The Last Buckaroo (9 page)

Katie
said goodbye to the doctor, then focused on Preston behind his desk at the far
end of the room. 
“
What is it, Sheriff?
”

“
I
just wanted to say, Judge Samuels has decided to move the trial up a week.  It
will begin on Monday at nine a.m. sharp.
”

“
Oh,
I see
…
 
Judge Samuels decided,
”
Katie
said, glaring. 
“
Could it be that you
want this over because the county, for once, has found the backbone to stand up
to your outdated style of justice?
”

“
I
didn
’
t
see anybody complaining three decades and more ago when I near single handedly
took this county back from the outlaws, rustlers and cold blooded killers that
controlled it.  Judge Samuels and I were heroes back then, with our hangings
near every week.  Anyone, back then, that didn
’
t
hightail it out of here got the rope, few questions asked.
”

“
This
isn
’
t
the Old West anymore, Sheriff!
”

“
That
fact hasn
’
t changed my mind about the guilt
of your friend in there, Katie.  He
’
ll
hang for what he did like all the rest.
”

“
Well,
I wouldn
’
t
start building the gallows just yet!
”
 
She turned smartly,
lifted her dress and walked through the door.

After
picking up her keys to the tavern at the hotel, Katie went directly on to the
telephone office.  Woody Clampett would need to know the change of trial date
 — 
only
three days away now.

CHAPTER
ELEVEN

When
Katie got to the tavern just before noon, after paying a last visit to Yancey,
who was found to be sleeping still, she was surprised to see Gracie Kingsley at
the door. 
“
Gracie,
”
she greeted with a warm
smile, in light of what her husband had done.

“
Katie. 
I just came by to tell you, I
’
m wise to what
you and Lester are up to
…”

“
Oh,
and what might that be?
”

“
Well,
he didn
’
t
come home again last night and the way I figure it
…”

“
Is
he home now?
”
Katie was alarmed.

“
No. 
I haven
’
t
seen him since yesterday supper,
”
Gracie
said. 
“
It
was then he mentioned you and him shared a secret.  And he wouldn
’
t
tell me what it was.
”

“
Oh! 
Well, I guess that
’
s true.  But I
don
’
t
think it
’
s
what you think it is.  I haven
’
t seen Lester
since yesterday afternoon, here at the tavern.
”

“
So,
what
’
s
the secret?
”

“
I
can
’
t
tell you that, Gracie.
”

“
Why
not?  I
’
m
his wife.  Lester and I have never had secrets from one another, until now.
”

“
And
you shouldn
’
t,
”
Katie, having a change
of heart, assured her and unlocked the door. 
“
Come
in, Gracie.
”

Gracie
eased through the door slowly, taking in the entire place, as if the devil
himself was apt to pop from somewhere at any given moment.

“
Would
you like a beer or something?
”
Katie offered,
not expecting her to accept, and went directly to the safe under the bar.

“
Oh,
no.  I don
’
t partake in the consumption of
alcohol,
”
Gracie said, still
looking the place over. 
“
Lester does enough of
that for the both of us
…
 
It stinks of beer, spittoons and smoke
in here.
”

“
Yes,
it surely does.  That why I leave the door open most days, weather permitting.
”

Gracie
whirled her plump body around to see the shaft of light coming through it.

“
I
’
m
going to show you this, Gracie, but you must swear not to tell a soul,
”
Katie said and handed
her the papers Lester had signed.

Gracie
took it. 
“
Oh, I won
’
t. 
Cross my heart and hope to die,
”
she said and started to read. 
After all four pages, Gracie looked up. 
“
Oh,
I
’
m
so proud of him,
”
she squealed. 
“
Lester
knows about these things.  He
’
s always
observing what
’
s going on around him
…
like he
’
s
some kind of scientist or something.  The other day I saw him digging in the
yard to see how long dandelion roots are, on average.  He even measured with
that folding measuring stick he carries in the breast pocket of his overalls.
”

“
Yes. 
Well, now you know the secret, Gracie.  And please remember, it
’
s
a secret.
”

“
I
’
ll
do that for sure, Katie
…
and thanks,
”
she said, then hustled
her ample rear end toward the door.

“
Go
find Lester
…”
Katie got out before
she disappeared outside.  She thought to see where Gracie may be going with
this newfound information.  Soon outside herself, she watched her cross the
street, just as fast as her short legs could carry her, without breaking into a
run.  Then on the other side she passed up every business establishment along
the way until she came to the telephone office a block down.  There she
entered. 
Oh, God, what have I done?
Katie fretted and went back
inside. 
Oh, well, what is, is
, she made an attempt to cast off the
despair.  Nobody could change that.  She still had the papers, and they were
properly signed and witnessed.  That was all that mattered now.

