A Million Tears (33 page)

‘Fine, Sonny,’ Evan was concentrating on guiding us past a big pot hole in the snow covered road. The road we had left had been virtually snow free but this one was mostly covered, though here and there patches of ground and bare rocks showed through.

I was glad of the jacket I had picked up. If I hadn’t had it I’d have been freezing to death by now. I reached inside the coat and checked my gun was still there.

Knowed him most of my life, I reckon. If he’s gone anywhere it’s home, cause he knows his Pa will do the best he can to look after him. Junior’d know that without his Pa’s help he ain’t going to get away.’

‘Do you think he’ll try and run for it?’ asked Evan. ‘I dunno and that’s a fact. I’d say that would be Junior’s idea but the old man would cross examine him, find out the chances of bluffing it out and maybe try for that.’

‘Have you been out to the ranch before, Sonny?’ I enquired.

‘Sure, Mr Price. Why do you ask?’

‘I want you to describe it to me. Because in spite of what Evan thinks, we aren’t just going to bust in hoping for the best. In a couple of hours it’ll be dark and we’re going in there nice and slow and careful.’ Evan looked at me in surprise. ‘I’m here to make sure you get back to Meg in one piece,’ I said.

That road was certainly rough but when we rejoined the main road we had saved about nine miles. It was now fast approaching sunset.

We still had a fair way to go and Evan whipped up the horses again, but this time kept them to a speed they could cope with.

The moon was rising when we finally pulled up at the gates leading to the house. In the silver light I could just make out the house, the big barn, some other buildings and the hands’ bunkhouse.

We left the buckboard and Sonny’s horse hidden in a copse of trees fifty yards from the gate. Evan had the rifle we kept in the buckboard, Sonny took his from his saddle and handed me the sawn-off shotgun along with a handful of ammunition. I felt better, holding that gun in my hands.

The snow crunched under our feet though mostly the track was mud with deep ruts made by wagons and horses’ hooves. Our breath turned opaque in the cold as we made our way silently towards the buildings. Evan had the Marshal’s badge pinned prominently to his coat.

I was not altogether convinced that walking straight in like this was a good idea; I would have preferred to sneak by the back entrance. But Evan argued that if Roybal was going to bluff it out he would be acting as normal as possible. If he was going to get his son away then the chances were that he had already done so. The only problem was that Roybal would be expecting the marshal who, no doubt, would have played along with him.

We reached the first of the outbuildings and if we had been seen nobody was giving the game away. We continued to the main house. It was a one-storey rambling building with a veranda running along the front. Sonny went around to the back while we counted fifty to give him time to get into position. Evan and I stood by the front door straining to hear what was being said inside. There was an argument going on and it sounded like father and son. With a last look around Evan took hold of the door handle and turned it silently.

The door opened with a low squeak. We stepped straight into their main room just as Sonny had described it. It was well lit with oil-filled lamps and a fire burning brightly in the grate. The two men spun round and when he saw us, Junior, with an oath, went for his gun. Which was very stupid because Evan had his rifle trained on him. Luckily for Junior the old man stopped him in time. I closed the door behind us just as Sonny came in from the kitchen.

‘What’s the meaning of this outrage?’ blustered Roybal. ‘I demand you leave this house immediately.’

‘You know something?’ said Evan in a low voice. ‘You really are the limit, Roybal. Here I am again within an inch of killing you and you’re making demands.’ Evan shook his head mockingly. ‘I’ve come to take your son in for murder. At least, God willing, it might be attempted murder. If my son is dead when I get back then I shall kill Junior with my own hands and that’s a promise.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Junior said angrily. ‘Tell him Pa. Tell him I’ve been here all afternoon. Go on Pa, tell him.’ Junior coaxed his father as Evan slowly closed the gap between them. I stepped to one side and kept my scattergun pointed at Junior’s middle. The old man was unarmed, but even so, Sonny kept him covered. Sonny moved away from the door and stood with his back to the wall. I did the same thing in case we were interrupted.

‘Stay away from me. I tell you I was here all afternoon. Tell him Pa, please tell him.’ He was begging now, bending slightly as though he had a pain in his stomach.

