Texas Iron

Chapter Twenty

When Sam and Jubal returned to Vengeance Creek they could feel that something had happened while they were gone. There were still people standing in groups along the street. When Sam and Jubal passed, people suspended their conversations to stare at them.

“What the hell happened here while we were gone?” Jubal asked.

“I don’t know,” Sam said, looking back at some of the people, “but I aim to find out. Come on. We’ll leave the horses in front of Dude’s store and find Evan.”

They rode over to Dude Miller’s general store and tied their horses to a post. As they approached the store Sam suddenly stopped short.

“That’s funny,” he said. “He closed early.” It was only three P.M., and Miller usually kept his store open at least another three hours.

“You don’t suppose he got beat up again, do you?” Jubal asked.

“We’d better check the house.”

They remounted and rode to the house. When they dismounted they didn’t bother tying off their horses. They mounted the porch and Sam found that the door was unlocked. They exchanged glances and then hurried inside.

They heard Serena crying as soon as they entered, and then saw her and Dude sitting on the sofa. Dude had his arm around Serena. Sam couldn’t see her face. If any of Burkett’s men had hurt her…

“What’s going on?” Jubal asked. “What’s happening?”

Both Miller and Serena turned to face them, and Sam was taken aback by the look of pure horror on Serena’s face.

“Serena?” he said.

All she could do was cover her open mouth with both hands and stare at him.

Sam looked around and said, “Where’s Evan?”

“Sam—” Dude Miller said, but he stopped short.

“Dude, Serena?” Sam said. “Where is Evan?”

Finally, Serena lowered her hands from her mouth and stood up.

“Oh, Sam…” she said.

“Serena?”

“Sam, oh Sam,” she said, moving toward him slowly, “he’s dead.”

“What?” Sam wasn’t sure he’d heard right—he hoped he had not heard her right. “What did you say?”

“H-he’s dead,” Serena said again, “I still can’t believe it h-happened, but h-he’s dead, Evan’s dead…”

“What happened, Serena?” Jubal demanded.

“Tell us what happened,” Sam said, his face a mask of stone.

Dude Miller rose and stood behind his daughter, his hands on her shoulders.

“It was Coffin, Sam,” Miller said. “Coffin called him out into the street.”

“And Evan went?” Sam said, in disbelief.

“He’s dead?” Jubal asked.

“He’s dead, boys,” Dude Miller said. “Coffin cut him down before Evan could even touch his gun.”

“Evan was no gunman,” Sam said coldly, “he had no business facing Coffin.”

“Sam…” Serena said.

Jubal turned to bolt from the room and Sam grabbed him.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going after Coffin!”

“No you’re not.”

“Then we’re going after him—”

“You’re stayin’ right here, Jube,” Sam said.

“Sam, he killed Evan!”

“I know,” Sam said. “I know he did, and he’s gonna pay, but you’re stayin’ here.”

“Like hell I am—” Jubal said, pulling free of Sam’s grasp. He touched his gun and said, “I’m gonna kill the son-of-a-bitch.”

He started past Sam and Sam grabbed his arm, spun him around, and hit him. Serena gasped. As Jubal started to fall Sam caught him, lifted him up and laid him on the sofa. Then he took Jubal’s gun from his holster and gave it to Dude Miller.

“Don’t give it to him when he wakes up.”

“Where are you going?” Miller asked.

“I’m gonna give Coffin and Burkett what they want,”

Sam said.

“You’re going to let them kill you, too?”

“I’m not Evan, Serena,” Sam said. “He didn’t belong out there. I do.”

“Sam—” she said, reaching for his arm, but he was already on his way to the door.

“Papa—” Her eyes and her voice beseeched her father to do something.

“Honey,” he said, shaking his head, “it’s got to be this way.”

She stared at him for a moment, then looked down at the unconscious Jubal. Lying there quietly like that, he looked like a little boy. She leaned over and touched his cheek tenderly.

“And what if Coffin kills Sam?” she asked. “Does Jubal go after him next?”

“I don’t know, honey,” Miller said, “I just don’t know.”

True to his word, Coffin was not hard for Sam McCall to find. He was sitting in a wooden chair in front of the saloon. Standing alongside him was John Burkett and two or three Burkett men.

Sam walked briskly toward the saloon, and Burkett and his men straightened up. Coffin continued to lounge in his chair, sitting with it tilted back against the wall.

“Sam—” he said as Sam mounted the boardwalk, but he got no further. Sam hooked the front of the chair with his foot and pulled. Coffin went down on his back, the chair splintering beneath him. Sam quickly bent and removed Coffin’s gun from his holster, tucking it into his own belt.

