CHAPTER 4
It was a rare occasion when Flint ate a meal at Clara’s Kitchen, which served as the dining room for the hotel. Dinner today would be the first time in at least six months. He was always well satisfied with the food Clara and her cook, Margaret, prepared. And it was cheerfully served by either Bonnie or Mindy.
After leaving his horse with Lon Blake, Flint walked in the outside entrance to find Buck Jackson already there. Walking back to join him, he was intercepted by Mindy Moore.
“Whoa, Moran.” She recognized him as one of the Moran brothers but couldn’t remember which one. “Leave your weapon on the table, please.”
“I’m sorry. I forgot.” Flint immediately stepped back and deposited his Colt on the table by the door. That had always seemed a senseless practice to him, for it offered weapons right by the door for anyone entering the dining room with evil purpose. And it left anyone in the dining room unable to defend themselves against such an attack, unless the sheriff happened to be there, as was the case on that morning.
“I’ll forgive you just this one time,” Mindy joked. “Sheriff Jackson said it was all right to let you in. He’s waiting for you. Are you gonna have coffee with your dinner?”
“I hope so,” Flint answered.
She gave him a little chuckle, turned about, and went to fetch his coffee.
He walked on back to join Buck. “Hope I didn’t keep you waitin’.” He sat down.
“Nope,” Buck replied. “I just sat down about two minutes ago. We’ve got one more that’s gonna join us, and I see him comin’ now.”
Flint looked back over his shoulder, surprised to see Harvey Baxter, the president of the bank, striding toward them.
“Mr. Baxter,” Buck greeted him. “Glad you could join us.”
“Buck,” Baxter returned his greeting, then smiled at Flint. “Mr. Moran.”
“Mr. Baxter,” Flint returned. Harvey Baxter was the last person he could have imagined having dinner with. Wait till I tell Nate and Joe, he thought, holding back a smile.
Mindy brought three plates of food and three cups of coffee and placed a separate plate of biscuits on the table.
Baxter waited only a couple of minutes more before revealing that his presence at the table was in his capacity as mayor. “Flint, I won’t beat around the bush on this. I wanted to meet with you and the sheriff to make you an offer.”
That captured Flint’s attention at once, and he glanced from the banker’s serious face to the sheriff’s grinning one.
“The town of Tinhorn has arrived at a point where we need a deputy sheriff. You are Sheriff Jackson’s personal pick as the man best suited to fill that position.”
Flint was stunned by the mayor’s offer to the extent that he stopped momentarily with his mouth wide open and a fork loaded with meatloaf stalled halfway to it.
Baxter continued. “Working under Sheriff Jackson, you’d have full authority to make arrests and protect the people of Tinhorn.”
Finding his voice at last, Flint replied. “I don’t know what to say, Mr. Baxter. I don’t know the first thing about being a lawman.”
Buck interrupted then, laughing. “You knew all about makin’ that citizen’s arrest on those two rustlers sitting in the jail right now.”
“That was just the first thing I could think of,” Flint said.
“You don’t need to worry about that part of it.” Baxter went on. “Sheriff Jackson will show you the ropes. You’ll be paid a salary of twenty dollars a week, but that’s not all you’ll get. You’ll get a small room, rent-free at Hannah Green’s boarding house, and Jim and Clara Rakestraw have agreed to make you a special rate to eat here. There are other things, too, like an allowance for ammunition for your weapons and no charge to stable your horse.” He paused to gauge Flint’s reaction to the offer, concluding Flint was so surprised by the unexpected proposal that he was trying to decide what he thought about it. “Maybe you need to think it over before making a final decision.”
“Just from the little bit I’ve learned about you in the last couple of days, I don’t think it takes you long to make a decision,” Buck remarked. “Why don’t you go on home and think it over. If you show up for work tomorrow mornin’, we’ll get started with your trainin’. If you don’t show up, we’ll know what your answer is. All right?”
“All right,” Flint answered. Then he laughed and said, “It ain’t every day you get a chance to have a job where folks shoot at you. My brothers would tell you that’s what I’m probably best qualified for.”
“Good,” Baxter said. “I know you’ll make the right decision. Now, let’s eat this meatloaf before it cools off.”
The food was good, but it was difficult for Flint to give it his full attention. He had been stunned by the mayor’s offer, having never in his life ever given any thought toward the possibility of becoming a lawman. He took another look at Buck Jackson, who was concentrating on the plate of food before him. The expression on his face seemed to convey the notion that he was confident Flint would accept the offer.
Buck had to be in his forties, but he showed no signs of aging. Bigger than the average man, he conveyed the image of strength. Like most of the people in Tinhorn, however, Flint was aware of the one chink in Buck’s armor, his losing battle with rye whiskey. Realistically, Flint told himself that he would be expected to deal with any trouble that occurred after supper. He would have to decide if he wanted that responsibility.
