Except for Sandy Orr and Waco, the men at the table turned over their chairs getting out of the way.
“Nobody’s been cheating since we opened a new deck,” Waco said. “Gus, get that last deck from the bartender.”
“Leave that damn deck out of it,” shouted Singleton. “This is the deck we’re usin’ now.”
But the barkeep surrendered the old deck, and Gus brought it to the table. With considerable skill, he fanned the cards out, flowing from one hand to the other. Then, knowing where every jack, queen, king, and ace was, he placed them on the table.
“If anybody cares to look at those cards,” Gus said, “you’ll find the edges have been shaved. Any cheating was done with this deck, not the new one.”
Billy Singleton’s face went red and he leaped to his feet. Waco waited until he had his Colt halfway out of the holster. Waco then drew his own Colt and shoved it under Singleton’s nose.
“Everybody stand back,” Gus ordered, his Colt in his hand. Nobody at the bar moved.
“Now,” said Waco, “I’m willing to forget you tried to draw on me, if you’ll turn and walk out of here.”
“I’m goin’, damn you,” Singleton said, “but you ain’t seen the end of this.”
As Waco kicked back his chair to get up, his companions were watching Singleton as he started for the door. Suddenly Singleton turned, dropping to one knee, a Colt in his hand.
“Waco,” Gus shouted.
Waco seemed to fall sideways, drawing his Colt as he went. Singleton fired twice, his lead splintering two of the slats in the ladder-back chair where Waco had been sitting. But Waco fired only once. The force of the slug flung Singleton backward, his head striking one of the saloon’s batwing doors.
“My God,” said one of the onlookers, “now you’ve done it.”
“I defended myself,” Waco replied. “I have plenty of witnesses. Somebody go after the sheriff and let’s settle this.”
When Sheriff Al Singleton entered the saloon, he paused for a long moment, looking into the dead face of his son. Billy Singleton still clutched the Colt in his hand.
“Billy started it, Sheriff,” said one of the bartenders. “He shot twice before the other gent pulled a gun.”
“Shut up, Rufe,” Singleton snapped. “I want anything from you, I’ll ask for it.”
Waco had reloaded his Colt and had returned it to its holster. He stood with his foot on the rung of the chair whose back had taken the force of Billy Singleton’s slugs. He was calm, and his eyes met those of Sheriff Singleton.
“I reckon you done the murdering,” said Singleton.
“Wrong,” Waco said. “I killed a man who was trying to kill me. He fired first. See the back of this chair?”
“So you provoked him,” said Singleton.
“I did not,” Waco said. “I called for a new deck of cards, and he took it personal.”
“That’s the same as calling a man a cheat,” said Singleton.
“He was a cheat,” Gus said. “Aces, kings, queens, and jacks in the old deck had shaved edges.”
“Just who the hell are you?” the sheriff demanded.
“Gus Wilder. Waco here’s a lifelong pard of mine.”
“Then I’ll lock the both of you in the same cell,” Singleton snarled.
“I don’t think so,” said Gus. “There’s five of us with Waco, and we saw it all. So did the rest of these hombres. It was self-defense. That young coyote was called a cheat only because he was. Now stand aside. We’ve had enough of your town.”
“You ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Singleton said. “There’ll be an inquest in the morning. Then we’ll find out just what these witnesses have to say. You and your gunslinging friend are going to spend the night in jail. Unbuckle your gunbelts and drop them on the floor.”
Sandy Orr, Benjamin Raines, Elliot Graves, and Justin Irwin had their hands near the butts of their Colts. But when they caught Waco’s eye, he shook his head. They would have to do as Sheriff Singleton demanded.
“Sheriff,” Elliot Graves asked, “what time’s the inquest?”
“Nine o’clock,” said the lawman shortly.
“Waco,” Justin said, “we’ll see you and Gus in the morning.”
Waco and Gus were marched out of the saloon ahead of Sheriff Singleton. Justin Irwin turned to the men who had witnessed the shooting.
