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Authors: J. R. Wright

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CHAPTER
FIVE

Katie
spotted the s
heriff

s
car at the rear of the hotel, its headlights directed on the barn.  She slowed
to a walk, frightened of what may be found once arriving.  At the big open
doors she saw Yancey on the ground with Deputy Striker and Preston Ames
standing over him.  But before she could scream, Yancey, his wrists clamped in
handcuffs behind his back, lifted his head from dirty straw and angrily shouted,

You
killed my horse!

Katie

s
eyes went to the white horse sprawled on the ground and looking very dead, not
twenty feet away.


Yeah,
and you shot me,

Striker lifted an arm to expose a bloody
tear in his shirt across the ribcage.  It was obviously a graze.


Any
man that would shoot a horse ought to be dead!  I

ve
had Hank since he was a colt.  He never did nothin

to you!

Yancey continued.


I
had to stop you some way,

Striker said and lifted Yancey to his
feet. 

Maybe
you

d
rather I shot you?

 
He jerked Yancey toward the car.

On
the way they all caught sight of Katie at the open doors.


You

d
best get home, Katie!

Preston Ames barked.


He
killed my horse, Katie,

Yancey said, looking disheveled without
his hat.


I
know
…”
 
She covered her mouth. 

What
were you doing here, Yance?


I
had to gather my things from the tack room,

he explained. 

How
could I go without my bedroll and rifle and
…”


Oh,
Yancey!

she said with disappointment in her tone.


Go
home, Misses Peck,

the sheriff ordered again and opened the
car

s
rear door so Striker could shove Yancey into the back seat.


I

ll
go just as soon as I

m confident that man
will be treated humanely and with a measure of dignity, Sheriff!


Well
now, Misses Peck, I don

t much give a rat

s
ass what you want,

the s
heriff
said
,
then spit a massive amount of tobacco juice on her shoes. 

He

ll
get a bunk and three squares a day, like any other killer would, till he

s
hung.  That

s all I can promise.

Appalled
and distressed, Katie stepped aside as the sheriff entered the car and it
chugged away under the heavy load.


Now
what am I going to do with that?

a voice from behind her
said and she turned to see Ralph from the hotel, this time fully dressed,
coming into the light from the barn

s
interior.  Her eyes followed his to the dead horse.


Well
…”
she said, and glanced
back to the tobacco juice on her shoes.  It seemed no one was happy with what
went on here. 

Preston Ames should be
made to
…”


Nobody
makes the sheriff do anything,

Ralph said. 

I

ll
have to pay to get it removed.

Katie

s
eyes went back to the dead horse, the saddle and Yancey

s
belongs still strapped and tied with rope to its back. 

If
you

ll
help me remove the gear,

she said,

I

ll
see to it the horse gets a decent burial.  I

m
sure Yance would want that for the animal.


What
is it with you and that Yancey Burke, Katie?


Well,
for one he

s been falsely accused of murder. 
I couldn

t
call myself a Christian if I stood by and let Preston railroad him through a
quick trial, and on to a speedy hanging, as he

s
done time and again all these years.


How
many of those do you figure were innocent?

Ralph asked and looked
down his nose at her.
 

Most
were no good drifters.


I
know none of them got a fair trial,

Katie
said. 

You
may not know this but my grandfather was a circuit judge in Tennessee for forty
years before he died, God rest his soul.  And he would never have allowed
people to be hung on the word of the law officer alone

shy of any solid evidence.  It

s just not done
that way there

and shouldn

t
here.


And
you think Yancey is innocent

is that it,
Katie?

 
He went to the dead
horse and began unstrapping the saddle.


I
know he is, Ralph.  The man I

ve grown to know
over the years is not a killer.

