Texas Iron (19 page)

“Jubal!” Serena said.

“No, no “Jubal said, waving her protestations away, “that’s it, isn’t it? Big Sam McCall is afraid that he can’t take Coffin.”

“Open your eyes, son,” Dude Miller said. “He did take him.”

“But he didn’t kill him!”

“When the federal marshal gets here,” Sam said, “he’ll place Coffin under arrest. Coffin will give the marshal Lincoln Burkett.”

“But John Burkett paid Coffin to kill Evan,” Dude Miller said. “You said so yourself.”

“And Lincoln Burkett paid Coffin to kill me, only he didn’t get the job done.” Sam looked at Jubal and said, “Believe me,
Jube, this is the way to do it. This way we’ll take them down together.”

“If you had killed Coffin we could have gone out to Burkett’s ranch and killed him, and
then
they’d be taken care of.”

“That ain’t the way Evan would have done it,” Sam said, “and it wouldn’t have been Pa’s way. You read Pa’s letter.”

“What letter?” Miller asked.

“We found a letter from Pa,” Sam said, “but we can talk about that later. Jube—”

Sam reached for Jubal, but the younger man pulled away and started to walk out.

“Jubal!” Sam snapped. “I need you.”

“You don’t need me,” Jubal said. “You got it all figured out by yourself.”

“Where are you goin?”

“Out.”

“Jube.” Sam crossed the room and grabbed his brother’s arm. Jubal tried to pull away but Sam held him tightly.

“Burkett’s gonna come for me, Jube, and he’s gonna try to get Coffin out of jail. The sheriff isn’t gonna hold up under this.
You and I are gonna have to stand against Burkett and his men until the marshal gets here.”

“Which is when?” Jubal asked.

“I don’t know.”

“This is madness,” Serena said. “The two of you can’t hold off Burkett and all of his men.”

“There are three of us,” Dude Miller said.

“Pa!”

“Dude,” Sam said, “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Dude Miller nodded.

“What are we gonna do?” Jubal asked.

“We’re gonna occupy the jail” Sam said, “and we ain’t comin’ out until the marshal gets here. Serena?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll need you to send another telegram. We’re gonna have to make damned sure that marshal is on his way.”

Serena took a deep breath and said, “I’ll help any way I can, Sam.”

Sam thanked her and looked at Jubal.

“Jube?”

Jubal thought it over a moment, and finally said, “I’m with you.”

Sam smiled and said, “I knew you would be.”

“But if things go wrong,” Jubal said, “the first thing I’m gonna do is put a bullet in Coffin’s head. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Sam said. “I’ll even help you.”

The three men who had been standing with John Burkett had a decision to make. They could ride back to the ranchand tell Lincoln
Burkett that they had let his son be killed, or they could mount up and just keep riding.

In the end they decided that their jobs were too good to just walk away from. If Burkett fired them, that would be another
thing, but they couldn’t just walk away from these jobs. Besides, Burkett wouldn’t kill them. He was going to need all the
men he could put his hands on to get his revenge on Sam McCall.

They knew they were going to have to work fast.

They were going to have to fortify the jail, stock it with food and water, and get it ready to withstand any and all attempts
to enter it before Lincoln Burkett arrived with his men.

Luckily, Dude Miller gave them free access to his store, which had most of what they needed: canned food, blankets, sheets,
coffee, and whatever else. He even had wòoden shutters, which they nailed up over the windows, leaving only space enough to
shoot through.

Ed Collins at the gunsmith shop also pitched in, giving them all the ammunition they’d need for their guns and offered to
stay inside with them.

“No, Mr. Collins,” Sam had told him, “I think we’ll need someone on the outside who’s on our side.”

Collins argued, but in the end he saw the wisdom of that.

They also went over to Doc Leader’s to get what they would need to tend to bullet wounds. Doc thought they were crazy, and
he bitched and moaned, but he gave them what they needed.

“Don’t be expectin’ me to come over there and tend to you, though,” he told them. “I may be an old man, but I ain’t in any
hurry to die.”

“Don’t you worry, Doc,” Sam said, “we’ll tend ourselves.”

They lugged all the equipment over to the sheriff’s office under the watchful eye of the whole town. The sheriff didn’t help,
preferring to stay behind his desk and fret about his safety.

They were all in the office when the door opened and a well-fed, jowly, officious-looking man in his fifties stepped in.

“Mr. Mayor,” Kelly said.