The conversation shifted back to the trial by the time Mindy was filling their cups for the final time.
“How about that woman, Ada Tubbs?” Baxter asked. “She took a helluva chance, smuggling that gun into the courtroom. Are you gonna hold her for trial?”
“No,” Buck answered. “She’s gone. I sent her home. I figured she’s caught enough hell from her husband to make up for any punishment we would give her. Besides, it’d be more trouble to hold her than it’s worth.” He was thinking about the only place they had to hold a woman prisoner apart from the men. Little more than a windowless box, it was actually an empty storeroom at the rear of Harper’s Feed and Supply. Forced to use it only a couple of times, it was the only way a woman could have any privacy.
With dinner finished, the three men walked out of the dining room. Baxter paused long enough to light a cigar before telling Flint he hoped he would decide to accept the town’s offer. Then he split off to head back to the bank.
Buck walked with Flint as far as the stable, then left him with a cheerful, “I’ll see you in the mornin’,” and strode on back to the jail.
It was really only then that Flint realized the full significance of the decision he was determined to make on the six-mile ride back to the farm. He wanted his final decision made before he got back home. He had no desire to include the entire family in the discussion.
* * *
Flint’s decision did not come as a surprise to Jim Moran. He knew it was only a matter of time before his youngest son told them he was leaving the farm. Jim was not sure that taking the deputy job was a wise move for Flint, but at least he was not riding off to Indian Territory and beyond, looking for his future. Tinhorn was just six miles away, so he didn’t have far to come home if things didn’t work out as he expected. Jim also knew that a large influence on Flint’s decision was the fact that the farm wasn’t big enough to support another family. He respected Flint’s decision and forbade the rest of the family to try to talk him out of it.
The next morning, Flint was up early as usual, but instead of going hunting, he saddled Buster and packed up his belongings. It didn’t take a great deal of time, since he was not one to accumulate things that didn’t have a practical purpose. Ready, he attended his last big breakfast, which resembled a farewell service for only a short time before the natural tendency of his brothers to taunt each other playfully took over.
“Are you supposed to take a bottle of rye to bed with you after supper every night?” Joe japed.
“No,” Flint replied. “It don’t have to be rye. Buck said I could drink corn if I wanted to.”
“You know,” Nate cracked when the laughter dried up, “they might be thinkin’ about retiring ol’ Buck Jackson, and they hired you to be deputy for Sheriff Roy Hawkins. He’s already got enough experience to know how to do the job.” That crack generated a general round of good-natured cackles.
Enough so, that Katie Moran decided the boys were being too insulting to her youngest. “You oughta be ashamed of yourselves for talkin’ about Sheriff Jackson like that and be proud that he sees the good in your brother.”
“Don’t let ’em bother you, Ma,” Flint told her. “You know, they ain’t got a lot to work with up there between their ears.” He got up from the table. “I expect I’d best get goin’. I don’t wanna be late for work on my first day on the job.” He went to the end of the table to give his mother a hug. “Don’t be too hard on my brothers, or I’ll come back and arrest you.”
She squeezed his hand real tightly and said, “You be careful, you hear?”
He nodded in response.
The men and the boys got up from the table and followed him outside where Buster was waiting.
Serious now, his brother, Nate, said, “If things don’t look like they’re gonna suit you, you come on back home, all right?”
Flint nodded. “I will.”
“Damn it, Flint, you be careful,” Joe insisted.
“You can count on it,” Flint said as he climbed up into the saddle. “I’ll be seein’ you from time to time when you come to town.” He wheeled the buckskin and left the yard at a trot.
“I hope to hell he ain’t takin’ that job just because we’re gettin’ a little crowded here,” Nate said.
Even as he said it, his daughter Mary was hurriedly moving her things into Flint’s room before Jack tried to claim it.
* * *
“Mornin’,” Flint said as he walked into the sheriff’s office.
Startled until he saw who it was, Roy said, “Sheriff Jackson ain’t come in yet, but he oughta be here pretty quick when he smells this coffee workin’.” He looked at the big pot sitting on the little stove, then asked, “Did he know you was gonna be comin’ by here this mornin’? He told me to make a full pot this mornin’.”
Flint snorted half a chuckle. “I reckon he knew.” He decided he’d wait and let Buck tell Roy that he had a deputy now. “Have you got any extra cups?”
Roy didn’t answer right away while he waited for his brain to catch up. When he did answer, it was with a tone of confusion. “We didn’t have no extra cups till last night after supper. When I took the prisoners’ dishes back, Buck took one of ’em off the tray. He said we needed an extra cup here.” He went to a shelf on the wall near the stove and got the extra cup. “Here you go. I washed it with Buck’s and my cups.”