With
that a wave of jealousy came over Ralph Longley.  He had been trying to catch
the eye of Katie Peck ever since she first came to Blazedale back in 1912, to
no avail.  He nearly became an alcoholic
 — 
spending
so much of his time at that tavern once she took it over
 — 
before
giving up on the notion.  Now he wondered what Yancey Burke had that he didn

t:
a full head of hair, for one, came to mind.


Why
don

t
you just go, Katie?  I

ll store Yancey

s
gear

and see to it first thing in the morning his horse gets buried down along the
river, by the train trestle.  Nobody seems to care horses are dug under there.


His
name was Hank,

Katie
said and saw a blank look suddenly appear on Ralph

s
face. 

I
just thought if you were going to put up a marker, you

d
want to know the name.


It

s
a horse, Katie
…”


Well,
he

s
had it since it was a colt
…”


Hank,
it is,

Ralph said rather than
argue.


Okay,
then I

ll
go,

Katie
said. 

Just
come to the tavern when you

re done and I

ll
pay you.


I
said I

d
take care of it, Katie.


I
don

t
want to feel obligated, Ralph.  I

d
rather pay than be obliged to anyone
…”


Listen
Katie, I

m
owed plenty of favors in this town.  I

ll
get it done proper and it won

t cost me a plug
nickel.  So don

t worry your pretty
head about it, all right?


Well,
okay then,

Katie
said reluctantly. 

But at least come by
the tavern for a beer on me.


That
I

ll
do,

Ralph said cheerfully. 

Goodnight,
Katie.


Goodnight,
Ralph,

she said and walked
away.  Now for that bath and some serious thought on what she could do to get
Yancey Burke released from that jail.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER
SIX

Katie
paid a visit to the county jail first thing the following morning.  She was
escorted back to the cell area by none other than Preston Ames himself.


How
much time do I have, Sheriff?

she asked.

He
grabbed a nearby chair, slid it near the bars of Yancey

s
cell and said,

You can stay all day
for all I care, Misses Peck.  I should really frisk you for hacksaw blades,
though,

he said and smiled as best he could through the heavily furrowed face. 

No
touching allowed, so keep your hands to yourself, both of you.  I

ll
be watching through the window.

Once
the sheriff was gone she looked back to see if in fact he was watching through
the small glass in the door, and found sure enough he was.


How
are you, Yance?

she said, noticing he looked terrible. 

Are
they treating you all right?


I
guess,

he said and stood from
the iron bunk that was bolted to the floor. 

I
just feel so bad about Hank.


They

re
burying him today

down by the river

near the trestle.


Who
is?


Ralph
Longley from the hotel is getting it done.


Good. 
I was so worried they would just dump the old boy somewhere and let the
buzzards have him.  Tell Ralph thanks.  I

ll
settle with him once I get out.


I

ll
tell him,

Katie said. 

Do
you plan to hire an attorney, Yance?


I
don

t
know any.


Bryce
Herford is probably the best in town.  Would you like me to talk to him?


If
you want.  I just hate I

m stuck in here for
something I didn

t do.


I
know,

she said, looked about
the place for other prisoners, and saw none in the three remaining cells.


I
want to thank you for being my friend, Katie.  I hate to be the one hiding
behind a woman

s skirt, but I don

t
know what I

d do without you right now. 
Frankly, after what you told me last night, I

m
a little scared.


And
you have a right to be,

she said and started to reach through
the bars to comfort him, but pulled back when she remembered what Ames had
said. 

Just
be brave, okay?


What
choice do I have?

he said with a nervous chuckle.


That

s
the spirit,

she said cheerfully, even though
she didn

t
feel it. 

I

ll
go over to Mister Herford

s office now, then. 
Maybe I can see him before I need to be at work.


Thanks,
Katie.


You
bet.  I

ll
come again tomorrow morning

let you know
what he had to say.


Thanks.

 
He smiled.  This time it seemed genuine.

 

When
Katie finally got to the tavern to open for the day, there was a crowd milling
about at the door. 

Hold on!

 
She ran up and stuck
the key in the lock.


