There were six of them in the Barker living room, and Caroline had to play hostess, a role she didn’t relish at all. Her father, Trace Newsome, the man she knew as Hannibal Landers, and three of Rocking AT’s cowboys—“my best guns,” Art Barker had told “Landers”—were drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes or cigars—Caroline hated both—and munching on some edibles she had made that morning. And she was baking some more because the first batch hadn’t lasted long.
She was back and forth into the living room, bringing more munchies and keeping the coffee warm. Every time she glanced at Landers, he was looking at her. And she shuddered. It wasn’t necessarily a look of lust; she had seen that plenty of times and knew it immediately. But there was a cockiness in his face, as if he were telling her that he could have her any time he wanted. We’ll see about that, buster…But the man did produce strange emotions within her. She didn’t hate him quite like she thought she would. But that’s didn’t mean she liked him, either. Get on with whatever you’re going to do and get out of here…
Well, what the gunman was going to do was the subject of the powwow in the living room. Caroline could tell that Trace Newsome was uneasy about it all; he was a cowboy, not a gunfighter, but he’d obey orders. Barker had filled Landers in on the local circumstance.
“You know Benny Freitus?” Art asked him.
“Landers” nodded. “Heard of ‘im. Never met ‘im. He’d be dead if I had. He’s good, but he’s far from the best.” He smiled, the smile of a ruthless predator about to descend upon his helpless prey. “I’m the best.”
“Well, you’d better be, for what I’m paying you. Have you had any experience with this sort of thing before? A range war, I mean.”
“Sure. And usually, it’s a David and Goliath thing. And by that I simply mean, knock out the big guy and you’ve destroyed the enemy’s morale. I’ll kill Freitus and then the mop-up will be easy.”
Art Barker wasn’t so sure it would be like that but he wasn’t going to argue the point. “Well, we’ll let it be known that you’re in town now, so you and Freitus should be able to meet up as soon as possible.”
“What’s the ultimate goal, here, Barker?” Landers said. “Are you trying to take over the whole valley?”
Caroline happened to walk into the room at that moment with a plate of steaming donuts. Barker glanced at her, saw her looking at him sharply, and responded, “No, uh, Ridenour is, though, and I’m just…trying to protect my land.” Another glance at his daughter. She had him intimidated, Caroline knew it, and that was the first time she could ever recall that happening.
Paul McKenzie, one of the cowboys in the room, asked, “Mr. Barker, you think Ridenour’ll just give up once his gunman is dead? And if we plug Ridenour, we can prolly take over the Bar GR and anythin’ else we want.”
Barker winced. Killing Ridenour wasn’t exactly what he wanted to do. He wanted to…well, he didn’t really know what he wanted. He was mad—furious—at Giles Ridenour, and he wanted to get at him somehow. But kill him? That didn’t sit well with Art Barker. He wasn’t a murderer. And he had trouble not agreeing with his daughter’s assessment of “Hannibal Landers.” It was obvious the man had absolutely no conscience, that he’d just as soon kill a human being as squash a bug. And Barker didn’t like the fact that the gunman kept looking at Caroline. If he touches her, I’ll kill him. Indeed, that was something Art Barker could do, and fairly easily.
“No,” he replied to McKenzie. “I don’t want Ridenour killed if it can be helped. I just want him…humbled…a bit and maybe we can all be at peace.”
Caroline was still standing there and she saw an expression of puzzlement come onto the faces of Trace Newsome and the three cowboys. This wasn’t exactly the story line they’d gotten from Barker before and they were confused. Barker knew it. “Listen,” he said. “I don’t want this valley flowing with blood. We could start an all-out war here and a lot of innocent people could get killed. Like my daughter. Let’s let Landers here take care of Freitus and then we’ll see where we stand. I don’t want to start anything that doesn’t need starting.”
Trace looked up at Caroline with a strange expression on his face. He shook his head, as if to say, “I’m confused.” Caroline liked the way her father was talking, but was afraid that it was all just for her sake. But she kept out of it.
“Would anyone like some more coffee?” she asked, and it broke some tension in the room.
“Yes, pretty lady, I’d like to have another cup,” Landers said. Barker stared hard at the gunman, but the latter didn’t seem to notice. And he wasn’t shy. “Do you like to ride?” he asked her. “Maybe you could show me the ranch later on.”
Caroline’s heart leapt into her throat, but her father jumped in. “Landers, you’re here to do a job. Go do it and get out of the valley. My daughter is off limits. Totally off limits. You got that?”
“Landers” smiled, but again, it came nowhere near his eyes. “Oh, I don’t mean any harm, Barker. You have a very lovely daughter. What man wouldn’t want to be in her company for awhile?”
“Well, you stay away from her. I don’t want you distracted any.”
The outlaw looked up at Caroline as he brought the coffee cup to his lips. “Oh, I won’t be. Don’t worry.” Caroline met his eyes for a second, shivered, and left the room. Oh, he’s so repulsive…yet so…hypnotic…
She didn’t hear the rest of the conversation, the sum total of which was a little more belligerent on her father’s part. “You kill Freitus,” he told Landers, “then if Ridenour gives us any more trouble…we’ll do what we have to do…”
I didn’t do much the next few days except eat, rest, and ride Diablo. It takes about nine or ten good ridings to really break a horse in, and he still had some fight in him. But he was slowly calming down. I kept him at the local livery stable and the hostler said, when I first brought him in, “Ain’t that Barker’s horse, Diablo? Fact, I know it is. What’re you doin’ with him?”
"I won him in a bet,” I told him. “Barker told me I could have him if I broke him.”
“Yeah, come to think of it, I heard about that. And you really broke him? Man, I didn’t think anybody could break that horse.”
“Even a horse knows what the business end of a double-barrel shotgun looks like when its pointed between its eyes,” and he laughed.
I didn’t see Caroline and I didn’t see Billy Williams. Or “Hannibal Landers,” either for that matter, at least not for a few days. I spent nearly all of it out of town, riding Diablo and looking over the country. It was beautiful and was an outstanding ranching area. I sighed. I would have loved to have part of it, but that didn’t appear possible at the moment. I figured that, as soon as this matter with “Hannibal Landers” was settled, I’d ride on.
Couldn’t quite get Caroline Barker out of my mind, but I figured that she was all tied up with Billy Williams. I had no idea what she saw in that brute, but love is blind, I reckon. It wouldn’t do me any good to get tangled up with a woman anyway, especially a woman who thought nothing better of Hannibal Landers than he was a murderer.
After riding Diablo for the better part of three days, I decided to give him a rest and stay in town. I was eating breakfast the next morning at Wiggly’s when the sheriff came in. He noticed me and walked over.
“Mind if I sit down?” he asked.
“Not a bit,” I replied, “if you don’t mind me continuing to eat while you do.”
He grunted. “Go right ahead. Far be it from me to interrupt a man’s meal.” So I kept right on eating while he ordered a cup of coffee.
He said, “Kinda surprised to see you still around. You plan on making a home here?” He was being nosey, but it was his job to know what was going on so I wasn’t offended.
“I do like it here, Sheriff Miller, but I doubt I’ll stay. I think I mentioned to you that I’d been riding awhile and wanted to give my horse a blow. Not sure how much longer I’ll stay, but probably not long.”
“I hear you’ve got another horse now.”
“Yeah. Won him off Art Barker.”
He nodded. I reckon everybody knew about it now. “You haven’t run into the Myers boys again, have you?” he asked.
I gave him a rueful grin. “You’d probably have heard about it if I had. But I’ve been riding the last three days, breaking in Diablo, so I haven’t done much socializing.”
An old fellow came busting into the restaurant right then, all hot to trot. He was looking for Miller. “Sheriff, the Ramsey boys is headin’ to town, ‘n from what I hear, they ain’t lookin’ very friendly.” The man bearing the news was obviously scared out of his wits.
The sheriff sighed, closed his eyes, and rubbed them. “Well, it was bound to happen.”
“What’re ye gonna do, sheriff? You cain’t face all of ‘em.”
"I don’t have much choice, Blitz. It’s my job.”
“We can tell ‘em you had to go out o’ town…”
“And they’d just shoot up the place and come back before long. And I can’t run, you know that.” He looked at Blitz. “Is there anybody in town…?” He let it hang.
Blitz was not only scared but he was in agony now. “Sheriff…I mean…we all like ye, but…them’s the Ramseys, ‘n…well, most of us got families…and want to live…” his voice trailed off.
Another sigh from Miller. He stood up. “I know, Blitz. And I understand. It’s what you people pay me for. Though probably not for much longer.” He nodded at me and left the restaurant.
Blitz looked at me as if wanting some sympathy and understanding. “Them’s the Ramseys that’s comin’…”
“You want to fill me in?” I asked him.
He had an agonized expression on his face. “Seven of ‘em. Sheriff Miller kilt one last year, tryin’ to arrest him and bring ‘im in. The others has vowed ever since they’d git revenge—kill the sheriff for killing their brother.” He shook his head and I thought I saw tears in his eyes. “Them boys is nuthin’ but poison, mister. I mean, dead shots, lightening draws, eyes in the back of their heads. Ever’body in this town is scared to death of ‘em.”
“So you people are going to let them ride in and kill your sheriff. Is that it?”
He tried to say something, but nothing came out.
I grunted. “And they called me a coward,” I muttered. I sat there, frustrated. I knew what I had to do, but I didn’t want to do it. I stood up, tossed some coins on the table, and walked towards the front door. On my way past him, I patted Blitz on the shoulder and said, “Go find you a hole to crawl into until it’s all over,” and then I left the building.
I stood outside the door for a minute and saw people running towards me from my left. “They’re coming,” I heard somebody shout. People started ducking into shops, windows started closing, shutters were pulled down. I saw Sheriff Miller standing in the street, looking around, watching all of this. He had a hard expression on his face, but inside the man had to be in turmoil. He was fixing to stand up to six killers, and nobody was going to help him. So…he was fixing to die, and he knew it.
I had been chomping on a toothpick, and with a little disgust, I threw it to the ground. I walked across the street towards the hotel, and when I got halfway across, I heard some more commotion and turned my head. Here came several men—I counted five—on horseback. In no way did they resemble the salt of the earth or the light of the world. About 50 yards down the street, they all pulled over, tied their horses down, and headed in my direction—actually, in the sheriff’s direction, I just happened to be there, too. Except by this time, I was up the step and almost in the hotel. I saw Miller slowly move out to the middle of the street, and heard one of the Ramseys shout, “Miller, you’re dead!” I reckon the sheriff already knew that.
I nodded at the desk clerk and walked up the stairs to my room. I did what I hoped I would never have to do again—but, frankly, wasn’t surprised that I had to do it. I opened my saddlebags, pulled out the two-holster gun belt, and strapped it on. Then, the two pistols. I made sure they were both loaded, holstered them, and with a sigh, headed out of the room, down the steps, and out of the hotel. The clerk stared at me but I paid him no mind. He wasn’t carrying a gun…
There was nobody in sight except the six men in the middle of the street. About 50 feet separated them—five on one side, the sheriff on the other. This was going to be a slaughter. My eyes narrowed; where’s the sixth Ramsey? Blitz had said there had been seven; could he have been mistaken? I glanced around. I did see a few faces peeking out from behind shutters and looking through windows. But nobody else was on the street.
The wind had picked up and was blowing some dust around. I heard a moan from the hotel eaves. A little dirt devil whipped up behind the sheriff, then took off down the street. As if it were fleeing the Ramsey boys, too.
One of the Ramseys—the big fellow in the middle—was smirking and mocking the sheriff. The cat playing with the mouse…”Where’s all the good folks o’ Pine Valley to he’p ye, sheriff? Don’t know why you bother to protect such as this. Folks who got no more guts than they do…”
“Everybody needs the law, Ramsey, and some day it will catch up with you.” I had to hand it to Miller. He was as brave a man as I’d seen in a long time.
“Well, it ain’t gonna be today,” Ramsey said, and laughed. His brothers laughed with him. Then the man’s face turned ugly. “You kilt my little brother, Miller. You’re gonna die for that, you know that, don’t you.”
“I was doing my job, Milt. If you had been me, you would have done the same thing.”
“Yeah, mebbe so. And if you was me, you’d be doin’ what I’m gonna do right now, which is pay you back. You gotta die. We can’t have folks thinkin’ they can kill a Ramsey and get away with it. That wouldn’t look good now, would it.”
Miller said nothing. He was wearing only one gun, and he was flexing his hand over the grip in preparation for drawing. I had no idea what he had in mind, but unless he was Hannibal Landers, he didn’t have a chance.
And he wasn’t Hannibal Landers. I am.
“You need some help, sheriff?” I said, and walked down the step into the street.
Miller looked at me and his face became grave. “What are you doing here, Pierce? This isn’t your fight.”
"Yeah, well, I need the target practice so I reckon I’ll make it my fight,” I said, as I stopped about five feet from him and faced the Ramseys. “I always stomp snakes when I see them.” Meaning the Ramseys, of course.
“Get out of here, Pierce,” the sheriff ordered. “All you’re going to do is get yourself killed. Why?”
I smiled. “Oh, I don’t have anything better to do today…”
The Ramseys were staring at me. “Who are you?”
“I’m death warmed over, feller. The Grim Reaper. The last man you’re ever going to see on the face of this earth.”
Milt Ramsey narrowed his eyes as he looked at me. I saw some movement in my peripheral vision, but didn't look away from the five men in front of me. “You got a big mouth, buddy," Milt Ramsey said to me. "Why are you wantin' to die so bad?"
