Mankiller, Colorado

CHAPTER 31

“Sorry I let you down,” Biscuits O’Brien said from the bed where he lay swathed in bandages, in one of the rooms in Dr. Jason Weathers’s house. “I tried to stop ’em when they busted in to take the prisoners, but I didn’t expect ’em to blow the blasted wall down.”

“Nobody did,” Bo told the sheriff with a smile. “That just shows how far Devery was prepared to go to get what he wanted.”

“Loco as a hydrophobia skunk,” Scratch said from the other side of the bed. “Don’t you worry, Biscuits. You done fine.”

“And you’re going to make a good lawman for this town,” Bo added. “The town council has already voted to keep you on.”

“With…a couple of deputies…I hope,” Biscuits said.

“Well…for now,” Bo said. “But Scratch and I came to Mankiller to look for gold. We haven’t forgotten about that.”

They said so long to Biscuits for the time being. The sheriff had been wounded in several places during the fierce gunfight at the jail, but Dr. Weathers seemed convinced that he would make a full recovery.

The Texans left the doctor’s house and headed for the café. Evening had settled down over Mankiller. The bodies had all been toted away, the badly wounded were at the doctor’s place, and the Deverys who weren’t seriously hurt had retreated to the big old house at the upper end of Main Street. Edgar Devery, who was now the leader of the family, had assured Bo and Scratch that there would be no more trouble. Jackson Devery had browbeaten many of his relatives into going along with him, and with Jackson dead, the family might be able to take its place as part of the community. Edgar had promised to do his best to see that that came about.

Bo believed him. Edgar was badly shaken up and grieved by everything that had happened, and he didn’t want it ever happening again.

Plenty of evidence of battle could still be seen in the broken windows and in the bullet holes that pocked the walls of most of the buildings. That damage could be patched up. In a few weeks, Bo thought as he and Scratch strolled through the evening, you wouldn’t be able to tell that a life-and-death struggle had taken place here.

They went into the café and found it busy as usual. Lucinda was behind the counter, pouring coffee and setting plates of food in front of the customers on the stools. Callie and Tess delivered meals to the tables. Charley was whistling in the kitchen as he cooked.

Lucinda pushed cups toward the Texans and filled them with coffee. “How’s Biscuits?” she asked.

“Doc Weathers says he’ll be all right,” Bo reported.

“You told him we want him to stay on as sheriff?”

“Yep,” Scratch said. “He made us promise to keep wearin’ these deputy badges until he gets back on his feet.”

“You’re not going back to New Mexico with Mr. Peeler?”

“Not hardly,” Scratch said. “Big John ain’t quite as bad as we thought he was, and we’re obliged to him for his help today, but we don’t hanker to work for him no more.”

“Besides,” Bo said, “we have jobs here for a while.”

“And after that?” Lucinda asked.

Bo shrugged. “Like we told Biscuits, we came here to look for gold.”

“There are other ways to find your fortune in life,” Lucinda said softly.

That was true, Bo reflected, but not necessarily in the way that Lucinda meant. For him and Scratch, their real fortune was their freedom, the ability to saddle up and ride on when the notion struck them, to answer the endless call of the frontier that always drew them to see what was over the next hill.

That call could be answered another day. Bo took a sip of the fine coffee and reminded himself that he and Scratch would need to make their rounds soon.

For now, they were still the law in Mankiller.