Hanging in Wild Wind

As soon as Clancy, Selectman Tyler, Fred Elliot and the rest of the townsmen filed into the cantina and spread out along the bar, Vernon Reese said to all of them, “Damn, gentlemen, I can’t believe my eyes, what I just saw out there.”

“I just saw the law taking sides with a bunch of saddle trash against the town’s respectable citizens,” said Reese. “Somebody tell me it ain’t so.”

“I wish I could tell you that, mister,” Elliot said bitterly, “but I’d be lying.” He gestured to Mama Jean, a large, half-Mexican, half-Irish woman who had worked for the deceased owner over the years. “A bottle and some glasses, Mama,” he said. “There’ll be some big whiskey drunk here today.”

“This wouldn’t be happening in Texas, Mr. Doherty,” Reese said to Chug, who stood beside him. He made sure he spoke loud enough for the others to hear them.

Mama Jean stood a newly opened bottle of rye in front of Fred Elliot. Elliot filled a glass and slid the bottle of whiskey along the bar to the others. He took off his hat and dropped it atop the bar and gently touched his bruised forehead.

Standing on the other side of Elliot, Joe Clancy cut in and said, “Here’s something else you wouldn’t see in Texas.” He gestured toward the purple welt across Elliot’s forehead.

“My goodness,” said Reese. “One of those criminals put it on you, I expect?” he asked Elliot.

Elliot said, “One of our own lawmen did this.” He again touched the welt as he raised his filled glass to his lips. “This was done by none other than an Arizona ranger named Samuel Burrack.”

“Don’t think I haven’t seriously pondered that myself, all the way back to town,” said Elliot. “All I did was mention lynching those murdering dogs. This is what it got me.” Upon saying the word, he cut a guarded glance toward the door, lest the ranger walk up and hear him.

“Well, that’s nothing but plumb crazy,” said Reese, enjoying himself. “A man has a right to say what suits him in this great nation of ours.”

“That’s what I thought too,” said Elliot. “But I was wrong. Just saying the word will get a man beaten like a dog.”

“I’ll say it,” Reese declared boldly. “Lynching, lynching, lynching. I dare any damned territory ranger to try calling me down for it.” He raised his shot glass toward the townsmen. “Boys, this is America. We’ve got our rights spelled out for us in writing. Freedom of speech is one of the main ones.”

“By God, this man is right,” said Clancy, inspired by the stranger—and by his second shot of rye. “I’ll say it too. Lynching!” He raised his shot glass. “A lynching is what it’s going to take to bring this town its share of justice.”

In the sheriff’s office, the ranger and Longworth let the waitress, Shelly Linde, inside and closed and locked the front door behind her. Longworth stood at the door with her.

“I saw all of you riding into town, Detective,” she said to him. “I came to see how I can help you.” She looked around the room and back at the cells, where the ranger had already led the prisoners. The Cullens occupied the first cell, Paco and Buckles the second, and Kitty Dellaros the third. The cell doors were closed but not locked. “It was terrible—I mean, the jailbreak and all.”

Sam watched her eyes as she looked from face to face among the prisoners in their cells. He also checked the faces of the prisoners, all of them staring at the young woman, except for Cadden Cullen, who sat intently looking down at his wounded leg.

What have we here? the ranger asked himself, looking back and forth between the prisoners and the young woman.

“That’s kind of you, Miss Shelly,” said Detective Longworth. “But these men have already broke jail and killed the doctor and Chief Bell. I can’t risk having you around them. They’re not to be trusted.”

“Not even long enough for me to take each of them a dipper of water from a bucket?” the woman persisted quietly. “I’ll be careful, Detective. And I’ll have the two of you watching over me.”

“Well . . .” Longworth let his answer stall as he slid a glance to the ranger for approval.

Longworth looked at the dusty, battered prisoners. “All right,” he said to Shelly Linde. “Bring them some water. But don’t let your guard down, not even for a second, with these men.”

“Or the woman,” Sam said to Shelly, seeing Kitty Dellaros staring appraisingly at the young waitress from the bars of her cell.

“I won’t let my guard down, Ranger,” Shelly said to Sam. To Longworth she said, “Thank you, Detective. I’ll go fetch a bucket and start watering them right now.”

When she’d turned and left, Sam opened the door a crack and looked down the street toward the Belleza Grande Cantina. Through the cantina’s open doors he could see that the place was crowded. But it’s not a festive crowd, he told himself. There was no music, no laughter resounding along the dirt street.