‘What did you say, Griffiths, about your son?’ asked Roybal in a voice so strained I thought he was about to collapse.

‘Your son tried to rob my warehouse today. When my youngest son accidentally came rushing in he was shot in the head.’ Evan turned his blue, contempt filled eyes onto Roybal. ‘Junior fired the shot. I understand that you protect your son, it’s a natural reaction, but this time not even you can lie for him. A small ten year old boy lying in a pool of blood, gunned down by this animal.’ Evan was now no more than the barrel length of his rifle from Junior and without warning smashed the gun across Junior’s right wrist. We heard the unmistakable crunch of bone breaking. Junior gave a scream and dropped sobbing to the floor. Roybal looked as though he was about to jump Evan, but Evan swung the rifle to point at him.

‘I assure you, I just want the excuse.’ Evan tapped his own chest. ‘This badge makes it legal and I don’t mind shooting you while you’re aiding your son to resist arrest.’

‘You’d never get away with it. It’ll be murder,’ said Roybal hoarsely.

‘Sonny, do you think I’ll get away with it?’ Evan asked in a calm voice.

‘Sure, no problem, Mr Griffiths. In fact I’ll be right glad to do it myself, now.’ Sonny aimed his rifle at Junior’s head. ‘Just say the word, Mr Griffiths.’

‘How,’ Roybal’s voice croaked and he cleared his throat. ‘How do you know it was my son, Griffiths?’

‘He was recognised by a lot of people. Furthermore,’ I said, answering for Evan, ‘the lookout he had stationed outside the warehouse called him by his name, see. Mr Roybal, it isn’t an easy thing to admit but your son might be a child killer. At best he’s hurt that little boy real bad.’

‘It’s not true Pa, it’s not true.’ Junior was holding his wrist, tears running down his face. ‘I didn’t do nothing like that Pa, I swear it. I lied earlier on Pa,’ Junior said desperately, seeing the contempt on his father’s face. ‘I did try to rob his place Pa, but it was only to get our own back on him for what he did to you Pa. But I didn’t shoot the boy, Pa, honest I didn’t. It was one of the others. Buck did it, Pa. It was Buck. Don’t look at me like that. I only went there for you. For what he did to you Pa, honest, Pa.’

There were tears in old man Roybal’s eyes as he looked at his son. ‘All these years I ignored it all. I helped you all I could, made excuses because your Ma was dead. I knowed you was no good. Never have been since you was a little un. But I always put it down to high spirits, sure you’d grow up and be able to take over this ranch one day. I did all I could to teach you what I know but you were always more interested in being in town, boasting to your so-called friends, getting drunk rather than be earning a living out here with me. You cost me a fortune one way an’ another, getting you out of scrape after scrape

– putting me in hock with favours to my friends when I persuaded them you were only joshing. Growing up was the excuse, always. Well, boy, you are growed up now and you got to take what’s coming to you.’ He looked at Evan. ‘I hate you Griffiths but I hope your boy lives and I hope he turns out as bad as my own. So you’ll know what it’s like.’

‘Pa, you can’t do this, Pa. Pa I’ll be good from now on. Please Pa, don’t let them take me,’ Junior sobbed.

‘You stupid fool,’ said his father angrily. ‘What do you expect me to do? There’s three guns pointing at me. I’m not immune to lead. Even if I did want to help you there’s nothing I can do. Now be a man, damn you, just for once. Try and walk out of here without disgracing me in front of the hands. Just for this once be a man, son. I beg you.’ It was pitiful to hear the distress in his voice.

‘Get up or I’ll break your other wrist. And after that I’ll start on your legs. With both of them broken I’ll carry you to the buckboard. Get up, you little swine.’

Awkwardly, Junior scrambled to his feet. ‘They’re going to kill me on the way Pa. I can see they are. Don’t let them Pa. Don’t let them kill me.’

‘I don’t intend killing him yet, Mr Roybal. I shall if I have to. And I’ll have to if my son is dead. If my son still lives, the law will deal with Junior.’ Evan prodded Junior in the back and reluctantly he walked towards the door.

If he hadn’t turned to beg his father one more time Roybal would have saved him.

