‘Would you and the girls really have killed my nephew and me if we hadn’t said we’d come along with you?’ Brady Anchor inquired as he knelt astride the Widow Snodgrass’s thighs at the conclusion of a most satisfactory session of love making.
It was, Brady had decided, time to show the blonde something of the kind of man with whom she was dealing.
Hard-boiled, tough, worldly women had always been attracted to Brady’s cherubic, innocent appearance and Widow Snodgrass had been no exception. In each case, what had subconsciously started as an extension of the maternal instinct had rapidly changed when his true capabilities had unfolded. Having studied the widow for almost twenty-four hours, he considered that she would be suitably impressed by evidence of his shrewd reasoning and intelligence.
Not one of Ahumada’s party had survived the holocaust of flying lead. Displaying a remarkable calmness, considering what had happened, Widow Snodgrass had asked Brady to ensure that none of the Mexicans were alive and suffering. She had not made any suggestions as to the treatment they would have received if they had been. The situation had not arisen, for they were all dead. Satisfied on that point, she had next requested that Brady and Jeff should catch the bandidos’ scattered mounts.
By the time Brady and Jeff had returned with Ahumada’s palomino and three more of the horses, stew and coffee were bubbling in pots on the fire. The widow had returned her knife to its sheath on the side of her left boot—Brady did not confirm his suspicion of its hiding place until the next evening—and the girls had replaced their revolvers in the Bibles. While some of them had made a meal, others had searched and laid out the bodies.
‘I thought we’d send any money or jewelry to the authorities,’ the widow had explained, indicating a small heap of such items. They can decide what to do with it.’
Despite the sizeable bounties offered on them, there had been no doubt about how to deal with the bodies. In the South Texas heat, they could not be transported and so had to be buried. That task had fallen upon Brady and Jeff, despite their mutual aversion to riding the blister end of a shovel. Then, with her Daughters of the Lord standing by in suitably decorous and impressive attitudes, the widow had read burial services over the graves.
Having completed the unpleasant, if necessary tasks, Widow Snodgrass had invited Brady and Jeff to join them in a belated supper. Over the meal, she had explained that—due to their carrying the Message through unfrequented and often lawless areas—she had considered it advisable to ensure that her Daughters of the Lord had adequate means of protecting themselves.
After having eaten a good supper, Brady had said that he and his nephew would be moving on. The widow had said that she would be obliged if they made camp in the clearing. It would, she had insisted, be much safer for her party if they had the protection of two tough, competent men. Not all of Ahumada’s gang had died and the remainder might arrive looking for their leader.
All through the widow’s speech, she and the girls had sat with their right hands resting on the lids of the Bibles. There had been an air of menace about them which Brady and Jeff had recognized. Showing nothing of their suspicions and suppositions, they had accepted the invitation. Immediately, the atmosphere had changed and the women had set out to make them welcome.
What the widow had not realized was that Brady had been seeking a way in which he and his nephew could stay close to her party. He had developed a theory regarding their religious activities and had hoped that he might be able to test its validity.
During the evening, Brady had studied the women and formed his opinions. As he had expected, the widow was worldly, intelligent, capable and ruled the other three with an iron hand. Rosita and Bernadette had appeared to accept their subordinate capacity, but he had sensed a smoldering resentment under Sarah’s compliance. He had also observed that Widow Snodgrass regarded the red-headed girl warily. Sooner or later, he had surmised, they would lock horns in a struggle for domination.
The night had gone by uneventfully and with the proprieties observed by everybody in the camp. Under the pretence of helping harness the team, next morning, Brady and Jeff had examined the contents of the wagon. They had consisted of the shotgun, several leather trunks and a portable harmonium.
Travelling at a leisurely pace, with the widow driving the wagon, Brady and Jeff had continued with their surveillance. While his uncle rode alongside the box, conversing with the blonde, Jeff had brought up the rear. Leading the captured horses, he had talked with the girls as they sat on the vehicle’s gate.
