Jailbreak (24 page)

I walked along, thinking. Hell, if I’d of had any sense I’d of got a train out that very night and hied it back to Blessing and laid siege to Nora. But something told me it was too soon, the wound was too fresh. Better to give it some time. Besides, I was determined to personally see this land business through if for no other reason than to embarrass Norris.

But I also had the sneaking suspicion that the house wasn’t even finished. That would be all it would take—me to show up late and the house not to be finished. I was halfway tempted to wire Harley for a report, but by the time he got my telegram and got me an answer back I’d be halfway to Blessing.

That was assuming matters went the way they was supposed to the next day—a fact I couldn’t be all that sure of.

I walked about three blocks from the hotel and took notice of a pretty respectable-looking saloon. Gazing through the window, I could see a couple of poker games going on and it come across my mind that a game of cards might be a good way to take my thoughts off my troubles. Consequently I went on through the swinging doors. The place was doing a pretty brisk trade, but then I reckoned all the saloons in Laredo never went wanting for clientele. You take a place like Laredo, a border town, and you are going to have more than your average count of bandits and desperados and just general trash. The border is a good place to go if you’ve got to get away from the authorities on one side or the other. Ain’t nothing but a shallow river standing in your way. So you’ll draw more folks that prefer whiskey to Sunday-school books.

Of course it didn’t bother me. I had enough time in Laredo over the years that I could tell what some yahoo was going to do even before he thought of it.

Once inside I took a look at the two poker tables and saw they were full. I went over to the bar and ordered a beer and a shot of whiskey to give it time for a seat to come open. One of the tables appeared to be playing pretty big stakes so I figured it wouldn’t be long before one of the gentlemen players decided it was time he ought to be home, that his wife was waiting supper on him.

But I just bellied up to the bar and stared at my reflection in the mirror. Lord, I was a sight. I looked like old saddle leather from the beating my skin had taken crossing that desert. But it didn’t go with my clothes and my hat, which were shiny new. About the only two things I still carried were my belt and my boots, them and my revolver and holster. As near as I could tell I looked like I’d aged about ten years.

There was an ol’ boy standing next to me at the bar. He was bigger than I was but he was soft looking. He was dressed like somebody’s idea of what either a big-shot banker who loaned money on cattle or a successful rancher figured they ought to look like. I could see him watching me in the mirror that ran nearly the full distance of the bar. After a minute he said, “You must like what you see. You been starin’ at it long enough.”

I just gave him a look. I knew the mood I was in and it didn’t involve talking to strangers.

But he wouldn’t be satisfied. He kind of flicked his hand over at the sleeve of my shirt and said, “Just make a payday, cowboy?”

I could tell he’d had about one too many, but that was fixing to become his problem. I said, “Keep your hands to yourself, fellow.”

He said, “Scared I’ll mess up them nice new clothes? Say, what does somebody like you mean by coming in here drinking with the quality? You better get yourself down to one of the cantinas down along the river.”

Right then I turned and stared at him. I said, “Fellow, you are either drunk or crazy. Either way, you open your mouth to me again and you might not open it again for a long time.”

I knew he was going to take a swing at me. But he was so slow and he drew back so far that I didn’t think he was ever going to get the punch off. Before it could get halfway to me I hit him a vicious right hand in his soft gut. He went “Ooof!” and wanted to double over, but I wouldn’t let him. Just as he started to bend over I hit him with a driving left hook that straightened him up and dropped him like a limp sack of flour.

But it hadn’t been him I’d been concerned about. As he’d gone down I’d seen the man to his right start to react. Rich bullies never go into bars and start fights unless they got somebody behind them that can get them out of the scrapes they get themselves into. So, as the fat-belly dropped, I was already reaching for my revolver. I could see the man behind the fat-belly doing the same thing. I drew, clipping the man under the chin with my heavy revolver as I did. It staggered him. With my hand up in the air I just completed the play by bringing the barrel of my revolver crashing down on his head. He dropped like he’d been poleaxed.