When he straightened Sam looked at John Burkett and his men and said, “Stand still and don’t interfere!”

“You took his gun,” John Burkett said. “You can’t kill him in cold blood.”

“I’ll kill the first man who touches a gun,” Sam said to them, and they all leaned away from him, holding their hands as far from their guns as possible.

Coffin had struck his head when he’d fallen and had not yet fully regained his senses. Sam leaned over, grabbed him by the shirt front and hauled him to his feet. Holding him with one hand he began to strike him with the other, vicious forehand and backhand blows that jerked the man’s head right and left. Blood began to trickle from smashed lips, and then it flowed down over the man’s chin. Still Sam McCall held him by the shirt and struck him, back and forth, until finally he was too tired to continue. He turned Coffin around and shoved him out into the street, where he fell onto his back. He was conscious, but his eyes were glazed and the lower portion of his face was a mask of crimson.

Sam went into the street after Coffin and hauled him to his feet again. Instinctively, Coffin covered up, fearful of more blows, but Sam was finished with him—for now.

“Walk!” he said, pushing the man.

“Where are you taking him?” John Burkett demanded.

“To jail.”

“For what?”

“For killin’ my brother.”

“It was a fair fight!” John Burkett called after them.

“That the way you saw it, Coffin?” Sam asked as he continued to push the man toward the jail. People who were watching sidestepped to get out of their way.

Coffin wiped his mouth on his sleeve and frowned down at the blood. He was only now beginning to understand what had happened.

“Was it a fair fight, Coffin?” Sam demanded again.

“He had a gun.”

“Sure he had a gun, but he was no gunman and you knew it. Why’d you do it, Coffin?” He slammed his palm viciously into the man’s back, staggering him. “Why’d you do it? Did you get tired of waitin’ on me? Or did Burkett tell you to do it?”

“The kid—” Coffin said through mashed lips.

“What?”

Coffin tried to speak more clearly, but his tongue had been cut against his teeth and was swelling up some.

“The kid, he paid me.”

“The kid? John Burkett?”

“That’s right—”

Sam turned quickly, just in time to see John Burkett aiming his gun at his back. He drew and fired, in fear for his life. In fear of dying the way Hickok had died. He fired by pure instinct, and the bullet sped straight and true across the street, striking John Burkett in the heart.

Sam turned back to Coffin then, who was watchinghim. The man was grinning, and Sam could see the film of blood on the man’s teeth.

“Oh, the old man’s not going to like that, Sam.” Coffin said. “You better give me my gun and let me kill you right now.”

“Keep walkin’,” Sam said. “You’re gonna hang for killin’ my brother.”

“Ha!” Coffin said. “Not in this town. Burkett owns the sheriff.”

“There’s a federal marshal due here any day,” Sam said.

“You’re gonna wait in a cell until he gets here, and then I’m gonna turn you over to him.”

“The sheriff will never go along with it.”

“If he doesn’t, I’ll kill him.”

Coffin fell silent for a moment and then said over his shoulder, “You would, wouldn’t you? And what about Burkett? He won’t let me stay in jail.”

“If he tries to get you out, I’ll kill him, too.”

“All this killing,” Coffin said, “when the one you really want is me. Come on, Sam, give me my gun and let’s get it done.”

Sam holstered his gun, spun Coffin around, and grabbed him by the shirt with both hands. He pulled Coffin real close to him so that he wouldn’t miss a word.

“No gunplay for you, my friend,” he said evenly, coldly. “You’re not gonna get off that easy. I’m gonna watch you dance at the end of a rope, Coffin, kicking and screaming until you die. I’m gonna make sure your neck doesn’t break. I’m gonna watch you strangle at the end of that rope. Whataya think of that, Mr. Gunman?”

Coffin stared into Sam McCall’s eyes and felt fear for the first time in years.

“That’s no way for a man to die, Sam,” he said, softly.

“You’re not a man,” Sam said, releasing Coffin’s shirt.

“You’re slime, Coffin, and slime dies at the end of a rope. Now…walk!”

Sheriff Kelly jumped to his feet when the door to his office slammed open. Coffin staggered through the door and Sam entered after him.

“What’s going on here?” Kelly demanded. He noticed that Sam McCall had his gun out, and this did not please him. He started to sweat profusely.

“I want this man in a cell, Sheriff!” Sam said.

“You can’t just—”

“This man killed my brother,” Sam said, cutting him off. “You know that. In fact, you might even have watched him do it.”

“I didn’t—”

“I have a federal marshal coming to town,” Sam said, although he still didn’t know if the man would ever really get there. “You’re to hold this man in a cell until he arrives.”