“You gents saw what happened,” said Justin. “Will you testify in court tomorrow?”
There was an uncomfortable silence as men looked away. Several began inching toward the door.
“You, barkeep,” Justin said. “You told the sheriff that Singleton drew first. Will you testify to that in court?”
The barkeep opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. In his eyes was the look of a trapped animal. Without responding, he sank down on a stool behind the bar. Without another word, Sandy, Benjamin, Elliot, and Justin left the saloon. There was but one thing they could do, and they did it. They rode back to the herd and told the rest of the outfit of the injustice done Gus and Waco.
“We’ll be there in the morning, and free them,” Becky shouted angrily.
“I wish the whole damn bunch of you had stayed out of the saloons,” said Lonnie. “It’s always a risk, gambling with strangers. I’m afraid this is a situation where the sheriff’s son has been getting by with cheating because the town’s been buffaloed by his pa. It’s a bitter pill for a man to swallow, having his son branded a cheat, and then gunned down after shooting first, trying to shoot his opponent in the back.”
“I think we’re in big trouble,” Justin Irwin said. “None of the bunch that was there in the saloon offered to tell the court what really happened.”
“I think you’re right,” said Lonnie. “The town’s been enduring the cheating of Billy Singleton because he’s the son of the sheriff. Now, for the same reason, we may not be able to get an honest testimony.”
“This ain’t a trial,” Dallas said. “This is to prove or disprove the need for one. I believe I could drag the truth out of one of those hombres that saw the shooting.”
“Maybe we should have a lawyer,” said Becky.
“Why bother?” Lonnie said. “In a town intimidated by a sheriff, how many lawyers are going to defeat him in court?”
“Such a strong sheriff might also buffalo the judge,” said Justin.
“I don’t want to get on the bad side of the law,” Lonnie said, “but Gus and Waco are not going to be victims of a prejudiced court. Tomorrow we’ll leave Wovoka, Becky, Mindy, April, and Laura with the herd. The rest of us are going to be at that inquest in town. Waco and Gus will be riding back with us, if we have to shoot our way out.”
There were shouts of approval from the rest of the outfit. When the watches changed at midnight, Becky still hadn’t slept. She and Mindy saddled their horses, prepared to ride with the second watch. Becky trotted her horse alongside Lonnie’s. Finally she spoke.
“If you have to shoot your way out, you’ll be outlawed, won’t you.”
It was more a statement of fact than a question, and Lonnie didn’t seek to avoid it.
“Many a man has been outlawed when confronted by unjust lawmen. There has to be a way out of this, if only we can find it. I think it’s all going to depend on the judge.”
In the Santa Fe jail, Gus and Waco stood looking out the small barred window.
“I reckon Lonnie’s cussing us up one side and down the other,” said Gus.
“It’s likely he may be put out some, us gettin’ into this mess, but I’m looking for him and all the others at that inquest in the morning,” Waco said. “We’re a Texas outfit, and right or wrong, none of us will ever stand alone.”
Gus and Waco were brought their breakfast at half-past seven. Despite the forthcoming inquest, they were hungry. A waiter from a nearby cafe had brought their breakfast, and he returned for the empty dishes.
“Pardner,” said Waco, “where’s the courthouse? Can we see it from here?”
“Yeah,” the waiter said. “It’s half a block down, on the far side of the street.”
Somewhere in town, a tower clock struck eight times. At eight-thirty, when it struck the half hour, eight horsemen rode up before the courthouse.
“I told you,” Waco shouted. “They’re here.”
At the courthouse, Lonnie and his companions dismounted, looping the reins of their horses about the hitch rail. Then they all sat down on the courthouse steps. Gus and Waco, hearing the door to the cell block open, turned to face their barred door.
“Time to go,” said Sheriff Singleton. Reaching through the bars, he handcuffed Waco’s wrists. He then secured Gus’s wrists in the same manner. He unlocked the cell door and, standing back, allowed the two prisoners to emerge. In his hand was a cocked Colt.
