This Violent Land (10 page)

A
s Smoke crawled into bed that night, some fifty miles away, three men sat astride their horses on a hill, looking down to the town. The breath of men and horses alike frosted in the cold air. A cloud passed over the moon, then moved away, bathing in silver the little town that rose up like a ghost before them. A big white house stood at the outer edge on the near side of town. The edifice was resplendent with cupolas, dormers, balconies, porches, and gingerbread trim, all shining brightly in the moonlight. The property was surrounded by a white picket fence which enclosed not only the house, but a carriage house and stable, as well.

“There it is,” Pete said, pointing to the house.

“You sure that's where the banker lives?” Eddie asked.

“You see any house in town that's any bigger than that one? Hell, there ain't even no buildin' that is bigger than that house.” Pete's declaration was accurate, for not even the hotel was as large as the house he had pointed out to the others.

Neither Eddie nor Merlin challenged his statement.

“All right. Come on, then. We'll leave the horses in the stable at the back of the property. That way no one will notice any strange horses hangin' around the house.” Pete headed down the hill.

The three men rode slowly into town, the hoofbeats sounding exceptionally loud in the quiet of the night. They avoided the main street and followed one of the back streets. Approaching that way gave them an angle least likely to be noticed in the event that someone in town was actually awake.

The high-pitched yap of a dog came from somewhere nearby, and his bark was answered by another dog some distance away. A baby, perhaps awakened by the barking dogs, began to cry. A wind came up, and as it passed over a loose piece of tin on the roof of the small house they were passing, it made a clanking sound.

“What's that?” Eddie asked, startled. He twisted around in the saddle to search for the source.

“Quiet. It's nothing. Just the wind,” Pete told him.

Closer to the big white house, they turned their horses into the alley and rode up behind the banker's carriage house. There, they dismounted.

“Lookie here at this brougham,” Merlin said, pointing to the elegant carriage. “This sum'bitch must do pretty well.”

One of the stabled horses snorted as if questioning the uninvited guests, but the interrogation died with one whicker.

Pistols drawn, the three men moved from the shadows of the stable across the backyard and up onto the back porch. The locked back door did nothing to impede their entry into the house. The door opened into the kitchen with the faint but still discernable aroma of the pork that had been the family's supper.

The outlaws moved through a spill of moonlight to the bottom of the stairs, then climbed them quietly, stepping on the carpet at the center to silence their approach. At the top of the stairs, they moved toward the nearest bedroom, the carpet muffling any sound.

Pete slowly opened the door. The same splash of moonlight illuminating the parlor also lit up the bedroom where a man and woman were sleeping. The man was snoring.

Pete put his pistol away and pulled a knife, while at the same time clamping his hand over the woman's mouth. Startled, she opened her eyes but was unable to cry out.

“Woman, if you scream I'm going to cut your throat.” He showed her the knife in the moonlight.

She looked up at him with her eyes open wide in terror.

“Damn. What does it take to wake that guy up?” Pete asked, looking toward the sleeping man. “Wake 'im up, Merlin.”

“Hey you. Wake up.”

The snoring continued.

“I said wake up!” Merlin's admonition was much louder and was accompanied by a rough shaking of the man's shoulder. The effort was successful.

“What is this?” The man gasped, sitting up quickly.

“Just sit still till we tell you to move.” Pete's warning was augmented by the pistol Merlin was holding just inches from the man's head.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my house?” The man tried to muster a little bravado in his voice as he made the demand, but he failed miserably.

“We're arranging a little loan,” Pete said, adding with a chuckle, “Only we ain't never gonna pay it back.” He sheathed the knife, then drew his gun and pointed it toward the woman's head.

“If you don't want to see your woman's brains scattered all over the bed, you'll rattle your hocks down there to your bank, take out one hundred thousand dollars, and bring it here.”

“Mommy? Daddy? Who are these men?”

At that unexpected question, Eddie exclaimed, “Son of a—” and twisted around, thrusting his revolver out in front of him ready to shoot. His finger was taut on the trigger, but he managed not to fire when he realized the questioner was a little girl, no older than four or five, standing in the doorway of the bedroom holding a rag doll.

The woman in the bed struggled to sit up and tried to let out a terrified scream, but Pete still had his hand over her mouth.

He pushed her back down and said between clenched teeth to Eddie, “Grab that kid and bring her here so we're all together.”

Eddie didn't look happy about the order. He was already shaken because he had almost shot the little girl. He knew from reading stories in the newspaper about the stagecoach robbery that a kid had been killed in that explosion, but that wasn't quite the same as shooting an innocent little girl standing just a few feet away from him.

He knew he had to do what Pete told him. Jamming his gun back in its holster, he leaped toward the girl, who whirled around, yelled in fright, and tried to run. Eddie snagged the back of her nightdress, jerked her toward him, and swept her up in his arms. He clamped a hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming.

“And now you, Mister Banker,” Pete said in a satisfied voice. “You go get us that hundred thousand dollars like I told you to.”

The man shook his head. “I can't do as you ask. We don't have a hundred thousand dollars in the bank right now.”

“How much do you have?”

“Just over thirty thousand.”

“Well then, go get the thirty thousand and bring it back. And don't get any idea 'bout goin' to the law or anything. The only person I want to see here is you, and you had better be carrying a bag of money. If anyone besides you shows up, we kill the woman and kid. And if you ain't back in half an hour, we kill the woman and the kid, anyway.” Pete took his hand away from the woman's mouth and urged, “You better make sure your husband knows we ain't foolin'.”

“Filbert, please. For heavens' sake, just do it.” Her voice quavered with terror.

