Dark Journey Home (34 page)

“Could it be,” Ricardo offered, “our two guests have
suddenly run out of things to say?  They were such conversationalists back at
the law office, so full of threats too.”

Holderman, red-faced and practically snarling, burst
out, “You just wait…..you just wait!  I’ll have the law on the whole bunch of
you yet.  This is just plain kidnapping!”

“Threats, always the threats, and no appreciation.” 
Ricardo took off his tall sombrero, slapping it against his thigh, and settled
it back onto his head, then continued, “We’ve only given you escort home, Señor. 
This is your home, is it not?” 

While Holderman glared at Ricardo, Logan chuckled,
“Remember, amigo, we only escorted these two hombres here to pick up
Holderman’s belongings, though where he probably will be going for the next few
years, I seriously doubt that he’ll be needing much in the way of personal
things.  We also need to give old Woody Perkins down there a chance to tell his
attorney friend here adios. 

“After this ‘highly respected’ Attorney-at-Law serves
a little time in the Territorial Prison, he probably will have some traveling
to do, out of the territory that is.  Oh, and by the way, in case these two
haven’t guessed, this here posse is making a citizen’s arrest.  So this can’t
be officially termed ‘kidnapping’, in any way, shape, or form.  Not sure what
to do with Perkins as yet.  Depends on which way the coming storm blows.”

All four men escorted the buggy through the aspens,
then down the steep, winding trail towards the peaceful valley below, and Logan’s thoughts turned to more pleasant times three days ago, when he’d attached a
fragrant rose to Olivia’s door.  She hadn’t officially thanked him the next day,
though he’d seen her watching him closely, when she didn’t think he’d noticed. 

Now, sitting loosely in the saddle, Logan chuckled to
himself, and Ricardo looked over at him, then grinned, figuring out who had put
a smile on the gringo’s face.  He’d had that look many a time himself, through
the years, while thinking of Maria. 

<><><> 

Back in Coyote springs, Henry Birch, shoulders
straight, middle-aged paunch held in as much as could be expected, was once
again showing his face around town, amid a few snickers from bystanders.  One
playful young cowhand, in town for the day, even pretended to faint at the
appearance of Henry in front of the Mercantile. Henry didn’t notice the
display, thinking that this was just an ignorant bunch anyway.  He entered the Mercantile.

Clara was wrapping a dozen cigars for a customer.  The
customer just happened to be Marshal Rhodes.  Henry, full of himself, didn’t
notice who the customer was, as he approached the counter, quickly interrupting
the sale.  ”Clara,” He spoke authoritatively, “page your sister, Miss Haskell,
for me.  I need to speak with her at once.”  And he nervously tapped the
counter with his forefinger. 

“Sorry sir,” Clara spoke offhand, “you’ll have to wait
your……Oh, you is it?  My sister would not see you if a tornado blew you in.” 

Marshal Rhodes turned to look down at Henry, and a
slow smile spread across the lawman’s weathered face.  “So!”  He stepped back
quickly, then to one side.  “You are the famous new man about town.  Mr. Adams,
I believe.”  The marshal looked Henry up and down as he spoke.

Henry blustered, in his usual manner, attempting to
suck in the paunch even farther.  He hadn’t noticed it was the town marshal
standing next to him, “Why…..why, sir, you must be mistaken.  My name is Birch,
Henry Birch.”  He stuttered. 

“Oh, you’re Adams alright.  It’s a widely known
fact.”  Rhodes spoke in his most gentle voice, and most folks knew that that
tone of voice was invariably the ‘calm-before-the-storm’.  “Been wantin’ to
have a little chat with you.”  Rhodes began, “Now just supposin’ you was to
foller me nice an’ peaceful like, down the road a piece to my office where we
can have us a nice little visit.  Maybe have some tea brought over.  You can
even stop a time or two along the way to smell all the wildflowers growin’
after that nice rain we had.  Sure has a way of bringing life to all the trees
an’ flowers.  They’re just apushin’ up all over the place and I was always
taught to appreciate growin’ things.” 

