Trail of the Hanged Man (7 page)

The storm had moved on by the time Lawless and Sven finished loading the wagon with trunks and boxes holding Violet and Joey’s personal belongings. The sky was still overcast, but the dark clouds were breaking up and the rain had slackened to a depressing drizzle. Only the ground remained a reminder of the recent deluge: it was now a quagmire in which boots sank up to the ankles.

Earlier, Sven had insisted the Morgans stay at his place while Joey recuperated. Violet, too proud to accept charity, agreed on one condition: that she would be allowed to earn their keep by doing chores. Sven grudgingly agreed, but warned Violet not to let his daughter talk her into doing her chores, too. Raven hated
doing chores more than anything, he said, and when she put her mind to it, could charm the crows out of the trees.

Now, with brother and sister snugly tucked under a slicker in the back of the wagon, Sven and Lawless finished hitching up the team and prepared to leave.

Flanked by his deputies, Sheriff Tishman watched from the doorway of the house. He was the only one who was happy about what was going on. He rocked gently on his heels, thumbs tucked in his belt, enjoying the pain he was causing Violet and Joey.

‘Go ahead, smirk,’ she said bitterly. ‘You haven’t seen the last of us. Just ’cause you forced Joey and me to leave doesn’t mean we won’t be back.’

‘Sh-she’s right,’ Joey said weakly. ‘And next time I jump you on the trail, you big tub of fat, won’t be nobody to save you from a rope.’

Lawless sensed the boy had gone too far. About to climb on to the wagon, he saw the sheriff angrily spin around and storm into the house. There, he grabbed the hurricane lamp and hurled it against the wall. The glass shield shattered, kerosene splashing everywhere. Flames flared up, quickly engulfing the curtains and log walls beside the window. Picking up a second, unlighted lamp the sheriff threw it against the opposite wall and ran out. The flames spread to the spilled kerosene, ignited, and within moments the house was ablaze. Smoke from the wet logs spewed everywhere.

With a cry of dismay, Violet pushed the slicker aside and scrambled over the side of the wagon. Sven whirled his horse around and grabbed her before she reached the ground. She screamed for him to let her go. When he wouldn’t, she tried to break free. But Sven was too strong and finally Violet stopped struggling and burst into tears. Sven held her to him and did his best to calm her.

He’d almost succeeded when Sheriff Tishman approached with his deputies. He grinned mockingly at Violet and Joey.

‘Reckon next time, you young’uns won’t be so damn’ quick to spout off.’

Incensed, Violet again tried to break loose. But she was
helpless
in Sven’s powerful grip. Finally she stopped struggling and cursed the sheriff through her tears. Joey joined in. But their rage and frustration only amused the big lawman and he stood there, contentedly sucking on a lemon drop.

It was then Lawless came out of the swirling smoke.

He didn’t walk out. He seemed to appear, like a shadow in sunlight, the crackling roar of the flames hiding any sound he made as he walked toward the sheriff. Though none of the fury he felt showed on his face, and he carried no weapon, there was a vengeful lethalness about him that was frightening.

Instantly, the deputies covered him with their rifles.

Lawless kept walking.

Sheriff Tishman wet his lips uneasily. ‘I ain’t never shot an unarmed man, mister. But if you’n that wagonload of whelps don’t haul out of here, I swear I’ll make you the first.’

Lawless showed no sign of hearing him.

If there was any fear, it was in the hearts of the armed deputies.

‘Ben.…’ Sven rode up alongside him. ‘He means it.’

Lawless stopped, less than a foot from the deputies’ rifles, and pinned the sheriff with an unforgiving stare.

‘Ben!’

Lawless came back from a lonely, dark, far-off place.

A tree … a hangman’s noose … a ring of riders, mocking him as he slowly choked … the images gradually faded from his mind. When they were gone, so was the rage blazing in his soul and his amber eyes looked at Sven as if seeing him for the first time.

‘Time to go,’ Sven said gently.

Lawless nodded and, without looking at the sheriff or the deputies, he turned and climbed on to the wagon.