He pulled the door shut and locked it. Turning back to Longworth, he asked just between the two of them, “Are you and the young lady together?”

“Together?” Longworth appeared taken by surprise that the ranger would ask him such a thing. “No. I haven’t had time for any social occasions since I’ve arrived here—”

“But I can see you have eyes for her,” Sam said bluntly, cutting him off rather than hearing his awkward denial.

Sam asked in an even quieter voice, “Do you think she might have had a hand in the Cullens and Kitty breaking out of jail?”

“No,” Longworth said, his voice rigid. Sam could tell he had to struggle to keep from bristling at the question. “The time I’ve been here, I’ve known Shelly Linde to be an upright young woman, Ranger. I have to say, I don’t appreciate you even asking that kind of question.”

Oh yes, Longworth has eyes for her, the ranger told himself. He decided to walk softly on the matter, for now anyway. “Detective, asking these kinds of questions comes with pinning tin on our chests,” Sam said. “I ask because I have to, not because I want to.”

“I understand,” said Longworth, cooling down quickly and letting out a tense breath. “The answer is no,” he said in a calmer tone. “I’d stake my life on it.”

Careful . . . , the ranger cautioned him silently, but decided not to press the issue. “Then I’m glad I asked you now and got the question out of the way,” Sam said. He glanced toward the cells, then back to the detective. “It’s a fact they got their hands on the key some way.”

“I know they did,” Longworth said with resolve, “but it wasn’t from Shelly Linde. I think it was from those two.” He glared at Paco Stazo and Huey Buckles.

Sam made no comment. He walked back toward the three cells. Longworth followed him to the empty peg on the wall where the key had hung. With a nod in the direction of the cantina, he said, “Anyway, shouldn’t our main concern right now be what they’re getting fueled up to do over at the cantina?”

Sam stood looking at the cells, at the battered, bruised, sweat-streaked faces staring back at him. “We know what they’re going to do,” he said.

“They’re going to get drunk enough to come over here and demand we give them the prisoners.” He stared grimly from face to face. “We need to find out who done what, in case we have to give them somebody to hang.”

Longworth stood stunned by the ranger’s words; so did the prisoners. But after a dead silence, Cadden Cullen chuckled a little and said, “Nice try, Ranger.”

“Shut up, Cullen. This ain’t funny,” said Huey Buckles, knowing that he and Paco were the two with the most to worry about.

“Yes, it is,” said Cadden. “Can’t you tell he’s bluffing? He’s not giving anybody over to a lynch mob. He just figured we’d let something go if we thought it might keep us from a lynching.” He grinned and stared hard at the ranger. “I say we tell him nothing. He’s a lawman—let him sort things out. That’s his job.”

“Why don’t you both keep your mouths shut,” Paco said, seeing what the ranger was doing. “It does not matter what we say. We will be lynched in the street, or we will all hang when the judge is finished with us.” He stared at Sam with a wizened expression. “Eh, Ranger?”

Sam stared stone-faced. Cadden Cullen didn’t know it, but his attitude alone had just told the ranger a lot. So had Buckles, by the way he’d reacted. But Sam’s main question was still the cell key. He’d already decided Shelly Linde had given the key to the Cullens. But why had she done it? And where was it now?

When Shelly Linde returned, she went from cell to cell, dipping water from a bucket and handing it to the prisoners through the bars. Sam stood back watching, checking the look on her face and Cadden Cullen’s as she gave him the dipper.

“My, my, Miss Shelly Linde,” Cadden purred. For a moment, the ranger thought he detected a trace of a sly grin. “You look as lovely as ever.”

Shelly took a step back from his cell, even though the iron bars stood between them, and both the ranger and Longworth were close at hand. Sam took note of her action and continued observing.

“Oh, did I scare you, young lady?” Cadden asked quietly, not realizing the ranger was catching every word, every gesture. “I wouldn’t scare you for the world,” he cooed. “No, ma’am . . .”

Shelly looked down. In shame? The ranger’s eyes narrowed as she took the dipper from him and walked to the next cell.

But before he could give the matter more thought, the ranger and Longworth turned to the front door as a hard rapping sounded from the other side of it.

“I’ve got it,” said Longworth, stepping over to the door, rifle in hand. He opened the thick oak door a crack, then wide enough for Hilliard Porter, the town blacksmith, to walk through.

