The Forbidden (11 page)

“Settle down, Julie. You want me to talk to them?”

“No, Frank. I want you to take me back to the house and stay with me for a time.”

“What about Phil and Katie?”

She looked at him in silence for a moment, and then walked away, toward the buggy parked at the edge of the graveyard.

“I ought to find those damn kids and beat their butts,” Frank muttered. Then he shook that thought out of his head and walked toward Julie. He caught up with her and took her arm. “They're just kids, Julie. They don't understand the finality of death or what Shelley's death has done to you. Times are changing. It's not like the way it was when we were kids. Kids are softer now. Times are so much better.”

“If you say so.”

“Maybe you should visit your sister in California, Julie. Get away for a time.”

“I don't think so. We never got along. We haven't written in years. I don't even know if she's still in California or if she's still alive.”

Frank helped her into the buggy and drove down to the livery. He tied the Ap to the rear of the buggy and headed for home.

Julie was silent and stone-faced.

Frank gave up on conversation after the first mile.

F
rank stayed with Julie the rest of the afternoon, then stayed for supper. As nightfall approached, even Frank was getting worried about the twins.

“I'd better go look for them,” he said, reaching for his hat.

“Let me change and I'll go with you,” Julie said.

“We can't take the buckboard, Julie. I'll be headed cross-country.”

“I'll change into britches and ride my horse.”

“Men's
britches?”

“Certainly.”

Frank stared at her for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. “Times sure are moving fast,” he muttered.

Julie turned to leave the room. Then both of them paused as the sounds of a galloping horse reached them. They both headed for the door, and stepped out into the waning light just as Katie reined up and almost fell out of the saddle. Frank grabbed her and steadied her, helping her to the ground.

“Phil!” the girl sobbed. “They've got him.”

“Who's got him?” Frank asked.

“Mr. Gilmar and his men. He broke away from them once and yelled for me and Donnie to run. Then one of the hands roped him. Mama, they're going to horsewhip him.”

“Why?” Julie shouted.

“One of the hands caught Phil and Betty Lou in the woods.”

“Doing what?” Julie snapped the question.

“You know,” Katie said. “Without any clothes.”

“Oh, God!” Julie whispered.

“Where are they?” Frank asked.

“Just south of the crossroads, Mr. Morgan. Where that spring bubbles up and starts the creek.”

Frank pushed the girl toward her mother. “Take care of her. I'll find Phil and bring him back.”

Phil was still tied to a tree when Frank got to the spring. He had been stripped naked and horsewhipped, his back, buttocks, and legs a maze of bloody welts and cuts. Before he was horsewhipped, somebody had beaten him savagely. Phil was unconscious.

Young Phil's horse was nearby, where he'd been ground-reined. Frank got the horse and led him over before he freed Phil and gently laid him on the ground. He found the boy's pants and got them on him, then hoisted him into the saddle and tied him there.

“Stay unconscious, boy,” Frank said. “It'll be easier on you if you do.”

Phil moaned several times on the long, slow ride back to the farm, but mercifully, he didn't wake up.

Julie met them in the yard. One look at her son and the tears started. “We don't have time for any of that,” Frank told her. “You get some blankets while I get the buckboard ready.” Frank carefully lowered Phil to the ground. He pointed a finger at Katie. “And you help your mother, young lady.”

“Yes, sir,” the girl said softly.

Frank quickly hitched up the buckboard and spread hay in the back so Phil could ride more comfortably. Then he pulled around to the front of the house and placed the young man on the hay. Julie got in back with her son.

“Get up here and take the reins,” Frank told Katie. “You take it slow and easy, girl.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, settling down on the seat. She twisted around to look at her mother. “I'm sorry, Mama,” she said. “I really am.”

“I know you are,” Julie said. “It's all right, Katie.”

“The hell it is,” Frank said as he swung into the saddle. “But we'll talk about that later. Let's go,” he ordered.

It was a quiet ride into town, with little conversation and only the occasional moan from the badly injured Phil.

The town of Heaven was just about to go dark for the night when they rolled into the main street. Frank rode ahead to alert the doctor. Within minutes, a crowd was gathering outside the doctor's office.