The bar had gone quiet. I cocked my revolver and was about to turn to face any new threat when I suddenly felt a pair of strong arms pinning my arms to my side. For an instant I struggled and then I heard Lew’s voice in my ear. He said, “Justa, let’s get out of here. I don’t like the odds. Just walk backwards, following me. Keep that revolver playing over the house.”

We got to the door. The place was quiet, watching us. On the floor, beside the bar, the fat man was starting to move around, groaning and feeling his belly. Lew let go of me and I saw he also had his revolver drawn. He said, “I’d stay indoors if I was y’all. We didn’t start this fight and ain’t nobody hurt. At least not yet.”

Then we were through the door and out onto the street. Didn’t take us but a minute to get lost in the crowds moving up and down the sidewalk. We holstered our weapons and strolled toward the river. After about six blocks we come to a little plaza. We could see the lights from the riverfront stores and saloons reflecting off the water. We found a little stone-and-concrete bench and sat down. We didn’t say anything and, after a moment, we both lit up cigarillos. We smoked in silence, watching the white smoke float up toward the dark sky. Finally Lew said, “She mean that much to you?”

I studied the glowing end of my cigarillo and said, “I reckon. She must or I wouldn’t be feeling this way. What the hell were you doing there?”

“Oh, I seen the way you was looking. I figured you’d go looking for a fight. Thought I’d be there.”

“I wasn’t looking for no fight. They started it.”

He gave a little laugh. “Who you joshing, Justa? You get that look on your face and walk into a saloon you know damn good and well somebody is going to challenge you. You don’t reckon I know you that well by now?”

I didn’t say anything. Wasn’t much I could say. I knew what he was talking about was the truth. If the fat man hadn’t started in on me I’d of found a way to get somebody else to cooperate in getting their head knocked off.

Lew said, “Well? What about Nora?”

I shook my head. I said, “I don’t know. I don’t reckon I’ll know for some little time.”

Lew cut his hand through the air. “Then what in the hell did you risk it for? You could have sent somebody down to get Norris out of jail. Or let him set there and cool his heels for the while. It wouldn’t have killed him. Might have taught him a little lesson.”

I looked into the distance. “Lew, some years back I took a job from Dad, from Howard. I don’t know no other way than to do it. I reckon that’s been the biggest problem between me and Nora, me and that family business. Seems like sometimes she understands better than others. I thought I could make it back in time. Get my family business done and get back for the wedding.”

Lew said, softly, “I reckon what you don’t understand is that she figures you’re her family now. That you owe her as much as yore brothers or yore daddy or that ranch. Women think that way, you know.”

I looked over at him and laughed, just a little. “When did you get to be such an expert on women? I ain’t seen you being led to the altar no time lately.”

He had the good grace to smile. He said, “Well, maybe I ain’t no sage at firsthand, but I’m hell on givin’ advice to other men.”

I got up. “Let’s wander on back.”

“We ain’t stopping in no more saloons?”

“No,” I said.

As we walked he said, “What now?”

I shrugged in the dark. “Reckon I’ll go see the local sheriff and get that business tended to about the squatters. Then I reckon we’ll all head back. Hell, you been gone too long from your duties as high sheriff as it is.”

“Want me to go with you?”

I shook my head. “Naw, ought to be nothing to it. I got the Spanish land grant free and clear. Ought to just be a formality. You and the rest go to getting ready to pull out. Check on trains and so on.”

There was no telegram waiting for me back at the hotel. I looked at Lew. He didn’t say anything. On the way up the stairs I said, “Reckon I’ll have to plead my case in person.”

“More than likely,” he said. “More than likely.”

I took Ben with me the next morning to see the sheriff. I done it for no particular reason except Norris gave me a kind of self-satisfied look when I announced where I was going. I guessed by that he meant that since he’d had trouble with the sheriff, so I would also. I didn’t much think so.

