Shot in the Back (7 page)

Although the train no longer made a regular stop at Wild Horse, arrangements could be made in advance for it to do so. Jesse made those arrangements before they left Oklahoma City, and now he, Billy, and Frank Jr. were looking through the window of the car as the train slowed to a stop. The little white sign on the eave of the roof of the deserted depot was hanging by one end so that to read the name of the town,
WILD HORSE,
one had to turn their head sideways.

“It sure looks deserted, doesn't it, Pa?” Frank asked.

A gust of wind came up, blowing a bouncing ball of tumbleweed down the middle of the street.

“Yes, it does.”

“You know what, Pa? I'm glad Ma never got back. I think it would break her heart to see the town like this,” Frank said.

Jesse reached over and squeezed Frank's shoulder. He knew that Frank knew that he was feeling guilty for never bringing Molly back, as he had promised. He knew, also, that Frank was just trying to make him feel better about it.

“You the folks that's wantin' to get off here?” the conductor asked, coming into the car.

“Yes,” Jesse said.

“Well, you'd better hurry on off. Your baggage is being set down now. We've got a schedule to keep, and stopping in every little jerkwater town doesn't help any.”

The three stepped down onto the platform and stood there as the engine's relief valve opened and shut, venting steam with a loud rush as if it were breathing from the exertion of the run.

The door to the baggage car slid open, and someone from in the car stepped up to the edge, then squirted a stream of tobacco juice over the side.

“Someone here waitin' on a coffin?” the baggage car man asked.

“Yes.”

The reply didn't come from Jesse, or either of his sons. Before leaving Oklahoma City, Jesse had contacted Gene Welch in Mirage, and it was he who responded to the question. Welch, who owned a mortuary in Mirage, had once been the undertaker in Wild Horse. But, like all the other business owners, he had left when the town died.

Welch had brought his hearse down from Mirage, along with a grave digger. It was the driver of the hearse and the grave digger who hopped up into the car to retrieve the casket.

“You boys go help them,” Jesse said, and Billy and Frank climbed up into the car. As they were off-loading the casket, Welch came over to speak to Jesse.

“My condolences for your loss, Frank,” he said. “Those were your boys that climbed in to help?”

“Yes.”

“My, my, how they have grown! Why, they are men now.”

“Yes, they are,” Jesse said. “And they have been a great help to me on the farm.”

“I can certainly believe that. Oh, I haven't made any funeral arrangements,” Welch said. “You gave me no specific instructions, so I didn't know but what you might have already had her funeral.”

“That's all right,” Jesse said. “We just want to get her buried, and then get back to Oklahoma.”

“I believe you said you wanted her grave next to that of her first husband?”

“Yes. She never forgot him, and I never held that against her. He was her first husband, and from what the people of the town told me about him, he was a fine man.”

“Yes, he was.”

“I think that burying her by him would be the right thing to do. I do know that she wanted to come back to Wild Horse one day.”

“Well, the grave has already been opened, and I see that the coffin is loaded onto the hearse, so if you're ready, we can get on with it. I brought a brougham as well, so we can all ride to the cemetery.”

As the carriage rolled through the main street of Wild Horse, Jesse looked at all the boarded-up buildings.

“Look, Pa,” Frank said, pointing to one of the buildings. “There's our old store.”

The building, which had been built of brick, was more substantial than most of the others. It had a diamond formed of stone on the false front, just above the porch roof.

Dunnigan's Grocery was still open, Glen Dunnigan being able to remain in business because of the forty or so people who still lived in town, and an equal number who lived in the country around Wild Horse.

Dunnigan, and at least twenty more people, were at the cemetery when the hearse and brougham arrived.

“I didn't think there would be anyone here,” Jesse said, surprised by the turnout.

“It's only been seven years since you left,” Welch said. “You and Molly haven't been forgotten. And Molly was just real well thought of, even before the two of you got married. I hope you don't mind that they showed up.”

“No, I don't mind. I'm glad there are folks who still remember her.”

Dunnigan and his wife, Louella, came over to greet Jesse as he stepped down from the carriage.

“Hello, Frank. It's good to see you again, though I sure wish it could be under better circumstances.”

“Hello, Glen, thanks for coming out. I see your store is still here.”

“I'll hang on as long as any part of the town remains. The people who are still here will need some way to get their groceries. I don't know how much longer that will be, though. The Union Pacific taking us off their regular stop has just about insured that the town won't last much longer.”

“Hello, Frank,” another man said, stepping up to extend his hand.

“Sheriff Wallace,” Jesse said.