“Here they come,” Dallas said, getting to his feet.
The rest of the outfit stood up, facing the approaching lawman and his captives. Lonnie stepped out, confronting the sheriff.
“Sheriff,” Lonnie said, “I’m Lonnie Kilgore, trail boss, and these men are part of my outfit. I hope you have no objection to us attending this inquest.”
“None,” said Singleton, “as long as there is no disturbance. Disrupt the proceedings, and the judge will clear the courtroom.”
Sheriff Singleton marched Waco and Gus in ahead of him. Lonnie and his companions followed. There weren’t more than a dozen people in the courtroom, and the judge had not yet taken the bench.
Sheriff Singleton led Waco and Gus directly to a narrow table facing the bench. Lonnie, Dallas, Dirk, Kirby, Sandy, Benjamin, Elliot, and Justin took the row of chairs directly behind them. Waco and Gus looked around the room. Leaning back as far as he could, Waco whispered to Lonnie.
“That gent in the derby hat was the house dealer last night, and beside him is Rufe, one of the barkeeps.”
“No talking,” said Singleton. “All stand.”
Judge Elias Guerdon entered the courtroom and took his seat. He immediately spoke.
“This is an inquest, not a trial. Whether or not there is a trial will depend on how the defense pleads and on the evidence presented. What are the charges?”
“Gus Wilder and Waco Talley provoked my son during a poker game. Talley shot and killed my son, Billy.”
“Ah,” said Judge Guerdon, “and how does the defense plead?”
“Not guilty, sir,” Waco said, getting to his feet. “I fired only in self-defense after the Singleton gent had shot at me twice.”
“I suppose you have witnesses,” said Judge Guerdon.
“I do,” Waco replied. “The four friends who were with me and Gus.”
“I object to that,” shouted Sheriff Singleton. “They are prejudiced. They’ll each repeat what the prior witness said.”
“Overruled,” Judge Guerdon said. “None shall hear the testimony of the others. Those four men the defense calls as witnesses, please stand.”
Sandy Orr, Benjamin Raines, Elliot Graves, and Justin Irwin all stood.
“You will testify first,” said Judge Guerdon, pointing to Sandy Orr. “The other three of you will wait in the corridor, each of you testifying in turn. Bailiff, remove those three men. “You,” he said, pointing to Sandy, “mount the box and take the oath.”
Sandy stated his name, took the oath, and repeated the incident of the night before, as it had happened. Sandy was dismissed, and one by one, Benjamin, Justin, and Elliot took the stand and repeated the same story. The judge wiped his brow. It was highly unlikely—perhaps even impossible—that four men could relate the same story, with none of them having heard the testimony of the others. Judge Guerdon took the only possible door that was open to him.
“I understand that this whole thing happened after one Waco Talley asked for a new deck of cards?”
“That’s what it amounts to,” Waco said. “Gus got the old deck, and after he had taken out the jacks, kings, queens, and aces, we could see those cards had been shaved. Billy Singleton drew on me then, but I was ahead of him. I offered to forget the whole thing if he would leave peaceful. Before he reached the door, he turned and fired twice. I was saved only because one of my pards yelled at me.”
“So you shot him,” said Judge Guerdon.
“I did,” Waco said. “It was my life or his. I didn’t do a thing any other man wouldn’t have done.”
“I see,” said Judge Guerdon. “Does the defense have other witnesses?”
“Judge,” Gus said, “I see last night’s house dealer and one of the bartenders are here. “I’d like for you to hear what they have to say. Rufe is the bartender, but I don’t know the dealer’s name.”
“Rufe Elkins and Ernie Gordon,” Sheriff Singleton said, “but I object to their being called. Rufe was a considerable distance away. When I arrived, Ernie Gordon’s spectacles were lying on the table, and he can’t see without them.”
“Overruled,” Judge Guerdon said. “The court wishes to hear the testimony of these unprejudiced witnesses. Mr. Gordon, will you take the stand?”