"Oh, I don't intend to die, Milt, and I would have stayed out of it, except five to one doesn't seem very fair to me." I gave him a smile, but I don't think it reached my eyes. "Five to two seems a lot more equal, especially when I'm part of the two."
"And just who are you?" He'd already asked me that once.
"My name is Beelzebub and I guard the gates of hell where I'm fixing to send you and your brothers." And I don't really consider myself stupid. The odds were five to two and I didn't feel like giving those guys a sporting chance. So I pulled a gun and started firing.
It was over in less than a second. Give or take a second or two. I'm pretty fast, folks, or at least my Pa would have said so, and I always keep my guns well oiled. Milt never got his gun out because I shot him first. A couple of the Ramseys did get a shot away, but nothing close. The others died with their hands wrapped around their gun butts.
And then I pointed the gun--I still had one bullet left--at the roof of the building across the street and said, “If you even think about it, mister, you’ll join your brothers in hell.”
The sixth Ramsey brother--and it was his movement I had seen in my peripheral vision--had been on that roof with a rifle. His mouth was open, staring at what he had just seen. Sheriff Chet Miller was looking at me like he had seen a ghost. Except he was the one who was as white as a sheet. His gun wasn’t even out of its holster. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a croaking whisper. “Who are you?” There was that question again.
I was still pointing the gun at the Ramsey on the roof. I hadn't drawn my other gun so I crooked my free finger at the guy in the classic “come here” movement. He gulped a couple of times, and started climbing down. Numb and dumb.
Miller found his voice—all of it. “I guess…I’d better go make sure they’re all dead.”
“They’re dead, sheriff, you can count on that. You take care of the living.” I motioned to the sixth Ramsey. “Take him to jail.”
Miller was in a daze, but he nodded. “Yeah, I’ll do that.” Then, after staring at me for a few more seconds, he seemed to come back to himself, pulled his pistol and pointed it at the last living Ramsey brother. “All right, Cain, off to jail. You’ve got a rope comin’ afore long.”
I holstered my gun, turned, and walked back towards the hotel. People were starting to come out of the buildings now, milling about. Gaping at me. Murmuring. I didn’t pay any attention. The whole thing sickened me.
If I had had any hope, any hope at all, of staying in Pine Valley, I figured that hope was now 100% gone.
I went up to my room, took off my gun belt, and lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Thinking…nothing. Just waiting. Sure enough, 15 minutes later, there was a knock on the door.
“Come on in, sheriff, it’s open.”
I heard the door open and Miller walked in. He stood over the bed and looked down at me. “I’ll ask you again. Who are you?”
I grunted. “Maybe a thank you would be in order?”
“Yeah. Thanks. I mean it. I’d be dead for sure. Now answer my question. Who are you?”
“Name’s Frank Pierce.”
“No, it isn’t. I’ve never heard of you.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You’ve heard of every man who can shoot a gun?”
“I’d know a man who could shoot like that. Nobody can move that fast. Nobody.”
I’d heard that before, from my Pa and a few others. “Well, I got lucky. Everybody has a good day.”
His eyes narrowed at me. “Ok, mister. I won’t ask who you are. You can be Frank Pierce or the prophet Jeremiah for all I care. You saved my life and I’m grateful. But I’m not really sure I want you in my town. You’re liable to rustle up a whole bunch of hotheads who’d like to prove how nifty they are by outdrawing you. Although I doubt a one of them would even clear leather.” He gave me a hard look. “None of those Ramsey got their gun out of their holster. Not one. And they were fast, mister. But they couldn’t even get their guns out.” That wasn't altogether true, two of them had gotten a shot away, like I mentioned. But I didn't feel up to arguing the finer points of the shootout with him.
So I just said, “I know. Didn’t intend for them to. A fellow could get hurt if the other guy shoots back.”
Miller gave me a disgusted look. “A wise guy to boot. I can’t run you out of town, of course, but as thankful as I am to you, I’d be thankful to see your back, too.”
I met his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll be here much longer, sheriff.”
Our gazes locked for a few seconds, then he nodded, turned, and left.
I lay on the bed, melancholy. Thoughts of Pa and Ma…and Arn Cooper…and Caroline Barker…came to my mind.
And a tear rolled down my cheek….
The gun battle was the talk of the town, of course, but nobody wanted to talk to me about it. Which suited me perfectly. Oh, I got a few, “good job, stranger,” and “thanks for what you did,” and that sort of stuff, but other than that, I felt like I had the plague. Nobody would touch me or come very close to me for very long. And that suited me perfectly, too.
But I didn’t put on my gun again, either.
The next day I saw Caroline in town. She saw me at the same time, and hesitated. I hesitated, too, but walked over to her. She actually smiled, although a little warily.
“If you say ‘nice earrings’ again,” she said, “I’m going to scream ‘Rape!’”
I laughed. “Well, then, can I say, ‘pretty dress’?” She was wearing the red one again, and it was pretty.
“Yes, that’s acceptable. And thank you.” Her eyes were still a little suspicious, and she looked at me closely. “You’re the talk of town, I guess you know that.”
“Oh, you heard, huh.”
“Yes. You killed ten men with one shot is the way it’s going around now.”
I laughed again. “I use big bullets.”
She wasn’t amused. She was too busy searching my eyes for…something. “Who are you, Frank? You act like a coward…then… Diablo…the Ramseys…who are you?”
I was getting tired of that question. I sort of wished The Fraud would show up about now so I could challenge him and get it over with. Except I wasn’t wearing a gun.
“My name is Frank Pierce, Caroline,” I said, and there was some acid in my voice. I muttered under my breath, “At least for the moment…”
And then…a volcano erupted….
Caroline heard about the shooting almost as soon as she got to town. She went into the grocery store and was immediately accosted by Linda Fuller, one of her best friends.
“Oh, Caroline, you should have been here yesterday. Wow, did you miss it!”
“Miss what?”
“The Ramsey brothers came to town looking for Sheriff Miller. They were all standing in the street, ready to shoot it out. Then that stranger—Pierce—he came out of the hotel wearing two guns. He stood beside the sheriff and he shot every one of the Ramsey brothers. Every one of them! Well, except Cain, who was on the roof across the street. It was amazing! Pierce got all five of them. The sheriff never even had to draw his gun.”
Caroline was stunned when she heard this. “Frank?” But then, in her mind, she saw his eyes…deep blue. Intelligent. Intense. Missed nothing. Penetrating…. dangerous…and she wasn’t stunned any more.
“Well, that must have been something. I’m glad the Ramsey are…aren’t around any more.”
“Yes, that’s a godsend.” Linda looked at Caroline quizzically. “You know Frank Pierce, don’t you? He’s the one who broke Diablo.”
“Yes, he was, and I’ve met him, but I don’t know him well. He seems…nice, but…hard? I don’t know. He’s strange.” What DO I think about him? She hadn’t really thought much about him at all the past few days, though he hadn’t completely disappeared from her mind, either. Billy had come out one day and asked her to marry him. Caroline wasn’t ready for that at all, but she had to handle it very delicately so she told him it was a big step and she’d have to think about it.
“Well, don’t think too long, honey,” Billy had said, with a charming smile. And he did have one. “I cain’t stand to be away from you too much longer.”
That had created some serious angst in Caroline and was one reason she hadn’t thought much about Frank Pierce. Another reason was “Hannibal Landers.” She did everything she could to avoid him, or at least not ever be alone with him, but one afternoon, as she was baking a pie for supper, she was by herself in the house. And Landers came in.
“Smells good,” he said, and she jumped, not having heard him come in. He moves like a ghost…
“Oh. You startled me,” she said.
“Sorry. I was just complimenting your cooking. You do it very well.”
She looked at him. He was smiling, a small smile, but again, nowhere near his eyes. “Thank you,” she responded. “My mom…taught me…then she died. So I’ve had to pretty well make do since then.”
“Your father is very lucky to have you around. I hope he appreciates you like he should.”
For a murderer, he can sure turn on the charm. “Well, he’s been a good father, and I’ve tried to be a good daughter.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say. Her pulse had speeded up a bit. Fright? Something else? She wasn’t sure. But this man’s presence….
But he came no closer. “I’d still like for us to go riding some time,” he said.
His demeanor was catching Caroline totally off guard. If she hadn’t known who—what—he was, she would have been very tempted and would likely have said yes. But she did know who—and what—he was, and charming or not, those feelings of revulsion were still very strong.
“I don’t think…my father would approve of that.”
“Aren’t you old enough to make your own decisions?”
“Yes. But I do have to live here with him. I’m sorry, Mr. Landers, but I just don’t think it would be a good idea.”
He looked at her for several seconds. He seemed to be hypnotized by her eyes. She was almost hypnotized by his.
His next words were, to Caroline, out of character as well. They seemed almost…childish. “You don’t like me very much, do you.”
“I don’t like what you are.”
He nodded. After a few seconds, he replied, “Every man can change. Given the right incentive.”
Caroline’s blood rushed through her veins, though it felt like her heart skipped a beat. “Do you really think so?” she asked, trying to remain calm.
“Yes. I think so.”
“And after you kill Benny Freitus, you think the right…incentive…will undo what you did?”
His hard face turned harder. He looked Caroline up and down. “No. It won’t undo it. But usually, at least once in his life, a man would like a second chance.”
Caroline wasn’t buying this any more. As subtle as he was trying to be, he was coming on a little too strong. “Mr. Landers, I’ll be honest with you. You are a handsome man, and you say some nice things. But, to me, you’re still a murderer and I don’t trust you. And I doubt that will ever change. Now please leave so I can get on with supper.”
He looked at her for a few more moments and she was very uneasy. But he just nodded. “Thank you for talking to me.” He put his hat back on, and turned and walked away.
Caroline breathed for what seemed like the first time since he had entered the room. He won’t change. He’ll always be a murderer. It’s in his blood…
Well, between Billy’s proposal and Landers’ charm, Caroline hadn’t had much time to think about Frank Pierce. Until her friend Linda mentioned the shootout. She tried to shake it off. Billy…Hannibal…Frank…I don’t need this right now…Like most pretty women, Caroline had had “men” problems before and she had been able to deal with them. But with the valley possibly about to explode into open warfare, she could do without the distraction at the moment. Well, actually, Frank hasn’t done anything to show any interest. It’s just Billy and Landers. Then why am I thinking about Frank?…
But then, they met on the street, as recounted a few pages earlier. She thought she saw a little softening in him when he laughed a couple of times. But then she made the mistake of asking “Who are you, Frank?” and she saw him turn hard again and she knew that any ice that had melted had just frozen up again. And Caroline still wasn’t sure she wanted the ice to melt. He killed five men…so easily…is he a murderer, too? An outlaw on the run? Then why did he help the sheriff?….he’s going to be leaving soon anyway…
And then the volcano erupted…
Chapter Six—Getting Better Introduced
“Caroline!”
I looked to where the voice was coming from. “Oh, no…”
Caroline, naturally, heard her name being called. She looked as well. And, at the same time as Frank, she muttered, “Oh, no…”
What Caroline and I both saw, of course, was Billy Williams headed our way. And he wasn’t looking at her—he was staring daggers at me. He came and stood about five feet from me and his breath was heaving, his face a mask of rage, and I would have sworn later that I saw smoke coming out of his ears.
“What did I tell you, mister, about talkin’ to Caroline?”
“I don’t know, Billy, that was several days ago and I can’t remember back that far.”
My flippancy didn’t impress him. “I’m going to pound you into the dirt, tinhorn. You’ll git the message then.” He started to move towards me when Caroline stepped between us and grabbed his arms.
“Billy, no! Don’t do this.”
He glanced at her for a moment, then back at me. “Caroline, I warned this feller. Told him to stay away from you. Now he, and ever other man in this town is gonna find out what happens when they mess with Billy Williams’ woman…”
Caroline was in angst. He’ll kill Frank, I know he will. “Billy, it was totally harmless, can’t you see that? You can’t control everybody I talk to all the time. I mean nothing to him and he means nothing to me.” Is that the truth?…”Let it go, Billy, please, for my sake.” Billy didn’t seem to be hearing a word she was saying. A crowd was gathering. Caroline became desperate. “Billy, I’ll marry you. Next week. Just don’t do this. Please?” Anything to keep him from hurting Frank…
That seemed to get through. Billy looked down at her. “You…you will? Next week?”
Caroline started to say something, realizing now the position she had put herself in. But then, she heard her name being called again, this time more softly, yet firmly.
“Caroline.” It was Frank.
She turned and looked at him. He just shook his head, as if to tell her that it wasn’t her affair.
“But, Frank, he’ll…Billy doesn’t know his own strength sometimes. He…he’ll hurt you…he may even kill—“ But then, she looked into Frank Pierce’s eyes…and shuddered. More dangerous than she could imagine in her most vivid dreams. Not savage. Not wild. Just…dangerous. No, Billy won’t kill him…not this man…
I gently took Caroline by the arms and led her out of the way behind me. Then I looked at Billy. “All right, Williams, if this is what you want, let’s get it over with.”
He was grinning maliciously. “Yeah, this is what I want. I haven’t liked you since I first saw you. We’ll show Caroline who the real man is around here.” He had been rolling up his sleeves while he had been talking.
There was quite a crowd now and they formed a big circle around the two of us. Before Billy and I started tangling though, somebody—the sheriff—broke through the line.
“All right, you two break it up. I’m not going to have this in my town.”
I didn’t even look at him. My eyes were on Billy. “Miller, get lost. This is none of your business so stay out of it.”