Wallace shook his head. “I'm not a sheriff any longer. Wild Horse doesn't need a lawman, and I'm too old to get on anywhere else.”

“Nonsense, you aren't that much older than I am.”

“Let's just say that I'm old enough not to want to go chasing outlaws anymore, or even lock up drunks. I'm a night watchman at the mill in Mirage. It's a real easy job just perfect for me.”

“Thank you for coming, Larry. I appreciate that.”

The mourners moved over to the open grave, and the coffin was lowered into the ground.

“Pa, wait,” Frank Jr. said. “Don't you think somebody ought to say something?”

“Like what?” Jesse asked.

“I don't know, but it seems to me like somebody ought to say something.”

“Would you like to?”

Frank swallowed, then nodded his head.

“All right, son. Go right ahead.”

Jesse took his hat off, and all the other men present followed suit. Billy didn't at first, though he did after a stern glance from Jesse.

“We're buryin' my mom today,” Frank began. “When I think of her, from now on, and for the rest of my life, I'll always see her workin'. The earliest thing I can remember is her bringin' me 'n my brother into the shop and puttin' us down somewhere, while she did whatever work there was that needed doin' whether it was waitin' on folks, or workin' on the books, or just sweepin' and cleanin' the place. Same thing ever we left here and went to farmin' down in Oklahoma. I don't reckon I ever knew that farmin' was as hard for the women as it is for the men. But Ma was always cookin', bakin', mendin', washin' clothes, and keepin' the house and the yard cleaned and took care of. It's hard for me to imagine her dyin', because to be honest, I didn't think she'd ever take the time it needed to die. She always had somethin' to do.

“And yet, for all the work she did, she was always there for Billy 'n me. If we tore a hole in our clothes, she patched 'em up. If we got a cut, she'd clean it 'n bandage it.” Frank smiled. “And when we was both young, she'd kiss whatever was hurtin' on us and make it feel better.

“We've been down in Oklahoma for seven years now, but I want you good folks here to know that Ma never forgot you. She used to talk about this town, and the people that lived here, as if we were just visitin' down in Oklahoma and would be comin' back home soon.”

Frank looked down toward the coffin, shining black in the bottom of the open grave.

“Well, Ma, you're home now. You're home in Wild Horse, and you're home with the angels. And don't you worry none about havin' to learn to be an angel. The Lord won't have to be trainin' you, none at all. Ever'one that has ever known you, knows that you're already an angel. You were an angel for your entire life.”

Frank looked over at Jesse.

“That's all I got to say, Pa.”

“That's all that needs to be said,” Jesse replied. “You did a real good job.”

“Yes, you did, son,” Welch, the undertaker, said. “I've heard a lot of people say a few words at the grave, but I swear to you that I've never heard anyone do a better job.”

Jesse looked over at Billy and was pleased to see that even he was moved by Frank's words, so moved that he had to wipe away a tear.

All the others who had come to the cemetery came by to extend their condolences, and wish Jesse, Billy, and Frank well.

As the others left, Billy went over to look at the tombstone for Ken Collins.

 

 

B
ORN
A
UGUST
15, 1835
D
IED
F
EBRUARY
10, 1882

 

 

“This was Ma's first husband?”

“Yes.”

“But you never met him, did you?”

“No.”

“Says here he was a Union soldier. I don't recall Ma ever sayin' anything about that.”

“Maybe it was because she knew I fought for the Confederacy.”

“What did you do for the South?”

“Nothing much. I was just a soldier. Come, we need to get back to the depot in time to catch the train.”

 

 

Glen and Louella Dunnigan, as well as a few of the other people of the town, came down to the depot to wait for the train with Jesse and his two sons.

“You didn't have to come down here, Glen,” Jesse said.

“It's no problem seeing you off. Besides, I like the idea of the train stopping here for any reason. It reminds me of a time when this town was alive and we actually thought it was goin' someplace.”

“Oh, you poor, motherless children,” Louella Dunnigan said, approaching both Frank and Billy to give them a hug. Frank accepted it graciously, but Billy turned away from her.

Seeing that, Jesse frowned at him.

“Oh, you're not too old for a hug,” Louella said, and, under Jesse's admonishing glance, Billy allowed the woman to pull him into her oversized breasts.

“Here comes the train,” Dunnigan said.

The train was approaching at its top speed, and for a moment or two Jesse was afraid that the word had not reached the engineer and that the train wasn't going to stop.