Sam turned and looked at the mayor of Vengeance Creek, whom he had not yet met.

“Which of you is Sam McCall?” the mayor asked.

“I am.”

The two men locked eyes, and to Sam’s satisfaction it was the mayor who looked away first. Obviously the man was not looking
forward to the conversation that was coming. He had probably been elected by the town council as spokesman.

“Mr. McCall, I am Mayor Eustace Tenderberry. Uh, we on the town council cannot…condone what you are about to do.”

“Oh? And what is it I’m about to do?”

“Well, sir, uh, you are about to turn this town into a battlefield. What’s worse, your opponent is the town’s most prominent
citizen.”

“Mr. Mayor,” Sam said, “what is about to go on between Burkett and me is our business. I’m sure even he would not want you
interfering in it.”

“Nevertheless,” Tenderberry said, “for the safety of our town, and of Mr. Burk—uh, I mean of all our citizens, I’m afraid
we must ask you to leave. Sheriff?” the mayor said, looking at his lawman. “You will escort Mr. McCall and his brother to
the town limits.”

“Mayor,” Kelly said, gaping at the man, “are you crazy?”

“Sheriff!” Mayor Tenderberry said. “Either you do your duty or I must ask you to hand over your badge.”

“Well, shit,” Kelly said, “that’s the best offer I had all day.” Hurriedly he unpinned the badge from his shirt and dropped
it on the desk. On his way out he said to the Mayor, “Now
you
escort him to the town limits.”

The mayor watched the sheriff leave and then turned to face Sam McCall.

I’ll, uh, ask you again—” The man stopped when Sam took a few steps toward him and flinched, as if he thought Sam was going
to strike him. Dude Miller and Jubal watched with interest.

“Mr. Mayor, I suggest you go to your town council and tell them you tried your best to get my brother and me to leave, but
it didn’t work.”

“B-but—” the mayor stuttered, “but—we don’t have a sheriff now!”

Sam smiled humorlessly, walked to the desk, and picked up the badge.

“Now you do.”

“What—”

“Unless you want the job?” Sam held out the badge to the man.

“No, no, no—” the man said, his face flushing.

Sam pinned the badge on.

“Jube, you’re a duly sworn deputy. So are you, Dude.”

Both men nodded.

Sam turned to the mayor and said, “Mr. Mayor, my men and I will do out best to protect the town and our prisoner until the
federal marshal arrives.”

“And when will that be?” the Mayor asked.

Sam turned to Serena, who had sent a telegram to Austin, Texas, where the man was supposed to be coming from.

“The reply said that the marshal had to go to Fort Worth first on an emergency. He should be here in three days.”

“There you have it,” Sam said. “In three days’ time this will all be over.”

“Three days,” the mayor said, looking dubious and shaking his head. “Three days,” he repeated, and left in a daze.

Sam looked at Serena, Dude and Jubal, and Jubal said, “Or less.”

Sam knew what he meant.

When Lincoln Burkett heard the news of his son’s death he sat very still. The three men standing in front of him, and his
foreman, all stood still and stayed very quiet. This was not the reaction they had anticipated.

“And Coffin?” Burkett asked then.

“Sam McCall took him to jail,” one of the men said.

“No gunplay?”

“McCall didn’t give Coffin no chance,” the man said, explaining how McCall had jumped Coffin without giving him a chance to
go for his gun.

“All right,” Burkett said, “all right. Conners, get the men together.”

“All of them, sir?”

“All of them who are willing to fight,” Burkett said.

“And those who aren’t?” Conners asked. After all, most of the men had signed on as ranch hands.

“Fire them.”

“Yes, sir.” Conners turned to the other men and said, “Get out. Pass the word.”

“Sure, boss.”

After the men left Chuck Conners looked at Burkett and asked, “Are you all right, sir?”

“I’m fine, Conners.” Burkett looked up at his foreman.

“Are you worried that you see no grief? Well, I’ll save you the worry. This is not the time to grieve, this is the time for
revenge. Grief will come later. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Conners, pick one man and have him ride into town and look things over.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We won’t move until he comes back.”

“Right.”

“Get out, now,” Burkett said. “I have to think.”

Conners nodded and left.

Burkett sat behind his desk, wondering why he felt so controlled. There was no rage, or grief, there was no feeling at all.
There was just the realization that there was something that had to be done.

Later he’d worry about emotions.

Right now his concern was revenge.