Gordon did so, looking into the stormy eyes of Sheriff Al Singleton.
“Now,” Judge Guerdon said, after the house dealer had been sworn in, “suppose you tell the court what you saw last night.”
“I saw a man who had been branded a cheat try to shoot his accuser in the back,” said the house dealer. “I can’t add anything to what those who have testified have already said.”
“You lying son-of-a-bitch,” Sheriff Singleton roared, “you’ll never work in this town again.”
“Nor will you, Sheriff Singleton,” said Judge Guerdon coldly. “It’s becoming more and more evident that Billy Singleton—your son—was shot and killed while trying to do some killing on his own, and you’re attempting to cover up his wrongdoing. Mr. Gordon,” he said to the house dealer, “do you have that doctored deck of cards?”
“I do,” Gordon said, placing them on the podium before the judge.
Every eye was on Judge Guerdon as he fanned out the cards, separating jacks, queens, kings, and aces. His cold eyes on Sheriff Singleton, the judge spoke.
“These cards speak for themselves, Sheriff. Would you care to look at them?”
“No,” said Singleton in a choked voice.
“Are there more witnesses for the defense?” Judge Guerden asked.
“Elkins, the barkeep,” said Waco.
“Rufe Elkins, take the stand,” Judge Guerdon said.
Nervously, his eyes on Sheriff Singleton, Elkins made his way to the stand and quickly was sworn in. He spoke reluctantly, stumbling along, but he told the same story the judge had already heard repeatedly.
“Does the prosecution want to question this witness or any of the others?” the judge asked. “If not, the witness may step down.”
His relief obvious, Elkins left the stand.
“I have reached a verdict,” Judge Guerdon said. “All stand, and the two accused will approach the bench.”
Gus and Waco stood up and approached the bench.
“Based on what I have heard,” said Judge Guerdon, “and the fundamental right every man has to defend his own life, I am declaring this a case of self-defense. Sheriff, you will remove the cuffs from these men. After that, we stand adjourned, and Sheriff, I want to see you in my quarters immediately.”
Sheriff Singleton’s eyes were stormy as he removed the irons from the wrists of Waco and Gus. The lawman then did a strange thing. Ripping the star from his vest, he dropped it before the judge. When he spoke, his voice was bitter.
“You want my badge, damn you, here it is.”
With that, he walked out of the courtroom. Gus and Waco were congratulated by their comrades, and they hurried to catch up to the house dealer and the barkeep who had testified on their behalf.
“You gents have done this town a favor,” said Ernie Gordon, the house dealer. “I am ashamed of myself for having kept silent for all these years about Billy Singleton’s cheating with marked cards. We put up with him because we were afraid his daddy would come down on us. The sheriff can drum up enough reasons to close a saloon, if he’s a mind to.”
“The question is,” Rufe Elkins said, “what’s he goin’ to do now that he’s given up his star? He’s liable to sneak around and shoot Gordon and me.”
“If he goes after anybody,” said Gus, “I expect him to come gunning for Waco and me.”
“One problem there,” Waco said. “Tomorrow we’ll be on our way to Utah. I reckon we messed things up for you, Lonnie. It might not be safe bringing the wagon into town for supplies.”
“I think it’ll be safe enough,” said Lonnie. “As soon as we return to the herd, we can harness the teams, load up the ladies, and come back to the mercantile. Tomorrow we’ll be on the Green River Trail again.”
They returned to the herd and a joyous welcome. Even Wovoka shook their hands, although he wasn’t quite sure what the occasion was.
“Now,” Lonnie said, “the rest of us are going into town to load the wagon with some of the supplies we’re out of, or nearly out of. I want the six of you to remain here with the herd and horse remuda. Wovoka, scalp anybody that tries to leave.”
The Indian grinned, a rare thing for him. It was the kind of joke he understood.
“Stay out of the saloons,” Justin shouted as the wagon rolled away.