But as it drew closer, he saw steam being vented through the drive cylinders, and he knew the throttle had been closed. Then he heard the squeal of the brake pads being applied to all the wheels, and the train rumbled into the defunct station, then came to a stop. The conductor stepped down.

“We have a special pickup here?” he called.

“Yes, sir,” Jesse said. “That would be my boys and me.”

A porter also detrained and picked up their luggage. Jesse shook hands with Dunnigan, then he, Billy, and Frank boarded the train.

They found a seat on the depot side of the car, and they waved again at the people who had come to see them off.

“You didn't want to be hugged?” Frank Jr. teased Billy as the train pulled away.

“No.”

“Why not? She has big boobs, and I thought all men like big boobs on a woman,” Frank asked with a laugh.

“Those aren't boobs, they're pillows,” Billy replied.

“Boys, you ought not to talk about that nice lady like that,” Jesse said, but he could scarcely contain his own laugh.

Jesse should have realized something was up when Frank started volunteering more and more often to go into town to pick up seed and animal feed at McGill's Feed and Seed Store. In fact, it became more than merely volunteering; Frank began suggesting that they needed more feed, or seed, even when Jesse knew full well that they didn't.

“They've got this new feed now for cows,” Frank said. “It's alfalfa that's been coated with molasses. Maybe I ought to go pick up a bag.”

“For heaven's sake, Frank. Cows will eat grass, and you want to feed them alfalfa with molasses?” Jesse asked.

“Well, it might make the milk taste better,” Frank suggested.

“The milk tastes good enough as it is.”

Billy laughed. “Pa, I can't believe you haven't seen it. Or at least figured it out.”

“Seen what? Figured what out?”

“Well now, you remember the harvest dance last month? The one that was held in the Dunn Hotel?”

“Yes, I remember. What about it?”

“Didn't you notice who that girl was that Frank danced with just about ever' dance? And didn't you see the way they were making eyes at each other? Like this?” Billy stuck his head forward and opened his eyes wide.

“You mean the little . . .” Jesse started, then he stopped. “It was Horace McGill's daughter, wasn't it? What's her name?”

“Ethel Marie,” Frank said. “Pa, don't you think that is just the prettiest name you ever heard?”

Jesse chuckled. “Alfalfa with molasses, huh?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, we don't need any of that. But I reckon you could go into town tomorrow and get a couple of blocks of salt lick.”

Frank smiled broadly.

“Yes, sir, I surely will.”

“Do you want another biscuit, Frank?” Ethel Marie asked. She and Frank had been married for three months.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Me too,” Billy said.

Smiling, Ethel Marie put another biscuit on both their plates.

“Pa, I was thinking, we can put all cotton north of the creek and wheat south,” Frank said.

“I don't know why you put wheat in at all,” Billy said. “You get three times more from cotton than you do wheat. Why not just put in all cotton?”

“Because cotton wears out the soil,” young Frank said. “You have to rotate the crops or pretty soon you won't be able to grow anything at all.”

“That don't make no sense to me at all. Dirt is dirt, no matter what you grow in it.”

“Frank's right,” Jesse said. “I'm not sure I understand why, but if you don't rotate the crops around some, the dirt seems to wear out, somehow.”

“Well, it don't make me no never-mind anyway, 'cause I'm not farmin' anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm leavin', Pa. This farm isn't big enough to support all of us, especially now that Frank has got married. More 'n likely they'll be havin' kids, then the farm will have even more to support. Besides which, he's a lot better farmer than me anyhow, so, I'm goin' to give him my part of the farm.”

“You don't have to do that, Billy,” Frank said.

“Yeah, I do. Me 'n you are different, Frank. You like all this farmin', and I don't think I can stand one more day of it.” He stood and looked over at Jesse. “I'm leavin', Pa.”

Jesse nodded. “All right,” he said. “I want you to write out that you're leaving your part of the farm to Frank. I don't want you comin' back on him later, if things don't work out for you.”

“I'll do that.”

“Billy, I'll buy your part, you don't have to give it to me.”

Billy shook his head. “I ain't done nothin' to earn it. You don't have to buy it.”

“All right, then, at least let me give two hundred and fifty dollars; that's all the cash on hand I have now.”

“I'll give you another two hundred fifty,” Jesse said. “That'll give you a little traveling money. Where are you going?”

“I don't know. But I'll write.”

“Billy, take Dancer,” Jesse said.

“That's your horse, Pa. I don't want to take your horse.”

“Dancer is a good horse, and if you're going out on your own, I'd feel a lot better if you were well mounted.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do you not want Dancer?”