Covering fifteen miles, they made camp in a hollow a short distance from the creek. The widow had told Brady about her home during the journey, but had warned that they would not reach it until at least noon the next day. Giving a confidence in return, he had informed her that he and Jeff were wanted by the sheriff of Edwards County for breaking out of jail and suspicion of being involved in the bank robbery. While admitting that they had escaped, he had declared their innocence where the second charge was concerned. Expressing her belief that he was speaking the truth, the widow had shown considerable interest in the robbery. So Brady had been ‘persuaded’ to tell her the full story. Taking the line he and his nephew had been contemplating a similar robbery, he had complained that they had been circumvented by Merton’s gang. Not that he had used the owlhoot’s name. Instead he had waxed full of praise for the smart way in which the affair had been conducted, including the method the gang had used to throw the posse off their trail.
Sensing he had convinced the widow that he and Jeff were on the dodge, Brady had awaited the next move. Asking him to help her water the horses, the widow—who had insisted that he should call her ‘Elvira’—had guided him out of sight of the camp. While the animals had been drinking, she had suggested that they washed away the dirt of the day’s journey. Stripping off their clothing, they had done so. Then, allowing the animals to graze, they had settled down to make love.
‘I don’t follow you, Brady,’ the widow said, trying to sit up.
‘You couldn’t’ve just let us ride off,’ Brady explained, laying his hands on her bare bosom and holding her supine. ‘Not after we’d seen how you-all handled Ahumada’s bunch. If word of that’d got around, folks might’ve started wondering about you and your Daughters of the Lord.’
‘So you know what we was fixing to do all along,’ the widow sighed. Then a smile came to her full lips and her hands reached towards him. ‘There’s a whole heap more of you than meets the eye, Brady Anchor.’
‘And to you, Elvira Snodgrass,’ Brady admitted, after a period during which he had done his best to uphold her high opinion of him. Moving to sit alongside her, he went on, ‘That’s a mighty slick game you’re playing.’
‘Which game?’ the widow inquired, reaching for her drawers.
‘Traveling around, visiting towns and getting yourself accepted by the right kind of folks. Then learning everything owlhoots need to know about where and when to make a robbery, what kind of law they’ll be up against, things like that. It sure is one clever game, Elvira-gal.’
‘Gracias,’ she purred, clearly delighted by the praise.
‘But that other notion,’ Brady went on, donning his long john underpants. ‘Now there is a dilly.’
‘What other notion?’ asked Elvira, trying to sound puzzled.
‘Printing counterfeit money,’ Brady elaborated and watched her register genuine alarm at the extent of his knowledge. ‘Then selling it to owlhoots, to help them throw off any posse that comes after them. That’s real fancy thinking.’
‘How did you know about that?’ the widow demanded, rising and hitching up her drawers. Those bills are perfect.
‘I’m not gainsaying that, Elvira,’ Brady replied. ‘Like I said, I got a chance to look them over after we’d come back to Rocksprings.’
‘Then how ...?’
‘That’s the way it had to be. There wasn’t any other reason for those yahoos to ask for exactly fifty thousand and make the teller take the wrappers off the money. That had got me suspicious, which’s one reason my nephew and I went along with the posse. When they threw away what looked like the loot, I was almost sure what they’d done. There was one thing I couldn’t figure out.’
‘What was that?’ Elvira wanted to know and there was admiration in her tones as she looked at the stocky man.
‘It was Spit Merton’s gang,’ Brady answered. ‘So I wanted to know who’d taught him how to handle things as smart as he did. I reckoned that it’d be worth our while to trail them and find out.’
‘I should’ve known that useless son-of-a-bitch would talk to save his stinking hide!’ Elvira declared bitterly.
‘You’re doing him an injustice,’ Brady objected. ‘Time we’d caught up with him, he’d lost all the bank’s money and our five thousand in a poker game. That got young Jeff all riled up and I wasn’t any too pleased either. When the smoke cleared, ole Spit and what was left of his bunch just weren’t in a talking mood.’
‘Then how did you ... ?’ the widow began.
‘We drifted up to Mona Gilhooley’s Tavern,’ Brady replied and saw Elvira’s eyes narrow angrily at the name. ‘Got real lucky there. A one-eyed old gent told us about your auction.’
‘That stupid old bastard!’ Elvira fumed. ‘I told him to stay away from her place and not to start spreading the word until he was north of Austin.’
‘Did you reckon Mona’d’ve known that it was the Thinker’s big idea?’ Brady inquired and watched the shock return to the woman’s features. ‘Then she’d start wondering—or maybe even know—who was behind it.’