“Listen, buster, you saved my life. I’m trying to save yours.”
“You’d better be worried about Billy. He looks like Milt Ramsey to me.”
That stopped him and he intervened no more.
“Sheriff, do something!” That from Caroline.
Chet Miller just shook his head and backed up. “It’s out of my hands, Miss Barker. Let them settle it. It’s what they both want.” He was standing close to her and said softly, “And if you really love Billy Williams, maybe you’d better pray for him…”
Caroline glanced sharply at Sheriff Miller when she heard his final words. But she didn’t have time to digest them. Her eyes went back to the circle, and she groaned as she watched Billy and Frank circling each other, watching one another. And she looked into Frank’s eyes again…hard as flint…cold……. dangerous….Don’t hurt him too much, Frank…because she, like Chet Miller, knew what was going to happen now….
I wasn’t worried about Billy Williams. This guy was a brawler and that is exactly the kind of fighter Kiko taught me how to defeat. I did know that Billy was pretty quick for his size; I had noticed that the day I saw him make pulp out of the two men outside the saloon. The only thing I had to worry about was tripping and letting him hammer me with one of those big fists of his. He was strong and I couldn’t let him hit me. Or get his arms around me in a bear hug. But I had no intention of allowing him to do either.
He finally came at me swinging. I dodged, ducked, bobbed, and weaved, and all he connected with was the wind. One mighty, frustrated swing left him turned almost with his back to me. I put a boot in his rump and shoved. The crowd had to separate to get out of his way and he sprawled face first in the dust.
The mob had been whistling and hooting up till then; most of them were on my side, because nobody likes a bully. But Billy did have some friends there. Everybody apparently thought it wasn’t going to be much of a contest. When Billy went flying after I shoved him, the street suddenly became very quiet. This guy who had drilled five Ramsey brothers the day before with his guns apparently knew a little about hand fighting as well…
Caroline grimaced every time Billy swung, afraid he was going to connect and break Frank’s jaw. Or kill him. If one of those punches had landed solidly, it might have killed him. She had never seen Billy so angry and out of control. But, for all the world, it looked to her like Frank was toying with him. The smaller man wouldn’t even put his fists up. He just dodged and weaved and never came close to being struck. Caroline knew the signs—Billy was getting very frustrated and angrier by the moment. And then when Frank sent him flying with his boot-shove, Caroline knew that Billy was about to explode….
Billy slowly got up off the ground. Yes, it was obvious he was frustrated, and more than a little humiliated. I suspect nobody had ever done this to him before. He stood up and looked at me. “Why don’t you stand still and fight like a man, you coward? Afraid of gittin’ hit, ain’t ye. Mess up yore pretty face.”
“Your mouth doesn’t impress me any more than your fists do, Billy.” I made a motion with both hands. “Come on, you’re boring me.”
He roared and charged me like a bull. And he went flying over my shoulder and landed at least 15 feet away on his back with a resounding thump. Once again, the crowd had to scatter to keep from being hit. Billy was stunned a little. He lay there a moment, with his head up. He shook it. Then he slowly got up, turned, and stared at me. “I’m goin’ to kill you, mister…”
Caroline’s eyes were huge as she saw Billy go flying through the air and land on his back. This was amazing. She looked at Frank. He appeared almost bored—and certainly disgusted—with the whole thing. When she heard Billy say he was going to kill Frank, she knew then—if she’d ever had any doubt—that she would never marry Billy Williams….
Billy charged. He went flying again, landed 10 feet away, but bounced up immediately and came at me fiercely. I started to grab and toss him again, but he stopped just out of my reach, so I wasn’t able to throw him. However, the one lesson Kiko had drilled into me over and over and over again, month after month and year after year, was to watch out for the unexpected. And that’s what Billy did when he stopped—or at least he thought so. He wasn’t about to let me throw him again. So I did what he didn’t expect and put 200 pounds of weight behind a right fist that smashed Billy Williams’ nose and sent blood flying.
It staggered him, but that was all. He was a big man and he’d been hit before. But I followed up immediately and never let him recover. I sent left jab after left jab into his face, backing him up, and he never could get his feet set. Finally, I quit throwing punches and he thought I was tired, I suppose, and that it was his turn to pound me a bit. But when he took a step forward, he got my boot in his mid-section, and as hard as I could kick. The air in his lungs rushed out in a whoosh, and he doubled over holding his stomach.
The fight was over unless I just stood around and waited for Billy to be able to breathe again. A man who can’t breathe can’t fight, and that was the position he was in. I looked over at Caroline—she was still staring at me, wide-eyed. “I’m sorry, Caroline,” I said, and put a knee into Billy Williams’ forehead. That lifted him up just high enough for me to put a boot on the side of his head. His head snapped to the side and he went sprawling. He hit the ground, face down. He lay there for a few moments, still conscious, but heaving, trying to get up.
“I’m…I’m gonna…kill you…mister…kill you…” he said. And that set me off.
I pulled my knife from the sheath on my belt, and quickly knelt down beside him. I rolled him over, put the blade to his throat and said, “Then tell me one reason, you scum, why I shouldn’t slit your throat right now. I don’t particularly fancy watching my back for the rest of my life….”
Caroline winced when she saw Frank break Billy’s nose. Then punch after punch…he’s as fast as a snake…Then the kick to the stomach. Frank looked at her. “I’m sorry, Caroline.” She wasn’t sure what he meant until she saw the vicious knee to the forehead and boot to the side of the head. Billy hit the ground. Caroline heard what he said, of course, and then saw Frank pull the knife and kneel with the blade at Billy’s throat. And she heard what he said, too…
“Frank, no! Don’t kill him!” Don’t kill him…don’t be…like that…
Billy looked up at me and the fright was evident in his eyes. I suspect he saw nothing but death in the way I was looking at him. He didn’t hear Caroline shout, but he did hear the sheriff. “That’s enough, Pierce. He’s licked.”
I didn’t move immediately, but kept the knife at Billy’s throat. And I spoke to him. “Don’t you ever—ever—threaten me again. You hear me? Or I’ll pull your guts out from between your teeth.” I stood up then, and people gasped when I raised the knife and threw it as hard as I could. It landed in the ground, less than an inch from Billy’s ear. His eyes were squeezed shut; he thought I was really going to kill him. He heaved a sigh of relief when all he heard was the knife vibrating a tune next to his head.
I leaned over and picked up the knife. Sheriff Miller came over to me. “I’d have seen you hang if you had killed him, Pierce.”
“Would you have hanged him if he had killed me?”
Miller didn’t say anything.
I continued. “I had no intention of killing him, sheriff. But you better keep him away from me or next time I might. I don’t put up with being threatened by anybody.”
Miller was staring at me, hard. “Why don’t you just pack up and get on out of town now, Pierce—or whoever you are? You keep saying you’re going to. Now would be a good time.”
I sighed, weary. I hadn’t wanted any of this. I reached over and patted Miller on the shoulder. He was a good man, I had no quarrel with him. “Yeah, sheriff, I guess you’re right.” I started to walk away and saw Caroline staring at me. Her hypnotic eyes weren’t having much affect on me at the moment.
“Next week, huh. Be sure to wear your nice earrings,” I said to her and saw her grimace and turn her head. I walked off and the crowd, which was still there, parted like the Red Sea to let me through.
But there was one more thing. I saw the Myers brothers at the back of the crowd. I stared fire at them and walked towards them. “You want your $40 worth now?”
Two pairs of eyes got huge…and Harley and Hank Myers turned and ran…
Caroline was staring at him. Then his words—“Next week, huh”—had been a dagger through her heart. She could never marry Billy Williams and she knew it; and inside, she had always known it. But she had said she would—publicly. In front of Frank Pierce and a number of other people. She wasn’t sure yet how she’d extricate herself from that impulsive promise, but that could wait. She had to talk to Frank Pierce. Now.
I headed towards the hotel, intending to keep my promise to Sheriff Chet Miller. I was trying to figure out a way I could stay in the area until matters were settled with “Hannibal Landers.” Well, Barker offered me a job. I guess I could take it. I wouldn’t have to come into town. Then I shook my head. I can’t be out there with Caroline…well, she won’t be there long, I suppose. She’ll move in with…him…
“Frank.”
I turned. It was Caroline. I just looked at her.
So cold…cold…he must really despise me…Caroline didn’t quite know what to say. She stumbled, “Thank you…for…not killing him.”
His face had an annoyed, angry expression on it. “Well, I wouldn’t have wanted to make you a widow before you even got married.”
Caroline dropped her head and closed her eyes. “Frank, please don’t. Please don’t be like that.”
His voice softened. “You did try to stop it. And apparently for my sake. I appreciate that.” She looked up at him. Their eyes met. What’s there?…
Caroline and I looked at each other. Our eyes met. What’s there? What do I WANT to be there? I didn’t know the answer to either question. But I couldn’t let myself go, not with the plans she announced to the world….
For a moment, Caroline thought…thought what? That maybe…there was something in his eyes? Something…positive? Affection? Love? No…no…But then, those eyes hardened again. And his voice was cruel. “Are you really going to marry that guy? Is that the best you can do?” And, with obvious disgust, he turned and walked away.
He didn’t hear her softly say, “No, Frank. No, to both questions…”
I looked to where the voice was coming from. “Oh, no…”
Caroline, naturally, heard her name being called. She looked as well. And, at the same time as Frank, she muttered, “Oh, no…”
What Caroline and I both saw, of course, was Billy Williams headed our way. And he wasn’t looking at her—he was staring daggers at me. He came and stood about five feet from me and his breath was heaving, his face a mask of rage, and I would have sworn later that I saw smoke coming out of his ears.
“What did I tell you, mister, about talkin’ to Caroline?”
“I don’t know, Billy, that was several days ago and I can’t remember back that far.”
My flippancy didn’t impress him. “I’m going to pound you into the dirt, tinhorn. You’ll git the message then.” He started to move towards me when Caroline stepped between us and grabbed his arms.
“Billy, no! Don’t do this.”
He glanced at her for a moment, then back at me. “Caroline, I warned this feller. Told him to stay away from you. Now he, and ever other man in this town is gonna find out what happens when they mess with Billy Williams’ woman…”
Caroline was in angst. He’ll kill Frank, I know he will. “Billy, it was totally harmless, can’t you see that? You can’t control everybody I talk to all the time. I mean nothing to him and he means nothing to me.” Is that the truth?…”Let it go, Billy, please, for my sake.” Billy didn’t seem to be hearing a word she was saying. A crowd was gathering. Caroline became desperate. “Billy, I’ll marry you. Next week. Just don’t do this. Please?” Anything to keep him from hurting Frank…
That seemed to get through. Billy looked down at her. “You…you will? Next week?”
Caroline started to say something, realizing now the position she had put herself in. But then, she heard her name being called again, this time more softly, yet firmly.
“Caroline.” It was Frank.
She turned and looked at him. He just shook his head, as if to tell her that it wasn’t her affair.
“But, Frank, he’ll…Billy doesn’t know his own strength sometimes. He…he’ll hurt you…he may even kill—“ But then, she looked into Frank Pierce’s eyes…and shuddered. More dangerous than she could imagine in her most vivid dreams. Not savage. Not wild. Just…dangerous. No, Billy won’t kill him…not this man…
I gently took Caroline by the arms and led her out of the way behind me. Then I looked at Billy. “All right, Williams, if this is what you want, let’s get it over with.”
He was grinning maliciously. “Yeah, this is what I want. I haven’t liked you since I first saw you. We’ll show Caroline who the real man is around here.” He had been rolling up his sleeves while he had been talking.
There was quite a crowd now and they formed a big circle around the two of us. Before Billy and I started tangling though, somebody—the sheriff—broke through the line.
“All right, you two break it up. I’m not going to have this in my town.”
I didn’t even look at him. My eyes were on Billy. “Miller, get lost. This is none of your business so stay out of it.”
“Listen, buster, you saved my life. I’m trying to save yours.”
“You’d better be worried about Billy. He looks like Milt Ramsey to me.”
That stopped him and he intervened no more.
“Sheriff, do something!” That from Caroline.
Chet Miller just shook his head and backed up. “It’s out of my hands, Miss Barker. Let them settle it. It’s what they both want.” He was standing close to her and said softly, “And if you really love Billy Williams, maybe you’d better pray for him…”
Caroline glanced sharply at Sheriff Miller when she heard his final words. But she didn’t have time to digest them. Her eyes went back to the circle, and she groaned as she watched Billy and Frank circling each other, watching one another. And she looked into Frank’s eyes again…hard as flint…cold……. dangerous….Don’t hurt him too much, Frank…because she, like Chet Miller, knew what was going to happen now….
I wasn’t worried about Billy Williams. This guy was a brawler and that is exactly the kind of fighter Kiko taught me how to defeat. I did know that Billy was pretty quick for his size; I had noticed that the day I saw him make pulp out of the two men outside the saloon. The only thing I had to worry about was tripping and letting him hammer me with one of those big fists of his. He was strong and I couldn’t let him hit me. Or get his arms around me in a bear hug. But I had no intention of allowing him to do either.
He finally came at me swinging. I dodged, ducked, bobbed, and weaved, and all he connected with was the wind. One mighty, frustrated swing left him turned almost with his back to me. I put a boot in his rump and shoved. The crowd had to separate to get out of his way and he sprawled face first in the dust.