Doc Everett lifted the thin blanket that covered Phil and swore under his breath. “Who did this, Frank?”

“Gilmar and some of his men. They caught Phil with Betty Lou doing . . . ah . . . well, you know.”

“Wonderful. I suppose that fool Gilmar thought he could undo what had been done by beating the boy half to death.” He looked around him. “Some of you men standing around make yourselves useful and get the boy into my office. Come on, move.”

“I'll arrange for rooms at the hotel, Julie,” Frank told her. “You and Katie will need some rest and some place to freshen up.”

“Thank you, Frank.” She turned and went into the office.

Frank waited outside, on a bench on the boardwalk.

John Simmons walked up and said, “You look tired, Frank.”

Frank looked up. “I am, John. It's been a damn long day.”

“How bad is the boy?”

“Oh, I don't think he's in any danger of dying. But he'll carry the marks of the beating for a long time.”

“And many of the scars will be in his mind.”

“That's sure true.”

John Simmons walked on, leaving Frank sitting alone on the bench. The crowd gradually broke up, the men and women returning to their homes. Frank rose and walked into the doctor's office. Phil was on the examining table, the doctor working on cleaning up the numerous cuts on the boy's body.

“He'll live,” Doc Everett said, glancing up as Frank entered. “I can't find anything broken. Not physically anyway.”

“What'd you do with Julie and Katie?”

“I gave them a slug of laudanum and put them to bed in the clinic. Both of them went out quickly. Julie is emotionally exhausted.”

“For a fact she can't take much more.” He pointed toward Phil. “Is he conscious?”

“I'm awake, Mr. Morgan,” Phil said softly. “But I sure hurt.”

“I know you do, boy. Want to tell me what happened? That is, if it's all right with Dr. Everett.”

“If you feel up to it, boy,” the doc said.

“I do,” Phil said. “Me and Betty Lou let things get out of hand, I reckon. When . . . well, when we was done with it, we was layin' on the ground, holdin' each other, when all hell broke loose. Donnie and Katie was nearby. Katie screamed for us to run, but it was too late. Doc, what's the matter with my mouth? The words is comin' out funny-soundin'.”

“Your mouth is swollen, boy, and you've lost a couple of teeth. If it hurts to talk, we can stop this right now.”

“No, I want to tell it.”

“All right.”

“Anyways, Mr. Gilmar jerked Betty Lou up and threw her her clothes. Then he commenced to stompin' on me. I broke loose and run, but one of his hands put a loop on me and drug me back. Mr. Gilmar had a couple of his hands hold me while he beat me up some. Then they tied me to a tree and he used a whip on me. I disremember much of that 'cause I blacked out, it was hurtin' so bad. I remember you comin' up to me, Mr. Morgan, sort of. Then the ride into town. What happened to Betty Lou?”

“I don't know, Phil,” Frank said. “But I'm sure she's all right.”

“I bet her father put a belt to her,” Phil said.

“He probably did.”

“That's enough talk,” Doc Everett said. “I'm going to move you to a bed, Phil. You try to get some sleep.”

“I'm awful tired, Dr. Everett. Am I gonna die?”

“Don't be silly. Of course not. But you're going to hurt like the devil. I'll give you something for the pain and that will help you sleep.”

“All right, sir. Mr. Morgan?”

“Yes, Phil?”

“Will you do something for me?”

“If I can, sure.”

“Will you tell my mama I'm awful sorry for what happened, and will you try to find out what happened to Betty Lou?”

“I'll do my best.”

“All right, Phil,” Doc Everett said. “Enough talk. Let's see if you can get up and walk over to that bed in the corner. You're going to have to sleep on your stomach for a time, so get used to it.”

When Phil was in bed and the lamps turned off, Frank and the doctor stepped outside the office. Doc Everett fired up a cigar and Frank rolled a cigarette.

“You sure Julie and Katie will sleep the night through, Doc?”

Doc smiled. “Probably until the sun is up. I gave them both some tincture of opium. They'll sleep quite well.”

“All right. I think I'll head on back to my place. I'll be in first thing in the morning, and then I'm going to do some prowling around.”