‘You’re even smarter than I figured,’ Elvira said, barely louder than a whisper.
‘I try to think things out,’ Brady admitted. ‘Something tells me that you was pretty close to the Thinker. And Mona claims she used to be.’
‘He was my husband!’ the widow blazed. ‘And I’d have ripped her tits off if she’d come within a country mile of him.’
‘Maybe he sneaked away
some time,’ Brady drawled.
‘Why worry, Elvira. He’s dead … or isn’t he?’
‘Don’t you think he is?’ she demanded, her anger being replaced by concern.
‘I’ve heard he got killed, but nothing more than that.’
‘That’s what I heard, too,’ Elvira stated and shivered a little. ‘One of the fellers he’d taken with him brought me back the word. Seems like the Rurales cornered them on a gorge, with a fast-running river far below. The feller got clear and watched. The gang took cover among the rocks and were getting picked off one by one. Just before he lit out, he heard the Thinker yell and saw him rear up, then go over the edge.’
‘Maybe he’d dived in and got away,’ Brady suggested.
‘Not the Thinker. Smart as he was, he’d never learned how to swim.’
‘So you took his idea—’
‘It was as much my idea as his!’ Elvira protested indignantly. ‘We figured that, instead of pulling the hold-ups ourselves, we’d learn all about how to do them and sell the ideas to owlhoots. It was me that came up with the idea for helping them to escape after they’d done the job. I found the feller with the forging plates, inks and papers and learned how to work the printing press. On top of that, I waited, damned nigh starving, for him to get word to me if he was still alive.’
‘I didn’t doubt that you’d play square with him,’ Brady consoled her.
‘I always did and have. You’re the first man to touch me since we were married. It wasn’t easy, either, setting up this deal. Before I could do it, I had to get the right sort of girls to be my Daughters of the Lord. They had to be smart enough to convince people they were misguided kids who’d gone wrong but who’d seen the Light and repented.’ ‘From what I’ve seen of them, you did real well.’ ‘You don’t know what I had to go through, making them keep their nails short, their faces clean and stopping them wearing jewelry and in these sort of clothes. Rosita and Bernadette weren’t too hard to handle, but Sarah’s a hard and troublesome bitch. I’ve had to whip her, tooth and claw, three times. And it’s got harder each time.’
‘And you can’t just get rid of her,’ Brady drawled, ‘be-because she’s the smartest of the three—and she knows too much about what you’re doing.’
‘That’s about the size of it,’ Elvira admitted ruefully.
‘You’re a remarkable woman, Elvira,’ Brady declared sincerely. ‘But why did you have to make use of a yahoo like Spit Merton?’
‘He was all I could lay hands on at the time and had money that I needed. On top of which, I didn’t want to chance visiting any of the hideouts looking for helpers. Young Billy Longbach had got sweet on Bernadette and was hanging around our meetings. So I got him to take me to meet Merton. Lord, how I had to work getting him to see that I could show him the safest way to rob a bank.’
‘I’d say you did that all right,’ Brady drawled.
‘Then how the hell did it go wrong?’ Elvira snorted.
‘His men wouldn’t split up and ride away quietly in ones after they left the bank,’ Brady guessed. ‘Instead, they sat jawing outside until folks got suspicious of them.’
‘That’s just about what I should’ve expected from Merton’s bunch!’ Elvira spat out. ‘The stupid bastards spoiled everything. For me, as well as for them.’
‘How come?’
‘I was counting on them coming back for more ideas, so that I could get them to tell the other owlhoots who came to the auction how well it worked. They’d’ve thought that if Spit Merton could make a success of it, they’d do even better.’
They had been carrying on with their dressing while they talked. Brady picked up his shoulder holster and slipped his right arm through its loop.
‘My nephew and I saw how well it went off,’ he said. ‘Maybe they’d take our words on it.’
‘You mean you’d do that for me?’ Elvira asked.
‘Lady, there’s money to be made in this notion, and I like money.’
‘And I need a man to back me. In case any of the owlhoots should get a notion to take the ideas without paying for them.’
‘You reckon I’d be that man?’ Brady inquired.
‘I’ve seen you handle that fancy gun-rig and Jeff’s a regular snake too,’ Elvira replied. ‘On top of which, I reckon you’re smart enough to be able to copper any bets that might be made.’