The mob had been whistling and hooting up till then; most of them were on my side, because nobody likes a bully. But Billy did have some friends there. Everybody apparently thought it wasn’t going to be much of a contest. When Billy went flying after I shoved him, the street suddenly became very quiet. This guy who had drilled five Ramsey brothers the day before with his guns apparently knew a little about hand fighting as well…
Caroline grimaced every time Billy swung, afraid he was going to connect and break Frank’s jaw. Or kill him. If one of those punches had landed solidly, it might have killed him. She had never seen Billy so angry and out of control. But, for all the world, it looked to her like Frank was toying with him. The smaller man wouldn’t even put his fists up. He just dodged and weaved and never came close to being struck. Caroline knew the signs—Billy was getting very frustrated and angrier by the moment. And then when Frank sent him flying with his boot-shove, Caroline knew that Billy was about to explode….
Billy slowly got up off the ground. Yes, it was obvious he was frustrated, and more than a little humiliated. I suspect nobody had ever done this to him before. He stood up and looked at me. “Why don’t you stand still and fight like a man, you coward? Afraid of gittin’ hit, ain’t ye. Mess up yore pretty face.”
“Your mouth doesn’t impress me any more than your fists do, Billy.” I made a motion with both hands. “Come on, you’re boring me.”
He roared and charged me like a bull. And he went flying over my shoulder and landed at least 15 feet away on his back with a resounding thump. Once again, the crowd had to scatter to keep from being hit. Billy was stunned a little. He lay there a moment, with his head up. He shook it. Then he slowly got up, turned, and stared at me. “I’m goin’ to kill you, mister…”
Caroline’s eyes were huge as she saw Billy go flying through the air and land on his back. This was amazing. She looked at Frank. He appeared almost bored—and certainly disgusted—with the whole thing. When she heard Billy say he was going to kill Frank, she knew then—if she’d ever had any doubt—that she would never marry Billy Williams….
Billy charged. He went flying again, landed 10 feet away, but bounced up immediately and came at me fiercely. I started to grab and toss him again, but he stopped just out of my reach, so I wasn’t able to throw him. However, the one lesson Kiko had drilled into me over and over and over again, month after month and year after year, was to watch out for the unexpected. And that’s what Billy did when he stopped—or at least he thought so. He wasn’t about to let me throw him again. So I did what he didn’t expect and put 200 pounds of weight behind a right fist that smashed Billy Williams’ nose and sent blood flying.
It staggered him, but that was all. He was a big man and he’d been hit before. But I followed up immediately and never let him recover. I sent left jab after left jab into his face, backing him up, and he never could get his feet set. Finally, I quit throwing punches and he thought I was tired, I suppose, and that it was his turn to pound me a bit. But when he took a step forward, he got my boot in his mid-section, and as hard as I could kick. The air in his lungs rushed out in a whoosh, and he doubled over holding his stomach.
The fight was over unless I just stood around and waited for Billy to be able to breathe again. A man who can’t breathe can’t fight, and that was the position he was in. I looked over at Caroline—she was still staring at me, wide-eyed. “I’m sorry, Caroline,” I said, and put a knee into Billy Williams’ forehead. That lifted him up just high enough for me to put a boot on the side of his head. His head snapped to the side and he went sprawling. He hit the ground, face down. He lay there for a few moments, still conscious, but heaving, trying to get up.
“I’m…I’m gonna…kill you…mister…kill you…” he said. And that set me off.
I pulled my knife from the sheath on my belt, and quickly knelt down beside him. I rolled him over, put the blade to his throat and said, “Then tell me one reason, you scum, why I shouldn’t slit your throat right now. I don’t particularly fancy watching my back for the rest of my life….”
Caroline winced when she saw Frank break Billy’s nose. Then punch after punch…he’s as fast as a snake…Then the kick to the stomach. Frank looked at her. “I’m sorry, Caroline.” She wasn’t sure what he meant until she saw the vicious knee to the forehead and boot to the side of the head. Billy hit the ground. Caroline heard what he said, of course, and then saw Frank pull the knife and kneel with the blade at Billy’s throat. And she heard what he said, too…
“Frank, no! Don’t kill him!” Don’t kill him…don’t be…like that…
Billy looked up at me and the fright was evident in his eyes. I suspect he saw nothing but death in the way I was looking at him. He didn’t hear Caroline shout, but he did hear the sheriff. “That’s enough, Pierce. He’s licked.”
I didn’t move immediately, but kept the knife at Billy’s throat. And I spoke to him. “Don’t you ever—ever—threaten me again. You hear me? Or I’ll pull your guts out from between your teeth.” I stood up then, and people gasped when I raised the knife and threw it as hard as I could. It landed in the ground, less than an inch from Billy’s ear. His eyes were squeezed shut; he thought I was really going to kill him. He heaved a sigh of relief when all he heard was the knife vibrating a tune next to his head.
I leaned over and picked up the knife. Sheriff Miller came over to me. “I’d have seen you hang if you had killed him, Pierce.”
“Would you have hanged him if he had killed me?”
Miller didn’t say anything.
I continued. “I had no intention of killing him, sheriff. But you better keep him away from me or next time I might. I don’t put up with being threatened by anybody.”
Miller was staring at me, hard. “Why don’t you just pack up and get on out of town now, Pierce—or whoever you are? You keep saying you’re going to. Now would be a good time.”
I sighed, weary. I hadn’t wanted any of this. I reached over and patted Miller on the shoulder. He was a good man, I had no quarrel with him. “Yeah, sheriff, I guess you’re right.” I started to walk away and saw Caroline staring at me. Her hypnotic eyes weren’t having much affect on me at the moment.
“Next week, huh. Be sure to wear your nice earrings,” I said to her and saw her grimace and turn her head. I walked off and the crowd, which was still there, parted like the Red Sea to let me through.
But there was one more thing. I saw the Myers brothers at the back of the crowd. I stared fire at them and walked towards them. “You want your $40 worth now?”
Two pairs of eyes got huge…and Harley and Hank Myers turned and ran…
Caroline was staring at him. Then his words—“Next week, huh”—had been a dagger through her heart. She could never marry Billy Williams and she knew it; and inside, she had always known it. But she had said she would—publicly. In front of Frank Pierce and a number of other people. She wasn’t sure yet how she’d extricate herself from that impulsive promise, but that could wait. She had to talk to Frank Pierce. Now.
I headed towards the hotel, intending to keep my promise to Sheriff Chet Miller. I was trying to figure out a way I could stay in the area until matters were settled with “Hannibal Landers.” Well, Barker offered me a job. I guess I could take it. I wouldn’t have to come into town. Then I shook my head. I can’t be out there with Caroline…well, she won’t be there long, I suppose. She’ll move in with…him…
“Frank.”
I turned. It was Caroline. I just looked at her.
So cold…cold…he must really despise me…Caroline didn’t quite know what to say. She stumbled, “Thank you…for…not killing him.”
His face had an annoyed, angry expression on it. “Well, I wouldn’t have wanted to make you a widow before you even got married.”
Caroline dropped her head and closed her eyes. “Frank, please don’t. Please don’t be like that.”
His voice softened. “You did try to stop it. And apparently for my sake. I appreciate that.” She looked up at him. Their eyes met. What’s there?…
Caroline and I looked at each other. Our eyes met. What’s there? What do I WANT to be there? I didn’t know the answer to either question. But I couldn’t let myself go, not with the plans she announced to the world….
For a moment, Caroline thought…thought what? That maybe…there was something in his eyes? Something…positive? Affection? Love? No…no…But then, those eyes hardened again. And his voice was cruel. “Are you really going to marry that guy? Is that the best you can do?” And, with obvious disgust, he turned and walked away.
He didn’t hear her softly say, “No, Frank. No, to both questions…”
Chapter Seven—Face to Face
It wasn’t quite noon yet, but I got my gear together from the hotel and walked over to the livery stable. I had two horses now. Well, I could switch off riding them and get twice as far from the place. I had a bitter taste in my mouth. I had really liked what I had seen in Pine Valley when I first arrived there, and had seriously considered staying. But the whole thing had blown up in my face. I didn’t even care about “Hannibal Landers” now. Let him go around using my name and killing whoever he wanted to. I’d go somewhere else and use another name. George Washington. Nobody had ever heard that one before.
I was going to ride Raven out of town and have Diablo trail us. As I was saddling the big black, I heard somebody call my name. I glanced up and saw Trace Newsome.
“You leaving town?” he asked me.
“Yeah. Nothing more for me here.”
“Well, wish you’d stay and take a job with Mr. Barker. I got a feeling you’d make a good hand.”
“Or a dead one, given what I hear is happening in this valley.” I was tightening the cinch as I was talking to him. Then I turned and looked at him. “Can’t do it, Trace.” I shook my head. “I just can’t do it.” And I knew why.
Caroline Barker. Or Caroline Williams, as she will be this time next week.
“Well, that’s your choice,” I heard Newsome say. “Just in case you’re interested, Hannibal Landers and Benny Freitus are going to meet tomorrow at high noon at Black Rock Mesa.”
I looked at him sharply, but then said, “Why would I be interested in that?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know, but something tells me that you would.”
Yeah. I was very interested in that, but I didn’t want to show it. “What’s the deal? They going to have a winner-take-all shoot out? If Freitus wins, Ridenour gets the valley? If Landers, then Barker gets it?”
Newsome shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve been talking to Harry Cumber, though—he’s Ridenour’s foreman and a good friend of mine—and he’s telling me that he and his boys don’t want this any more than we do.” He exhaled audibly through his nose. “Frank, this is just a dispute, albeit a heated one, between Barker and Ridenour. None of the rest of us want a war.”
“Then put Barker and Ridenour in a ring and let them fight it out.”
He grunted. “We’d like to do that.”
I looked at him. “Trace, are you going to fight if it comes to it?”
He looked away, and I could see the doubt in his face. He shook his head. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.” Then he turned back to me. “But I’d really like for you to be at Black Rock tomorrow. I don’t know what you can do, but I’d appreciate it if you’d show.”
Well, why not? It’s not like I had an appointment to be any place any time soon. I nodded. “Tell me where it is and I’ll be there.”
He gave me directions. “Thanks. For some reason, I don’t know what it is, but I’ll feel better knowing you are there.”
I just waved him good-bye.
With a sigh, I started removing the saddle from Raven’s back. If I was going to stay in the area one more day, I was going to sleep in a nice bed, whether Miller liked it or not.
The sun was shining brightly under a clear, blue sky the next day. Black Rock Mesa wasn’t hard to find. It was about 10 miles northwest of town. It wasn’t really a mesa, at least not the kind I was used to in New Mexico. This thing was more of a bump in the ground out in the middle of a grassy plain, though there were some boulders scattered haphazardly around that for all the world looked like God had just dropped them out of heaven and let them lie where they fell. The mountains weren’t far away, of course, but this was still part of Pine Valley. I didn’t see a black rock anywhere.
I arrived about a quarter of noon, and there were already a number of people there. I recognized Art Barker and his men; there were about 20 of them—and “Hannibal Landers” was with them, of course. Across the mesa, maybe 100 yards away was another group of men—Ridenour and his boys, I suspected. And there appeared to be about 20 men there, too. I didn’t know Benny Freitus by sight, but I figured he was somewhere around.
And yes, Caroline was there as well. She and I looked at each other for a moment, but neither of us made any acknowledgment of the other. I glanced around for Billy Williams, but I didn’t see him.
Caroline was taken aback somewhat when she saw Frank Pierce ride up. I didn’t know he was going to be here. I thought he was leaving town. She thought about going over and asking him about it, but when their eyes met, he didn’t give her any encouragement and he certainly made no move in her direction. As she usually did when she saw him, she started examining her feelings and trying to decide what they were. And coming to no fixed conclusions. I don’t know what I think about him. He’s…different…warm, but…aloof. She tried to put him out of her mind for she had great angst at what might happen on Black Rock Mesa in just a little while…
I didn’t go over and join the Barker group, but stayed a good distance away, leaning against a boulder. I saw Art Barker talking to The Fraud; Barker saw me and nodded briefly, but that was all. Trace Newsome spotted me and came over.
“Glad you came,” he said.
“What’s happening?” I asked him.
Trace sighed and shook his head, looking in the direction of Ridenour and his men. “Ridenour keeps staring at us, but it’s kinda hard to read his face from this far. That fellow standing next to him with the red bandana around his neck is Benny Freitus. He’s no pussycat, but Landers is confident he can take him.” Newsome shifted his gaze back to me. “They are going to have at it and then…” He shook his head again.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Be ready for anything.”
“Trace, I’m not shooting at anybody who doesn’t shoot at me first. If you men want to kill each other, that’s your business. Don’t expect any help from me. I’m sorry, but this is not my war, and I’m not rightly sure what I’m even doing here.”
He nodded. “I understand. I’m not asking you to get involved.” He paused a moment, scrutinizing me closely. “But what are you going to do if the shooting starts?”
I looked away, squinting in the sun, and sighed. “I may just kill all of you and ride away.”
He chuckled slightly. “Well, we’d probably deserve it.”
I glanced at the Bar GR group, and nodded in their direction. “Looks like the party is fixing to start.”
Ridenour and his men were walking towards the Rocking AT bunch. Ridenour’s men had spread out in a line and were following their boss and their gunman. Barker’s men were slowly doing likewise, a line of 20 or so men behind Art Barker and The Fraud.
"I reckon I better go join ‘em,” Trace said.
“Good luck,” I responded, wondering why all this had to happen.
I heard Art speak to Caroline. “You go over and stand next to Pierce, out of the line of fire.”
I glanced quickly at Caroline. She started to say something, hesitated, then came towards me. She was the only one who saw me pull my two-gun belt from my saddle bags and buckle it on. Then I slid my rifle from its sheath and made sure it was loaded.