“Are you kidding? I'd love to have Dancer. He's a great horse.”

“Then I want you to have him.”

“Pa, Frank, I don't know what to say. I mean, here you both are, being so good to me 'n all, 'n I thought when I told you what I was wantin' to do that you'd both try and talk me out of it.”

“Would it do us any good to try and talk you out of it?” Jesse asked.

Billy smiled self-consciously. “No, sir, it wouldn't have done you no good at all, 'cause what I would have done is, I would have just left in the middle of the night.”

“With no money and a lame horse,” Jesse said.

“Yeah,” Billy said, his smile turning into a self-conscious laugh. “I would have done just that.”

“Wait until morning. You may as well leave with a good breakfast in your stomach.”

“I'll make pancakes,” Ethel Marie promised.

The next morning, Jesse, Frank, and Ethel Marie stood on the front porch as Billy led an already saddled Dancer around from the barn.

“Billy, you be careful,” Ethel Marie said. “I never had any brothers or sisters until I married Frank. Now that I've got a brother, I sure wouldn't want anything to happen to him.”

“I'll be careful,” Billy promised. He swung into the saddle. “Uhm, uhm, I ate so many pancakes, I'm just about goin' to make poor old Dancer swayback.”

“It'll be a long time before you have another breakfast that good,” Frank said.

“You're right about that,” Billy said. Then, with a wave, he turned Dancer and rode at a trot down the lane, not looking back once.

“You think he'll be all right?” Ethel Marie asked, her voice reflecting her worry.

“He'll be fine, Ethel Marie,” Jesse said. “I've known lots of men like Billy. They have a way of taking care of themselves.”

It was the middle of the night when Jesse was awakened. “Pa! Pa, wake up!”

“What? Who is it?” Jesse asked groggily.

“It's me, Billy.”

Jesse sat up and lit the bedside lamp.

“Billy? Boy, you've been gone for a whole year without one word, and you show up here in the middle of the night?”

“I'm in trouble, Pa.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“I, uh, I held up a grocery store. And now the law is after me.”

“A grocery store? You held up a grocery store?”

“Damn, I should 'a known better than to come here. You always have been a . . . a goody two-shoes.” Billy turned toward the door.

“How much did you get?” Jesse asked.

Billy stopped.

“You heard me. How much did you get?”

“Thirty-six dollars.”

“Thirty-six dollars,” Jesse scoffed. “Tell me, Billy, just how much did you expect to get? If you're going to rob some place, seems to me like the least you could do would be to rob some place that has money. Why on earth would you hold up a grocery store?”

“I don't know. I didn't have any idea how much I would get. All I knew is that I needed money.”

“Did you kill anybody, Billy? Did you kill somebody for thirty-six dollars?”

“No, Pa, I swear. I didn't kill nobody. I didn't even hurt anybody.”

“Why did you come here, tonight?”

“I thought maybe, that is, I was hoping that maybe you could give me a little money, enough to get out of Oklahoma anyway.”

Jesse walked over to the chest, pulled open the top drawer, and pulled out some money.

“Here's two hundred dollars,” he said.

“Pa, you don't need to give me that much, all I need is—”

Jesse raised his hand to cut him off.

“Go to Dallas, Texas,” he said. “Check in to the Cattleman's Hotel and wait for me.”

“Wait for you? What for? Pa, you don't need to waste your time on me. Just give me the two hundred dollars, and I'll be out of your hair.”

Billy reached for the money, but Jesse pulled it just out of his reach.

“Do you want the money, Billy?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, yes, sir.”

“Then do what I said. Go to Dallas, check in to the Cattleman's Hotel, and wait for me.”

“Wait for how long?”

“It'll take me a couple of weeks to get things turned over to Frank. Surely two hundred dollars is enough for you to get by for that long. You just wait on me.”

“All right, Pa. I'll wait.”

“Do you still have Dancer?”

“No, I, uh, well, I had to sell him.”

“I figured as much. How did you get here?”

“I paid a freight wagon driver ten dollars to bring me to Chandler, and I walked out here from town.”

“Take a train to Dallas. Now, get on with you.”

“I was thinking maybe I could stay here for the night, and—”

“No,” Jesse said. “I don't know yet how seriously anyone is looking for you. But I don't want Frank and Ethel Marie to be involved.”

“All right, Pa.”

“You've got enough money to get a Pullman berth. You can rest on the train.”

“I'm kind of hungry.”

“We had ham and biscuits for supper. Leftovers are under a cloth on the kitchen table. Come with me; I'll stand by while you make yourself a sandwich.”