Becky drove the wagon, while Lonnie, Dallas, Dirk, Kirby, and the other three women rode alongside. They reached town without difficulty, with only a few citizens pausing to watch them. Reaching the mercantile, Becky expertly backed the wagon up to the store’s loading dock.
“Who’s goin’ in?” Dallas asked.
“We all are,” said Lonnie. “We’re an outfit, and we’re not broke. Just keep in mind we have only so much space in the wagon, and we need to devote most of it to grub to see us through the coming winter.”
Becky stopped to admire a long dress that had numerous petticoats beneath it, and beneath them, ankle-length pantaloons.
“What would you do if you saw me in that?” Becky said.
“Likely not what you’d expect,” said Lonnie. “If I had to fight my way through all of that, I’d probably just forget it.”
Mindy was nearby, had heard the exchange, and was laughing. Despite their fleeting interest in women’s finery, it was the women who chose the supplies to restock their wagon. They bought all the dried apples the store had in stock, added a barrel of flour, a barrel of meal, five cured hams, and half a dozen sides of bacon.
“I got fresh eggs,” said the storekeeper.
“How many?” Becky asked.
“Seven dozen,” said the merchant.
“We’ll take them all,” Becky said. “How about coffee beans?”
“They’re in ten-pound bags,” said the storekeeper, “and I got twenty bags. That’s two hundred pounds.”
“We’ll take a hundred pounds,” Lonnie said. “We may not have room for all that.”
“I ain’t settin’ through a High Plains winter without hot coffee,” said Kirby Lowe. “Not even if each of us has to thong a bag of it behind his saddle.”
“That’s kind of how I feel,” Dallas said, “and I reckon the hombres with the herd will agree. Some things a man just can’t do without.”
“I hate to say this, as opposed as I am to whiskey,” said Becky, “but we ought to buy another two gallons for snakebite.”
“Don’t forget the laudanum,” Mindy said. “We only brought one bottle, and you’ve had most of that after the mule bit you.”
“Damn it,” Becky hissed, “don’t be talking in public about that blasted mule biting me. Having the rest of the outfit know is embarrassing enough.”
“Good thing you was in the saddle,” said Dallas. “If the critter had chomped down on your behind, you’d have been sleeping standing up.”
Lonnie, Dallas, and Mindy were laughing. Becky blushed furiously and walked away. It took them more than two hours in the store to replenish their supplies in the wagon. Their departure from town seemed as unnoticed as their arrival.
The herd of longhorns and the horses were grazing peacefully, and the riders were taking advantage of the occasion. They were relaxed, drinking coffee. Wovoka went to the fire and filled his cup, draining the pot.
“The hombre that drains the pot has to make the next pot of coffee,” Sandy Orr said.
“Ugh,” said Wovoka, shaking his head. “Squaw work.”
“The squaws ain’t likely to be back for a while,” Waco said. “I’ll swallow my pride for as long as it takes to boil some more coffee.”
Waco emptied the grounds out of the two-gallon granite pot and started for the nearby Rio Grande. Suddenly there was a shot, and Waco stiffened, stumbled backward, and fell on the grassy riverbank. By the time his companions reached him, blood had begun soaking the left side of his shirt just above his gunbelt. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow.
“I’ll get some mud,” Gus shouted. “We have to stop the bleeding.”
Sandy Orr, Benjamin Raines, and Elliot Graves quickly removed the bloody shirt, and they looked at one another with tragic eyes. The wound was low down. Suddenly there was the patter of hooves as Wovoka rode east toward the Pecos.
“Wovoka’s goin’ after the dry-gulching bastard,” said Justin Irwin. “Waco’s hit hard enough to need a doctor, and I’m riding to Santa Fe to find one. I’ll likely see Lonnie and the others there, or meet them on their way back. I’ll tell them what happened. Those of you that ain’t scared to talk to the Almighty, say some words that old Waco will be alive when the doc gets here.”
Justin kicked his horse into a fast gallop, and by the time he was halfway to town, he could see the approaching wagon, with his comrades riding beside it. Becky reined up, for she had recognized Justin.