Ben and I walked over from the hotel and mounted the boardwalk in front of the sheriff’s office and county jail. The notice painted on the big plate-glass window announced that somebody named R. E. “Buck” Gadley was the sheriff. But I didn’t give a damn what his name was, I just wanted him to do his job. Ben and I clanked across the boardwalk and opened the door. There was a middle-aged man with a droopy mustache hanging around his upper lip and a lined, bewhiskered face that appeared to be running about two days behind his razor sitting behind a small desk in the middle of the room. He had his boots on top of the desk and he was chewing tobacco. He seemed to time his chews with our steps as we crossed the room. Just as we got up to his desk he leaned over and spit on the floor. I could see by the condition of the wooden floor it wasn’t the first time he’d practiced that habit. Looking left I could see a younger man sitting on a little bench running a rag over a shotgun that was already plenty shiny. I said, “Sheriff Gadley?”

He looked up, about as disinterested as if I was a fly. He said, “Yeah?”

I said, “My name is Justa Williams. I’m from up in Matagorda County. On the coast. I got some squatters, some trespassers, nesting on my land. I need them run off.”

He spit again and then regarded me for a long time. Finally he said, “Whar’s this ’yere land of yor’n?”

“On the Rio Grande. About three miles east of here. It’s five thousand acres. My brother has been down to see you about it once before, but you said we didn’t have a clear title. Said there was some trouble about the Spanish land grant.”

“So?” he said.

I took the paper out of my pocket and held it out. I said, “So, I got that straightened out. Can’t be any question about clear title now. I want those trespassers run off my family’s land.”

He looked at me a long time, chewing his cud of tobacco slowly. “What’d you say yore name was?”

“Williams,” I told him. “Justa Williams. My brother’s name is Norris Williams. He’s the man came in to see you a little over a week ago. I’ve had to go down to Monterrey to get this business cleared up.”

Moving his head like it hurt his neck, he looked over at the young man on the bench. He said, “Soup, was thet thet smart aleck in that funny suit come in here throwin’ his weight ’round? Actin’ like he was some big shot?”

Soup said, “I reckon it was, Shur’ff. Lord, wadn’t he a sight! I liked to have died laughin’ when you tied a tin can to his tail.”

I looked around at Ben. I said, “It appears we ain’t going to get much cooperation around here. Looks like we’ll have to tend to matters ourselves.”

The sheriff took his boots off the desk. They hit the floor with a clump. He said, “Now, as I understand it, ain’t none of y’all from around these here parts. That ’bout right? ”

I nodded. “That is exactly right.”

He said, “Then I reckon we ought to set matters straight. Ain’t a vote amongst you so I don’t be obliged to do shit for you. You get my drift?”

I said, as calm as I could, “Sheriff, it’s going on for nine of the morning. We’ve got a four o’clock train to catch this afternoon. We intend to be on it. But we also intend to clear our land of people who ain’t got no rights being on it before we catch that train. You get my drift?”

I had just about had enough, what with first one thing and then another, and I could feel the anger rising in me. Ben said, lowly, “Take it easy, Justa.”

The sheriff stuck a finger out at me. He said, “Listen, boy, you go to takin’
my
law in yore hands in this here county an’ I’ll throw yore ass in jail. You understand me, boy?”

I said, “What did you call me?”

He said, “You heard me, boy.”

I said, “Watch my left, Ben.” Then I put both hands on the sheriff’s desk and leaned toward him. I said, “Now you understand me,
old man.
Don’t give me no trouble or I’ll put you in the cemetery,
old man.
Understand?”

He started to bluster but we were already backing for the door. I could see the one holding the shotgun looking for some sign from the sheriff. None was forthcoming. Ben and I just kept backing until we got to the door. I said, “Getting a little cut off what’s happening on my land are you, Sheriff?”

He didn’t answer, just kept watching us, his jaws working.

I said, “One last word. Don’t interfere.”

Then we turned out the door and made our way back to the hotel. Ben turned his head once to see if we were being followed, but I didn’t even bother. As far as I was concerned the sheriff was just a blowhard. And even if he wasn’t it didn’t make me much difference.