You

re
late,
Katie,

someone said.


What

s
ten minutes?  You guys must have one powerful thirst.

 
She looked about at the
large group and tried to remember when so many showed up right at noon. 

What

s
the celebration?


Well,
it

s
not every day the most despised man in the county dies.  We thought we

d
give old Clyde a proper send off,

one of them said. 

Too
bad Yancey Burke is in jail

we

d
buy him a few beers for what he done.


I

m
afraid you

re mistaken, Tom

 
Yancey didn

t kill Clyde Banyon, if that

s
what you

re
trying to say,

Katie
said as she led the way in. 

But I

d
be obliged if you guys will help me find out who did.

 
She began filling mugs
and sliding them down the bar.


Just
how are we supposed to do that, Katie?


Ask
around.  Somebody must have seen or heard something.  For every helpful bit of
information I get, there

s a beer in it for the
man that brings it.


Hey! 
You heard her!

someone
yelled and they all cheered.

An
abundance of customers, some she couldn

t
recall seeing before, continued to come throughout the day and Katie made the
same announcement several more times.

Finally
at supper hour the place thinned out somewhat and she had a chance to catch up
on washing the glasses and mugs that

d
piled up throughout the afternoon.  But then an hour later they all flowed
right back in again, and stayed until closing time.  She found it hard to have
to ask so many paying customers to leave, but she had to: it was the law. 

Lets
go, people.  We don

t want a visit from Sheriff
Ames, do we?

 
Sadly
then they all filed out
 — 
the
celebration, it seemed, was over.  But it wasn

t.

Katie
was mopping the floor when she heard loud noises coming from outside.  She didn

t
want to unlock the front door for fear a mob would flow through it.  Instead
she ran to the back with her keys, went outside and locked up behind.  She then
slipped between the buildings as she

d
done the night before and arrived at the main street.  What she heard and saw
near took her breath away.  Automobiles, wagons and saddle horses were roaming
the street up and back past the s
heriff

s
office and the passengers of them were all shouting in cadence,

FREE
YANCEY BURKE

FREE YANCEY BURKE

FREE YANCEY BURKE
…”
  There were at least a
hundred of them, with more coming from up the street, horns honking and
headlights flashing.

It
all ended a short time later, however, when the sheriff and three of his
deputies filed out to the platform in front with shotguns and began firing just
over the heads of those nearest.  This scattered the group and before long all
was disappointingly quiet again.  Sadly Katie went back to her mopping.  But it
wasn

t
over just yet.

Katie
was on her walk home when she heard them coming, engines roaring and dust
flying all the way down the main street, she saw from the alley.  Again she ran
to see what was to take place.  She got there in time to catch some of it. 
People hanging out of automobile windows and standing on running boards were
hurtling rocks and bricks and, most frightening of all, Molotov cocktails at
the sheriff

s office
 — 
which
also included the jail.  Window glass shattered and before long it appeared the
building was ablaze.


Oh
my God!

she screamed and ran
toward it.

Before
she arrived, however, the sheriff and deputies were back out with the shotguns,
once again scattering the mob.  Soon thereafter the fire was also extinguished
from within.

The
interior of the building was still plenty smoky when from it two deputies
emerged with Yancey Burke, by his arms, between them.  He was quickly loaded
into the Ford and out of town they went at a high rate of speed.

Once
they were gone Preston Ames stepped out onto the platform, looked up and down
the now quiet street.  He then settled his eyes on Katie.  She was on the
sidewalk across the street, her lantern held away from the lacy blue dress she
wore, glaring back at him.


If
I was a bettin

man, Misses Peck,

he said with volume,

my
money would go down on the side you had something to do with what happened here
tonight.


And
if I was a bettin

woman, I

d
take that bet, Sheriff,

Katie replied, turned and walked away. 

You

d
lose, Sheriff!

BOOK: The Last Buckaroo
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