CHAPTER TEN
Dunk Jefferson didn’t show up at the bunkhouse until noon. He came down from the rise behind the mansion with mud on his boots and a shovel in his hand. The first person he saw was Frank Cobb, and he hailed him. “Buried my dead, Frank.”
“You plant them boys coyote deep?” Frank said, disliking the man.
“Sure did. Deep enough. I even said a few words, though they didn’t mean a damn thing to dead men. Now I got to clean up. Is there grub?”
“Go talk to the cook. He’ll feed you.”
Jefferson nodded. “I put three good horses in your corral and left revolvers and rifles outside your door. I’ll take five hundred for the horses and you can keep the guns.”
“I’ll inspect the horses and talk with Mrs. Kerrigan,” Frank said.
“And when you’re talking, tell her I’ll bring in Blade Koenig and his son for her.”
“She wants to do that job herself.”
“And she can. I’ll bring them here and she can hang them at her earliest convenience.”
“For Kate it’s a reckoning, Jefferson. I said she wants to deal with the Koenigs herself and that means from start to finish.”
The little man shrugged. “There’s no arguing with a woman. All right, then I’ll ride with her. When?”
“In a few days. The boss injured her shoulder, and she needs time to heal.”
“A man wouldn’t need time to heal,” Jefferson said. “That’s the trouble with having a lady boss. A woman will lie abed every opportunity she gets, unless it’s a man doing the askin’, and then she’ll jump out of the sheets like a scalded cat.”
Ignoring that comment, Frank said, “Beef and beans in the cookhouse and maybe there’s some bear sign left. Go eat.”
Jefferson stared into Frank’s eyes. “You still think I ain’t right in the head. Isn’t that so?”
“You were never right in the head, Dunk, even back in the day.”
“I was sane enough to run away from the booby hatch and steal a hoss so I could put a passel of git between me and them brain doctors. A man who can do all that ain’t loco. Fact is, he’s a goddamned genius.”
“So, I was right. You are no longer a deputy marshal,” Frank said.
Jefferson put thumb and forefinger on his badge. “This here star says I am. I kept hold of this star, Frank. Even in the insane asylum I kept hold of it. I hid it, Frank, hid it good where them sons of bitches could never find it.” His smile was crafty. “Know what I done? I snuck it between the pages of a Bible they give me, right at Isaiah Fourteen and Twelve where it says, ‘How you have fallen from heaven, morning star, son of the dawn. You have been cast down to the earth, you who once laid low the nations.’ That was wrote for Satan, but it could have been wrote for me.” Jefferson’s eyes darted to his right and left and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Heard something, Frank. I heard something, a thing you should know.”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Frank said.
“You got to hear it and I’m going to tell it to you. I heard them Koenig boys tried to rape Mrs. Kerrigan. And there’s some talk that they succeeded.”
Frank’s face stiffened but he said nothing.
“Tell her I’ll cut them, Frank. Tell her I’ll bring back their balls—”
“No, you won’t.”
“In a poke,” Jefferson said.
Frank Cobb sorted out a response in his mind and then said the words. “Jefferson, saddle up and ride on out of here. I don’t want you around.”
“How come?”
“You’re bad news, and I hate your guts.”
The little man nodded. “Figured you’d get back to that again. But I’m staying put. The law has been broken, and it’s my duty to see that the lawbreakers are brought to justice.”
“Damn you, Jefferson, you have no duty,” Frank said, his blue eyes showing anger. “You’re an escapee from an insane asylum, not a lawman.”
“I am a lawman. This star on my chest says so.”
“The hell with your star. Now git. Like I told you to.”
The stubborn expression on Jefferson’s face shut down and left only an expressionless mask. “Frank, you want me gone from here, you’ll need to draw down on me to make it permanent.” The man’s hand was close to his gun. “But I don’t advise it. You couldn’t shade me on your best day, not then, not now.”
Jefferson had supplied the spark and Frank was ready to explode, his anger a terrible thing to see.