‘Hold up, Ben.…’ Latigo approached from the barn. ‘Might
need this.’ Standing on tiptoe, he handed Lawless his gunbelt.

Lawless nodded his thanks, snapped the reins and the wagon rolled away.

They hadn’t traveled more than fifty yards when a shot rang out … followed by a sharp cry of pain. Lawless reined up and they all looked back.

Sheriff Tishman lay writhing in the mud near the burning house.

Standing over him, gun in hand, was Latigo Rawlins. The little gunfighter callously watched as the sheriff continued to squirm and clutch at his bleeding foot. His agonized yelps carried on the wind. Latigo leaned closer and for a moment it looked like he might shoot the lawman again. Then, ever unpredictable, he
holstered
his six-gun, wiped the mud from his boots on the sheriff’s jeans, and carefully picked his way between the puddles to the barn.

The deputies, gathered in a half-circle around the sheriff, did nothing to stop him. They were only too glad to see him go. A few helped the sheriff to his feet. Others hurried behind the barn where their horses were tied.

After a little, Latigo Rawlins trotted out of the barn astride a rangy golden sorrel that had been bred for both speed and stamina. With a mocking wave to the sheriff, he rode off.

‘What the devil…?’ began Sven.

‘Wonder what happened?’ Violet said.

Lawless shrugged. ‘Most likely, Tishman gave Lefty hell for giving me my gun.’

‘He shot him in the foot just for hollering at him?’

‘That’s Latigo. He doesn’t take to being hollered at.’

‘But Tishman’s the sheriff,’ Joey said. ‘The law.’

Lawless grinned, despite himself. ‘That didn’t stop you from stringing him up, did it now?’ He watched Rawlins growing smaller on the horizon. ‘Wouldn’t stop Lefty, either. I’ve seen him kill men, including lawmen, for a lot less.’ He clucked the team into action and the wagon rolled ahead.

Sven rode alongside Lawless, saying: ‘You seem to know this Latigo Rawlins pretty well.’

‘We’ve ridden some.’

‘That surprises me.’

Lawless made no comment.

‘From the way you talk, you’ve obviously had schooling … maybe came from a fine educated family. Latigo, on the other hand, is no different than any other gunmen I’ve run across – ’cept maybe for his fancy duds.’

‘He’s different, believe me,’ Lawless said.

‘How?’

‘He’s never felt remorse.’

Sven waited for Lawless to explain further. When he didn’t, Sven said, ‘Any idea who he works for?’

‘Uh-uh.’

‘If you had to guess.’

Lawless shrugged. ‘Who’s the most important man in the territory?’

‘That’s easy. Stillman J. Stadtlander.’

‘The cattleman?’

Sven ruefully shook his head. ‘You’ve been drifting too long, Ben. Mr Stadtlander is much more than a cattleman now. He’s the power behind the throne, as we say in Norway. With his money and influence, he either controls or has a finger in just about everything from here to Las Cruces and east to El Paso – cattle, land, mining, the works. I’ve never had dealings with him, but those who have say he’s greedy and ruthless and has lawmen,
judges – even politicians – all eating out of his hand.’

‘They don’t have any choice,’ Violet said, ‘not according to Brian Edfors.’ Sniffing back her tears, she stared sadly at the burning house she and Joey had once called home. Most of it was consumed by flames now and smoke spiraled up to the clouds. ‘Folks are too afraid of what he or his son, Slade, might do if they went up against him.’

‘That’s your answer then,’ Lawless said. ‘’Long as I’ve known him, Lefty’s only worked for the lead steer. And sometimes even that riles him. Then he goes back to being a bounty hunter and swears never to take orders from anyone again.’ He frowned, puzzled, before adding, ‘When you chew on it, it doesn’t make sense. His being here, I mean. Edfors may be able to buffalo folks in Borega Springs, but that doesn’t make him important enough to interest a high-stakes killer like Latigo Rawlins.’

‘Or a man like Stillman J. Stadtlander,’ Sven said.