“You're not going to cross the line and head for Hell, are you?”

Frank still was amused at the names of the towns. He chuckled for a few seconds. “I might, Doc. The ranchers come over here to Heaven, don't they?”

“Never alone, Frank.”

“Well, you can relax. I don't have any plans to ride to Hell.”

“Besides, if there ever was a time Julie needed you, it's now. Think about that.”

“You're right. I'll stay south of the road.”

“Good. You want a drink, Frank?”

“Not now. It's a long ride back home. I best get going.”

“I think I'll have me a toddy and then look in on Phil before I go to bed.”

“Good night, Doc.”

“Good night, Frank.”

Frank was halfway across the street when Doc called after him. He turned around.

“You're an asset to this community, Frank. And you've found a good woman and a home. I hope you stay forever.”

Frank smiled and waved. The ride back home seemed easier after that.

H
orse was well rested and ready to travel when Frank saddled him early the next morning. Frank made sure there was plenty of fresh water and food for Dog, and was in the saddle and heading for town long before dawn lightened the eastern sky. He was sitting on the boardwalk in front of the Blue Moon Cafe when the cook and waitress showed up for work and unlocked the front door. Frank was eating breakfast and working on his third cup of coffee when Doc Everett walked in.

“When you said early, you meant early, didn't you, Frank?” the doctor said, sitting down at the table with Frank.

“How is Phil?” Frank asked.

“Sore as hell. But he's talking and feeling a lot better. And before you ask about Julie, she's still asleep.”

“Katie?”

The doctor sugared his coffee and grimaced, shaking his head.

“What does that mean, Doc?”

Doc Everett took a sip of coffee and added more sugar. “It means that I think she's about three months gone.”

Frank set his coffee mug down and stared at the doctor. “If that's a joke, it isn't funny.”

“It isn't a joke and it sure as hell isn't funny.”

“Good God A'mighty!” Frank blurted out. “Katie told you?”

Everett smiled. “Let's just say I've seen a lot of pregnant women in my time, Frank.”

“First Shelley is killed; then Phil is almost beaten to death, now this. All within forty-eight hours. I don't know how much more Julie can take.”

“For a fact, she's had a lot to contend with.”

“Are you going to talk to Katie, confirm this?”

“I thought I would. Perhaps you can take Julie out for a walk when she wakes up.”

“I can do that. Sure.”

“What do you know about this Donnie Bullard?”

“Some folks like him. Personally, I think he's a snotty little spoiled piece of cow crap.”

“That's good enough for me.”

“Don't let it be. I don't like his father, and I'm not above prejudice.”

“Well, Julie doesn't like him either.”

“That's understandable.”

“Damn!” Frank whispered.

“You can't undo the pregnancy, Frank. All we can do is hope for the best for the girl.”

“You think the boy will marry her?”

“Personally, no.”

“Then the child will be a woods colt. That's a terrible thing to have hanging over someone's head.”

The doctor shrugged his shoulders and took a sip of coffee. Frank spoke no more about Katie's situation while the men finished their breakfast.

“Don't worry about Julie today, Frank,” the doctor said. “I'm going to keep her in town at least for one more day until I can send Phil home.”

“All right. I'll head on back and milk the cow for her and check on the other livestock and feed the chickens. Then I'll do some prowling. Tell her I'll be back for her and the kids tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”

“I'll do it.”

Frank bought a sackful of biscuits from the waitress for his lunch and headed out. He saw to the morning chores at Julie's and then checked on his place, played with Dog for a few minutes, and then headed for the road, the dividing line between the two warring factions.

He prowled up and down the line until midafternoon, and did not see any hands from any of the ranches. “Laying low,” Frank muttered just as he reined up and twisted in the saddle. The bullet that would have hit him squarely in the back missed him by about one inch and slammed into a tree.

Frank rolled out of the saddle, grabbed his rifle from the boot, and slapped Horse on the rump, sending the big horse trotting away. Frank knew he would not go far. Frank bellied down behind a tree, facing the direction the shot came from, and waited.

There was a wooded knoll about 150 yards away, the only good cover in the immediate area, and Frank felt sure that was where the sniper was located.