Kate Kerrigan saw and quickly put a damper on her segundo’s rage. “Frank!” she called from the house doorway. “Let it go! This moment!” For a moment, she thought Frank would ignore her, that she was trying to draw rein on a runaway stallion, but as she walked toward him, she saw the turmoil go out of him, replaced by a slump-shouldered acceptance that it was neither the time nor the place for a gunfight.
Their eyes locked in mutual dislike and hostility, neither Frank nor Jefferson turned in Kate’s direction.
Wearing only a dressing gown, her left arm in a sling made from a torn petticoat, she stepped between the two men. A man can tell how angry an Irish woman is by her hands. If they’re around your neck she’s probably a little annoyed with you . . . but if she’s holding a gun, then you can bet the farm that you’re in deep trouble.
Kate held a gun—a .455 British Bulldog revolver presented to her by Queen Victoria during Kate’s visit to Buckingham Palace. “We trust that this pistol will stand you in good stead after your return to the wild Texas lands,” the old queen had said.
Indeed, the Bulldog was standing Kate in good stead. “Both of you, step away.” Her heart thumped in her chest. “I don’t want to shoot you, but if that’s what it takes to restore tranquility to my home, then that’s what I’ll do.”
Frank looked stubborn, but Jefferson defused the situation . . . at least for the moment.
The little man swept off his hat, cut a deep bow, and straightened. “No need for violence, Mrs. Kerrigan, and I apologize most humbly for distressing you so. Mr. Cobb and I were merely trying to settle a disagreement about the hunt for the Koenig scoundrels.”
“That will be settled soon, and by me,” Kate said. “In the meantime, Mr. Jefferson you look very begrimed. I suggest you wash up and then find yourself some breakfast.”
“I buried the Duffy brothers and Platte River Burdett Mohan,” Jefferson said. “It was muddy work and grave digging does give a man an appetite. Maybe it’s something to do with the smell of dead men. I don’t know.”
“Then please do as I say,” Kate said.
Jefferson gave another bow from the waist. “Your obedient servant, ma’am.” He gave Frank a hard look, picked up his shovel, and walked away. A dust devil rose and spun around Jefferson’s legs but only for an instant before it collapsed and died.
Kate yelled after the man’s retreating back. “And Mr. Jefferson, all the Koenigs succeeded in doing was make me mad.”
Jefferson touched his hat brim. “Glad to hear that, Mrs. Kerrigan.”
When the man was gone, Kate glared at Frank. “Frank Cobb, I’m surprised at you. How could you match wits with a crazy man?”
Muscles bunched in Frank’s jaw. “You shouldn’t be surprised, Kate. I’ve never in my life backed away from a fight.”
“Well, this time I’m glad you did,” Kate said. “You could be lying dead on the ground right now.”
“Or Jefferson could. Don’t sell me short.”
“Or both of you, killed by stubborn male pride.”
“He wants to ride with us when we go after the Koenigs.”
“Well, when the chips are down maybe an extra gun will come in handy.”
“Kate, Dunk Jefferson is a madman.”
Kate frowned. “Yes, Frank, I know, but we’ll be going up against madmen. Or had you forgotten?”
“No, what happened here, at your home, is something I’ll never forget.” He touched his hat. “Now I have to go see how Trace and the hands are doing with the hay cutting or with the not hay cutting, whatever the case may be.”
“Frank—”
The big segundo could almost read Kate’s thoughts and he smiled. “I’ll stay away from Jefferson.”
“No, it’s not about Jefferson, not really. Frank, you mean a great deal to me and I don’t want to lose you.”
“Nor I you,” Frank said. “So we break even on that score.”
* * *
When Kate stepped into the house Nora was waiting for her, her face concerned. “Is everything all right, Mrs. Kerrigan? You’re shivering and pale and you look affrighted.”
“I’m just fine. I know it’s early, Nora, but bring me a brandy. And for God’s sake make it a large one.”