‘Well, someone must have sent him,’ Violet said, ‘or he
wouldn
’t have been here.’

Lawless knew she was right. But he had no answer.

They rode on across the humid, muddy scrubland in silence.

A road runner flashed in front of them, startling the sleepy horses. They pricked their ears and snorted, saliva spraying everywhere. Then as the fast-moving bird vanished into a gully, they wearily plodded on.

‘He came to our house once,’ Joey said, raising up on his elbows.

‘Who did, son?’

‘Mr Stadtlander. Remember?’ he said to Violet. ‘He rode a big mean black horse – a Morgan, I think he called it. It was right pretty to look at but it kept trying to bite and kick everyone.’

‘That’s right,’ Violet said. ‘Now I remember. It was back when Pa was alive and Aunt Sara was visiting.’

‘What did he want?’ Lawless said.

‘Pa never said. But whatever it was, Pa wouldn’t agree and that made Mr Stadtlander awful angry. Told Pa that he’d be sorry.
Said what he couldn’t get with honey, he’d get with vinegar.’

‘Sounds like Mr Stadtlander, all right,’ Sven said.

‘Was Latigo with him?’ Lawless asked.

‘I don’t think so. Was he, Joey?’

‘No. But there was a man just like him.’

‘A gunfighter, you mean?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Remember what he looked like?’

‘Tall, like you. Only his hair was blacker and he had these scary pale blue eyes that seemed to shoot right through you.’

The description fitted several gunmen Lawless had met over the years, but all of them were territorial and he doubted if any of them had left their home states and settled in New Mexico. ‘Remember his name, do you?’

Joey shook his head. ‘But it was a funny name. You know,
different
. I remember ’cause after Mr Stadtlander and his men left I asked Pa about it. Asked him if he’d ever heard a name like that before and he said he hadn’t. But he knew who the man was. Said he was a shootist, maybe the best ever.’

They rode on, Lawless doing all he could to keep the wagon from bumping around.

Now in the distance they could see the wind-pump, buildings and corrals of the Bjorkman ranch. South of the ranch was the border and to the north-east a misty row of far-off peaks made up the horizon. One or two had snow on them and Lawless guessed he was looking at the Cookes Range.

‘I’ll ride ahead,’ Sven said, ‘let Ingrid know we’re coming.’ He kicked his horse into an easy gallop and rode off.

Lawless watched him riding away. He told himself that he could only stay one night at the Bjorkman’s. Being around Sven’s wife any longer than that, he knew, might stir up feelings that long ago he’d buried deep within him as a protection against ever loving any woman – only to lose her when circumstances he couldn’t control forced him to ride on.

Just then it hit him.

‘Moonlight!’ he said. ‘Gabriel Moonlight. Was that his name, Joey?’

Joey didn’t answer.

Lawless looked over his shoulder and saw that the boy had fallen asleep with his head on his sister’s shoulder. Violet, worn out by crying, was also sleeping.

Deciding not to wake them, Lawless faced front again and flicked the reins, guiding the horses around a large muddy pothole in the trail.

As he sat there on the box-seat, hearing but not listening to the wagon creaking, traces jingling, hoofs plopping, he
wondered
if he was right. Could Gabriel Moonlight really be the gunman Joey had seen with Stadtlander? Could fate, after so many years, have actually brought the three of them together again?

And if so, for what purpose?

Killing each other?

Lawless frowned, troubled by the idea, and thought grimly, Gabe, Lefty and me, all within fifty miles of each other. Jesus Joseph Mary, what were the chances of that ever happening?

When Ingrid greeted them at the door of the log-house Lawless realized she was even prettier than he remembered. From the wagon box, where he sat holding the reins, he watched as she kissed her husband on the cheek, her lovely face momentarily buried in his beard, and then hugged Violet and told her and Joey how welcome they were and how sorry she was that Mr Edfors had seen fit to evict them while they were still mourning the loss of their father. For now she added, Violet would be sharing Raven’s bedroom, while Joey would sleep on a cot in a corner near the stove. Later, when the army put a stop to the raiding and Sven went back to work, hopefully he could afford to buy enough lumber to build them their own cabin.