Back at the hotel I called everybody together and told them what had happened. Norris had a cat-with-cream look on his face but everybody else looked pretty grave. Lew said, “This is pretty serious business, Justa. That man is the sheriff.”

Ben said, “Yes, and that is our land.”

I said, “I ain’t real sure what we’re going to be running into. Hays, I might better send you out there to scout around. But you got to make it fast because we ain’t got a whole hell of a lot of time.”

Norris said, “No need for that. I can tell you. I’ve been there. And been run off. There are three desperado types and about a half a dozen peons who are building a fence and digging irrigation ditches. They had appeared to also be starting a little adobe house.”

I said, “Doesn’t matter what you’ve got to say. You’re not going.”

He stood up. “The hell I’m not!”

I said, coldly, “No, you’re not. You stay here where you can’t fuck things up no more.”

He went white in the face. He was hurt and it was a pleasure to me because I’d meant to hurt him. Ben said, “Justa, I’ve got to talk to you.”

“So talk.”

“Not here, out in the hall.”

He got up and went to the door and held it open. After another look at Norris I followed him as he stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind him. He said, with pretty fierce determination, “Dammit, Justa, ease up on him! You don’t know nothing about Nora yet. He’s your brother, goddammit! Now, you want to lose two brothers? If you do you just keep on at Norris like that.”

“You think I’m being unfair?”

“I think you are carrying it a little far. You reckon Norris don’t feel bad enough as it is?”

I said, grimly, “You weren’t in that jail with Hays and me when he wouldn’t come out of his cell.”

“All right. So that’s Norris. You’ve always known how he is. But you’ve got to give him another chance. You’ve got to let him go out there to that land with us. If you don’t you will hurt him mightily. Great Scott! How much you need to embarrass the man? How many times you figure to tell him off?”

I studied on the matter for a half a moment. Finally I said, “All right. He can go. But you will have to be the one to watch out for him. I won’t.”

He shook his head. He said, “Goddammit, Justa, sometimes I don’t understand how you can be so hard.”

“Comes easy,” I said. “You tell him.”

Once back in the room, I canvased the outfit to see how many lariat ropes we had. Turned out we didn’t have one. But then that wasn’t so surprising since we’d been going to get a man out of jail, not to work cattle. I sent Hays on the dead run to get four. I figured we was going to have to rope some fence and pull it down. You let folks get fence around your property and it belongs to them after about a year. That is if you let it stand. I didn’t plan to let any stand.

Waiting for him, we checked our gear, carefully examined our weapons and our supply of ammunition and then trooped on downstairs, our saddlebags over our shoulders. The manager came out to complain about our too-short stay but I assured him we’d be right on back in the future. I said, “I’ve got some real-estate holdings down here and I’ll be coming back from time to time to check on them.”

“Aaah,” he said, just like he knew what I was talking about.

I paid us out. I still had to use those peso notes and I taken a pretty good beating on the exchange rate but there wasn’t anything I could do about that. But it served to remind me that I’d promised Jack Cole five hundred dollars for his help and I meant to see that he got it. I didn’t have time to go over to the infirmary, at least not right at that moment, but I did ask the manager if he’d send a boy to hunt Jack out and have him meet us at the train depot sometime between three and four. That was if he was able.

We all went on over to the livery stable. The horses didn’t look too bad and they weren’t facing a bad day’s work, but I knew that mine, at least, would be glad to see that green grass of Matagorda County and get in some serious rest.

We saddled up and rode out. Going past the sheriff’s office, I tried to see if he was still in attendance, but I couldn’t tell a thing through the window. It didn’t make me a damn one way or the other, not the mood I was in. He wasn’t going to stop me from protecting my property and he and I both knew it.

We got out of town and turned east down the river road. Ben got up alongside me and inquired if there was any plan. I said, “Yeah. Shoot the first son of a bitch that even looks like he wants to get a gun in his hand. Remember, they are on our land. They are trespassers. They got no rights.”