‘Please Pa . . .’ was as far as he got but it made me look back at Roybal. Evan stayed facing Junior, prodding him towards the door. Sonny too, had his eyes on Junior.

I turned in time to see Roybal lift a shotgun down from over the mantelpiece and point it at us. I lifted my scattergun, aimed it in the general direction and fired. Roybal went over backwards, guts and blood spilling everywhere. Evan whirled and crouched. Sonny threw himself down flat while Junior gave a low moan.

There was a commotion outside, made by the hands, but suddenly it all went quiet.

‘Sonny, check if he’s dead,’ ordered Evan. ‘Are you okay, Uncle James?’ I nodded. ‘Fine,’ I croaked. ‘He had a gun and was going to use it, Evan.’ I felt I had to explain.

‘I’m a deputy marshal sent here to take in Junior for . . . for possible child m . . . m . . . murder,’ Evan stumbled over the words, ‘a little boy. Roybal is dead. I’m coming out alone and unarmed. Will one of you men come and meet me, so we can talk?’

‘All right, but no tricks now. Come out nice and slow.’

‘If there’s any shooting kill Junior and try and hold then off until help gets here. The marshal will have to send a posse sooner or later.’

‘Let me go, Evan,’ I said. ‘If something does happen you and Sonny have a better chance of getting away than me.’

‘No. It’s my . . .,’ Evan said and turned to the door. He fell as I stunned him with the butt of the scattergun, careful not to hit him too hard, dropped the gun and opened the door.

I grinned in spite of myself when I heard Evan. ‘You crazy old man.’

It was not heroics that sent me out there but common sense. If I got killed it wouldn’t matter too much. If Evan died then what would happen to the family? Nope, I loved them all and this was the best way. On top of all that I was nearing seventy and Evan wasn’t thirty two yet. He still had his whole life ahead of him while mine was almost over.

There were no bullets. No hail of deadly lead, just a hazy figure in the shadow of the bunkhouse who came forward hesitantly.

‘Who are you?’ he called from the safety of the darkness.

‘My name is Price,’ I walked off the veranda and into the open. ‘I work for the Griffiths warehouse. Remember the trouble between Roybal and Griffiths?’

‘I remember.’

‘Junior held us up earlier today and shot a ten year old boy – Griffiths’ son. We were sent ahead of a posse to arrest him. We’re taking him back to town to stand trial. Roybal tried to stop us and I shot him. He’s dead. You come up and have a look if you want. I’m not armed as you can see.’ I held my hands away from my sides.

Slowly the man came forward. He turned out to be the foreman of the ranch. He took it all calmly. He could see what had happened and I guessed that from his knowledge of Junior and his father stopped him being surprised by it.

‘Thirty years I’ve been here . . .’ he shook his head, sadly. ‘You never were any good, Junior. But I reckon I owe it to your father to see you get safely to jail. I’m sending three of the men with you.’

We didn’t object. The foreman seemed a straight enough man. He was a cowpuncher and not a gunslinger.

On the way Junior begged the men to set him free. He kept at them until one of the riders finally threatened to shoot him if he didn’t shut up. ‘I don’t help no child killer,’ were his words.

I saw Evan tense. Now that it was all over we could let our thoughts turn to Sion. I felt a sickness in my stomach. We could not move very fast – the light was bad and the horses tired. We went back the long way round and arrived at the outskirts of town not long before dawn.

We found out later that though our men had stopped the marshal sending a message to Roybal they had not been able to stop him cancelling the posse. He was shocked when we arrived at his office. We turned Junior over to him and told him about Roybal.

‘If,’ said Evan, ‘you try and make anything of Roybal’s death I’ll have you hounded out of office so fast you’ll wonder what happened. And if you think I can’t do it, just try me.’

We rushed home, Sonny with us. The closer we got to the house the sicker I felt. I found I was praying harder than I had in a long time. By now Evan was getting every ounce of effort out of the horses and they gamely tried to run. At the house we jumped down and ran inside. Meg must have heard us on the stairs as she came out of Sion’s room and threw her arms around Evan, tears streaming down her cheeks. For a moment my heart stood still, so sure was I that he was dead. David came out of the room his eyes red rimmed and watery.