“What are you doing?” she asked me as she came up.
“If anybody shoots in my direction, I intend to shoot back.” I looked at her. “You have any objection to that?”
She searched my eyes. I wished she’d quit doing that. “No,” she replied, then turned and watched Ridenour’s approaching men. “What are you doing here?” she asked me.
“Trace Newsome asked me to come. I have no idea why except maybe he wanted me to bury him when it was all over.”
“Frank, don’t say that.”
“Caroline, this could get very ugly, very quickly. If they start shooting, you get on the other side of this boulder behind us, and if you don’t do it quickly enough, I’ll throw you over it.” She looked at me. I gave her a wry grin. “Billy Williams would never forgive me if I let you get killed.”
She shifted her gaze back to the middle of the mesa and wrapped her arms around herself as if she were cold. It was a warm day, but I saw her shiver. She spoke softly, “Frank, I’m not going to marry Billy.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Does he know it yet?”
“No.”
I started to say something, but it wasn’t any of my concern. Besides, the two groups of men had stopped and were now facing each other. Interestingly, they were about equidistant from Caroline and me, about 25 yards apart. The two owners and their gunmen were about 10 yards in front of their men.
Barker spoke first. “Giles, we can call this a draw and go home.”
Ridenour shook his head. “This valley isn’t big enough for both of us any more, Art, and you know it. I’m not about to give up what I’ve worked and sweated for the past 25 years. You’ve been overgrazing and your beef will be eatin’ on my grass before the end of summer. I can’t let that happen.”
Barker shook his head, and I could tell he was angry. “Ridenour, you are the one who has been overgrazing and you know it. There just isn’t enough grass in the valley for the size herd you’re trying to manage. Not with my herd as well.”
“I’m not the one overgrazing, Barker.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
Well, it looked to me like a classic “I said--you said--no, I didn’t--yes, you did” stalemate. “So what’s going to happen?” I whispered to Caroline.
She shivered again. “I don’t know.” I'm not sure why I thought she would.
Ridenour spoke. “After Benny here takes care of your man, I’ll give you a chance. I’ll even buy you out, Art, and you can leave the valley.”
“With my tail tucked between my legs. No, thanks. And if Landers kills Freitus?…”
Freitus snickered at that. “Fat chance,” he said, sneering at “Landers,” who gave no appearance of even noticing.
“On the off chance that happens,” Ridenour replied, “We’ll go from there.”
Barker started to say something, then stopped. With a sigh, he just turned and waved. “Ok. You two go at it.”
The Fraud smiled and he and Freitus approached each other. Both groups of cowboys spread out a bit so as not to be right behind either gunman. Nobody wanted to get hit by a stray bullet, though that was a possibility regardless.
“Landers,” Freitus said, “I’ve heard of you, of course. You’ve been all over the west dry-gulching anybody you don’t like. Never been man enough to stand up to anybody. Well, you’re going to meet me face-to-face and that will be the end of it.”
“Never dry-gulched anybody, Benny,” The Fraud said. “And I’ve downed a lot better men than you. I’ll give you a chance, if you want to ride on out of here. You’ll at least live to see tomorrow…”
Yack yack yack. These two toughs were shooting their mouths off before their shot their guns. It was pretty typical, designed to relieve tension and maybe catch the other guy off guard. Or make him mad enough so he couldn’t shoot straight. You look for any advantage when you’re staring death in the face. “Who’s going to win?” Caroline whispered to me, not taking her eyes off the scene being played out in front of her.
“The guy who shoots the straightest,” I said back. “And I have no idea who that might be.” Though I had a hunch….
Which turned out to be true. While Freitus was jawing, thinking he had The Fraud distracted, he went for his gun. But “Landers” was an old hat at this, apparently, and moved with lightening speed. Freitus got a shot off, but it landed in the dirt about 20 feet in front of his opponent. The Fraud put two bullets into Freitus, the first in his gut, the second in his heart. Benny Freitus toppled to the ground, dead.
I heard Caroline breathe out. I looked at Ridenour. He was staring, his face hard, at his dead gunslick. “Landers” was smirking, his gaze traveling back and forth over the Bar GR men. “Anybody else want a piece of that?” He looked at Ridenour. “You should have known better. Freitus wasn’t in my league. I’ve outdrawn Phil Parker, Evan Gurney, Kip Mangold, Tom McDonald…”
“Davey Gordon,” I put in.
He shot me a glance, a bit mystified. “Yeah. Davey Gordon…” I couldn’t help but smile. Caroline was looking at me. She was puzzled, too.
“Was that you that got Gordon?” somebody from the Bar GR asked. “I heard it was some guy named Jackson.”
“Don’t know how that rumor got started,” The Fraud said. “It was me, sure enough. Now, I suggest you boys pack up and go home or there’s going to be a mite of you not go anywhere but under six feet of dirt.”
Ridenour was turning red. “You can’t kill all of us, Landers. I’ve got some pretty mean guns behind me.” He looked at Barker. “You ready to start a war, Barker?”
"No, Giles, I’m not. If you want a war, you’ll have to start it.”
I heard Caroline groan, “Please, no,” she whispered. Ridenour was livid. He made a motion with his hand and his men began to come together behind him. As if on cue, Barker’s men did the same thing behind their boss. Those 40 idiots were going to stand there and blow each other to kingdom come.
They started walking towards each other…
Then a rifle exploded, twice….
Everybody looked at me, stunned. I had put a bullet two feet in front of Art Barker and another two feet in front of Giles Ridenour, which, of course stopped the forward progress of all concerned. “I’ll kill the first man who draws a gun,” I said. “And the second…and the third…”
“And just who might you be? And what concern is it of yours?” That was Ridenour, who had never seen me before.
I shrugged. “As to my concern in the matter, frankly, I don’t really have any. Except that somebody here has got to show some common sense. And 40 men blazing away at each other is the height of universal stupidity. Why don’t you two men just decide what land belongs to whom and put a fence on the border? And then, if one of you needs some extra grazing, pay the other for it. Ridenour, Barker, do you two hate each other so much…that you’ll take a number of good men to your graves with you?” I looked at the Rocking AT men and then at the Bar GR men, and shook my head in disgust. “Do you meatheads really want to die because of two men who have come to hate each other so much that this is nothing more than a personal vendetta between them?”
“We ride for the brand, mister,” one of Ridenour’s men said.
“Does that mean you're dumb enough to die for it? There’s a lot of good brands around that will be happy to pay you without getting you killed.” I looked at Trace Newsome. “Trace, get your men and ride out of here. And you said you had a buddy who worked for Ridenour. Tell him to do the same.”
Trace stared at me a moment, then nodded. He looked across the line. “Harry, how about it? This isn’t worth it.”
Ridenour’s foreman, Harry Cumber, considered a moment, then nodded. “No, it’s not. Mr. Ridenour, sorry, but that fellow had a good suggestion. You and Mr. Barker divide the land. We’ll fence it and you and he can pay for any extra grazing rights. There’s no reason this should be a killing matter.” He motioned to his men. “Come on, boys, let’s go home.”
Ridenour was about to explode. “Cumber! If you ride out of here, you just keep on riding because you won’t have a job! The rest of you men stay here! That’s an order!”
“Stay here and get killed?” one of his men responded. “No, thank you, Mr. Ridenour. We’ll stop at the ranch and you can give us our time and we’ll ride on. You ain’t worth dying for.”
Trace spoke to his cowboys. “Come on, fellows, let’s go. Mr. Barker?” he said, looking at his boss. The question was obvious—keep riding?
Barker was looking at me. “Go on home, Trace. We’ll talk about it when I get back.” He spoke to Ridenour. “Giles, come to my ranch tomorrow night and we’ll hammer out an agreement.”
But Ridenour was beyond reason. “NO!” And he went for his gun.
Everybody froze. He never got a shot away.
I fired the rifle again and put a bullet into his shoulder. He screamed and fell back, writhing on the ground. The Fraud started to draw his pistol, obviously intending to shoot Ridenour. That probably would have started the free-for-all that cooler heads had been trying to avoid. And it was no doubt something “Landers” wanted. More blood. More notches on his gun. He had no doubt he’d come out of it alive.
“Don’t do it, fellow,” I said, and put a bullet about six inches in front of his left boot.
He stopped. Slowly, he turned and faced me. “Who are you?” he said.
I was really getting tired of being asked that question. But if there were 40 pairs of eyes on that mesa, then all 40 were on me. I could see in my peripheral vision that Caroline was staring at me, wide-eyed…
Caroline actually looked at the man she knew as Hannibal Landers first and saw the blood lust in his eyes. Then she indeed started staring at the man she knew as Frank Pierce. And she—and everybody else—wanted the answer to “Landers” question. Yes, who are you? You just single-handedly stopped many good men from getting killed and probably saved my father’s life. Watch out for Landers. He wants to kill you…be careful, Frank…don’t let him…please don’t let him…
I sighed. I guess I couldn’t keep up the charade any longer. And I couldn’t let that killer keep using my name. Slowly, I set the rifle aside, but made no threatening move. I looked straight at The Fraud.
I didn't answer his question. Instead, I said to him, “I don’t know who you are, buddy, but I know who you’re not.”
He sneered. “And who am I not?”
“You're not Hannibal Landers.”
His eyes narrowed. “Oh? And what makes you think that?”
“Because I…am Hannibal Landers.”
Caroline gasped, staggered, and put her hand to her throat. No! Please no! You aren’t…you can’t be…not you. Oh, please say it’s not true…Please…
The jig was up as far as The Fraud was concerned. His masquerade was over and the only way he could continue to play the role of Hannibal Landers was to kill the man who had challenged him and say the fellow was lying. So he did exactly what I expected—he went for his gun.
He never got it into play, but went to his Maker with a bullet between his eyes.
I sighed, holstered my gun, and glanced at Caroline. She was still staring at me, horror in her eyes, and had backed up a step or two. “You…you can’t be…Hannibal Landers,” she said, barely above a whisper. “He was….”, meaning The Fraud.
Even Giles Ridenour had watched the play. He was now on his feet, holding his right shoulder. Again, 40 pair of eyes were looking at me. Art Barker, his face a mask of granite, came slowly walking in my direction. His men followed, and then Ridenour’s men headed over, too. This was way too good to leave in the middle of.
They all stopped in a semi-circle around me, but keeping their distance. “Are you really Hannibal Landers?” Barker asked me.
I gave him a wry smile. “Yeah. You can pay me what you were going to pay him.”
“What you did is worth it, mister, and a whole lot more.” Then he motioned with his thumb. “But then, who was that joker?”
"I haven’t the foggiest. Somebody who’s been running around the west killing people in my name.”
Caroline spoke, those hypnotic green eyes still as wide as she could get them. “Then…you’re not Frank Pierce?”
I gave her a half smile and said, “No. Franklin Pierce was President about 30 years ago.”
She continued. “But…you’re a murderer…”
I turned to her. “You didn’t hear what I said, Caroline. That man—“ pointing towards The Fraud—“has been going all over this country, claiming to be me, and killing people in my name. Why, I have no idea. I would have liked to have asked him, but he didn’t give me the chance. All I know is I never killed any of those people he claimed to have shot.” Then, I hesitated. “Well, I did kill Davey Gordon, but he drew on me first.”
“That was you?” somebody asked.
“That little snot nose was asking for it.”
Caroline wasn’t convinced, I guess. “But…but…New Mexico…”
I told her—and everybody else—the story. About Pa and Ma. And Arn Cooper. And…well, the whole story. “So, yeah, I left a few dead bodies down there.” I looked at Art Barker. “What would you have done if you had been me, Mr. Barker?”
He nodded. “The same thing you did, son. Totally justified. Giles?” He looked at Ridenour, who was still holding his shoulder and grimacing, but he had stuck a handkerchief against the wound to stem the bleeding.
“Yeah. No doubt about it.” Then he grunted a chuckled, and grimaced again. “And I reckon he would have been justified in drilling you and me, too, Art.”
I smiled at him. “I might oblige you yet, Mr. Ridenour, if you don’t take Mr. Barker’s offer up of a meeting tomorrow night at his ranch house.”
Ridenour sighed and lowered his head. “Yes. That’s the way to solve it. I’m sorry, Art, I lost my head. We can get this settled peaceable.”
Barker nodded. “I’m sorry, too, Giles. We both sat and stewed when we should have gotten together and settled it. You come on over and we’ll take care of it.” He held out his right hand, then realized Ridenour couldn’t move well because of the shoulder. “We’ll pretend we shook on it,”
Ridenour said, “My word’s good. I know yours is, too.” He looked at me. “You want a job, Mr. Landers? I heard you’re pretty good with horses.”
“Sorry, Giles, he’s already got an offer from me,” Barker said with a smile. He looked at me. “How about it?”
I threw a quick glance at Caroline. She was still staring at me, but the horror was out of her eyes. All I could see was…well, I didn’t know what I saw. “I don’t know, Mr. Barker. The sheriff wants me out of the area because he’s afraid every two-bit gun hustler will wander into Pine Valley now wanting to take me on. I told him I’d leave.”
Another quick glimpse at Caroline. Her eyes were down, not looking at me.
“You could keep the name Frank Pierce. That’s what we all knew you by anyway.”
I shook my head. “You’re forgetting the Ramsey brothers, Mr. Barker. It’s Frank Pierce any yahoo who thinks he’s fast with a gun will be aiming for. And besides, my name is Hannibal Landers. That’s the name my pa and ma gave me and I’d really like to use it again.” Then I sighed. “I don’t really see much chance of that, though. That name is marked for sure. I came up here hoping nobody would have heard of me. I guess I’ll have to go all the way to the North Pole for that.”