Once the jail was set up for their three-day—at
least
three-day—siege Sam turned to Dude Miller.

“All right, Dude,” he said, “Out.”

“Hey, wait.”

“Your help is appreciated up to now, Dude,” Sam said, “but from here on in it’s up to me and Jubal”

“I want to help.”

“You have, but I don’t want you to risk your life,” Sam said. He looked at Serena, and then back at her father.

“That’s something that Jubal and I have to do, Dude, not you, and not Serena.”

“Sam—”

“Pa,” Serena said. “He’s right.”

“Dude,” he said, “go home with Serena—and for God’s sake keep her away from here.”

“He doesn’t have to keep me away,” Serena said. “I’m not a child.”

“No, you’re not,” Sam said. “Dude?”

“All right, I will.”

“And keep an eye out for that marshal.”

Dude nodded.

“All right, out with both of you. From this point on, nobody in and nobody out.”

Serena walked over to Jubal and kissed him on the cheek. His face flushed. She turned and looked at Sam.

“Take care of him, all right? And of yourself.”

“We’ll take care of each other,” Sam said. “We’re the only family we have now.”

“No,” she said, “that’s not true.”

She turned and went out the door. Miller started to follow her out. He stopped before leaving, turned, and said, “Good luck.”

“Thanks”

Dude Miller walked out, and Jubal closed the door behind him. He turned to Sam and said, “We’re gonna need it.”

Chapter Twenty-one

Sam made a pot of coffee and sat behind the sheriff’s desk with a cup. Jubal sat across from him. Sam began opening drawers
and looking inside.

“What are you looking for?” Jubal asked.

“Ah, found ’em.”

Sam took his hand out of a drawer and tossed something at Jubal, who caught it with one hand. When he looked at it he saw
that it was a deputy’s badge.

“Put it on,” Sam said.

“You know,” Jubal said, pinning it to his chest, “I can’t believe the way this has turned out. We’re the law in Vengeance
Creek.”

“It is an ‘odd—twist, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think odd covers it.”

They ruminated over their coffee for a few moments and then Jubal said, “When Burkett comes after us, he’ll be breaking the
law.”

“That’s right.”

“And then we’ll have him.”

“Right again, but not for murder—and we’ll only have him if we survive.”

“Hey!” Coffin called from his cell.

Jubal cocked his head at Sam, but Sam said nothing.

“How about some of that coffee?”

“Bring him a cup,” Sam said.

“All right.”

“Make him stand against the wall while you put it on the floor in front of the cell.”

Jubal looked at Sam and then nodded. He hadn’t thought of that. He took the coffee into the back.

“Smells good,” Coffin said.

“Stand against the back wall.”

“You think I’d waste good coffee—”

“Look, Coffin, I’d just as soon kill you as look at you.

Now stand against the back wall!”

Coffin obeyed, and Jubal set the coffee cup down in front of the cell. When he stood up he stared at Coffin, the man who had
killed his brother. Earlier, when they had first heard about Evan’s death, he had been ready to kill this man. He couldn’t
understand how Sam could
not
have killed him.

It would be easy to do now. Just take out his gun and fire. So easy…

“Are you going to wait until it gets cold?” Coffin asked.

Jubal looked down at the coffee and had the urge to spit into it. Instead he turned and walked stiffly back into the office.

“You’ve been a sheriff before, haven’t you?”

“Once or twice.”

“I’ve never worn a badge,” Jubal said. “It feels sort of funny.”

“The badge gets heavier and heavier the longer you wear it. Luckily we won’t be wearing them very long.”

“I don’t get it,” Jubal said suddenly, and Sam knew he was changing the subject.

“What?”

“How could you not have killed him?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said, shaking his head. He put his coffee cup down and rubbed his hand over his face. “I intended to kill
him. I went there to kill him. When I saw him I just kept walking toward him, and I was thinking, ‘This is what Burkett wants.—I guess I didn’t want to give it to him…you know?”

Jubal studied his brother for a few moments, then said, “Yeah, maybe I do.”

“You want some dinner?” Sam asked.

“I am hungry. What’s on the menu?”

“Beans.”

“Sounds great.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, “don’t it.”

As Sam opened a can and set in on the potbellied stove Jubal asked, “What’s Burkett likely to do?”

“If I was him,” Sam said, “I’d send a man into town to look us over first, see how things were laid out.”

“What’s to see?” Jubal said, “We’re in here and he’s out there.”