“Men, I don’t mean to be an alarmist,” said the blacksmith, walking quickly back to the cells with three lengths of thick chain draped around his shoulders. “But there’s some awfully ugly talk going on at the Belleza Grande.” He raised the three chains and dropped them to the floor. On the end of each length he hooked a thick brass padlock with its key sticking out from the keyhole in its center.

“Obliged,” said the ranger. “We’ve been expecting some ugly talk.” He and Longworth stooped down beside the blacksmith. Each of them picked up a length of chain.

“Who’s the one heading it up?” Longworth asked, standing with his chain and walking to the cell where Paco and Buckles stood watching, listening intently to what the blacksmith had to say.

“Clancy and Elliot,” said the blacksmith, also standing, going to the next cell. “I believe they would have drank it out of their system had it not been for a couple of strangers who happened to be there.”

“Just happened to be there, huh?” Sam said, almost to himself. He stepped forward and wrapped the length of chain around the bars of Kitty’s cell door, fastening it to the iron doorframe. “What’d these strangers look like?” he asked, hooking the brass lock, shutting it, testing it, and taking the key from it while Kitty stood looking on, holding the water dipper in her hand. Shelly Linde stood back with the water bucket while the ranger completed his work.

“Oh, these two look like just what they are,” said Porter. “They’re straight-up border trash.” He stared hard at Paco and Buckles as he tested his lock and took the key from it. He stepped over and handed the key to Longworth. “I notched each key, one, two and three notches, for which cell it goes to,” he said. “So you won’t have to fumble around if you have to open up in a hurry.”

“I sent my boy out to bring back Doc Stanton,” said Porter. “He’s treating a sick buggy mare a few miles out of town.”

“Yeah, that’s thoughtful of you, Blacksmith,” Cadden Cullen said with a nasty smile. Sam noted that he slid a guarded glance over to Shelly Linde as he spoke.

“Don’t talk to me, you murdering sonsabitches,” Porter erupted. “Far as I’m concerned, lynching is too good for yas. But the law is the law, and like any civilized man, I live by it.”

“Lynching? Uh-oh, Ranger, you heard him. He said that word,” said Cadden. “Ain’t you going to bust his head for him, the way you did the livestock broker?”

“No. He said it with the right attitude,” Sam replied, more for the blacksmith’s sake than for Cadden Cullen’s.

As Kitty handed Shelly the dipper, Kitty saw the others looking away from her cell toward Cadden Cullen, and she made her move. She grasped Shelly’s hand and held it firmly as she leaned in close to her through the bars. “I know what you did,” she whispered almost into Shelly’s ear.

Shelly looked shocked; her face turned ashen. She tried to jerk her hand free without the others noticing, but Kitty held it firmly, wearing a deceptively sweet smile. “Don’t worry. It’ll stay our little secret. You help me, and I’ll help you.”

This time Shelly did pull her hand free, but only because Kitty released it as the ranger looked back around toward the two.

“Thank you, young lady,” Kitty said in a normal tone of voice. “I needed that.” She ran a hand across her wet lips. Did the ranger hear anything, see anything? She wondered, staring at him. If he had, his eyes weren’t about to reveal it. I’ve learned that much about him, she told herself.

Shelly Linde backed away from the cells. Sam saw the tremble in her hand as she hooked the dipper on the bucket’s edge. “I’ll go fetch some more water and heat it up for Doc Stanton when he gets here. I’ll find some bandages too.”

Longworth stepped over closer to her and said in a soft voice, “Miss Shelly, I hope someday soon you’ll allow me to thank you properly for all your help.” As he spoke he guided her farther away from the cells. “I hope you’ll accompany me to dinner some evening?” he asked.

“Oh, my . . .” Shelly paused and stood looking at him in silence for a moment. Finally she said, “Why, yes, Detective Longworth. I would be most pleased to dine with you.”

With the three cells padlocked, Sam cut in for a second and said to Longworth, “I’m going to walk to the cantina and see what’s going on there.”

“No,” said the ranger before Longworth finished his words. He knew the detective was more interested in talking to the young lady than in a cantina full of angry drunks. “We need you right here, keeping an eye on things. I’ll be all right.”

“I need to go get that water started,” Shelly said, sounding harried. She walked to the door.

The ranger walked with her, opened the door for her and said, “After you, Miss Shelly. Then he gave Longworth a look and followed her out the door, onto the boardwalk.