Barker was examining me critically, rubbing his chin. “But if things were different, would you go to work for me?” He gave a half smile. “Or Giles, if he outbid me.”
“Mr. Barker, I’d like to find my own spread. I’ve got the money. 30 a month and beans is not really what I want. From what I hear, you and Mr. Ridenour have got this valley pretty well sewed up. I’ll just move on north and see if anything is available up there.” Another side glance at Caroline. She was still examining the ground. Looking for bugs, I guess…
So, he’s not really a murderer after all…But does that change how I feel about him?…What DO I feel about him?…What does he feel about me? He’s never given me any clue…Caroline was afraid to look at him, afraid of what she might see, but not really sure what she did want to see. I guess he’s going to leave anyway…
Barker and I were still talking. “How much land do you want?” he asked me.
“How much will $15,000 buy me up here?”
“Depends on the grass, water, and how big a herd you start out with. A couple of sections, probably. Farther north, maybe a little more…”
Caroline looked sharply at her father. It sounds like he thinks Fra—Hannibal ought to go north, too. If he goes, I’ll never see him again…
The same thought sped fleetingly through my mind. If I leave, I’ll never see Caroline again. But then, will that bother her? She’s not going to marry Billy Williams, but that doesn’t mean she’ll marry me. And if some gun hound dry gulches me… “Yeah,” I said, with some reluctance, “I guess it would be better if I moved on.” Another quick glance at Caroline. More ground studying…
Barker was still looking at me intently. “Before you do, let’s talk. Come to my ranch house tonight. I’ve got an idea.”
“I don’t know what you can do, Mr. Barker, but I can do that.” A small smile. “I heard a rumor somewhere that Caroline is a pretty good cook. Wouldn’t mind have a home cooked meal, I can’t remember the last time I had one.”
Barker smiled. “She’s the best, and I’ll have her put on a feast.” Caroline was looking at me now. What do I see in her eyes? Hope? Fear? Trying to read a woman’s eyes was worse than trying to read Greek upside down in a dark attic at midnight…
What do I see in his eyes? Tenderness? Hesitancy? I’ve never been able to read his eyes…except I don’t see danger any more…
The meeting broke up. Ridenour needed to get his wound taken care of, though the bullet passed clean through and it shouldn’t be much of a problem for him. He again said he would meet Art Barker at the latter’s ranch house the next night. Hopefully, that end of the story would come out happy.
But I still didn’t know what Barker could do to keep Hannibal Landers in Pine Valley…
I was going to ride Raven out of town and have Diablo trail us. As I was saddling the big black, I heard somebody call my name. I glanced up and saw Trace Newsome.
“You leaving town?” he asked me.
“Yeah. Nothing more for me here.”
“Well, wish you’d stay and take a job with Mr. Barker. I got a feeling you’d make a good hand.”
“Or a dead one, given what I hear is happening in this valley.” I was tightening the cinch as I was talking to him. Then I turned and looked at him. “Can’t do it, Trace.” I shook my head. “I just can’t do it.” And I knew why.
Caroline Barker. Or Caroline Williams, as she will be this time next week.
“Well, that’s your choice,” I heard Newsome say. “Just in case you’re interested, Hannibal Landers and Benny Freitus are going to meet tomorrow at high noon at Black Rock Mesa.”
I looked at him sharply, but then said, “Why would I be interested in that?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know, but something tells me that you would.”
Yeah. I was very interested in that, but I didn’t want to show it. “What’s the deal? They going to have a winner-take-all shoot out? If Freitus wins, Ridenour gets the valley? If Landers, then Barker gets it?”
Newsome shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve been talking to Harry Cumber, though—he’s Ridenour’s foreman and a good friend of mine—and he’s telling me that he and his boys don’t want this any more than we do.” He exhaled audibly through his nose. “Frank, this is just a dispute, albeit a heated one, between Barker and Ridenour. None of the rest of us want a war.”
“Then put Barker and Ridenour in a ring and let them fight it out.”
He grunted. “We’d like to do that.”
I looked at him. “Trace, are you going to fight if it comes to it?”
He looked away, and I could see the doubt in his face. He shook his head. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.” Then he turned back to me. “But I’d really like for you to be at Black Rock tomorrow. I don’t know what you can do, but I’d appreciate it if you’d show.”
Well, why not? It’s not like I had an appointment to be any place any time soon. I nodded. “Tell me where it is and I’ll be there.”
He gave me directions. “Thanks. For some reason, I don’t know what it is, but I’ll feel better knowing you are there.”
I just waved him good-bye.
With a sigh, I started removing the saddle from Raven’s back. If I was going to stay in the area one more day, I was going to sleep in a nice bed, whether Miller liked it or not.
The sun was shining brightly under a clear, blue sky the next day. Black Rock Mesa wasn’t hard to find. It was about 10 miles northwest of town. It wasn’t really a mesa, at least not the kind I was used to in New Mexico. This thing was more of a bump in the ground out in the middle of a grassy plain, though there were some boulders scattered haphazardly around that for all the world looked like God had just dropped them out of heaven and let them lie where they fell. The mountains weren’t far away, of course, but this was still part of Pine Valley. I didn’t see a black rock anywhere.
I arrived about a quarter of noon, and there were already a number of people there. I recognized Art Barker and his men; there were about 20 of them—and “Hannibal Landers” was with them, of course. Across the mesa, maybe 100 yards away was another group of men—Ridenour and his boys, I suspected. And there appeared to be about 20 men there, too. I didn’t know Benny Freitus by sight, but I figured he was somewhere around.
And yes, Caroline was there as well. She and I looked at each other for a moment, but neither of us made any acknowledgment of the other. I glanced around for Billy Williams, but I didn’t see him.
Caroline was taken aback somewhat when she saw Frank Pierce ride up. I didn’t know he was going to be here. I thought he was leaving town. She thought about going over and asking him about it, but when their eyes met, he didn’t give her any encouragement and he certainly made no move in her direction. As she usually did when she saw him, she started examining her feelings and trying to decide what they were. And coming to no fixed conclusions. I don’t know what I think about him. He’s…different…warm, but…aloof. She tried to put him out of her mind for she had great angst at what might happen on Black Rock Mesa in just a little while…
I didn’t go over and join the Barker group, but stayed a good distance away, leaning against a boulder. I saw Art Barker talking to The Fraud; Barker saw me and nodded briefly, but that was all. Trace Newsome spotted me and came over.
“Glad you came,” he said.
“What’s happening?” I asked him.
Trace sighed and shook his head, looking in the direction of Ridenour and his men. “Ridenour keeps staring at us, but it’s kinda hard to read his face from this far. That fellow standing next to him with the red bandana around his neck is Benny Freitus. He’s no pussycat, but Landers is confident he can take him.” Newsome shifted his gaze back to me. “They are going to have at it and then…” He shook his head again.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Be ready for anything.”
“Trace, I’m not shooting at anybody who doesn’t shoot at me first. If you men want to kill each other, that’s your business. Don’t expect any help from me. I’m sorry, but this is not my war, and I’m not rightly sure what I’m even doing here.”
He nodded. “I understand. I’m not asking you to get involved.” He paused a moment, scrutinizing me closely. “But what are you going to do if the shooting starts?”
I looked away, squinting in the sun, and sighed. “I may just kill all of you and ride away.”
He chuckled slightly. “Well, we’d probably deserve it.”
I glanced at the Bar GR group, and nodded in their direction. “Looks like the party is fixing to start.”
Ridenour and his men were walking towards the Rocking AT bunch. Ridenour’s men had spread out in a line and were following their boss and their gunman. Barker’s men were slowly doing likewise, a line of 20 or so men behind Art Barker and The Fraud.
"I reckon I better go join ‘em,” Trace said.
“Good luck,” I responded, wondering why all this had to happen.
I heard Art speak to Caroline. “You go over and stand next to Pierce, out of the line of fire.”
I glanced quickly at Caroline. She started to say something, hesitated, then came towards me. She was the only one who saw me pull my two-gun belt from my saddle bags and buckle it on. Then I slid my rifle from its sheath and made sure it was loaded.
“What are you doing?” she asked me as she came up.
“If anybody shoots in my direction, I intend to shoot back.” I looked at her. “You have any objection to that?”
She searched my eyes. I wished she’d quit doing that. “No,” she replied, then turned and watched Ridenour’s approaching men. “What are you doing here?” she asked me.
“Trace Newsome asked me to come. I have no idea why except maybe he wanted me to bury him when it was all over.”
“Frank, don’t say that.”
“Caroline, this could get very ugly, very quickly. If they start shooting, you get on the other side of this boulder behind us, and if you don’t do it quickly enough, I’ll throw you over it.” She looked at me. I gave her a wry grin. “Billy Williams would never forgive me if I let you get killed.”
She shifted her gaze back to the middle of the mesa and wrapped her arms around herself as if she were cold. It was a warm day, but I saw her shiver. She spoke softly, “Frank, I’m not going to marry Billy.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Does he know it yet?”
“No.”
I started to say something, but it wasn’t any of my concern. Besides, the two groups of men had stopped and were now facing each other. Interestingly, they were about equidistant from Caroline and me, about 25 yards apart. The two owners and their gunmen were about 10 yards in front of their men.
Barker spoke first. “Giles, we can call this a draw and go home.”
Ridenour shook his head. “This valley isn’t big enough for both of us any more, Art, and you know it. I’m not about to give up what I’ve worked and sweated for the past 25 years. You’ve been overgrazing and your beef will be eatin’ on my grass before the end of summer. I can’t let that happen.”
Barker shook his head, and I could tell he was angry. “Ridenour, you are the one who has been overgrazing and you know it. There just isn’t enough grass in the valley for the size herd you’re trying to manage. Not with my herd as well.”
“I’m not the one overgrazing, Barker.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
Well, it looked to me like a classic “I said--you said--no, I didn’t--yes, you did” stalemate. “So what’s going to happen?” I whispered to Caroline.
She shivered again. “I don’t know.” I'm not sure why I thought she would.
Ridenour spoke. “After Benny here takes care of your man, I’ll give you a chance. I’ll even buy you out, Art, and you can leave the valley.”
“With my tail tucked between my legs. No, thanks. And if Landers kills Freitus?…”
Freitus snickered at that. “Fat chance,” he said, sneering at “Landers,” who gave no appearance of even noticing.
“On the off chance that happens,” Ridenour replied, “We’ll go from there.”
Barker started to say something, then stopped. With a sigh, he just turned and waved. “Ok. You two go at it.”
The Fraud smiled and he and Freitus approached each other. Both groups of cowboys spread out a bit so as not to be right behind either gunman. Nobody wanted to get hit by a stray bullet, though that was a possibility regardless.
“Landers,” Freitus said, “I’ve heard of you, of course. You’ve been all over the west dry-gulching anybody you don’t like. Never been man enough to stand up to anybody. Well, you’re going to meet me face-to-face and that will be the end of it.”
“Never dry-gulched anybody, Benny,” The Fraud said. “And I’ve downed a lot better men than you. I’ll give you a chance, if you want to ride on out of here. You’ll at least live to see tomorrow…”
Yack yack yack. These two toughs were shooting their mouths off before their shot their guns. It was pretty typical, designed to relieve tension and maybe catch the other guy off guard. Or make him mad enough so he couldn’t shoot straight. You look for any advantage when you’re staring death in the face. “Who’s going to win?” Caroline whispered to me, not taking her eyes off the scene being played out in front of her.
“The guy who shoots the straightest,” I said back. “And I have no idea who that might be.” Though I had a hunch….
Which turned out to be true. While Freitus was jawing, thinking he had The Fraud distracted, he went for his gun. But “Landers” was an old hat at this, apparently, and moved with lightening speed. Freitus got a shot off, but it landed in the dirt about 20 feet in front of his opponent. The Fraud put two bullets into Freitus, the first in his gut, the second in his heart. Benny Freitus toppled to the ground, dead.
I heard Caroline breathe out. I looked at Ridenour. He was staring, his face hard, at his dead gunslick. “Landers” was smirking, his gaze traveling back and forth over the Bar GR men. “Anybody else want a piece of that?” He looked at Ridenour. “You should have known better. Freitus wasn’t in my league. I’ve outdrawn Phil Parker, Evan Gurney, Kip Mangold, Tom McDonald…”
“Davey Gordon,” I put in.
He shot me a glance, a bit mystified. “Yeah. Davey Gordon…” I couldn’t help but smile. Caroline was looking at me. She was puzzled, too.
“Was that you that got Gordon?” somebody from the Bar GR asked. “I heard it was some guy named Jackson.”
“Don’t know how that rumor got started,” The Fraud said. “It was me, sure enough. Now, I suggest you boys pack up and go home or there’s going to be a mite of you not go anywhere but under six feet of dirt.”
Ridenour was turning red. “You can’t kill all of us, Landers. I’ve got some pretty mean guns behind me.” He looked at Barker. “You ready to start a war, Barker?”
"No, Giles, I’m not. If you want a war, you’ll have to start it.”
I heard Caroline groan, “Please, no,” she whispered. Ridenour was livid. He made a motion with his hand and his men began to come together behind him. As if on cue, Barker’s men did the same thing behind their boss. Those 40 idiots were going to stand there and blow each other to kingdom come.
They started walking towards each other…
Then a rifle exploded, twice….