‘You’d do that for us?’ Violet said to Ingrid and Sven.

‘Why not?’ Sven said. ‘We’re neighbors, aren’t we?’

‘Y-yes, but—’

‘If situations were reversed, your pa would’ve done the same for us.’

Violet nodded, but she wasn’t so sure. Her father had often told her that Sven was the most generous and giving man he’d ever met; far more generous and giving than he was. ‘We’ll pay you back,’ she promised. ‘I don’t know how but we will, won’t we, Joey?’

He nodded and, trying to sound manly, said, ‘Got my word on it, Mr Bjorkman.’

‘Thanks, but it isn’t necessary,’ Sven said. ‘Ingrid and I are just happy we can share our lives with you.’

‘I’ll also help with the chores,’ Violet said to Ingrid. ‘So will Joey when he’s better. Won’t you, Joey?’

‘Yes’m,’ he said wearily.

‘That’ll be wonderful,’ Ingrid said. ‘Because it seems my other helper manages to conveniently disappear whenever she’s needed.’ She looked meaningfully at her husband as she spoke and he smiled uneasily and glanced about him.

‘Where is Raven anyway?’

‘Where she always is,’ Ingrid said crossly. ‘Out there
somewhere
.’ She gestured toward the desert, adding, ‘You really must talk to her. I swear to goodness, the child pays absolutely no attention to me.’

‘Now, now,’ Sven said soothingly. ‘It’s only temporary. She’s just going through a stage. It’s hard on her too. She has no one her own age to play with, and that’s forced her to make friends with the Apaches and critters in the desert.’

‘I don’t mind her befriending wild animals,’ Ingrid said, ‘or learning about the desert from the Mescaleros. In fact it’s good, because then I don’t have to worry about her when she
disappears
for hours on end. But what I do mind is when she neglects her chores and acts as if she herself is feral and not obligated to mind me or what I say.’

Sven sighed, torn between keeping his wife happy and
corralling
his beloved daughter. ‘I understand. And you’re absolutely right. But Raven has never been like ordinary
children
, we both know that. And I doubt if she’ll ever change, no matter what we tell her, or however many spankings I give her.’

‘So that supposedly excuses her behavior?’

‘’Course not. And Raven has to realize that or take her licks. But meanwhile, try to be patient with her. Give her time. Eventually she’ll come around. I know she will.’

‘But you’ll talk to her just the same?’

‘Promise.’

‘I’m going to hold you to that, Mr Bjorkman, don’t think I’m not.’ Ingrid looked at Lawless, eyes blue as cornflowers, and said,
‘I hope you don’t mind, but the barn’s all I have to offer you.’

‘Barn’s fine,’ he said.

‘Good. I’ll have Raven bring you some blankets. And of course you’ll eat with us.’

‘Thank you, ma’am.’ He held her gaze, feeling captured as he did and for a moment thought he saw a faint blush creeping into her cheeks. Then it was gone, so quickly he knew he must have imagined it. Turning to Sven, he said: ‘I’ll unhitch the team while you get everyone settled.’

Sven nodded. ‘After supper, Ben, I’ll ask you to help me unload the wagon. There’s room at the back of the barn to store everything. And then tomorrow, you’n me will clear a space for you up in the loft. Can’t have you sleeping down with the horses.’

‘I don’t mind,’ Lawless said.

‘I do,’ Sven said. ‘By golly, it’s been a long dry spell since we’ve had any guests around here. And I’ll be truthful with you, Ben, since the ’Paches put on paint and the surveyor work dried up, I’ve missed not having other men to talk to, maybe play poker with, or down a beer or two—’

‘Sweetheart,’ Ingrid interrupted gently, ‘I think Mr Lawless knows what you mean.’