“Look—”

“You are not to let him out for any reason.”

“Mr. Burkett won’t—”

“If you let him out,” Sam continued, “I’ll kill you.”

Kelly’s mouth snapped shut.

“Is that clear enough for you?”

Kelly tried one last bluster.

“You c-can’t threaten an officer of the law l-like that.”

“I’m not threatenin’ you, Kelly,” Sam said. “I’m makin’ you a solemn promise. If you let him out before I tell you to, I will kill you. Do you understand?”

Kelly nodded jerkily, his voice failing him.

“Now, toss me the keys to the cells.”

Kelly opened the top drawer of his desk and groped for the keys. Finally, he yanked his eyes away from Sam’s gun long enough to find them and he tossed them over.

“Let’s go, Coffin.”

Coffin, resigned to the fact

Coffin, resigned to the fact that he would be spending a short time in jail, obeyed. He knew Burkett would have him out in no time. After all, Coffin was the only man who could stand up to Sam McCall and get Burkett’s revenge. As they reached the doorway to the cells Coffin

As they reached the doorway to the cells Coffin stopped short and said, “You’d better go and tell Lincoln Burkett that his son is dead, Sheriff.”

“What?” Kelly said. “J-John’s dead?”

“He tried to backshoot me while I was takin’ Coffin, Sheriff. There were witnesses.”

Actually, Sam had his doubts about witnesses coming forward to back him up. They would, after all, be going against Burkett if they did that. Sam had decided, though, from the moment he learned that Evan was dead, that he would be taking matters entirely into his own hands. If he had to answer to the law later, so be it.

He put Coffin in a cell, locked the door and came back out to the sheriff’s office. He holstered his gun and undid the gunbelt for a moment. Kelly watched as Sam looped the key ring through the gunbelt and then buckled it again.

“Wha—”

“I’ll hold onto the keys, Sheriff,” Sam said, “this way you won’t be tempted.”

“Look, McCall,” Kelly said, “if you killed Burkett’s son—”

“Oh, I killed him, all right. He’s still lyin’ out there in the street.”

“Oh, Jesus—” Kelly said, rushing to the window. “I’ll have to have him taken to the undertaker’s—”

“No,” Sam said, “you’ll stay right here with the prisoner.”

“But the body—”

Texas Iron “I don’t want John Burkett’s body at the undertaker’s while my brother’s body is there, Sheriff. Is that understood?” “But Mr. Burkett—”

“I don’t care about Mr. Burkett.”

“H-he’ll kill me!”

“He’ll kill you later,” Sam said. “If you don’t do as I say I’ll kill you right now. You have a choice.”

Kelly swallowed and said, “With a choice like that, I’ll take later—but who’ll tell Mr. Burkett?”

“There were some men with John Burkett,” Sam said.

“Lincoln Burkett will know about it soon enough.”

“He’ll come after you.”

Sam grinned coldly and said, “I’m countin’ on that, Sheriff.”

As Sam started to leave Kelly said, “Wait—what am I supposed to do?”

“Get your deputies to help you with Coffin. You’re gonna have to keep Burkett’s men out of here.”

“W-What?”

“They’ll want to try and break him out. It’s your duty to stop them.”

“Oh, Jesus—” Kelly said, but Sam McCall was already out the door. Sheriff Kelly fell into the chair and put his elbows on the desk and his head in his hands.

Sam went back to the Miller house and told Jubal, Dude, and Serena what he had done.

“You didn’t kill Coffin?” Jubal demanded, outraged.

There was a bruise on the right side of his jaw.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“There was no need.”

“He killed Evan.”

“I know that, Jube.”

“But you killed John Burkett.”

“He tried to backshoot me,” Sam said. “That was self-defense.”

“I don’t understand you,” Jubal said. “You had a chance to kill Coffin…unless you were afraid to face him.”

“Jubal!” Serena said.

“No, no “Jubal said, waving her protestations away, “that’s it, isn’t it? Big Sam McCall is afraid that he can’t take Coffin.”

“Open your eyes, son,” Dude Miller said. “He did take him.”

“But he didn’t kill him!”

“When the federal marshal gets here,” Sam said, “he’ll place Coffin under arrest. Coffin will give the marshal Lincoln Burkett.”

“But John Burkett paid Coffin to kill Evan,” Dude Miller said. “You said so yourself.”

“And Lincoln Burkett paid Coffin to kill me, only he didn’t get the job done.” Sam looked at Jubal and said, “Believe me, Jube, this is the way to do it. This way we’ll take them down together.”

“If you had killed Coffin we could have gone out to Burkett’s ranch and killed him, and then they’d be taken care of.”