He digested that and then he said, “You ask after a telegram before we left the hotel?”

I said, “Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Didn’t expect one. And I reckon they’d have mentioned it if one was to have come. And you might do me the favor of leaving the damn subject alone. I got other business to tend to right now.”

He spit over the side of his horse, away from me. He said, “What’d you have for breakfast, prickly pears?”

I was not exactly sure where the land was, it having been some time since I’d bothered with the place. It pained me but I had no choice except to call Norris forward and ask him to point out where our land was.

He said, in a little drier voice than I thought necessary, “I’ve already mentioned they are digging an irrigation ditch from the river. It runs right through the middle of the property. When I was here before it was about three-quarters fenced. Not good fencing, just single-strand. Something like they didn’t intend to hold cattle very long. It is just up the way.”

“Fine,” I said. “You stay in the back and keep quiet. And don’t even have a gun in hand until I do.”

He wheeled away without a word. Ben give me a look but didn’t say anything. But hell, I would have said that to Norris on any occasion.

We rode on. About a half a mile further there, sure enough, was the irrigation ditch. It wasn’t much—about four feet across and anywhere from a foot to two foot deep. But for land as dry as ours what little water it did bring would be a welcome relief and was liable to make the place green up like the coastal plains. Even from where we sat I could see that the water, little as it was, was having an effect.

It appeared they’d just about finished the fencing. There was a gate, a gap really, with some wire strung across it and I could see corner posts and wire running off in a northerly direction. Five thousand acres ain’t much, but it’s a fair amount of ground to go poking around in when you don’t know who or what you’re looking for.

I took down my lariat rope and shook out a loop. I said, “Let’s get this gate down and some of this fence.”

Ben and Hays and Lew threw about the same time I did. The fence posts were just little crooked cedar shafts, not even set very deep in the ground. It wasn’t any kind of strain on my horse to pull them out. Hays and I rode one way and Ben and Lew rode the other, letting the wire pull the posts up as we went. After we had about a hundred yards jerked up in either direction I called a halt and lifted off my loop from the pole I had it secured to, coiled it and hung it back on my saddle. When the others were ready I said, “Let’s go and see what we got here. Stay together but don’t bunch up. Stay strung out. I’ll take the middle. Ben, you and Lew each take a flank. Let’s move slow.”

We followed the little irrigation ditch. It went on for a surprisingly long time. The river was low and so there wasn’t much water in it, but I could see from the way the land sloped that it would be effective. Here and there, little side-ditches had been dug, running off through the stunted mesquite.

We began to see signs of cattle—manure piles and hoof-prints. I said, “Well, it’s pretty plain what we got here.”

Ben said, “Yes, they are holding Mexican cattle here, either stolen ones or cattle they don’t want to take through Immigration.”

Norris said, quietly, “I could already have told you that. If anyone had cared to ask.”

I didn’t bother to even glance at him. I said, “And unless I miss my guess the sheriff is in with them.”

Norris said, “I could have told you that, too. If anybody had cared to ask.”

This time I did turn in the saddle and give him a look. But he just stared serenely ahead, not bothering to even notice.

After about a hundred yards, just ahead, I could see the white clothes of some
campesinos,
peons, working on the ditch. I wasn’t worried about them, but I knew there’d be
pistoleros
around somewhere. I drew my handgun and nodded for the others to do the same.

One of the problems with that country was that the low mesquite and briar bushes were so thick. They weren’t very high, but it was difficult to see any great distance. We put the horses into a trot, following the cleared land on each side of the ditch. We were on the peons before they knew what was going on. They looked up in some astonishment but didn’t seem particularly afraid. They were all armed with pick and shovel and were patiently and laboriously hacking out a trench through the hard caleche clay and dirt. One thing a peon has got is patience. You can put him to digging a hole and, if you don’t think to go back and stop him, he’ll keep digging all day and all night. Whoever said Mexicans were lazy had never seen a peon work.