The Stranger from Abilene

Chapter 54

It fell to Moses Anderson to remove the bodies from the Southwell Ranch and clean up the house. He and his helpers were just finishing up when Cage Clayton rode into the yard on an inspection and swung out of the saddle.

“Bodies are all gone, Mr. Clayton,” the black man said. “I took them into town earlier this morning.” Anderson wiped his hands with a rag, a talking man glad of an audience. “The undertaker says they’re all too far gone for him to make them pretty, so he’s just gonna box ’em and bury ’em. Buryin’ is tomorrow and the mayor will be there and a lot of other folks. Mayor’s laid on a barrel of beer for the wake an’ a hog on a spit and it’s shapin’ up to be a shindig. Yes, sir, a real hootenanny.”

He shrugged. “ ’Course, black folks ain’t invited.”

Clayton smiled. “Neither am I.”

“Well, Mr. Clayton, that’s a real shame, an’ after the way you killed them Apaches an’ all.”

There was an expectant look on Anderson’s face, but Clayton didn’t want to dwell on the subject.

“You get all the blood out of the house, Moses?”

“Sure did. She’s as clean as a whistle.”

Clayton waited awhile, then eased into his questions.

“Moses, you’ve lived in Bighorn Point for a long time, huh?”

“Sure have. Man and boy, I bin there, ’cept I went up the trail a couple of times.”

“How well do you know Ben St. John?”

Clayton watched as shutters closed in Anderson’s eyes.

“Not much. He don’t like colored folks.”

Clayton continued to look into Anderson’s face without speaking.

Uneasy now, the black man said, “Folks here’bouts say he’s a mean one. Foreclosing on people and takin’ their property, thowin’ them out on the street, an’ all. But he goes to church and sits in a pew with him and his wife’s name on a little brass plate and what he’s done don’t seem to trouble his conscience none.”

A man standing by one of the wagons yelled, “Moses, we’re all through here.”

“Be right with you,” Anderson said.

“St. John ever kill a man?” Clayton said.

The black man shook his head. “Not that I ever heard.” He looked over at the wagons that were ready to pull out. “I gotta go now, Mr. Clayton.”

“Wait, Moses. Is he faithful to his wife?”

The man stared into space. “I don’t know.”

“You’ve got something to tell me, Moses, and I want to hear it. The more I learn about St. John, the better.”

“You think he’s the man you came to Bighorn Point to kill?”

“He could be.”

Anderson took a step closer. “He’s sparkin’ a little black gal.”

“I thought he didn’t like coloreds.”

“He don’t. But that little black gal’s got a thing between her legs he likes jus’ fine.”

“What’s her name?”

“Minnie.”

The name rang a bell. “She was Lee Southwell’s maid.”

“Was. That’s right. Now she swamps the saloon and does some whorin’ on the side. Ben St. John is her best customer, steadylike.”

Clayton nodded. “He’s not the man he seems to be. Like he leads a double life.”

“He likes women, that’s for sure, and the more of a whore she is, the better he likes her.”

“How come the town knows nothing about this?”

“St. John is a secretive man. And a couple of women who bragged in the saloon about servicin’ him ain’t with us no more.”

“He killed them?”

“All I know is, they ain’t around, and that’s all I’m sayin’ on the subject, Mr. Clayton.”

Anderson stepped away. “I got to go now. My woman expects me back to town.” He gave a white grin. “Collard greens, ham, and cawn bread for supper.”

Moses Anderson waved as he led his two wagons from the front of the house.

It was the last time Cage Clayton saw him alive.