Chapter Thirty-two
Poke had heard the scream of the horses when he crawled out through the back window. One of the horses, he knew, was his horse, Cody. He had had Cody since he was nine years old, and the thought of him dying in such a way just added to the hurt he was feeling over the sudden death of his parents. But he knew there was nothing he could do about it.
He ran through the night, not only to escape the men who had come to kill, but also to get away from the panic and pain-induced screams of the horses.
When he first started out he had no specific plan in mind other than to escape. But after a few minutes he realized that it was as important for him to be going toward something as it was for him to be running away from something. Without having to think hard about it, he started the long, fifteen-mile trek toward Sky Meadow.
About an hour after he started, he heard horses coming up the road. It was still dark, and he had no idea who would be out riding this time of night, but he didn’t want to take any chances, so he left the road and hid in the trees.
The riders stopped right in front of him, though it was so dark that he could make out only the shapes and shadows. The good thing was, he knew they wouldn’t be able to see him back in the trees.
“You sure they was a boy in the house?” one of the men asked.
“We was told there was, but I didn’t see nobody.”
“Well, if they was a boy, I don’t think he coulda got this far. Come on back, we’re just wastin’ time here.”
“Yeah, we need to help get the herd moved.”
Poke stayed perfectly still for nearly an hour after they were gone, getting up to leave only because he was afraid he would fall asleep, and he didn’t want to do that until he reached Mr. MacCallister’s place.
* * *
Sara Sue Gaines had begun helping Wang in the kitchen, doing so with his permission, and under his guidance. Elmer’s prediction that such an arrangement could only lead to trouble, proved to be false. Wang took well to his position as instructor, and Sara Sue was a very good student.
Sara Sue opened the oven door to look in at the biscuits she had rolled out and put in to bake a short while earlier.
“Oh, they are browning quite nicely,” she said. “Your idea of baking them in an iron skillet is wonderful.”
“I will get water for the coffee,” Wang offered.
“I’ll grind the beans.”
Wang stepped out onto the back porch and began pumping water for breakfast, when he saw the boy coming up the long front drive. It was Poke Terrell, and Wang wondered why he was walking, instead of riding. As he saw the boy approaching, he realized that something was wrong. He was walking in a staggering, hesitant motion as if hurt, or exhausted. What was he doing here like this? Where were his parents?
“Madam Sara Sue,” he called through the kitchen door.
“Yes?”
“Tell Duff that he will be needed.”
There was enough urgency in Wang’s voice that Sara Sue didn’t question him. Instead she started back into the house to summon Duff.
After giving Sara Sue the order, Wang put the bucket down, vaulted easily over the porch rail, than ran to meet Poke Terrell.
“Poke, why have you come here in such a way? Why do you not ride your horse? Is there trouble?”
“They’re dead, Mr. Wang. Ma ’n Pa are both dead. Some men came in the middle of the night and shot ’em. They burned the barn and the house down, too.”
As if it had taken all his strength to make that pronouncement, Poke collapsed into Wang’s arms.
* * *
It was midmorning when Elmer and Wang returned from the Terrell ranch.
“They’re both dead, like the boy said,” Elmer said. “The barn ’n house has both been burnt down, ’n all the cattle has been took.”
“Where are the bodies?” Duff asked.
“Steve ’n Percy went over to get ’em. They’ll be takin’ ’em to Mr. Welsh. How’s the boy doing?”
“Mrs. Gaines is with him,” Duff said. “The lad is having a hard time, but Mrs. Gaines is very good with him.”
“Did Poke see any of the men who did this?” Elmer asked. “Will he be able to tell us who it was that done it?”
“I asked, and he says that it was dark and he dinnae see anyone close enough to identify them.”
“Whoever the sons of bitches is, they’ve been damn busy,” Elmer said. “They killed Ollie ’n Sam, ’n burnt down Percy’s place, ’n they killed Asa Hanlon ’n his wife and took all their cows, they kilt Cecil Gibson, ’n now they’ve kilt Poke’s ma and pa ’n stoled their cows, too.”
“Cecil Gibson was killed by Houser’s deputies,” Duff said. “’Twas reported that he drew on them when the deputies confiscated Spivey’s herd.”
“Yeah, well, how do we know they ain’t all the same?” Elmer asked.
“That is a very good question, Elmer,” Duff replied. “And ’tis one that we should investigate. I’ll be for taking a ride over to Twin Peaks.”
“Good, I’ll be comin’ with you.”
“You can both come,” Duff said, referring also to Wang.
* * *
It was Shamrock who saw the three riders approaching Twin Peaks, and he stepped into Houser’s office to report it.
“Three riders comin’,” he said. “One of ’em is MacCallister.”
Houser nodded. “I was wondering when he might show up. All right, as soon as they get here, show them in.”
