Texas Iron

Chapter Twenty-one

Sam made a pot of coffee and sat behind the sheriff’s desk with a cup. Jubal sat across from him. Sam began opening drawers and looking inside.

“What are you looking for?” Jubal asked.

“Ah, found ’em.”

Sam took his hand out of a drawer and tossed something at Jubal, who caught it with one hand. When he looked at it he saw that it was a deputy’s badge.

“Put it on,” Sam said.

“You know,” Jubal said, pinning it to his chest, “I can’t believe the way this has turned out. We’re the law in Vengeance Creek.”

“It is an ‘odd—twist, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think odd covers it.”

They ruminated over their coffee for a few moments and then Jubal said, “When Burkett comes after us, he’ll be breaking the law.”

“That’s right.”

“And then we’ll have him.”

“Right again, but not for murder—and we’ll only have him if we survive.”

“Hey!” Coffin called from his cell.

Jubal cocked his head at Sam, but Sam said nothing.

“How about some of that coffee?”

“Bring him a cup,” Sam said.

“All right.”

“Make him stand against the wall while you put it on the floor in front of the cell.”

Jubal looked at Sam and then nodded. He hadn’t thought of that. He took the coffee into the back.

“Smells good,” Coffin said.

“Stand against the back wall.”

“You think I’d waste good coffee—”

“Look, Coffin, I’d just as soon kill you as look at you.

Now stand against the back wall!”

Coffin obeyed, and Jubal set the coffee cup down in front of the cell. When he stood up he stared at Coffin, the man who had killed his brother. Earlier, when they had first heard about Evan’s death, he had been ready to kill this man. He couldn’t understand how Sam could not have killed him.

It would be easy to do now. Just take out his gun and fire. So easy…

“Are you going to wait until it gets cold?” Coffin asked.

Jubal looked down at the coffee and had the urge to spit into it. Instead he turned and walked stiffly back into the office.

“You’ve been a sheriff before, haven’t you?”

“Once or twice.”

“I’ve never worn a badge,” Jubal said. “It feels sort of funny.”

“The badge gets heavier and heavier the longer you wear it. Luckily we won’t be wearing them very long.”

“I don’t get it,” Jubal said suddenly, and Sam knew he was changing the subject.

“What?”

“How could you not have killed him?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said, shaking his head. He put his coffee cup down and rubbed his hand over his face. “I intended to kill him. I went there to kill him. When I saw him I just kept walking toward him, and I was thinking, ‘This is what Burkett wants.—I guess I didn’t want to give it to him…you know?”

Jubal studied his brother for a few moments, then said, “Yeah, maybe I do.”

“You want some dinner?” Sam asked.

“I am hungry. What’s on the menu?”

“Beans.”

“Sounds great.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, “don’t it.”

As Sam opened a can and set in on the potbellied stove Jubal asked, “What’s Burkett likely to do?”

“If I was him,” Sam said, “I’d send a man into town to look us over first, see how things were laid out.”

“What’s to see?” Jubal said, “We’re in here and he’s out there.”

“Well, when he knows it’s that simple he’ll come for us…unless…”

“Unless what?”

Sam turned to face his brother and said, “Unless he wants to make us sweat.”

“You think he will?”

Sam shrugged.

“If he does that it’ll work in our favor.”

“How?”

“If he waits long enough the marshal will get here,”

Sam said. “It’s not likely, though.”

“He knows about the marshal?”

“Yep,” Sam said, “smart me told him.”

“It must have seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Thanks,” Sam said. “Hey, you want these real hot?”

“It don’t matter. Warm’ll do.”

Sam used the coffee cups to hold the beans and handed Jubal a cup and a fork.

“What about him?” Jubal asked.

Sam sat behind the desk and said, “If there’s any left…”

Later they set up the sleeping arrangements, four hours on and four off. They decided to play some checkers before one of them went to sleep. The board was a contribution of Dude Miller’s.

Over the board Jubal said, “I just thought of something.”