It
wasn
’
t
long after that, Helmer stuck his head through the door.  She
’
d
already told him of Yancey
’
s need for soft
food.  She
’
d done that when she finally got
around to having breakfast, around ten thirty.  Now he was here to tell her
what he
’
d
decided.

“
I
thought chicken soup broth and custard pudding for lunch.  If that
’
s
okay, I
’
ll
get it over to him pronto, Katie?
”

“
No
rush.  I was just over there and he
’
s
still sleeping.
”

“
I
’
ll
give him an hour then.
”

“
Thanks,
Helmer.
”

“
You
bet,
”
he said and turned to
leave.

“
Oh,
Helmer
…”
she remembered.

“
Yes,
Katie
?
”
 
He reappeared.

“
The
trial date has been changed.  I
’
ll need Wanda to
replace me on Monday, if that
’
s all right?
”

“
Sure. 
I
’
ll
tell her.  You know Wanda, she
’
ll always jump
at the chance to be over here.  The gal is man crazy.
”

“
Well,
Helmer, you know what they say
…”

“
What
do they say, Katie?
”
 
It was a game they played often, and he
was good humored enough to go along with it.

“
It
’
s
a dirty job, but somebody
’
s got to do it.
”

Helmer
laughed, then disappeared outside again, but only for a second. 
“
Woody
Clampett is going to get Yancey off, isn
’
t
he?
”

“
Well,
if he doesn
’
t, you and I will just have to
spring him and make a run for it.
”

“
How
come I don
’
t think you
’
re
kidding, Katie?
”
Helmer said, seemingly
anxious for a response.

“‘
Cause
I
’
m
not!
”

To
that Helmer nodded solemnly and turned to leave for the final time.  Now he wondered
how much longer he would have her
…
either way.  Oh, well, if the Anti-Saloon League, pushing hard for prohibition,
got their way, his tavern wouldn
’
t
be open for business much longer anyway.

CHAPTER
TWELVE

Again
it was slim pickings at the tavern; only stragglers popped in and out
throughout the day.  But when evening rolled around the usual crowd came
through the open door in droves.  Thank goodness the beer wagon had come that
afternoon, or she
’
d be drawing from the
last keg.  Katie asked the driver to leave two extra, in addition to the eight
he usually brought.  If business continued as it had been the past few days,
she
’
d
need them before he returned the following week.  Then of course the murder
trial would bring extra people to town.  That had always been a big attraction
in Blazedale
…
that and hangings.  But there
wouldn
’
t
be one of those this time, she was certain.

About
an hour into evening a tall stout man of about forty came through the door and
marched right up to Katie at the bar. 
“
Hello,
good looking,
”
he
said, a boyish grin on his face.

“
Hello,
Bart.
”
 Katie returned the
smile.  However, she really didn
’
t
mean it.  Bart Miller had been trying to get into her bloomers for the past
five years.  And even though he was a married man, she expected him to still be
at it five years from now.  He simply refused to take her repeated rejections
as final.

“
I
bought me a car, Katie.  Now I
’
ll be able to
make it over here more often.
”

“
Well,
now that just made my day, Bart.
”
 
She looked around the
room, appearing unconcerned. 
“
What
’
ll
you have?
”

“
I
bet you missed me, Katie.  What
’
s it been, two
months since I was here last?
”

“
I
can
’
t
say as I recall.  I guess I was so busy missing you I lost track of time.  Has
it really been that long?  It seems like yesterday.
”

“
Okay,
Katie
…”
 Bart drew back, seeing
he was getting nowhere. 
“
I
’
ll
just have a beer
…
 
Do you have something in a bottle?
”

“
Berg
’
s
Lager, but it
’
s twenty cents.
”

“
What
’
s
an extra dime?
”

Katie
went to the ice room door, reached in and came back with it.  She found an
opener in a drawer and popped the cap. 
“
Enjoy!
”
 
She slid the long
necked bottle to him.

Bart
took a few gulps, then belched loudly. 
“
Damn,
that
’
s
good beer.
”

Bart
always had to be different.  The last time, it was some expensive Scotch
whisky.  He got terribly sick and had to rush out to the street to heave.

“
Katie
,
I
’
m
thinking about buying a house here
…
you know, like something for a getaway.
”

“
You
mean from your wife?
”
Katie returned smartly and went down the
bar to wait on another customer.

“
You
know what I mean!
”

Katie
cast her eyes to him and in the process caught sight of Deputy Striker making
his way through the crowded room.  He had a bandage over the gash on his head
now but that was mostly covered by his hat, down low.  The shiner, though, was
plenty visible, darker than ever now, looking a bit like raw calf
’
s
liver.