“Much obliged, Roy,” Flint said, amused by Buck’s complete confidence that he would take the job.
The sheriff walked in the door at that moment. “I swear I could smell that coffee boilin’ all the way over in my bed,” Buck announced. “Good mornin’, Flint. I see you got all your belongin’s on your horse out front. We’ll go take your stuff to Hannah’s place after we have a little coffee.” He looked over at Roy then, who was lost in a fog of confusion. “Did you tell Roy about your new job?”
“No,” Flint replied. “We hadn’t got around to that yet.”
Buck got to it right away. “Well, Roy, Flint here has accepted the town council’s offer to take the job as my deputy. He’ll be on the job here every day from now on.”
Roy blinked his eyes rapidly, looking as forlorn as a lost puppy, while Buck waited for a verbal response. Finally, Roy asked, “You won’t be needin’ me no more?”
“What?” Buck reacted. “Won’t be needin’ you no more? Flint’s job ain’t got nothin’ to do with your job. You’re still gonna be doin’ what you’ve always done. Flint’s just gonna help me maintain peace and quiet in Tinhorn. Right, Flint?”
“That’s a fact,” Flint answered.
There was an immediate show of relief in Roy’s face, but then another thought struck him. “You gonna sleep in the office?”
“Nope,” Flint replied. “I’ll be stayin’ in the roomin’ house. Ain’t nothin’ changed for you except you’ll have to get used to havin’ me around.”
Roy grinned. “Ain’t no problem with that.” He grabbed a dishtowel to wrap around the handle, took the coffeepot off the stove, and filled the three cups with coffee. All was right in his world once more.
Buck sat down at his desk and started rummaging through the drawers. “I know I’ve got an extra badge in this desk somewhere,” he insisted when he gave up on one side of the desk and started searching the other. After no luck there, he was ready to admit it was gone, but decided to look in the one middle drawer where he kept his pens, pencils, reading glasses, and things he used every day. “Well, I’ll be. That’s where I saw it.”
“Good thing you found it,” Flint japed, ’cause I wasn’t gonna take the job, if I didn’t get a badge to wear.”
“Well, you’re officially hired now,” Buck said and tossed the badge to him. “There ain’t much to show you here, since you’ve already seen the cell room. It’s about time for Roy to go up to Clara’s to get our prisoners’ breakfast. I always wait till he gets back with that to make sure there ain’t no trouble passin’ the food into the cell. Then I usually go across to the saloon to get my breakfast from Rena. After that, we’ll go take your belongin’s to Hannah’s house and get you fixed up with your room.”
“I’ve already had breakfast,” Flint said. “Why don’t I take my things to the roomin’ house while you’re eatin’? Hannah knows about the room, doesn’t she?”
“Oh, yeah, Hannah knows you’ll be checkin’ in,” Buck replied. “That’ll work out. You just go get that set up with her and come on back when you’re done. I’ll be back here or at the saloon.” He appreciated Flint’s suggestion. He would be more comfortable taking his morning shot of rye whiskey with no one but Roy to witness it. He knew he was going to have to be honest about it with Flint. Just didn’t want to do it on Flint’s first day on the job.
They finished off another cup of coffee while Roy went up to Clara’s Kitchen to fetch Jed Tubbs and Ralph Cox’s breakfasts. When he returned, Flint went into the cell room with Buck to put the tray inside the cell.
“Well, lookee here,” Jed smirked when he saw Flint. “Look who’s back, Ralph. It’s the feller that busted up your hand for ya.” He pointed his finger at Flint and said, “You might think this business between us is over, but it ain’t, not by a long shot.”
“I didn’t know we had any business between us,” Flint replied. “I don’t do business with common cow thieves.”
“Look there, Jed,” Ralph exclaimed. “He’s wearin’ a badge now.”
“That don’t make no difference.” Jed sneered. “He’s a walkin’ dead man. The badge is just there to give you somethin’ to aim at.”
Flint looked at Buck. The big man was grinning as he watched Flint’s reaction to Jed’s taunting.
“I don’t know, Sheriff,” Flint speculated. “You reckon we could add on a couple more years to Jed’s sentence for threatenin’ the life of an officer of the law?”
“There’s that possibility, I suppose,” Buck replied. “We’ll look into it when the deputy marshals get here to pick ’em up.”
Jed made his hand like a pistol and pointed it at Flint. “Dead man,” he declared and pretended to pull the trigger.
They left the two prisoners to eat their breakfast and bolted the cell room door. Buck said he wasn’t concerned about leaving them unguarded while he was just across the street. If they somehow managed to get out of the cell, they would find the heavy cell room door another problem to break through. The only other option was a small window for ventilation, about five inches by sixteen inches close to the ceiling, impossible for anyone to squeeze through. The office door was locked as well.