Over the board Jubal said, “I just thought of something.” “Tell me.”

“The marshall’s going to be coming alone, right?”

“Probably.”

“What’s to stop Burkett from waiting for him and ambushing him?”

Sam looked at Jubal. It was a sharp observation, and he gave it some thought.

“It’s a good point,” he said, finally, “but I don’t think he will.”

“Why not?”

“Well, there are several directions the marshal could come from. Burkett would have to use too many men to cover them, and he’s gonna want to use those men on us.

No, I think he’s gonna try and take us before the marshal gets here.”

“Tonight?”

“Not tonight,” Sam said. “He’s got to get his information first. Sometime tomorrow, he and his men will come.”

“And we be ready?”

“As ready as we can be.”

The man Chuck Conners sent into town for Burkett was Jackie Doaks. Doaks rode in and headed straight for the saloon. It was there that he heard the story about Sam McCall, Coffin, and John Burkett.

He circulated around town and gradually put together the setup. It was almost eleven P.M. when he mounted his horse and rode back to the ranch. He had watched theMcCall brothers carry supplies into the jail, and it was clear that they intended to spend some time in there.

Maybe a long time.

When Doaks gave Conners the story, Conners took it in to Burkett.

“They’re not stupid,” Burkett said. “They know we’ll be coming for them, and they’ve decided to barricade themselves in the jail.”

“How do we get them out?”

“Oh, there are any number of ways,” Burkett said. “I’d like to try and get them out alive first. I want to put my hands on Sam McCall.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“Then they’ll die in there.”

“What about Coffin?”

“Coffin didn’t do the job,” Burkett said. “As far as I’m concerned, he’s dead already.”

Conners stood still and quiet and waited for his instructions.

“All right,” Burkett said. “I want all the men to have a good breakfast in the morning before we go to town. Tell Cook to make it a big spread.”

“Yessir.”

“Some of them won’t be coming back.”

Jubal took the first watch. He started out by playing solitaire, then walking to the window and looking out every so often. Once or twice he went in the back and looked at Coffin while he slept. He was tempted to put a bullet in the man, but he knew that he and Sam had to stay together on this.

He went back into the office and sat behind the desk. He started thinking about Evan, about how little they knew each other. How could three brothers grow so farapart, he wondered? How could they let that happen—and worse, leave their parents behind to die?

When this was over he was going to have to see what Sam wanted to do. If he wanted to split up—well, he’d abide by his wishes but maybe, just maybe, he’d want to stay together. Maybe they’d stay, or they could leave and ride together.

And what about Serena? There were times when Jubal thought she was in love with Evan and times when he thought she loved Sam. What was going to happen there?

How did Sam feel about her?

These were all questions that could be answered only after this was all over—if they were all around to ask and answer them.

Sam took over at 4 A.M. He went through many of the same motions Jubal had before him. Coffee, solitaire, the window; he even spent a few minutes looking at Coffin, thinking the same thoughts.

Finally he settled behind the desk, his feet propped up.

His gun was holstered and his rifle across his lap.

He thought about Evan, as Jubal had. He wondered if he and Jubal were thinking the same things. They probably were. After all, they were brothers, weren’t they? Sure, they and Evan, three brothers who hadn’t seen each other—

Sam stopped and dropped his feet to the floor. He was sure that Jubal had already gone through this. There was no point in his mulling it over again.

He walked around the room a few times, then set up the checkerboard and started playing a game against himself. When he got tired of that he finally got around to thinking about Serena.

She was a fine girl who would make some man a finewife. Maybe she would have made Evan a fine wife. As far as Sam went, there wasn’t room in his life for a wife, fine or otherwise…but if there were…

He watched the boarded-up windows, waiting for the first hint of daylight. Burkett and his men might come with the light, or they might wait until later.

Sam wondered how long they’d be able to hold out against Burkett’s superior numbers. With all the supplies they had inside, Burkett could still outwait them. He wouldn’t have the time to do that, though, so he’d have to find a way to force them out.

