Lauraine Snelling (24 page)

“I didn’t know sitting up took so much energy.”

Mavis set the tray on the end of the bed and, taking the bowl in hand, sat on the edge of the bed and spooned the soup into Cassie’s mouth.

“How bad does it hurt?” Gretchen asked.

“Not so bad right now, but . . .” She took another spoonful.

Mavis sent Gretchen a “mother” look, and Gretchen didn’t ask the next question that was obviously on the rim of her lips.

“No more, thanks.” Cassie closed her eyes.

“I’ll help you lie down. You did well.” Mavis removed the pillows and helped Cassie lie flat again. She watched sleep claim the girl and picked up the tray with its untouched coffee.

“Come along, Gretchen. You can help me get supper on the table.”

A few minutes later she heard the thud of boots on the back porch, and her sons filed in the door. “How’d it go?”

“Nothing. We lost them on the rocks. Chief tried to follow the trail further, but darkness was starting to set in, and it was senseless to go on. Besides, there was always the chance we would be riding into a trap if they knew we were tailing them.”

“Was Chief able to track with his eyesight?”

“He says it’s distance that is a problem. He’d get down on the ground to examine a track every once in a while, but as I said . . .” Ransom hung up his sheepskin coat and hat on the pegs on the wall by the door. “I tried to get him to come down here for supper, but he said they’d have supper for him up there.”

“I guess Edgar was right. No sense trying to follow them.” Lucas sat down at the table, his gear already on the pegs. “Probably a good thing we didn’t catch ’em. I’d probably beat ’em within an inch of their lives. Stupid fools.”

“Do you think they’ll come back?” Mavis set soup bowls on plates in front of them.

“Not if they have any sense at all, but then, who knows about that? Case can be pretty wily when he’s sober, so unless they have booze with them, they’re stone cold sober and who knows what they will do.” Lucas dug into his soup. “I think Edgar should have someone watching their houses.”

Lucas thought a moment. “If I were Case, I’d sneak in during the night or through the woods, get what I need, and hightail it out of there.”

Ransom nodded as he ate. “That would make good sense. Maybe we need to go talk with Edgar again. Tell him what we found, or didn’t find, as the case may be.”

“What direction were they heading?” Mavis asked as she poured the coffee.

“Northwest.”

“He could telegraph the town sheriffs along the Spearfish River and the railroad tracks. If they’re heading for Wyoming, that’s the best way. Put out Wanted posters, at least.”

They finished eating and shoved back their chairs. “We’ll be back when we get back, Mor, but don’t wait up for us.”

“You be careful now. Remember, you always catch more flies with honey.”

“Right. It would be fine if we wanted flies, but—” Lucas clamped his hat on his head. “Sorry, Mor, I know this is no joking matter, but we’ll keep safe.”

“And be polite when we talk with the sheriff. Maybe this time he’ll be pleased to have someone offering to help him.”

Together they left and Mavis added their protection to her list of petitions. She grabbed a shawl and wrapped it around her before stepping outside.

“Ransom!”

“Yeah.”

“What if they circle back here?”

“They won’t. But we’ll go tell Chief and Micah what we’re doing, so if the dogs start barking, everyone will be on guard.”

“Thank you.” She returned to the house and hung up her shawl. Gretchen was adding wood to the stove and turned to her.

“Mor, are you worried about them doubling back?”

“No, but the thought crossed my mind, so I told the men. The dogs warned us before, and they will again. I truly think those men are too smart to do that. An accidental shooting is one thing. Gunning for someone only happened in the old West, not in this day and age. I have a feeling those men are real sorry for what they did, and now they’re scared of the law. I would be. But God is protecting us.”

“How come He didn’t protect Cassie and the others?”

“I think He did, or it might have been a whole lot worse. We’ll keep praying and wait to see what God does next.”
Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief.

A
t least it wasn’t in the middle of the night.

Ransom and Lucas kept their horses at the steady ground-eating lope that was easy on both horse and rider, the lighter color of the road making it easy to follow. Back into town and another confrontation with the sheriff. Maybe they should have just stayed home and hoped for the best. But maybe the man needed all their information regarding where they had tracked. Maybe this, maybe that. There were no easy answers. That was for sure.

Ever since that young woman rode onto the ranch, things had been in an uproar.

“We never even asked Mor how Cassie was doing.” Lucas broke the silence.

“If there was a problem, she’d have told us.”

“The sight of her lying bleeding against that wall has seared my brain, I think. Along with the burning wagon. It sure did provide plenty of light.”

“Do you think those three had already left by the time we got there, or did our coming scare them off?”

“I don’t know. But Jud told us plenty.”

“I didn’t ask him that question. But if he was right, and they weren’t supposed to be shooting at the cabin, how did the wagon catch on fire, and how did Cassie get shot?”

“He might not have been shooting at the cabin, but someone in that group was. Knowing those three men, the only one that is mean clear through is Beckwith himself. Maybe the others thought they were on a lark, but I can see him getting bloodthirsty.”