He chambered a round into his .44-40, wriggled around to the other side of the old tree, and chanced a quick look. He could see nothing that might give away the shooter's position. He could do nothing except wait.

Whoever the shooter was, and Frank felt confident it was the back-shooter Orin Mathison, he wasn't about to give away his position by throwing any chance shots in Frank's direction.

Just then a rifle barked and a spray of dirt stung Frank's face. He backed away, thinking:
Orin's got him one of those telescopes on his rifle. Has to be.

He worked his way down the slight incline, and began worming his way toward a small stand of scrub timber off to his right. He reached the timber and inched under the low branches, hoping he would not run into a big rattler seeking refuge from the sun.

There was no waiting snake, and Frank worked his way through the weeds until he had a good view of the timber where the shooter was hiding. He watched intently for a moment, and then the sniper moved, causing a flash of unnatural color to present itself.

Frank took aim and squeezed the trigger. The bullet must have come awfully close, for the shooter jumped quickly to one side. Frank put another round where he guessed the shooter would be, and that did it for the hidden gunman. No more shots came from the timber. Orin wanted no more part of this.

Frank waited for several moments, and then reset his back sights and worked his way out of the scrub timber. He located his horse, and cautiously made his way over and swung into the saddle, staying low until he had put some distance between the hill and himself. Then he made a long slow circle, coming up behind the hill and the timber. He found fresh tracks, and they were the same as the tracks he'd found several times before. There was no doubt in his mind the shooter was Orin Mathison.

Frank followed the tracks to the road and reined up. There would be another day for them to meet, he was certain of that. “Count on it, Mathison,” he said aloud. “You and me got a score to settle.”

He rode back to his place and stabled Horse, and he and Dog went into the house. Frank still had some biscuits left, and he fed those to Dog along with some jerky. Then he set about making supper for himself.

He was in bed sound asleep just after dark.

* * *

Frank awakened and lit the bedside lamp, glancing at his pocket watch. Three o'clock. He had gone to bed so early, he was well refreshed, and decided not to try to force himself back to sleep. He dressed, stoked up the stove, made a pot of coffee, and fried a half dozen slices of thick-cut bacon. He fixed a skillet of pan bread, and he and Dog had a pleasant early morning repast.

Frank decided to saddle up and do some early morning prowling; just checking on things in the south part of the connecting valleys.

He hadn't gone but a couple of miles before he began to smell dust in the air. A lot of dust, blowing in from the north. That meant a large number of either wagons or horsemen. At this time of the morning, it also meant trouble, for Frank didn't think it was wagons. He headed for the main road and town. He figured he was no more than five minutes ahead of the riders; maybe not that long.

Frank put Horse into a fast trot and hit the edge of the main street, yelling as loud as he could.

“What's going on down there?” a local hollered.

“A large group of horsemen on the way here!” Frank yelled. “I think it's trouble. Get up and get armed. I'll spread the word.”

“I'll ring the fire alarm bell!” the local told him. “You keep yelling.”

Frank rode through the town, hollering and shouting out warnings, urging the people to arm themselves.

On the ride back up the main street, Frank could see the night riders approaching, all of them carrying torches.

“They're going to try to burn the town!” Frank yelled. He jumped from the saddle, grabbed his rifle, and slapped Horse on the rump, sending him galloping into an alley—out of harm's way, Frank hoped.

The flickering, bobbing lights from the handheld torches drew closer as the first of several dozen night riders reached the north edge of town.

“They're crazy!” Lawyer Foster said, running up to Frank. He had on his britches with the galluses hanging down. Frank noticed that the man wore mismatched shoes and no socks. He was carrying a shotgun.

“Can you use that thing?” Frank asked.

“You bet I can,” Lawyer Foster replied just as one of the hooded night riders fired the first shot, the bullet breaking a front window of a shop.

Foster lifted his shotgun and gave the rider a blast of bird shot.

The distance was too great and the load too light to be a killing shot, but it drew a yelp of pain from the rider.

Frank stepped out to the edge of the boardwalk just as those riders with torches began throwing them at the stores along the main street. Frank snapped off a shot that knocked a rider from the saddle and sent him bouncing in the dirt.