“Dear God,” said Laura, “something’s happened at camp.”
“Waco’s been bushwhacked,” Justin yelled, reining up in a cloud of dust.
“How bad?” Lonnie asked.
“Plenty bad,” said Justin. “Low down, and bleedin’ something awful. Gus and the rest are trying to stop the bleeding with mud. Wovoka’s gone after the yellow coyote that shot him.”
“What direction?” Lonnie asked.
“East, toward the Pecos,” said Justin.
“Dallas,” Lonnie said, “I want you to ride back to Santa Fe with Justin, in case there’s some trouble getting a doc to Waco. Hog-tie him, if you have to. Kirby, I want you and Dirk to accompany the wagon the rest of the way to camp. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I aim to take whatever trail Wovoka’s following. I think I know who we’re looking for, and I can promise you it’ll be his last trail.”
“Vaya con Dios,” Becky shouted as Lonnie galloped his horse eastward, while Justin and Dallas rode toward Santa Fe. Kirby, Dirk, Mindy, Laura, and April rode close to the wagon, while Becky urged the teams to a faster gait.
“Here comes the wagon!” Gus shouted, as he saw the vehicle and its outriders coming at a gallop.
“I don’t see Lonnie or Dallas,” said Sandy Orr.
Becky reined up the teams and all but fell off the wagon box. The rest of the riders were out of their saddles in an instant, hurrying to the blanket-covered Waco. It was Becky who raised the blanket, revealing Waco’s terrible wound. She caught her breath and expelled it with a sob. The wound had begun bleeding again.
“Mindy,” said Becky desperately, “get me the medicine chest from the wagon. Some of you bring more mud—plenty of mud—from the river.”
Becky covered the bleeding wound with a slab of mud three inches thick. Over that, to hold it in place, she wrapped a bandage all the way around Waco’s middle.
“Where’s Lonnie and Dallas?” Benjamin Raines asked.
“Lonnie sent Dallas back to Santa Fe with Justin,” Dirk McNelly said. “Lonnie’s riding east, hoping to pick up Wovoka’s trail. They’re going to ride down the bushwhacker.”
“I reckon some of us should have gone after him,” said Elliot Graves, “but Wovoka had already lit out, and it looked like Waco needed all the help he could get.”
“You did the right thing,” Becky assured him. “Whoever did this won’t get away.”
Lonnie pushed his horse as hard as he dared, stopping to rest the animal when he had to. Eventually he came upon the wagon tracks that led from the Pecos to the Rio Grande. There were two new sets of horse tracks, one virtually on top of the other, heading east toward the Pecos.
A few miles ahead, Wovoka rested his horse and rode on. He had his Bowie slipped under his waistband and his fully loaded Colt in his left hand. These whites had treated him as an equal, and now one of them lay dead—or nearly dead—as the result of a cowardly gunman shooting from cover. Ahead, he saw a small cloud of dust, and he urged his tired horse on. The rider ahead of him twisted around in the saddle and fired three times with his six-gun. But the range was too great, and the two horses galloped on. Slowly but surely Wovoka’s horse gained on the weary horse ahead.
Two or three miles behind, Lonnie heard the three pistol shots and urged his horse to an even faster gait. Finally there was a fourth shot, and all was silence.
“Damn it,” Lonnie groaned. “Damn it.”
His own mount was staggering and he dismounted, sparing the animal. Whatever was going to happen already had. Finally, far ahead, there came a horse. Lonnie recognized the horse and Wovoka. As the Indian drew nearer, Lonnie could see that he had a horse on a lead rope. Wovoka reined up and Lonnie went to the led horse. A man lay belly-down over the saddle. Taking him by the hair, Lonnie raised his head and found himself looking into the dead face of former Santa Fe Sheriff Al Singleton.
“Bueno, Wovoka,” said Lonnie. “You’re one hombre to ride the river with.”
“Waco my amigo,” Wovoka said. “Kill this cobarde.”*
*Coward.