Katie
went back to Bart
, keeping her eyes on Striker all the
while. 
“
Didn
’
t
Deputy Striker haul you in once?
”

“
The
son of a bitch will never do it again,
”
he said angrily, mostly
to impress Katie, then looked around, catching sight of him as well. 
“
Fucker
better mind his own business.
”

“
Rather
tough language for a man who went willingly the last time,
”
Katie egged him on.

“
Yeah,
well I was too drunk to fight
…
 
Give me a shot, Katie.  Whiskey! 
Make it a double.
”

Katie
had the bottle in her hand before
“
double
”
came out, and her hand
skipped to the larger glass.  Sliding it over, she kept the bottle in hand,
expecting him to ask for another.  And he did, after dumping down the first
without flinching.  She gave Bart an extra measure this time.

Katie
had no idea where all this was going, but figured whatever happened would be a
plus for her
 — 
she didn
’
t
like either man.  Wanting to be away from Bart now, she went around the bar and
collected mugs for refills.  Striker was at the other end of the room,
seemingly looking at every face as he moved through.  Could he be looking for
somebody?

Moments
later Lester Kingsley came in the door.  Striker spotted him instantly and
started toward him, making his way just behind those at the bar.  Kingsley,
however, changed course and went to Katie at a table distributing drinks from a
tray filled with them.
 
“
I
have something to tell you.
”

“
Okay. 
Just give me a minute,
”
Katie said and turned back to the
table.  Unbeknownst to her, Striker had drawn his pistol and was pushing people
out of the way as he charged forward.

Out
of the corner of his eye, Bart Miller saw Striker coming up behind him.  Timing
it just right, he came around with a haymaker to Striker
’
s
jaw.  That dropped him, but on the way down his Colt revolver discharged
accidentally into the floor.  This caused immediate chaos and people scrambled
for the door.  In the midst of the commotion, Lester, having become frightened,
ducked out through the rear exit and disappeared.

By
the time Bart lifted Katie off the floor, the place was completely empty,
except for the three of them: Katie, Bart Miller and Kermit Striker, who was on
his belly out cold.

“
Oh
my God!  What did you do?
”
Katie screamed. 
“
Get
out!  Just get out, Bart!  And you best not ever come back here, if you know
what
’
s
good for you!
”

Looking
much like a fresh whipped pup, Bart deposited Striker
’
s
gun on the bar, slinked across the room and out the door.

A
few minutes later, just as Striker was coming around, people started
returning.  At first just a few, then more as time went on.  Two men helped
Striker to his feet, slapped his hat on his head, shoved his gun in the holster
and marched him across to the s
heriff
’
s
office.

Seeing
him go, Katie knew what would follow.  And she was right.  Ten minutes later
Preston Ames showed his face in the tavern.  He marched directly up to her,
slammed a fist on the bar and demanded to know what
’
d
happened to his deputy.  He then cast his steely eyes around the room in
anticipation someone would give him the answer.  But no one did
…
not even a hint.

“
Katie?
”
 
He then turned to face
her.

“
What,
Sheriff
?
”
she said just to
antagonize him.  This brought sporadic laughter that ended quickly.

“
Who
coldcocked my deputy?
”

“
Well,
Sheriff, I really didn
’
t see anything.  My
back was to him when he fired his gun.  Then there was such a commotion I was
knocked to the floor.  When I finally got my senses back Striker was on the
floor unconscious and his gun was laying on the bar down there.
”

“
Does
anybody know what prompted Deputy Striker to fire his gun?
”

Still
he got no answer.  Katie, however, said,
“
When
I first saw him he appeared to be searching for someone.  He was going from
table to table paying close attention to faces.  I just figured you sent him
with a warrant or something, Sheriff.
”

“
I
didn
’
t
send him anywhere,
”
Preston said. 
“
If
Striker was here it was of his own accord.
”

“
I
think he was looking for Lester Kingsley,
”
somebody in the room
said. 
“
As
soon as Lester entered the tavern I saw Striker pull his gun and head in his
direction.
”

This
sent chills up Katie
’
s spine.  But why would
Striker be gunning for Lester?  Because of what Lester knew about Clyde?  Why
would he care?

“
What
else do you know?
”
 
Preston went to the man.

“
Well,
I saw Bart Miller sucker punch Striker as he passed him by at the bar.
”

“
What
happened to Kingsley?
”

“
I
don
’
t
know.
”

And
it seemed nobody else did either.  Not even Katie.  But she couldn
’
t
help but feel a little guilty about what happened to Striker, not that he didn
’
t
deserve it
…
the bastard!

“
And
this Bart Miller?  Anybody know where he went?
”

“
Home,
I suppose.  I told him to leave,
”
Katie said, and this
seemed to satisfy Preston.  But he wouldn
’
t
forget
…
she knew that. 
If Bart ever returned to Blazedale, no doubt he
’
d
be arrested
…
or worse.