‘You don’t know sic ’em about me,’ Brady drawled.
‘That’s right,’ the widow admitted and frowned. ‘I don’t. In fact, I’ve never heard tell of an owlhoot by your name.’
‘Could be because I’m not one,’ Brady drawled. ‘Or because I’m like the Thinker, too smart to let myself and my nephew get ourselves put on wanted dodgers. Which do you want it to be?’
‘Like I said,’ Elvira replied. ‘You’re smart and I trust you.’
‘Then you’ve just got yourself some help,’ Brady declared.
Returning to the camp, fully dressed and leading the horses, Brady and Elvira found only two of the girls present.
‘Where’s Sarah?’ the widow demanded.
‘Her and Jeff went to see if they could shoot some meat for the pot,’ Bernadette replied, a trifle enviously. ‘She reckoned you and his uncle wouldn’t mind, seeing’s how you was busy with... the horses.’
‘It’s good to see young folks thinking of us old ones, Elvira,’ Brady remarked. ‘Not that you’re old, of course.’
On the hunters coming back with a young buck whitetail deer, the widow was forced to restrain her annoyance. Later, after the women had gone to bed, Jeff told his uncle of the proposition which Sarah had put to him. She had explained about Elvira’s scheme and suggested that he helped her to take it over. However, she either could not or would not tell him where the forger’s plates were hidden.
‘I told her I’d think about it,’ Jeff drawled. ‘How’d you get on?’
‘Just about the same as you,’ Brady replied. ‘I asked about the plates and stuff as we were coming back, but Elvira got all cagey and I didn’t push it.’
‘Anyways,’ Jeff said. ‘We’ve found the counterfeiters and all we have to do is get the plates.’
‘Something tells me that’s not going to be easy, nephew,’ Brady warned.
Resuming the journey the next morning, the party continued to follow the course of Maravillas Creek. Shortly before noon, they came to a fork in the trail. Nailed to a tree, so that it pointed in a westerly direction, was a signboard with letters burned deep into it.
‘two miles to the border mission and sanctuary
1 MILE
ALL ARE WELCOME
COME AND BE SAVED!’
Studying the message on the board, Brady realized what the one-eyed old timer had been driving at with his enigmatic comments. Granted that much of a clue, only a stupid owlhoot would have failed to find the place at which the auction was to be held.
‘That’s how I like to think of my place, Brady,’ the widow remarked, following the direction of his gaze and allowing her team to turn on to the westbound trail.
‘You don’t say anything about it on your handbills,’ Brady protested.
That’s because it wasn’t ready to start doing the work I have in mind,’ Elvira pointed out. ‘And I don’t want too many folks getting to hear about it. We might get the wrong kind of congregation.’
‘We might at that,’ Brady agreed.
Passing through wooded country, following the trail, they came to the edge of a wide, open valley. In its centre was a large adobe house of Spanish design. It stood in a garden surrounded by a low wall. There were two pole corrals to the left of the building and a lean-to at the right would offer shelter for the wagon when it was not in use.
‘It sure looks a nice place,’ Brady commented.
‘I like it,’ the widow replied, but her attention was on a fine bay horse in the second of the corrals.
‘Do you and the girls live here alone?’ Brady inquired.
‘We’ve got an old owlhoot and his wife stay on while we’re away and old One-Eye Sam does the chores when he’s here.’
‘Good looking horse there,’ Brady said. ‘Better than those in the other corral.’
‘Sure,’ Elvira answered. ‘Only I don’t know who it belongs to.’
‘As long’s it’s only one of them, we don’t need to worry too much,’ Brady assured her.
Passing through the open gate in the wall, Brady and Jeff drew slightly ahead of the wagon. A stocky old man and an elderly woman rose from the porch, then the house’s front door opened.
‘What the hell?’ Jeff breathed, staring at the figure that emerged.
‘How did she get here?’ Brady demanded, no louder.
Clad in a dirty, travel-stained riding habit, Sybil Cravern walked towards the wagon. She ignored Brady and Jeff, devoting all her attention to the buxom woman on the box.
‘Widow Snodgrass,’ Sybil greeted, sounding almost reverently humble. ‘I heard you preach in Temple, Bell County, and it just inspired me. I had to find you and ask if I could become one of your Daughters of the Lord.’