“True.” Ransom let his mind wander again. What if it was one of their own bullets that ripped into her arm? The wagon was already on fire when they crested the hill. “So did they run off because of Jud being wounded, the wagon burning, and Cassie was shooting at them?”

“Ransom, you’re thinking on this too hard. No way to answer any of those questions, but all that is important is getting them behind bars. And if they get a split lip or black eye in the bargain, so much the better.”

“Right, and someone else, like his wife, could get shot up or beat up or . . .” He paused. “Let’s just keep this without violence as much as possible.”

“That’s fine with me, but if he swings at me, I’m going to hit back, preferably with something solid. He’s bigger’n me.”

When they reached the edge of town, they pulled the horses down to a sedate trot and tied up in front of the sheriff’s office. A lighted window said that Edgar might be there rather than at home. They dismounted and climbed the step. A knock on the door announced their arrival.

“Come in.” The sheriff didn’t sound too hospitable.

“Good evening, Edgar. Thought we better catch you up on what we learned today,” Ransom said as they entered.

“I thought you boys were going to let this thing go, let me handle it.”

“Well, you didn’t actually say we oughtn’t to track them, so we picked up Chief and set out after we brought Miss Lockwood back out to the house.”

The man looked weary. Or bored. “Go ahead. I take it you didn’t catch them. Did you see ’em?”

“No. We lost them up in the rocks. They were heading northwest. We thought maybe you’d like to notify the law in the towns up the river and the railroad tracks to Wyoming.”

“Yeah, well, I thought of that too.”

“So did you?” Lucas stepped forward.

“Now, lookee here, boys. I told you to let me do my job, and I’ll do what I think best.”

Ransom clamped his jaw and inhaled a breath of patience. He turned to the sheriff and deliberately made his voice more pleasant, like honey for those flies. “We just thought you’d want to know what we found, is all. We’re not trying to tell you how to do your job. The other thing we thought was maybe it’d be a good idea to watch their houses tonight and through tomorrow. If they don’t have any supplies along, which Jud didn’t mention, they might decide to come home and get what they need.”

“Thought you said they were heading northwest, into the hills deeper.”

“But what if—”

“Ransom, like I said earlier today, you boys watch your ranch and let me watch the town. We’ll get these fellas one way or another.”

Ransom forced himself to nod. “All right. That’s what we’ll do. Come on, Lucas, we did what we set out for.” He stepped back and made sure Lucas was beside him as he headed for the door.

“Why, that . . .” Lucas hissed as they got to the horses. “I just lost all respect for the man. We offer to help, and he tells us to go home and see to the ranch.” He mounted. “Like patting us on the head.” He reined his horse around. “And you backed down.”

“Remember what Mor said?”

“Yeah, you mean like flies and honey and—” Lucas stopped his horse. “All right, big brother, tell me what we are really going to do.”

“I am going to take up watch on Beckwith’s house. We know that one well, since we reroofed the thing for him.”

“Yeah, and look how he shows his gratitude.”

Ransom bobbed his head in agreement. “The man doesn’t have one inch of gratitude in his entire body. I’m sure he won’t come home through the front door, so I shall be sitting in the bushes out behind. You take the others’ houses. They’re near together, so maybe you can find a place to watch them both somehow. I’ll bet they’ll all come in together.”

“I still don’t understand Edgar. Why, we’ve even been deputized by him before, like when that bank robber on the run came through here. He knows we’re not hotheads who go off half-cocked.”

“And, of course, the way we acted yesterday probably reassured him of that.” Ransom knew he was being sarcastic, but the thought of hunkering down in the cold and dark didn’t really sound appealing at all.

They each went their separate ways at the cross streets, and Ransom contemplated where specifically he could hide. He tied his horse behind the trees well to the west of the house and made his way along the edge of what could be called a yard, if one were feeling generous. When he was even with the house, he crossed the open area to plaster himself against the wall and peep through the window. The missus and all the children were gathered around the table in the kitchen, probably the only room in the house with heat. While it wasn’t freezing yet, the thermometer must be inching down thataway. No sign of Beckwith, unless he was snoring in his bed. Good thing this wasn’t a two-story house. Far as he could see with the light coming from the kitchen, no one was in the bedroom that had a bed. The other room had pallets on the floor. The man had never even made beds for his children. How that poor woman could put up with the likes of Case Beckwith was beyond him.

Good thing they didn’t have a dog. He followed the path to the outhouse and hunkered down. On the upwind side. Obviously the man never dumped lime down the outhouse either.

Sometime later, wishing he had a cup of hot coffee, he heard a rustle in the bushes. A medium-sized man in a slouch hat eased his way back into the brush. It had to be Lansing from down at the lumberyard. No one else in town wore a hat like that. Well, I’ll be . . . So did Edgar plan on a stakeout or call one up quick after their suggestion? Either way . . . Should he go and make his presence known? He had just about decided to do so when another body made its way through the undergrowth.

Ransom turned his head to catch the sense of a big man. Case was a big man. The shadow paused behind a tree, studying the house and area for long moments, and then slipped silently forward. He paused again behind another tree, and then stepped into the cleared area. It was Case, all right. Two rifles cocked at the same time.