Everybody looked at me, stunned. I had put a bullet two feet in front of Art Barker and another two feet in front of Giles Ridenour, which, of course stopped the forward progress of all concerned. “I’ll kill the first man who draws a gun,” I said. “And the second…and the third…”
“And just who might you be? And what concern is it of yours?” That was Ridenour, who had never seen me before.
I shrugged. “As to my concern in the matter, frankly, I don’t really have any. Except that somebody here has got to show some common sense. And 40 men blazing away at each other is the height of universal stupidity. Why don’t you two men just decide what land belongs to whom and put a fence on the border? And then, if one of you needs some extra grazing, pay the other for it. Ridenour, Barker, do you two hate each other so much…that you’ll take a number of good men to your graves with you?” I looked at the Rocking AT men and then at the Bar GR men, and shook my head in disgust. “Do you meatheads really want to die because of two men who have come to hate each other so much that this is nothing more than a personal vendetta between them?”
“We ride for the brand, mister,” one of Ridenour’s men said.
“Does that mean you're dumb enough to die for it? There’s a lot of good brands around that will be happy to pay you without getting you killed.” I looked at Trace Newsome. “Trace, get your men and ride out of here. And you said you had a buddy who worked for Ridenour. Tell him to do the same.”
Trace stared at me a moment, then nodded. He looked across the line. “Harry, how about it? This isn’t worth it.”
Ridenour’s foreman, Harry Cumber, considered a moment, then nodded. “No, it’s not. Mr. Ridenour, sorry, but that fellow had a good suggestion. You and Mr. Barker divide the land. We’ll fence it and you and he can pay for any extra grazing rights. There’s no reason this should be a killing matter.” He motioned to his men. “Come on, boys, let’s go home.”
Ridenour was about to explode. “Cumber! If you ride out of here, you just keep on riding because you won’t have a job! The rest of you men stay here! That’s an order!”
“Stay here and get killed?” one of his men responded. “No, thank you, Mr. Ridenour. We’ll stop at the ranch and you can give us our time and we’ll ride on. You ain’t worth dying for.”
Trace spoke to his cowboys. “Come on, fellows, let’s go. Mr. Barker?” he said, looking at his boss. The question was obvious—keep riding?
Barker was looking at me. “Go on home, Trace. We’ll talk about it when I get back.” He spoke to Ridenour. “Giles, come to my ranch tomorrow night and we’ll hammer out an agreement.”
But Ridenour was beyond reason. “NO!” And he went for his gun.
Everybody froze. He never got a shot away.
I fired the rifle again and put a bullet into his shoulder. He screamed and fell back, writhing on the ground. The Fraud started to draw his pistol, obviously intending to shoot Ridenour. That probably would have started the free-for-all that cooler heads had been trying to avoid. And it was no doubt something “Landers” wanted. More blood. More notches on his gun. He had no doubt he’d come out of it alive.
“Don’t do it, fellow,” I said, and put a bullet about six inches in front of his left boot.
He stopped. Slowly, he turned and faced me. “Who are you?” he said.
I was really getting tired of being asked that question. But if there were 40 pairs of eyes on that mesa, then all 40 were on me. I could see in my peripheral vision that Caroline was staring at me, wide-eyed…
Caroline actually looked at the man she knew as Hannibal Landers first and saw the blood lust in his eyes. Then she indeed started staring at the man she knew as Frank Pierce. And she—and everybody else—wanted the answer to “Landers” question. Yes, who are you? You just single-handedly stopped many good men from getting killed and probably saved my father’s life. Watch out for Landers. He wants to kill you…be careful, Frank…don’t let him…please don’t let him…
I sighed. I guess I couldn’t keep up the charade any longer. And I couldn’t let that killer keep using my name. Slowly, I set the rifle aside, but made no threatening move. I looked straight at The Fraud.
I didn't answer his question. Instead, I said to him, “I don’t know who you are, buddy, but I know who you’re not.”
He sneered. “And who am I not?”
“You're not Hannibal Landers.”
His eyes narrowed. “Oh? And what makes you think that?”
“Because I…am Hannibal Landers.”
Caroline gasped, staggered, and put her hand to her throat. No! Please no! You aren’t…you can’t be…not you. Oh, please say it’s not true…Please…
The jig was up as far as The Fraud was concerned. His masquerade was over and the only way he could continue to play the role of Hannibal Landers was to kill the man who had challenged him and say the fellow was lying. So he did exactly what I expected—he went for his gun.
He never got it into play, but went to his Maker with a bullet between his eyes.
I sighed, holstered my gun, and glanced at Caroline. She was still staring at me, horror in her eyes, and had backed up a step or two. “You…you can’t be…Hannibal Landers,” she said, barely above a whisper. “He was….”, meaning The Fraud.
Even Giles Ridenour had watched the play. He was now on his feet, holding his right shoulder. Again, 40 pair of eyes were looking at me. Art Barker, his face a mask of granite, came slowly walking in my direction. His men followed, and then Ridenour’s men headed over, too. This was way too good to leave in the middle of.
They all stopped in a semi-circle around me, but keeping their distance. “Are you really Hannibal Landers?” Barker asked me.
I gave him a wry smile. “Yeah. You can pay me what you were going to pay him.”
“What you did is worth it, mister, and a whole lot more.” Then he motioned with his thumb. “But then, who was that joker?”
"I haven’t the foggiest. Somebody who’s been running around the west killing people in my name.”
Caroline spoke, those hypnotic green eyes still as wide as she could get them. “Then…you’re not Frank Pierce?”
I gave her a half smile and said, “No. Franklin Pierce was President about 30 years ago.”
She continued. “But…you’re a murderer…”
I turned to her. “You didn’t hear what I said, Caroline. That man—“ pointing towards The Fraud—“has been going all over this country, claiming to be me, and killing people in my name. Why, I have no idea. I would have liked to have asked him, but he didn’t give me the chance. All I know is I never killed any of those people he claimed to have shot.” Then, I hesitated. “Well, I did kill Davey Gordon, but he drew on me first.”
“That was you?” somebody asked.
“That little snot nose was asking for it.”
Caroline wasn’t convinced, I guess. “But…but…New Mexico…”
I told her—and everybody else—the story. About Pa and Ma. And Arn Cooper. And…well, the whole story. “So, yeah, I left a few dead bodies down there.” I looked at Art Barker. “What would you have done if you had been me, Mr. Barker?”
He nodded. “The same thing you did, son. Totally justified. Giles?” He looked at Ridenour, who was still holding his shoulder and grimacing, but he had stuck a handkerchief against the wound to stem the bleeding.
“Yeah. No doubt about it.” Then he grunted a chuckled, and grimaced again. “And I reckon he would have been justified in drilling you and me, too, Art.”
I smiled at him. “I might oblige you yet, Mr. Ridenour, if you don’t take Mr. Barker’s offer up of a meeting tomorrow night at his ranch house.”
Ridenour sighed and lowered his head. “Yes. That’s the way to solve it. I’m sorry, Art, I lost my head. We can get this settled peaceable.”
Barker nodded. “I’m sorry, too, Giles. We both sat and stewed when we should have gotten together and settled it. You come on over and we’ll take care of it.” He held out his right hand, then realized Ridenour couldn’t move well because of the shoulder. “We’ll pretend we shook on it,”
Ridenour said, “My word’s good. I know yours is, too.” He looked at me. “You want a job, Mr. Landers? I heard you’re pretty good with horses.”
“Sorry, Giles, he’s already got an offer from me,” Barker said with a smile. He looked at me. “How about it?”
I threw a quick glance at Caroline. She was still staring at me, but the horror was out of her eyes. All I could see was…well, I didn’t know what I saw. “I don’t know, Mr. Barker. The sheriff wants me out of the area because he’s afraid every two-bit gun hustler will wander into Pine Valley now wanting to take me on. I told him I’d leave.”
Another quick glimpse at Caroline. Her eyes were down, not looking at me.
“You could keep the name Frank Pierce. That’s what we all knew you by anyway.”
I shook my head. “You’re forgetting the Ramsey brothers, Mr. Barker. It’s Frank Pierce any yahoo who thinks he’s fast with a gun will be aiming for. And besides, my name is Hannibal Landers. That’s the name my pa and ma gave me and I’d really like to use it again.” Then I sighed. “I don’t really see much chance of that, though. That name is marked for sure. I came up here hoping nobody would have heard of me. I guess I’ll have to go all the way to the North Pole for that.”
Barker was examining me critically, rubbing his chin. “But if things were different, would you go to work for me?” He gave a half smile. “Or Giles, if he outbid me.”
“Mr. Barker, I’d like to find my own spread. I’ve got the money. 30 a month and beans is not really what I want. From what I hear, you and Mr. Ridenour have got this valley pretty well sewed up. I’ll just move on north and see if anything is available up there.” Another side glance at Caroline. She was still examining the ground. Looking for bugs, I guess…
So, he’s not really a murderer after all…But does that change how I feel about him?…What DO I feel about him?…What does he feel about me? He’s never given me any clue…Caroline was afraid to look at him, afraid of what she might see, but not really sure what she did want to see. I guess he’s going to leave anyway…
Barker and I were still talking. “How much land do you want?” he asked me.
“How much will $15,000 buy me up here?”
“Depends on the grass, water, and how big a herd you start out with. A couple of sections, probably. Farther north, maybe a little more…”
Caroline looked sharply at her father. It sounds like he thinks Fra—Hannibal ought to go north, too. If he goes, I’ll never see him again…
The same thought sped fleetingly through my mind. If I leave, I’ll never see Caroline again. But then, will that bother her? She’s not going to marry Billy Williams, but that doesn’t mean she’ll marry me. And if some gun hound dry gulches me… “Yeah,” I said, with some reluctance, “I guess it would be better if I moved on.” Another quick glance at Caroline. More ground studying…
Barker was still looking at me intently. “Before you do, let’s talk. Come to my ranch house tonight. I’ve got an idea.”
“I don’t know what you can do, Mr. Barker, but I can do that.” A small smile. “I heard a rumor somewhere that Caroline is a pretty good cook. Wouldn’t mind have a home cooked meal, I can’t remember the last time I had one.”
Barker smiled. “She’s the best, and I’ll have her put on a feast.” Caroline was looking at me now. What do I see in her eyes? Hope? Fear? Trying to read a woman’s eyes was worse than trying to read Greek upside down in a dark attic at midnight…
What do I see in his eyes? Tenderness? Hesitancy? I’ve never been able to read his eyes…except I don’t see danger any more…
The meeting broke up. Ridenour needed to get his wound taken care of, though the bullet passed clean through and it shouldn’t be much of a problem for him. He again said he would meet Art Barker at the latter’s ranch house the next night. Hopefully, that end of the story would come out happy.
But I still didn’t know what Barker could do to keep Hannibal Landers in Pine Valley…
Chapter Eight—You Can’t Be Serious
The answer was a total shock. After an excellent meal, Art and I headed for the living room for coffee. The night was chilly, so Barker had a fire going in the fireplace. It was nice. “Caroline, I want you in on this, too,” he said.
“But…I need to wash the dishes,” she said, looking back and forth between her father and me. I wondered if she was avoiding me. She hadn’t looked at me once during supper…
I did the best I could with the meal. He never even looked at me. What does father want me in the meeting for? I don’t want to be there. He won’t look at me then, either. Why doesn’t he just leave?…
”The dishes will wait,” Caroline’s father told her. “Put them in the bucket and let them soak. I’ll get Hannibal here to help you with them later.” He was smiling.
I looked at Caroline and she was looking at me. Horror in her eyes?…
He grimaced, I saw him grimace. He doesn’t want to wash the dishes with me…
I decided not to reply to Barker’s dish washing comment. But Caroline sat down on the couch next to her father. I was in an adjacent chair. This thing is comfortable…It ought to have been. Soft, brown leather… “Ok, Mr. Barker, you have an idea. I’m willing to listen.”
He turned serious. “You say you can’t stay in the valley as Frank Pierce.”
“I don’t see how. Miller wants me gone. I’ve already out-stayed my welcome with him.”
Barker waved that away. “Miller can’t run you off. You’ve done nothing wrong, but I can understand your concern about drawing the wrong kind of element into the area. But you can’t stay as Hannibal Landers, either. But you’d like to keep your name.”
“Yes, to both statements.” Caroline’s hands were in her lap. She was looking at them. She’s wearing that pretty red dress she wore the day I met her…
“Would you stay if you could keep half your name?”
“Huh?” I looked at him, totally perplexed. Caroline was giving her father the same expression.
Barker was smiling. “Well, your father and mother are dead, aren’t they?”
I simply nodded my head. A pain shot through me.
“So…” he continued, still smiling, “you’re an orphan, right?”
“Well, technically…well, yes, I guess so,” I replied, still with no idea what he was driving at.
“Any hotshot gunslinger that came up here would be looking for Frank Pierce or Hannibal Landers, wouldn’t they?”
I was getting a little tired of this. “I think we’ve already made that determination.” I saw Caroline’s eyes get huge…
Father, you can’t mean it. You can’t. That…that…you can’t…oh, that…oh, that would be…oh, that would be wonderful. Or would it? We couldn’t…but he wouldn’t really be…not really…And then Caroline burst out laughing.
Her father and I both looked at her. Her father was smiling at her. “What do you think of the idea, Caroline?”
She was smiling, brightly, the brightest smile I had ever seen on her face. “I think it’s a fantastic idea, father. I don’t know if he’ll go for it, but I think it’s wonderful.” Then a little angst came over her face. “But…what would…I mean…” She stopped.