“That ain’t the way Evan would have done it,” Sam said, “and it wouldn’t have been Pa’s way. You read Pa’s letter.”

“What letter?” Miller asked.

“We found a letter from Pa,” Sam said, “but we can talk about that later. Jube—”

Sam reached for Jubal, but the younger man pulled away and started to walk out.

“Jubal!” Sam snapped. “I need you.”

“You don’t need me,” Jubal said. “You got it all figured out by yourself.”

“Where are you goin?”

“Out.”

“Jube.” Sam crossed the room and grabbed his brother’s arm. Jubal tried to pull away but Sam held him tightly.

“Burkett’s gonna come for me, Jube, and he’s gonna try to get Coffin out of jail. The sheriff isn’t gonna hold up under this. You and I are gonna have to stand against Burkett and his men until the marshal gets here.”

“Which is when?” Jubal asked.

“I don’t know.”

“This is madness,” Serena said. “The two of you can’t hold off Burkett and all of his men.”

“There are three of us,” Dude Miller said.

“Pa!”

“Dude,” Sam said, “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Dude Miller nodded.

“What are we gonna do?” Jubal asked.

“We’re gonna occupy the jail” Sam said, “and we ain’t comin’ out until the marshal gets here. Serena?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll need you to send another telegram. We’re gonna have to make damned sure that marshal is on his way.”

Serena took a deep breath and said, “I’ll help any way I can, Sam.”

Sam thanked her and looked at Jubal.

“Jube?”

Jubal thought it over a moment, and finally said, “I’m with you.”

Sam smiled and said, “I knew you would be.”

“But if things go wrong,” Jubal said, “the first thing I’m gonna do is put a bullet in Coffin’s head. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Sam said. “I’ll even help you.”

The three men who had been standing with John Burkett had a decision to make. They could ride back to the ranchand tell Lincoln Burkett that they had let his son be killed, or they could mount up and just keep riding.

In the end they decided that their jobs were too good to just walk away from. If Burkett fired them, that would be another thing, but they couldn’t just walk away from these jobs. Besides, Burkett wouldn’t kill them. He was going to need all the men he could put his hands on to get his revenge on Sam McCall.

They knew they were going to have to work fast.

They were going to have to fortify the jail, stock it with food and water, and get it ready to withstand any and all attempts to enter it before Lincoln Burkett arrived with his men.

Luckily, Dude Miller gave them free access to his store, which had most of what they needed: canned food, blankets, sheets, coffee, and whatever else. He even had wòoden shutters, which they nailed up over the windows, leaving only space enough to shoot through.

Ed Collins at the gunsmith shop also pitched in, giving them all the ammunition they’d need for their guns and offered to stay inside with them.

“No, Mr. Collins,” Sam had told him, “I think we’ll need someone on the outside who’s on our side.”

Collins argued, but in the end he saw the wisdom of that.

They also went over to Doc Leader’s to get what they would need to tend to bullet wounds. Doc thought they were crazy, and he bitched and moaned, but he gave them what they needed.

“Don’t be expectin’ me to come over there and tend to you, though,” he told them. “I may be an old man, but I ain’t in any hurry to die.”

“Don’t you worry, Doc,” Sam said, “we’ll tend ourselves.”

They lugged all the equipment over to the sheriff’s office under the watchful eye of the whole town. The sheriff didn’t help, preferring to stay behind his desk and fret about his safety.

They were all in the office when the door opened and a well-fed, jowly, officious-looking man in his fifties stepped in.

“Mr. Mayor,” Kelly said.

Sam turned and looked at the mayor of Vengeance Creek, whom he had not yet met.

“Which of you is Sam McCall?” the mayor asked.

“I am.”

The two men locked eyes, and to Sam’s satisfaction it was the mayor who looked away first. Obviously the man was not looking forward to the conversation that was coming. He had probably been elected by the town council as spokesman.

“Mr. McCall, I am Mayor Eustace Tenderberry. Uh, we on the town council cannot…condone what you are about to do.”

“Oh? And what is it I’m about to do?”

“Well, sir, uh, you are about to turn this town into a battlefield. What’s worse, your opponent is the town’s most prominent citizen.”

“Mr. Mayor,” Sam said, “what is about to go on between Burkett and me is our business. I’m sure even he would not want you interfering in it.”

“Nevertheless,” Tenderberry said, “for the safety of our town, and of Mr. Burk—uh, I mean of all our citizens, I’m afraid we must ask you to leave. Sheriff?” the mayor said, looking at his lawman. “You will escort Mr. McCall and his brother to the town limits.”

“Mayor,” Kelly said, gaping at the man, “are you crazy?”