“Well, when he knows it’s that simple he’ll come for us…unless…”

“Unless what?”

Sam turned to face his brother and said, “Unless he wants to make us sweat.”

“You think he will?”

Sam shrugged.

“If he does that it’ll work in our favor.”

“How?”

“If he waits long enough the marshal will get here,”

Sam said. “It’s not likely, though.”

“He knows about the marshal?”

“Yep,” Sam said, “smart me told him.”

“It must have seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Thanks,” Sam said. “Hey, you want these real hot?”

“It don’t matter. Warm’ll do.”

Sam used the coffee cups to hold the beans and handed Jubal a cup and a fork.

“What about him?” Jubal asked.

Sam sat behind the desk and said, “If there’s any left…”

Later they set up the sleeping arrangements, four hours on and four off. They decided to play some checkers before one of
them went to sleep. The board was a contribution of Dude Miller’s.

Over the board Jubal said, “I just thought of something.”

Over the board Jubal said, “I just thought of something.” “Tell me.”

“The marshall’s going to be coming alone, right?”

“Probably.”

“What’s to stop Burkett from waiting for him and ambushing him?”

Sam looked at Jubal. It was a sharp observation, and he gave it some thought.

“It’s a good point,” he said, finally, “but I don’t think he will.”

“Why not?”

“Well, there are several directions the marshal could come from. Burkett would have to use too many men to cover them, and
he’s gonna want to use those men on us.

No, I think he’s gonna try and take us before the marshal gets here.”

“Tonight?”

“Not tonight,” Sam said. “He’s got to get his information first. Sometime tomorrow, he and his men will come.”

“And we be ready?”

“As ready as we can be.”

The man Chuck Conners sent into town for Burkett was Jackie Doaks. Doaks rode in and headed straight for the saloon. It was
there that he heard the story about Sam McCall, Coffin, and John Burkett.

He circulated around town and gradually put together the setup. It was almost eleven P.M. when he mounted his horse and rode
back to the ranch. He had watched theMcCall brothers carry supplies into the jail, and it was clear that they intended to
spend some time in there.

Maybe a long time.

When Doaks gave Conners the story, Conners took it in to Burkett.

“They’re not stupid,” Burkett said. “They know we’ll be coming for them, and they’ve decided to barricade themselves in the
jail.”

“How do we get them out?”

“Oh, there are any number of ways,” Burkett said. “I’d like to try and get them out alive first. I want to put my hands on
Sam McCall.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“Then they’ll die in there.”

“What about Coffin?”

“Coffin didn’t do the job,” Burkett said. “As far as I’m concerned, he’s dead already.”

Conners stood still and quiet and waited for his instructions.

“All right,” Burkett said. “I want all the men to have a good breakfast in the morning before we go to town. Tell Cook to
make it a big spread.”

“Yessir.”

“Some of them won’t be coming back.”

Jubal took the first watch. He started out by playing solitaire, then walking to the window and looking out every so often.
Once or twice he went in the back and looked at Coffin while he slept. He was tempted to put a bullet in the man, but he knew
that he and Sam had to stay together on this.

He went back into the office and sat behind the desk. He started thinking about Evan, about how little they knew each other.
How could three brothers grow so farapart, he wondered? How could they let that happen—and worse, leave their parents behind
to die?

When this was over he was going to have to see what Sam wanted to do. If he wanted to split up—well, he’d abide by his wishes
but maybe, just maybe, he’d want to stay together. Maybe they’d stay, or they could leave and ride together.

And what about Serena? There were times when Jubal thought she was in love with Evan and times when he thought she loved Sam.
What was going to happen there?

How did Sam feel about her?

These were all questions that could be answered only after this was all over—if they were all around to ask and answer them.

Sam took over at 4 A.M. He went through many of the same motions Jubal had before him. Coffee, solitaire, the window; he even
spent a few minutes looking at Coffin, thinking the same thoughts.

Finally he settled behind the desk, his feet propped up.

His gun was holstered and his rifle across his lap.

He thought about Evan, as Jubal had. He wondered if he and Jubal were thinking the same things. They probably were. After
all, they were brothers, weren’t they? Sure, they and Evan, three brothers who hadn’t seen each other—

Sam stopped and dropped his feet to the floor. He was sure that Jubal had already gone through this. There was no point in
his mulling it over again.

He walked around the room a few times, then set up the checkerboard and started playing a game against himself. When he got
tired of that he finally got around to thinking about Serena.