“Open fire!” Frank yelled to the citizens who had gathered along the street's boardwalks. “Or lose your town!”

“Fire, damnit!” Doc Everett yelled. Then he blasted away with a double-barrel shotgun.

The locals cut loose with rifles, pistols, and shotguns, the barrage emptying half a dozen saddles.

“We lost our surprise!” a gunhand yelled, his words slightly muffled behind the hood. “Let's get the hell outta here:”

Frank was lining him up in gunsights as the last word left his mouth. Just as the hired gun wheeled his horse, Frank squeezed the trigger. The bullet hit the hooded man in the center of his back, and the man fell bonelessly from the saddle, his spinal cord severed.

The locals had reloaded their shotguns, and once again cut loose with loads ranging from bird shot to rusty nails. Several more saddles were emptied and several more hired guns got peppered with bird shot.

What was left of the bunch galloped out of town.

“You saved the town, Frank,” Doc Everett said, walking up, holding a shotgun. “We're all in your debt.”

Frank was punching out empty brass and reloading his Peacemaker. “I got lucky and smelled dust in the air, Doc. I just about didn't make it here in time.”

“Help me!” a wounded night rider called from the street. “I'm hit hard.”

Other downed riders joined in, calling for help.

“Well, I took an oath,” Doc Everett said. “I'll go see what I can do”

“I'll join you,” Frank told him. “And keep a gun on the others.”

“Good idea. Come on.”

Two of the night riders were dead, one was not long for this world, and the wounds of the others ranged from light to moderate.

“I'll send a telegram to the sheriff,” Banker Simmons said. “And another to the governor, detailing what took place here this night. Then we'll see what happens.”

“Save all the hoods for evidence,” Frank said. “We'll need them for the trial.”

Someone in the crowd laughed. “You don't really believe there'll be a trial, do you, Mr. Morgan?”

“They'll have to be if the governor gets the telegram.”

“He won't,” Doc Everett said, looking up from one of the wounded night riders. “One of his aides will intercept it and the governor will never see it.”

“There's a good place for farmers and the like about fifty miles from here,” one of the night riders who was only slightly wounded said. “Was I you folks I'd move over there.”

“We're not moving anywhere,” a local told him. “This is our home and here we intend to stay.”

“Not for long,” the night rider replied.

“How is Julie, Doc?” Frank asked, kneeling down beside the doctor.

“She's all right, Frank. And Phil is a lot better.” Doc Everett stood up. “Some of you men start carrying these”—he paused—“white trash over to that vacant building where the millinery shop used to be. We'll use that for a hospital. And decide among you who'll take turns standing guard.”

Frank walked over to the empty shop with the men and their prisoners, and then went over to the hotel to see about Julie and Katie.

Julie embraced him, holding on for a moment before pushing him away. “Phil's much better, Frank. Dr. Everett says he expects him to make a full recovery. Physically, that is.”

“I'm glad to hear that. How is Katie?”

Julie's eyes searched his face for a few seconds. “The doctor told you, didn't he?”

“About Katie, yes, he did.”

“What am I going to do?”

“We, Julie. What are we going to do?”

“You mean that, Frank?”

“Yes, I do. Well . . . we'll work it out, I reckon.”

“It's going to take a lot of working out. What do you have in mind?”

“If the Bullard boy won't marry her, and that might turn out to be a bad thing for both of them, well, sending her away. I can afford it, Julie. I may not look like it or act like it, but I am not a poor man.”

“I sensed that, Frank. I don't want her marrying that little brat. But sending her away . . . where?”

“I don't know. I'll ask Doc Everett. Maybe he'll know of someplace that takes in, ah, expecting young girls.”

“It's shameful, Frank. I can't hardly bear to look other women in the eye.”

“Don't feel that way, Julie. You didn't do nothing wrong. Besides, these things happen more often than gets talked about, you can bet on that.”

“I suppose so. Frank? I just had a terrible thought. What if Betty Lou is, well, in a family way too?”

“Let's deal with one situation at a time. Good God. Let's don't even think about that other girl.”