“Sheriff!” Mayor Tenderberry said. “Either you do your duty or I must ask you to hand over your badge.”

“Well, shit,” Kelly said, “that’s the best offer I had all day.” Hurriedly he unpinned the badge from his shirt and dropped it on the desk. On his way out he said to the Mayor, “Now you escort him to the town limits.”

The mayor watched the sheriff leave and then turned to face Sam McCall.

I’ll, uh, ask you again—” The man stopped when Sam took a few steps toward him and flinched, as if he thought Sam was going to strike him. Dude Miller and Jubal watched with interest.

“Mr. Mayor, I suggest you go to your town council and tell them you tried your best to get my brother and me to leave, but it didn’t work.”

“B-but—” the mayor stuttered, “but—we don’t have a sheriff now!”

Sam smiled humorlessly, walked to the desk, and picked up the badge.

“Now you do.”

“What—”

“Unless you want the job?” Sam held out the badge to the man.

“No, no, no—” the man said, his face flushing.

Sam pinned the badge on.

“Jube, you’re a duly sworn deputy. So are you, Dude.”

Both men nodded.

Sam turned to the mayor and said, “Mr. Mayor, my men and I will do out best to protect the town and our prisoner until the federal marshal arrives.”

“And when will that be?” the Mayor asked.

Sam turned to Serena, who had sent a telegram to Austin, Texas, where the man was supposed to be coming from.

“The reply said that the marshal had to go to Fort Worth first on an emergency. He should be here in three days.”

“There you have it,” Sam said. “In three days’ time this will all be over.”

“Three days,” the mayor said, looking dubious and shaking his head. “Three days,” he repeated, and left in a daze.

Sam looked at Serena, Dude and Jubal, and Jubal said, “Or less.”

Sam knew what he meant.

When Lincoln Burkett heard the news of his son’s death he sat very still. The three men standing in front of him, and his foreman, all stood still and stayed very quiet. This was not the reaction they had anticipated.

“And Coffin?” Burkett asked then.

“Sam McCall took him to jail,” one of the men said.

“No gunplay?”

“McCall didn’t give Coffin no chance,” the man said, explaining how McCall had jumped Coffin without giving him a chance to go for his gun.

“All right,” Burkett said, “all right. Conners, get the men together.”

“All of them, sir?”

“All of them who are willing to fight,” Burkett said.

“And those who aren’t?” Conners asked. After all, most of the men had signed on as ranch hands.

“Fire them.”

“Yes, sir.” Conners turned to the other men and said, “Get out. Pass the word.”

“Sure, boss.”

After the men left Chuck Conners looked at Burkett and asked, “Are you all right, sir?”

“I’m fine, Conners.” Burkett looked up at his foreman.

“Are you worried that you see no grief? Well, I’ll save you the worry. This is not the time to grieve, this is the time for revenge. Grief will come later. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Conners, pick one man and have him ride into town and look things over.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We won’t move until he comes back.”

“Right.”

“Get out, now,” Burkett said. “I have to think.”

Conners nodded and left.

Burkett sat behind his desk, wondering why he felt so controlled. There was no rage, or grief, there was no feeling at all. There was just the realization that there was something that had to be done.

Later he’d worry about emotions.

Right now his concern was revenge.

Once the jail was set up for their three-day—at least three-day—siege Sam turned to Dude Miller.

“All right, Dude,” he said, “Out.”

“Hey, wait.”

“Your help is appreciated up to now, Dude,” Sam said, “but from here on in it’s up to me and Jubal”

“I want to help.”

“You have, but I don’t want you to risk your life,” Sam said. He looked at Serena, and then back at her father.

“That’s something that Jubal and I have to do, Dude, not you, and not Serena.”

“Sam—”

“Pa,” Serena said. “He’s right.”

“Dude,” he said, “go home with Serena—and for God’s sake keep her away from here.”

“He doesn’t have to keep me away,” Serena said. “I’m not a child.”

“No, you’re not,” Sam said. “Dude?”

“All right, I will.”

“And keep an eye out for that marshal.”

Dude nodded.

“All right, out with both of you. From this point on, nobody in and nobody out.”

Serena walked over to Jubal and kissed him on the cheek. His face flushed. She turned and looked at Sam.

“Take care of him, all right? And of yourself.”

“We’ll take care of each other,” Sam said. “We’re the only family we have now.”

“No,” she said, “that’s not true.”

She turned and went out the door. Miller started to follow her out. He stopped before leaving, turned, and said, “Good luck.”

“Thanks”

Dude Miller walked out, and Jubal closed the door behind him. He turned to Sam and said, “We’re gonna need it.”