She was a fine girl who would make some man a finewife. Maybe she would have made Evan a fine wife. As far as Sam went, there
wasn’t room in his life for a wife, fine or otherwise…but if there were…

He watched the boarded-up windows, waiting for the first hint of daylight. Burkett and his men might come with the light,
or they might wait until later.

Sam wondered how long they’d be able to hold out against Burkett’s superior numbers. With all the supplies they had inside,
Burkett could still outwait them. He wouldn’t have the time to do that, though, so he’d have to find a way to force them out.

Fire came to Sam’s mind first, and then explosives.

He wondered how long it would take Burkett to think of one or both of them.

“What’s for breakfast?” Jubal asked, sitting up and rubbing his hands over his face.

“What else?” Sam asked. He was standing at the potbellied stove. He turned and grinned at his brother.

“Beans. Want ’em hot?”

“Ah, warm’s okay.”

While Sam dished out the beans Jubal poured water into a bowl and washed his face. When he was done he accepted the cup of
beans from Sam.

“Coffin still asleep?”

“I guess,” Sam said. “I’ll give him some beans if there’s any left.”

Sam walked over to where Jubal was sitting on his cot and handed him a cup of coffee.

“I found extra cups last night.”

“Good, we can eat and drink at the same time. We’re living in style.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, settling himself behind the desk.

“Tell me, Sam,” Jubal said, “what were you thinkin’ about last night, while I was asleep?”

“Oh, probably the same things you were thinkin’ about.

Mostly about Evan.”

“Yeah, Evan,” Jubal said, shaking his head. “I was thinkin’ about you, too…I mean, about us.”

“Yeah?”

“Where you gonna go after this, Sam?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said. “I don’t usually know where I’m headin’ next.”

“What about your future? Don’t you have any goals?”

“Goals,” Sam repeated. “Now there’s a word I haven’t thought about in a long time. No, Jube, I’m afraid I’m plumb outta goals
at my age. I guess it’d be nice if I was just left alone for the next twenty years, if I didn’t have anybody tryin’ to kill
me, or if I didn’t have to kill anyone else. I guess those’re my goals.”

“They’re not bad goals.”

“What about you? What’re your goals?”

“I don’t rightly know.”

“You’re only twenty-four, Jube,” Sam said. “You’ve gotta have goals.”

“What was your goal when you were twenty-four?”

“I don’t know…probably something stupid like wanting to be the fastest gun in the West.”

“You accomplished that.”

“Maybe I did,” Sam said, “but when I got there it didn’t mean anythin’ to me any more. I hope you’re smarter at twenty-four
than I was.”

“Well, I think I’m smarter than I was before I went up on that hangman’s scaffold.”

“I hope so.”

“Did you think about Serena last night?”

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat and said, “Some.”

“She’s a nice woman, huh?”

“Real nice.”

“Make a fine wife, huh?”

“You gonna ask her?”

“Hey, no, not me! I thought maybe you.”

“Not me, Jube,” Sam said. “There’s no room in my life for a woman. You’re young, though. Why wouldn’t you ask her?”

“She’s older than me.”

“So?”

“How’d we get on this subject?”

Sam smiled at his brother’s discomfort and said, “You brought it up.”

Jubal put his spoon in his cup and laid it on the floor with a clatter.

“She wouldn’t have me.”

“Why not?”

“Ah, she’d probably be comparing me to you and Evan all the time.”

“I don’t think so,” Sam said. “Maybe when this is all over you should stay around a while, let her get to know you better.”

“Stay here?” Jubal asked. “In Vengeance Creek?”

“Why not?”

“Sam, I left here.”

“Well, do yourself a favor,” Sam said. “Look at your reason for leaving, and see if you still want to go.”

“Hey!” Coffin shouted from his cell. “Do I get some breakfast?”

Sam got up, walked over to the can of beans on the stove, and looked inside.

“Yeah,” he said, “he gets breakfast.”

“What’s that?” Jubal said sometime later.

“Sounds like horses,” Sam said, “a lot of them.”

They each went to a window and looked out the gun-port in the shutters. Lincoln Burkett was riding downMain Street with about
thirty men or more. They were riding at a leisurely pace, seemingly without a care in the world. The tip-off was when they
rode past the jail each man turned his head and looked at it.

Sam found it interesting that Lincoln Burkett was the only man who didn’t look. He already knew they were there.

“It’s gonna start,” Sam said. “Any minute now.”