“Don't be so alarmed, Beth.” Obviously, he was trying to summon up some courage again. “I don't believe they really mean you any harm.”

Pete nipped that in the bud. “Tell you what. Just to show you we're serious, if you ain't back in twenty minutes, me an' my friends here are gonna start havin' a little fun with your wife, if you know what I mean. Then, after we've had our fun with her, if you still ain't back with the money, we're gonna kill her and the little girl.”

“All right, all right,” the banker said. “Please don't hurt anyone. I'll get the money.”

“Now you're gettin' smart.”

Quickly, the banker got dressed, then started toward the door.

“Remember, be back here with the money before twenty minutes is up, or we start on your woman.” Pete reached over to grab one of Beth's breasts, squeezing it hard enough for her to gasp with pain. “This is just to show you that we're serious.”

“I beg of you, don't do anything to hurt my family,” the banker pleaded, thoroughly cowed. “I'll do what you say.”

The little girl had become quite heavy. Since she had stopped struggling, Eddie set her down.

She immediately ran over to hit Pete on the leg. “Don't you hurt my mommy!” she demanded.

“Ha,” Merlin said. “Your little girl has more courage than either of you.”

“Suzie, come here!” Beth called.

The girl crawled into the bed and huddled next to her.

After the banker left, the three men stared at Beth. Her eyes reflected her terror, but she was fighting hard to keep herself under control.

“How come you ain't cryin'?” Eddie asked. “Most women would be cryin'.”

“Would it do me any good to cry?” Beth replied.

Eddie laughed and shook his head. “I reckon you've got a point there. No, it wouldn't do you no good to cry.”

“Why don't we just all go down into the parlor and have a seat?” Pete suggested. “It'll be more comfortable, and there ain't no sense in us gettin' tired while we're waitin', now is there?”

“Suzie should go back to bed. She's just a little girl.”

“Maybe she can find a place to sleep down there. Surely somebody as rich as you folks are have a sofa.”

“Yes, we have a sofa.”

“Then let's just all go down there and relax while we wait.”

They went downstairs and into the moonlit parlor. Beth started over toward one of the tables.

“What are you doin'?” Pete asked.

“I'm going to light a lamp.”

“No, you ain't. We don't want anyone comin' over wonderin' why there's a light on at this time of night.”

“Why don't you let 'er light one, Pete?” Eddie asked. “I'll bet she's one fine-lookin' woman, and I'd like to get me a good look.”

“You can see her good enough.”

Suddenly there was a
whirr
, then a
gong
.

“What the hell was that?” Merlin asked.

Pete laughed. “Damn, Merlin. You're so jumpy that a clock scares you? That was just the half hour chime, is all.”

“Yeah, I knew that,” Merlin said, trying to recover some of his composure.

Pete made conversation to pass the time. “I tell you what, Beth, your husband . . . what's his name? . . . Filbert?”

Beth nodded, but gave no audible reply.

“Yes, well ole' Filbert better be back here before the clock strikes again.”

“He'll be back,” Beth said.

“Mommy, I'm scared,” Suzie said.

Beth put her arm around her daughter's shoulders. “Don't be afraid. Daddy will be back soon, then these men will leave.”

“I want them to leave now. I don't like them.”

Merlin laughed. “Now that just breaks my heart that you don't like me.”

As they were waiting, Eddie wandered around the room, picking up pieces for a closer examination, then putting them back down. He picked up a porcelain doll. “What's this?”

“Oh, please do be careful with that, it is very”—Beth started to say
expensive
, for indeed it was, having come from the Song Dynasty in twelfth-century China, but she amended her comment—“dear to me. My mother gave it to me when I was a little girl.”

“Don't worry. I ain't goin' to play with no dolls,” Eddie said.

“Look at all this stuff,” Merlin said. “You people must be filthy rich to have all this.”

Beth didn't reply.

He smiled. “We're gonna be rich, too, if your husband does what we told him to do.”

“Here he is, comin' back,” Eddie said.

“Is he carrying anything?” Pete asked.

“He's carryin' a big sack.”

Merlin smiled broadly. “That's our money! Hey Pete. His idea worked!”

The banker came into the house, and not glancing toward the parlor, started up the stairs.

“We're in here,” Pete called to him.

“I have the money,” Filbert said.

“How much did you get?”

“I got every cent that was in the bank, just like you told me. Thirty thousand, one hundred and seventeen dollars.”

 

 

 

With a sigh of frustration, Josh Richards sat up. He was on the edge of the bed in Janey's room, having failed again in his attempt to have sex with her. His periods of impotence had started over a year ago. At first they were intermittent, but over the last six months he had become totally impotent. “I'm sorry, I couldn't do it.”

“Don't be sorry, darling,” Janey said, reaching out to put her hand on his. “Believe me, you don't need to prove yourself to me.”

Though she didn't show it, Janey was glad Richards was impotent. She very much appreciated the economic benefits of living with him and was willing to make her bed available to him as part of the price she had to pay for the luxury she enjoyed, but she had always done so out of a sense of obligation, never for pleasure.

“Don't you ever tell anyone about this,” Richards warned. “Do you hear me? Don't you tell Wiley or Muley, and especially, don't you tell any of your friends down at the Pink House. If I ever hear tell that you've told anyone, I'll beat the hell out of you.”

“No, you mean you'll kill me.”

“I wouldn't go that far but—”

“You'd have to go that far,” Janey interrupted coolly.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because, Josh, dear, if you ever hit me, and leave me alive, I'll kill you.”

Richards laughed out loud. “You know what? I believe you would.”

“Oh, you can count on that.” There was no laughter in her voice.