Lansing called, “Stop right there, Case Beckwith. You are under arrest.”

Case spun around, his pistol instantly in his hand, firing as he moved. At a yelp from Lansing’s direction, Ransom raised his rifle, hoping for a flesh wound. He fired. His shot slammed Case against the porch post. The pistol went spinning, and Case growled cuss words black enough to hide the stars. He staggered, stumbling for the steps, lurching up to the door. Ransom leaped through the bushes and caught him in the back of the head with the rifle butt. Case crashed to the porch, moaning invectives.

“You hurt bad, Lansing?” Ransom called.

“Naw, but it burns like fire. I’m coming out.”

“Case is down.”

The door opened a crack, and Mrs. Beckwith stared at Ransom, then down at her husband. Nodding, she stepped back and closed the door with a solid click. Ransom could hear the children crying inside and the mother shushing them.

“Case Beckwith, I hope the judge throws you in jail and they throw away the key. You don’t deserve to live.”

“Lansing, you all right enough to go get Edgar?”

“I’m right here, son.” The sheriff came walking across the yard. “I thought I told you to go on home.”

“You did, and I started to, and then I just kind of veered off to the side and decided to sit a spell. See if there was any action. You better see how bad Lansing is hurt. Case shot him too.”

“And I’m sure your brother went on home without you?”

“Well, can’t rightly answer that. Last I saw him he was heading out of town.”

Edgar chuckled, “Yeah, well he and Mac managed to nab their assignment. Without any shooting, I might add.”

Lansing joined them at the porch, one arm holding the other. “Case shot first. He never did have too much sense. Thanks to Engstrom here, he got him before he got into the house and used his wife and kids as a barricade. Wouldn’t surprise me none if he’d use them as hostages even.”

Edgar leaned down and hauled the livid man to his feet. “Where you hit?”

“’Bout blew my hand off,” Case complained.

“Be glad it wasn’t your head.” He shoved the staggering man ahead of him. “Hate to waste the doc’s time on offal such as you, but the law is the law. You boys come with me, make sure he don’t try to take off. There’ll be no more shooting unless absolutely necessary.” He held out his hand. “Thanks, Ransom.”

Ransom shook the hand. “You’re welcome, Sheriff. Figure we all guessed right.” He nudged Case with the rifle barrel. “Let’s get going.”

The sheriff paused. “I’m going to stop and let his missus know what’s going on.”

“Oh, she knows. She opened the door, took one look at him on the porch floor, and shut the door real quick.”

“Then I’ll come back later.”

Ransom left the others at the doctor’s house and strode back to the sheriff’s office, where Lucas and the men from his side of town were sipping coffee and in general warming up.

“I take it you got him?” Lucas raised his coffee cup in a cheery salute.

“We did. He and Lansing are over being stitched up. Case got a lucky shot off and winged Lansing.”

“Coffee?” the man nearest the stove asked.

Ransom nodded. He’d actually shot a man. The thought made his stomach clench. He never thought he’d be able to do such a thing, but when he heard Lansing yelp, it was all he could do to not aim for a body shot. For the sake of the wife and children, he was grateful for the way it had turned out. All because some men got liquored and hated up. Four people wounded, two innocents, the wagon burned, and Argus, South Dakota, turned into an old West range town. On the other hand, maybe this would be enough to shake some sense into at least Beckwith’s buddies. Serve them all right if their families never took them back. He planned on talking to Mor about how they could help Mrs. Beckwith and her children to free them from Case’s abuse.

“So you’re the hero of the night?” one of the other men said to Ransom.

“No, looks to me like we all just did our job of keeping our families safe. You tell Edgar that we headed on home.”

The door opened and the sheriff stepped in. He paused at the door. “Just want to tell all of you thanks from me and from the town, actually from our whole area. I’m sure you’ll be called as witnesses when the judge sentences these so-called men.”

“How’s Lansing?”

“I’ve seen knife cuts worse’n that. Doc was just bandaging him. He got off easy. I knew Beckwith was mean, but I thought he’d respect the law. I learned a lesson here too. Good night to all of you. Oh, the doc gave Beckwith a shot and knocked him out cold. Don’t need to worry about him trying to get away. Said he’d keep him doped up until morning. Then we’ll bring him over here.” He shook hands with each of the men, and they filed outside.

Ransom said his good-nights and swung up behind Lucas. “My horse is in the trees west of the house.” Lucas headed that direction and then stopped so Ransom could swing down and mount his own horse.

Halfway home he felt as if someone had let his air out, like a collapsing balloon. Good thing he didn’t have to walk. He’d never have made it. The ranch house was dark as they rode by it but for a candle in the front window, something his mother always lit. She’d started the practice years earlier, she said, to guide their father home.

No wonder she had such a hatred for booze. Their life could have been similar to the Beckwiths’.
Thank you, God, for the strong mother you gave us.
And a father who put his family before the booze when the line was finally drawn.

“You know . . .” He paused as he pulled the saddle off his horse.

“What?” Lucas was doing the same.

“I sure wish Pa was still alive, so I could tell him thank-you.”