Now I was getting really exasperated. “Will somebody please let me in on this? I haven’t the faintest idea what you two are going on about.”
Art Barker said to his daughter, “You tell him.” Still apparently torn, she nodded.
Caroline looked at me, green eyes more hypnotic than I’d ever seen them. “Well, you can’t live here as Frank Pierce, and you can’t live here as Hannibal Landers. But you could live here as Hannibal Barker…”
I was nonplussed. I still didn’t get it. Then it hit me and I half rose out of my chair. “You’d adopt me??” I said to Art Barker, with utter incredulity in my voice and obviously on my face as well.
Father and daughter laughed. “Well, it’s just a way to legally change your name. That's what I was thinking of.” Art paused, and his smile became a little whimsical. “But, you know, I’ve never had a son…”
I blinked. But what would that do with me and Caroline? She’d be my sister…I don’t want her for a sister…but only adopted…what’s the legal ramifications?…I can’t…she’d still be my sister, blood or not…
I closed my eyes, and rubbed my forehead, knowing now how I felt and what I had to say. So, very quietly, without opening my eyes, I replied, “Mr. Barker, I don’t want to be your son. I want to be your son-in-law.”
The room went absolutely silent, except for the crackling of the fire. I opened my eyes. Caroline was staring at me….
Did he say…what I think he just said? Did I hear…oh, he did…oh, what am I going to do? What am I going to say? And then, she knew…She’d always known…
Barker finally spoke up. “I have no say over that, son. You know that.”
I wouldn’t—couldn’t—look at Caroline any more. “I think I’ve answered your question, though, Mr. Barker. I can’t be your son.”
He nodded. “I think I understand that. And, frankly, I’m not surprised.” He looked from me to his daughter and started to get up. “I guess I need to leave you two alone to discuss the matter.”
“No!” Caroline said, sharply. Then, “I…don’t want you to leave, father.”
Art Barker slowly sat back down, gazing intently at his daughter. I still couldn’t look at her.
She continued speaking, softly. “I don’t want him as my brother, either…”
Now I did look at her. Our eyes met and they held for several seconds, both of us searching….
Does he really? He said he did, but does he? His eyes…what’s in his eyes?…Yes…
Now I couldn’t tear my eyes away from hers—she had me hypnotized. But, finally, I said, “Caroline…”
“Yes?”
“Will you marry me?”
A long pause. “What about your name?” She was still staring at me intently.
“My name is Hannibal Landers. And it always will be. And I’m not going to hide behind another one any longer.”
“What if some gun…gunman comes up here wanting to…try you?”
I looked at her, intently. “Can you live with that?”
Can I? Or…can I live without it?…
Art Barker coughed. It was a “get attention” cough. Caroline and I both looked at him. He had a mischievous smile on his face. “Hannibal, you never did answer a question I asked you earlier.”
“Which one?”
“Could you live with half your name?”
I wasn’t getting it again. “But I think we decided that adoption wouldn’t work.”
“And I guess I can understand you not wanting to give up your family name.”
I sighed. “Yeah. I just couldn’t do that, Mr. Barker. My name is Landers. Any sons or daughters I have…I want them to have that name, too.”
He nodded his understanding. Then he smiled. “Well, then what’s your middle name?”
I blinked at him. “Campbell. It was my mother’s maiden name.”
He appeared to be thinking. “Campbell Landers sounds like a pretty good name to me.”
I started to say something, then stopped. I had to wrap my mind around that one for a few moments. I wasn’t embarrassed about my middle name. In fact, I was proud of it. But, flabbergasted, I shook my head. “But too many people here now know me as Hannibal Landers. It would get out.”
“It’s a risk, that’s true. But who really knows? My boys, and Giles Ridenour’s. I think we could swear them all to secrecy.”
It wouldn’t work, I knew it wouldn’t. But maybe in time…I looked at Caroline. “Would you agree to being Mrs. Campbell Landers?”
She was smiling at me. “What’s the question again?”
“Will you marry me?”
She started teasing me, and I knew the answer. “Everybody is expecting me to marry Billy. I announced I would.”
I sighed, deciding to play along with her. “Well, I guess the best man won after all…”
“Yes. He did,” she replied. “And the answer to your question is…”
Actually, Billy Williams skipped town two days after our fight. He was humiliated. So, Caroline Barker didn’t marry him the next week.
She married me.
“But…I need to wash the dishes,” she said, looking back and forth between her father and me. I wondered if she was avoiding me. She hadn’t looked at me once during supper…
I did the best I could with the meal. He never even looked at me. What does father want me in the meeting for? I don’t want to be there. He won’t look at me then, either. Why doesn’t he just leave?…
”The dishes will wait,” Caroline’s father told her. “Put them in the bucket and let them soak. I’ll get Hannibal here to help you with them later.” He was smiling.
I looked at Caroline and she was looking at me. Horror in her eyes?…
He grimaced, I saw him grimace. He doesn’t want to wash the dishes with me…
I decided not to reply to Barker’s dish washing comment. But Caroline sat down on the couch next to her father. I was in an adjacent chair. This thing is comfortable…It ought to have been. Soft, brown leather… “Ok, Mr. Barker, you have an idea. I’m willing to listen.”
He turned serious. “You say you can’t stay in the valley as Frank Pierce.”
“I don’t see how. Miller wants me gone. I’ve already out-stayed my welcome with him.”
Barker waved that away. “Miller can’t run you off. You’ve done nothing wrong, but I can understand your concern about drawing the wrong kind of element into the area. But you can’t stay as Hannibal Landers, either. But you’d like to keep your name.”
“Yes, to both statements.” Caroline’s hands were in her lap. She was looking at them. She’s wearing that pretty red dress she wore the day I met her…
“Would you stay if you could keep half your name?”
“Huh?” I looked at him, totally perplexed. Caroline was giving her father the same expression.
Barker was smiling. “Well, your father and mother are dead, aren’t they?”
I simply nodded my head. A pain shot through me.
“So…” he continued, still smiling, “you’re an orphan, right?”
“Well, technically…well, yes, I guess so,” I replied, still with no idea what he was driving at.
“Any hotshot gunslinger that came up here would be looking for Frank Pierce or Hannibal Landers, wouldn’t they?”
I was getting a little tired of this. “I think we’ve already made that determination.” I saw Caroline’s eyes get huge…
Father, you can’t mean it. You can’t. That…that…you can’t…oh, that…oh, that would be…oh, that would be wonderful. Or would it? We couldn’t…but he wouldn’t really be…not really…And then Caroline burst out laughing.
Her father and I both looked at her. Her father was smiling at her. “What do you think of the idea, Caroline?”
She was smiling, brightly, the brightest smile I had ever seen on her face. “I think it’s a fantastic idea, father. I don’t know if he’ll go for it, but I think it’s wonderful.” Then a little angst came over her face. “But…what would…I mean…” She stopped.
Now I was getting really exasperated. “Will somebody please let me in on this? I haven’t the faintest idea what you two are going on about.”
Art Barker said to his daughter, “You tell him.” Still apparently torn, she nodded.
Caroline looked at me, green eyes more hypnotic than I’d ever seen them. “Well, you can’t live here as Frank Pierce, and you can’t live here as Hannibal Landers. But you could live here as Hannibal Barker…”
I was nonplussed. I still didn’t get it. Then it hit me and I half rose out of my chair. “You’d adopt me??” I said to Art Barker, with utter incredulity in my voice and obviously on my face as well.
Father and daughter laughed. “Well, it’s just a way to legally change your name. That's what I was thinking of.” Art paused, and his smile became a little whimsical. “But, you know, I’ve never had a son…”
I blinked. But what would that do with me and Caroline? She’d be my sister…I don’t want her for a sister…but only adopted…what’s the legal ramifications?…I can’t…she’d still be my sister, blood or not…
I closed my eyes, and rubbed my forehead, knowing now how I felt and what I had to say. So, very quietly, without opening my eyes, I replied, “Mr. Barker, I don’t want to be your son. I want to be your son-in-law.”
The room went absolutely silent, except for the crackling of the fire. I opened my eyes. Caroline was staring at me….
Did he say…what I think he just said? Did I hear…oh, he did…oh, what am I going to do? What am I going to say? And then, she knew…She’d always known…
Barker finally spoke up. “I have no say over that, son. You know that.”
I wouldn’t—couldn’t—look at Caroline any more. “I think I’ve answered your question, though, Mr. Barker. I can’t be your son.”
He nodded. “I think I understand that. And, frankly, I’m not surprised.” He looked from me to his daughter and started to get up. “I guess I need to leave you two alone to discuss the matter.”
“No!” Caroline said, sharply. Then, “I…don’t want you to leave, father.”
Art Barker slowly sat back down, gazing intently at his daughter. I still couldn’t look at her.
She continued speaking, softly. “I don’t want him as my brother, either…”
Now I did look at her. Our eyes met and they held for several seconds, both of us searching….
Does he really? He said he did, but does he? His eyes…what’s in his eyes?…Yes…
Now I couldn’t tear my eyes away from hers—she had me hypnotized. But, finally, I said, “Caroline…”
“Yes?”
“Will you marry me?”
A long pause. “What about your name?” She was still staring at me intently.
“My name is Hannibal Landers. And it always will be. And I’m not going to hide behind another one any longer.”
“What if some gun…gunman comes up here wanting to…try you?”
I looked at her, intently. “Can you live with that?”
Can I? Or…can I live without it?…
Art Barker coughed. It was a “get attention” cough. Caroline and I both looked at him. He had a mischievous smile on his face. “Hannibal, you never did answer a question I asked you earlier.”
“Which one?”
“Could you live with half your name?”
I wasn’t getting it again. “But I think we decided that adoption wouldn’t work.”
“And I guess I can understand you not wanting to give up your family name.”
I sighed. “Yeah. I just couldn’t do that, Mr. Barker. My name is Landers. Any sons or daughters I have…I want them to have that name, too.”
He nodded his understanding. Then he smiled. “Well, then what’s your middle name?”
I blinked at him. “Campbell. It was my mother’s maiden name.”
He appeared to be thinking. “Campbell Landers sounds like a pretty good name to me.”
I started to say something, then stopped. I had to wrap my mind around that one for a few moments. I wasn’t embarrassed about my middle name. In fact, I was proud of it. But, flabbergasted, I shook my head. “But too many people here now know me as Hannibal Landers. It would get out.”
“It’s a risk, that’s true. But who really knows? My boys, and Giles Ridenour’s. I think we could swear them all to secrecy.”
It wouldn’t work, I knew it wouldn’t. But maybe in time…I looked at Caroline. “Would you agree to being Mrs. Campbell Landers?”
She was smiling at me. “What’s the question again?”
“Will you marry me?”
She started teasing me, and I knew the answer. “Everybody is expecting me to marry Billy. I announced I would.”
I sighed, deciding to play along with her. “Well, I guess the best man won after all…”
“Yes. He did,” she replied. “And the answer to your question is…”
Actually, Billy Williams skipped town two days after our fight. He was humiliated. So, Caroline Barker didn’t marry him the next week.
She married me.
Epilogue
A few matters to tidy things up.
Giles Ridenour did come to the Barker ranch the next night. He and Art worked out land boundaries and would set their men to building fences. And…they would both file on their respected properties in order that they might own them legally. The other small ranchers who had settled in the valley would be allowed to remain, but boundaries would have to be worked out there as well.
Art Barker gave me and Caroline two sections of land and 100 cows. I started to object, intending to pay him, but he said, “It’s a wedding gift. Not much you can say about that.” No, I guess there wasn’t.
I wanted to name my first son—who arrived a little over a year later—Hannibal, Jr., but I couldn’t do that. Couldn’t have a “Hannibal Landers” in Pine Valley. There had already been two of them…So we named the kid Joshua, after my dad.
And one final thought. There was a fellow slinging a gun, about six months later, who came to Pine Valley looking for Frank Pierce.
Nobody knew where he was.
About a year later, another slick asked about Hannibal Landers.
Nope. Not there, either.
A lot of winking going on in Pine Valley those days.
Oh. And I never played poker in a saloon again, either.
Giles Ridenour did come to the Barker ranch the next night. He and Art worked out land boundaries and would set their men to building fences. And…they would both file on their respected properties in order that they might own them legally. The other small ranchers who had settled in the valley would be allowed to remain, but boundaries would have to be worked out there as well.
Art Barker gave me and Caroline two sections of land and 100 cows. I started to object, intending to pay him, but he said, “It’s a wedding gift. Not much you can say about that.” No, I guess there wasn’t.
I wanted to name my first son—who arrived a little over a year later—Hannibal, Jr., but I couldn’t do that. Couldn’t have a “Hannibal Landers” in Pine Valley. There had already been two of them…So we named the kid Joshua, after my dad.
And one final thought. There was a fellow slinging a gun, about six months later, who came to Pine Valley looking for Frank Pierce.
Nobody knew where he was.
About a year later, another slick asked about Hannibal Landers.
Nope. Not there, either.
A lot of winking going on in Pine Valley those days.
Oh. And I never played poker in a saloon again, either.
The End
Thank you, dear reader, for spending some of your valuable with Hannibal and Caroline. There are possibly some inaccuracies in the story; please forgive them, I have a full-time job and only write these stories as a hobby and thus don't always have the time to double-check all my information. I do hope you enjoyed the story despite any mistakes you might have found.
As I posted in the "Author's Note" at the front of the blog, I am currently working on a sequel to this story. It is only in the beginning stages, but hopefully I will make good time on it and have it finished in the not-so-distant future.
Mark K. Lewis
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