‘Yes, yes, ’course he does.’ Sven grinned sheepishly, a boy in a man’s body. ‘Don’t mind me, Ben. Like Ingrid says: I tend to get overly enthusiastic at times and then I ramble on and on.’ Before Lawless could say anything, the big Norwegian grabbed one of Violet and Joey’s trunks from the wagon and carried it
effortlessly
indoors.

Ingrid smiled shyly at Lawless. ‘It’s been hard on him,’ she said. ‘He loved his work and feels lost without it—’

‘No need to apologize, ma’am. Your husband’s a fine man. Maybe the finest I’ve met.’

‘I know that, Mr Lawless. And I wasn’t apologizing. I just wanted you to understand why he’s so pleased you’re here.’ Turning, she slipped her arm around Joey’s waist, ‘C’mon, let’s get you inside.’ Violet did the same and together they helped
him into the house.

Lawless clucked the horses into action and drove the heavily loaded wagon to the barn. It was only a short distance but several times the wheels became stuck in the mud. But each time at his urging the team managed to pull them free and finally Lawless reined up outside the barn.

Jumping down he unhitched the traces and led the big
mud-spattered
horses inside. There, as he was about to remove the harnesses, he glimpsed something move in the hayloft above him. He dived behind the horses, Colt leaping into his hand, and rolled into the nearest stall. He lay motionless on the hay, heart thudding, waiting for whatever it was to move again. The memory of shooting Joey was vivid in his mind and he warned himself to make sure he saw his target clearly before he pulled the trigger.

When nothing stirred, he inched forward on his belly and elbows and peered around the wooden divider.

Instantly a small round stone smacked against the wood
dangerously
close to his head.

Lawless flinched and ducked back behind the divider.

He heard a faint giggle. ‘No need to be scared,’ a girl’s voice said above him. ‘If I’d wanted to hit you, I would’ve.’

Lawless relaxed, lowered the hammer on his Colt and got to his feet. ‘Show yourself, girl. C’mon,’ he added when no one appeared. ‘No more games.’

Raven stepped from behind a roof support, holding a
home-made
slingshot and chewing on piece of straw. Resting one bare foot on the top rung of the loft-ladder, she stared at him
insolently
.

Lawless holstered his six-gun and nudged his hat back on his head. ‘Your folks think you’re out in the desert.’

‘I was. Now I’m here.’

‘Don’t be impertinent.’

‘What’s that mean?’

‘Cheeky – disrespectful.’

‘That weren’t my intention. I was just answering you, not sassing you.’ She continued to stare at him, head cocked
sideways
like an inquisitive crow, her short hair just as black and shiny, as if trying to make up her mind about him.

‘When you’re all done staring,’ he said, ‘come on down.’

‘Wasn’t staring. Was wondering.…’

‘About what?’

‘Why you shot Joey.’

He frowned, wondering how she knew.

‘Don’t look so surprised, mister. Anything goes on at the reservation, I mostly hear about it.’

‘Then you already have your answer, so why ask me to repeat it?’

Raven was stumped for an answer. Tucking the slingshot into her jeans, she climbed down the ladder until she got halfway then pretended to lose her footing, gave a cry and fell backward. Lawless lunged to grab her. But it was all an act. Twisting in midair, she landed catlike on her feet on a pile of hay.

‘See,’ she said. ‘I can move fast too.’

He felt like spanking her. But he said only: ‘Let’s see how fast you can help me with these horses.’

That night it was crowded around the table. Supper was just stew and bread, with Ingrid apologizing for not having a pie or even wild berries for dessert. ‘If only you’d only told me earlier you were coming,’ she lamented. ‘I—’ She broke off, realizing how insensitive her remark was, and then pressed her hand fondly over Violet’s. ‘I’m so sorry, dear. Forgive me. I wasn’t
thinking.
…’

‘It’s all right, Mrs Bjorkman.’ Violet fought back her tears. ‘I know you didn’t mean anything by it. Besides, this is a wonderful meal. Far better than what I used to cook for Joey or the men. Right, Joey?’