“If I’m worried about it, I sit at a table by the window and I can see the front of the jail from there,” Buck said.
Flint climbed up into the saddle and turned Buster toward the south end of the street. The jail was on the west side of the main street, and behind the jail, the Neches River ran north and south, some seventy-five yards away. Hannah Green’s rooming house was also on the west side of the street, past the stables, which were on the east side, as were most of the businesses in the town. Hannah was a widow. Her husband, Frank, built the two-story house, and he did a fine job of it. According to Buck, Frank loved to fish, and in fitting with the craftsman he was, he built himself a small rowboat. The day after he drove the last nail in the picket fence across the front yard, he celebrated by taking his boat down the river to do some fishing.
“He told Hannah not to hold supper for him because he might be late,” Buck had said. “That was four years ago and Frank ain’t come back yet. Hannah’s a fine-lookin’ woman, still young enough to try it again. She’s got a little more tote to her than she did four years ago, but most every woman adds some weight as they get older. I reckon she’s still thinkin’ Frank might show up ’cause she don’t seem inclined to hitch up again.”
Flint was thinking about what Buck said when he pulled Buster up by the front gate and stepped down. He looked at the picket fence. It still looked sturdy. So did the house. He had to wonder if maybe Frank might have been knocked in the head by somebody who admired his boat. He stepped up on the porch and rapped politely. No one answered his knock, so he rapped a little harder. Pretty soon, he heard a woman’s light step coming down the hallway, so he stepped back away from the door and waited. “Miz Green,” he greeted her when she appeared in the doorway, and would have removed his hat, but he rarely wore one.
“Can I help you?” Hannah asked, looking him up and down. Then she smiled and said, “You must be Flint Moran, our new deputy sheriff.”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m Flint Moran. How’d you know that?”
“Sheriff Jackson told me I’d know who you were when you showed up,” Hannah said and laughed.
That only served to confuse him. How could she know who he was? But he elected not to ask. Instead, he said, “I’ve come to move some of my stuff into that room you’re holdin’ for me.”
“Of course,” she replied cheerfully. “Why don’t you come on inside and I’ll give you a little tour of the house first. All right?” She held the screen door open for him.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said and stepped inside an entry hall.
She led him down the hall, calling out the rooms. “This is the parlor on the right, which you’re welcome to use anytime.” They passed other rooms, some with the doors closed and she explained that they were guest rooms. “Dining room and kitchen,” she ended up. “Now, I expect you’d like to see your room.” He nodded. She led him past the kitchen and a guest washroom, past the back steps, to a room standing alone, attached to the main house by only a covered walkway. She handed him a key and motioned for him to proceed, then she stood back to judge his reaction.
He turned the key in the lock and walked into the room. It was small, but it was clean, with a good bed and a side chair. The floor was solid oak and there was a rug beside the bed. The one thing that was a must for him was a window. There was only one, but it was sizable, and he could see the outside. As he stood there, he could feel her silence, and knew she was waiting to see his reaction. He turned to look at her.
Before he could speak, she said, “I know it’s a very small room, and it looks like it’s not even part of the house, but the allowance the town gave you for your room wasn’t even close to what I rent the nicer rooms for. And that includes your meals.” He was glad to hear her say that, for he wasn’t certain if he had room and board. He had figured, he would be spending most of his twenty dollars a week on meals at Clara’s Kitchen, even though he was to be given a discount there as well. She told him what time the meals were served each day, giving him something else to think about. He figured he was going to have to try to make it there for her meals, since he didn’t have to pay for them. He hoped she was a decent cook, so he wouldn’t wind up eating at Clara’s Kitchen every day.
Finally, bringing his mind back to the little room, she asked, “Well, what do you think of it?”
He stepped over to the window and looked out, then turned back to answer her. “I think it’s perfect,” he said, bringing a sunny smile to her face along with a small sigh of relief. “There’s most likely gonna be times when I have to leave real early, or I might get in real late. With this room, I can come and go in the back without disturbing your other guests.”
“That’s certainly true,” Hannah agreed, “but I want to remind you that as a paying guest, you have a home here, just like the other guests. You don’t have to knock on the front door to come in.” She stepped forward and extended her hand. “Welcome to my home, Mr. Moran.”
“Thank you, kindly, Miz Green. I’ll go bring my horse around back and put my stuff in my room.”
She walked back through the house with him to see him to the door. She couldn’t help smiling to herself when she pictured the young man in the room, much like the mountain lion that Buck likened him to when he told her she would recognize him. She almost chuckled aloud when she thought, his hair is tawny, just like a lion’s.