, approved, and the deed drawn up. You can see as well, the official seal of the Department of the Interior granting provisional ownership of the land.”

Starr took a pair of spectacles from his vest pocket, unfolded them, and put them on. He leaned forward to study the document intently. A minute dragged by and seemed longer in the silence that gripped the makeshift courtroom.

“Provisional ownership,” the judge finally said, “dependent on certain conditions, such as making improvements. It’s my understanding that this land is being used as hunting grounds by a tribe of Indians.”

“A band of Indians, yes, Your Honor,” Sandy said. “My father’s people. He’s Chief Crazy Bear.”

“Then if the land is in an unimproved state, the conditions of this grant of land haven’t been met.”

Starr’s words drew a fleeting grin of triumph from Bannerman before the rancher controlled his reaction.

“Your Honor, if you’ll look at the dates again, you’ll see that the term of the grant isn’t up yet. In fact, I still have a year to fulfill them. In that time, I intend to have a house built for my wife and myself, a well dug, and a vegetable garden put in. I believe that will satisfy the conditions?”

Starr thought about it, then nodded. “It will. But what about the rest of the land?”

“My father’s people…my people…will be free to live and hunt there as they always have,” Sandy said.