Fire came to Sam’s mind first, and then explosives.

He wondered how long it would take Burkett to think of one or both of them.

“What’s for breakfast?” Jubal asked, sitting up and rubbing his hands over his face.

“What else?” Sam asked. He was standing at the potbellied stove. He turned and grinned at his brother.

“Beans. Want ’em hot?”

“Ah, warm’s okay.”

While Sam dished out the beans Jubal poured water into a bowl and washed his face. When he was done he accepted the cup of beans from Sam.

“Coffin still asleep?”

“I guess,” Sam said. “I’ll give him some beans if there’s any left.”

Sam walked over to where Jubal was sitting on his cot and handed him a cup of coffee.

“I found extra cups last night.”

“Good, we can eat and drink at the same time. We’re living in style.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, settling himself behind the desk.

“Tell me, Sam,” Jubal said, “what were you thinkin’ about last night, while I was asleep?”

“Oh, probably the same things you were thinkin’ about.

Mostly about Evan.”

“Yeah, Evan,” Jubal said, shaking his head. “I was thinkin’ about you, too…I mean, about us.”

“Yeah?”

“Where you gonna go after this, Sam?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said. “I don’t usually know where I’m headin’ next.”

“What about your future? Don’t you have any goals?”

“Goals,” Sam repeated. “Now there’s a word I haven’t thought about in a long time. No, Jube, I’m afraid I’m plumb outta goals at my age. I guess it’d be nice if I was just left alone for the next twenty years, if I didn’t have anybody tryin’ to kill me, or if I didn’t have to kill anyone else. I guess those’re my goals.”

“They’re not bad goals.”

“What about you? What’re your goals?”

“I don’t rightly know.”

“You’re only twenty-four, Jube,” Sam said. “You’ve gotta have goals.”

“What was your goal when you were twenty-four?”

“I don’t know…probably something stupid like wanting to be the fastest gun in the West.”

“You accomplished that.”

“Maybe I did,” Sam said, “but when I got there it didn’t mean anythin’ to me any more. I hope you’re smarter at twenty-four than I was.”

“Well, I think I’m smarter than I was before I went up on that hangman’s scaffold.”

“I hope so.”

“Did you think about Serena last night?”

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat and said, “Some.”

“She’s a nice woman, huh?”

“Real nice.”

“Make a fine wife, huh?”

“You gonna ask her?”

“Hey, no, not me! I thought maybe you.”

“Not me, Jube,” Sam said. “There’s no room in my life for a woman. You’re young, though. Why wouldn’t you ask her?”

“She’s older than me.”

“So?”

“How’d we get on this subject?”

Sam smiled at his brother’s discomfort and said, “You brought it up.”

Jubal put his spoon in his cup and laid it on the floor with a clatter.

“She wouldn’t have me.”

“Why not?”

“Ah, she’d probably be comparing me to you and Evan all the time.”

“I don’t think so,” Sam said. “Maybe when this is all over you should stay around a while, let her get to know you better.”

“Stay here?” Jubal asked. “In Vengeance Creek?”

“Why not?”

“Sam, I left here.”

“Well, do yourself a favor,” Sam said. “Look at your reason for leaving, and see if you still want to go.”

“Hey!” Coffin shouted from his cell. “Do I get some breakfast?”

Sam got up, walked over to the can of beans on the stove, and looked inside.

“Yeah,” he said, “he gets breakfast.”

“What’s that?” Jubal said sometime later.

“Sounds like horses,” Sam said, “a lot of them.”

They each went to a window and looked out the gun-port in the shutters. Lincoln Burkett was riding downMain Street with about thirty men or more. They were riding at a leisurely pace, seemingly without a care in the world. The tip-off was when they rode past the jail each man turned his head and looked at it.

Sam found it interesting that Lincoln Burkett was the only man who didn’t look. He already knew they were there.

“It’s gonna start,” Sam said. “Any minute now.”