Her brother nodded and continued mopping up his gravy with a hunk of bread. He could only use his right hand. The left
arm was now held in a sling made from one of Sven’s old work shirts and any abrupt movement made him wince with pain.

‘Why do think I married her?’ Sven said, trying to lighten to mood. ‘There were plenty of other women to choose from in the village. But none of them could bake bread or charm a pie out of the oven like my Ingrid.’

‘Why, Sven Bjorkman! And here all along I thought it was because of my dowry.’

‘Dowry!’ Sven thumped the table with his beefy hand so hard it rattled the dishes. ‘If it was money or possessions I was after, woman, I would’ve stayed in Norway and married the widow Johanssen. Her dowry came with a castle.’

‘Sweetheart, I was only teasing—’

‘No, no,’ he said, as if she hadn’t spoken, ‘dowries had nothing to do with why I asked you to be my wife, begged you in fact, and I think you know that … have known it all along.’

Ingrid smiled, faintly embarrassed, and raising his hand to her lips kissed his fingers, one at a time. ‘You’re a dear sweet man, my husband,’ she said softly.

Watching them from across the table, Lawless realized for the first time in his life he envied another man. It was a feeling he didn’t like and thanking Ingrid for the meal he excused himself, saying it was time he bedded down.

‘So early?’ Sven said. ‘I was hoping we could play some
two-handed
whiskey poker before turning in.’

‘Another time,’ Lawless said. He went out.

‘Did I say something to offend him?’ Sven asked his wife. ‘If I did I surely didn’t mean to.’

‘No,’ she assured him. ‘He’s just tired, like all of us.’

‘That ain’t it,’ Raven said sullenly. It was the first time she’d spoken since they all sat down to eat and everyone looked at her. ‘He just wanted to be alone.’

‘How do you know that?’ said her father. ‘Did he say
something
to you about it?’

‘Didn’t have to. I just know.’

‘Oh, Raven, for goodness sake stop trying to be mysterious,’ her mother said. ‘You’ve only just met Mr Lawless, same as the rest of us. There’s no possible way you know what he’s thinking.’

‘That’s what you think,’ Raven said. ‘But you’re wrong. I talked to him in the barn while we were taking care of the horses. I knew it then and I know it now. I can tell. He’s just like me, wants to be alone. So there.’

‘Raven!’ her father said sternly. ‘Don’t talk to your mother like that. Now apologize. You hear?’

Raven looked at her father, then her mother, her huge black eyes blazing with resentment. ‘I’ll apologize,’ she said, ‘but I won’t mean it. And you can’t make me.’ She turned to her mother, ‘I’m sorry,’ and pushing back from the table, ran into her bedroom.

Sven stared after her as if unable to believe what had just
happened
. He then asked Violet and Joey to excuse Raven’s bad manners, adding that something must have upset her. She wasn’t usually like that. ‘I’ll go talk to her,’ he added to Ingrid.

‘Leave her be,’ she said. ‘Tomorrow’s soon enough.’ Rising, she began collecting the dirty dishes. Violet immediately jumped up and helped her. Joey looked across the table at Sven. ‘When I’m better, Mr Bjorkman, I’ll play cards with you. Or even checkers. Pa taught how before he … he was killed.’

Sven smiled and affectionately tousled Joey’s hair. ‘I’ll look forward to that, son.’

‘Me, too,’ said Joey. Then, as Sven got his pipe and tobacco from a cupboard beside the pantry and returned to the table, he added, ‘Pa used to smoke a pipe just like that, Mr Bjorkman. Same kind of tobacco, too.’

‘I know,’ Sven said. ‘He’s the one who got me started using it.’

‘Thank goodness he did,’ put in Ingrid. ‘I never liked that other blend you used. Smelled like old socks burning.’

Sven rolled his eyes, gave Joey a ‘we-men-must-stick-together’ wink, and began patiently packing his pipe.

Joey beamed. It was one of the few times he had smiled since
losing his father and Violet, watching her brother as she stacked the dirty dishes, felt a sense of relief. Maybe some good would come out of losing their home after all.