In one part of Houser’s ranch office there was a comfortable sitting area consisting of a leather sofa and two overstuffed leather chairs. The sofa and chairs were separated by a low-lying table, onto which Houser spread a white tablecloth, then he got out a bottle of Scotch and four shot glasses. He had just put the bottle and glasses on the table when the front door opened, and Shamrock brought in the three men.
“You said you wanted me to bring ’em in, so here they are,” Shamrock said.
“Thank you, Captain Harris. Would you excuse us please, so I can talk to these gentlemen alone?”
“Yeah, all right. I’ll just be outside, if you need me.”
“Drinks, gentlemen?” Houser offered after Shamrock left.
“Aye, thank you,” Duff replied.
“I do not wish a drink of whiskey,” Wang said.
“I’m sorry, I’m not better prepared to be a host,” Houser said. “But I must confess that my knowledge of the drinking habits of Chinese is quite deficient.”
“He drinks wine,” Elmer said.
“Now, I am really embarrassed, for I have no wine to offer.”
“Be not concerned,” Wang said.
Houser poured the drinks, handed a glass to Duff and Elmer, then took one for himself.
“And now, gentlemen, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“There is no pleasure in this visit, I’m afraid,” Duff said. “Last night some brigands visited the Diamond T.”
“Oh? And the Terrells?”
“They were both killed.”
“Both? But, wasn’t there a third? Their son, I believe?”
“Aye, he survived. ’Twas a costly mistake the murderers made, for young Terrell saw them.”
“He . . . he saw them?” Houser asked.
“Aye. He can give no names, but if he sees any of them again, he will know.”
“Where is the boy now?” Houser asked.
“He is in a safe place.”
Houser shook his head. “It is just as I have been saying. Ruffians running wild, killing innocent people like the Hanlons so they can steal the herd. I may have been wrong in suggesting that the small ranchers are guilty, because the implication was that there were several involved. Now I’m thinking it may only be one, who is plying his evil trade upon not only the large ranchers, but the smaller ones as well.”
“How did you know?” Duff asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“How did you know that the Terrell herd was taken?”
“Why, you, yourself, just said that the herd was taken.”
Duff shook his head. “I made nae such a remark.”
“Oh. Well, I suppose that because the Hanlons were killed and their stock taken, I naturally assumed that Terrell’s herd was taken as well.” He forced a laugh. “As a lawyer, I should know better than to assume anything. I hope you will forgive my mistake.”
“There is nae to forgive.”
“Tell me, Captain MacCallister, was there any other purpose for your visit, other than to inform me of the unfortunate fate which fell upon the poor Terrell family?”
“Aye. I’ve come to tell you that I’ll be investigating the murder, and to ask your cooperation if I need to question any of your men.”
“You’ll be investigating? I don’t understand. Have you set yourself upon a personal mission for some reason? Why would you be investigating?”
“Oh, I dinnae tell you? I’m a deputy sheriff, ’n though your deputies have preeminent authority with regard to the cattle rustling, the county sheriff has the responsibility for investigating murder. And, in the last two months we have had eleven murders.”
“Eleven murders? I am aware of but six murders. Your two men, Mr. Keegan and Mr. Kirk, Asa Hanlon and his wife, and the unfortunate incident last night when Mr. and Mrs. Terrell were murdered.”
“Aye, but there is also the murder of your two ranch hands, Hastings and Carson, as well as Sobel, Knox, and Cecil Gibson.”
“Oh, but you are mistaken in calling those murders. When Slim Hastings and Dooley Carson were killed by Knox, you might remember that those were deemed to be justifiable homicides, and no charges were filed. Later, Mr. Sobel was killed, also by Knox, and I will grant you that, that was a murder, which resulted in Knox himself being killed. But when my brother killed Knox it could be classified as a line-of-duty shooting, not only because Knox had just murdered Mr. Sobel, but also because Knox was a wanted man, with a dead-or-alive warrant placed upon him. And as for Mr. Gibson, well, that was most lamentable, but it, too, was a case of justifiable homicide. When the territorial deputies confiscated Spivey’s cattle, which was quite legal because the cattle had infringed upon private property, Cecil Gibson drew his gun in an attempt to shoot the deputies. He was, himself, shot.”
“’Tis perhaps only a coincidence, Mr. Houser, but have you considered that all those killings have happened just since you arrived in the valley?”
“Are you making a correlation between my presence and these killings?” Houser asked.
“A correlation, aye, for that they have all happened since you arrival can nae be denied. But whether ye be answerable . . . ’tis something that I will study.”
“Surely, sir, you are not suggesting that I am a subject of your investigation?” Houser challenged.
“Aye, that is exactly what I am suggesting,” Duff said.
“Why, I don’t even carry a gun.”
“Neither did Arabi Pasha in Egypt, but he managed to have a great number of my fellow soldiers killed. ’Tis a fact, Mr. Houser, that one can be responsible for killing, without being the one who pulls the trigger. And if I find, in my investigation, that you are accountable, I will see that you stand trial.”