“This is absurd.  I won’t listen to this, and won’t
stand for my rights being violated.  I’m a peaceful man.”  Henry turned to make
a mad dash for the door, but the Marshal was quicker, and for a big husky man,
he moved lightening fast.  Rhodes grabbed the back of Henry’s coat collar,
spinning him all the way around to face him. 

“You will listen to me, when I talk to you, Mister. 
I’m the law in this town, and when I say jump, you jump!  Now when I say,
‘we’re going to take us a nice little walk down the road a piece’, we’re going
to take that walk, then have us a nice little chat.  Now you wanted out that
door so bad, get.”  The marshal gave a little shove, then escorted Henry down
the road, walking right behind him, and holding onto the neck of Henry’s jacket
all the way.  Now this was Marshal Rhodes’ other side ‘coming out to play’.

More than a few snickers were heard now at this
display.  The entertainment around Coyote Springs was getting better every day,
and folks began wondering just when the next act would begin. 

Olivia and Amelia were just stepping off the boardwalk
of the hotel, heading towards the Mercantile, when Amelia exclaimed, “Mercy,
child, what in the world?  Just would you look at that!  Why…..that’s that rogue,
Henry Adams, though much older.  Why the town marshal’s dragging him off to
jail!  You didn’t tell me that no-account was here in town.”  Amelia fumed. 

“Oh dear, it must have slipped my mind.  He really has
followed us across the country, and halfway around the world, and for what
reason, I have no idea.”  Olivia answered. 

“Well, if he gets out of jail, you just let me at
him.”  Amelia fumed.  “He’ll wish he’d never set eyes on any of us.  If Garth
hadn’t so nicely evicted him from Beckford Manor years ago, it would have been
my greatest pleasure to do so.” 

“Oh dear, really, Amelia.”  Olivia snickered.  “You
couldn’t tackle Henry.  After all he is a man, though not much of one.” 

“You ever seen me swing my umbrella, child?  Well,
when I hits ‘em, they stays hit.”  Amelia spoke in satisfaction. 

“Alright, dear, if you say so.  Point well taken.” 
Olivia laughed. 

Down at the jail, Marshal Rhodes was sitting on a
chair looking through the bars of one of the two cells in the back room of the
jail.  Henry Adams was standing just inside staring out through the bars,
looking very irate.  “You can’t hold me here.  I’ve done nothing.  Just what
charges do you think you can hold me on anyway?” 

“Oh well,” The Marshal thought a moment, scratched his
head. “Give me a little time, Mr. Adams; I’ll come up with something, probably
a lot of things.  Matter of fact, come to think of it now, I can come up with a
whole list of things, and then I’ll carry a hat around town, and take up a
collection of all the townfolks’ complaints against you.  Shouldn’t be too hard,
bein’ as you have done nothing but make a complete ass of yourself since
arriving in our nice peaceful little town.  And, by the way, I aim to keep this
town peaceful too.  Been doin’ it for many a year, don’t intend to stop now.” 

“I said before, I’ve done nothing.  I demand to see an
attorney!  I have my rights!” Henry countered, regaining his composure. 

“Well, now let’s see.  We have one attorney, but right
at the moment, that one’s pretty busy tryin’ to get himself out of a serious
jam.  I believe the gent needs an attorney himself, so you’re out of luck in
that respect, leastwise ‘til we get another attorney in town, and that may just
take a few months, or years, dependin’.  Anyway, there’s this little thing of a
shootin’ with that little pop-gun of yours, last week.  You could have killed
someone, we have laws against murder, even here in the west, you know.” 

“You have no jurisdiction out there.  That was out in
the county.”  Henry argued.

“Out in the county, huh?  So you admit to me, a
lawman, that you done it?” 

“No, I didn’t say that.”  Henry became sullen. 

“Well, guess I’ll just have to speak to the Sheriff,
when he gets back, whenever that is.  He does have jurisdiction in the county,
and bein’ as I’m a witness to your confession, now that you’ve admitted to it,
shouldn’t take too long to hold a trial after that.  Now attempted murder,
around here, shouldn’t get you over ten years, at the most.” 

“I have confessed to absolutely nothing.”  Henry
argued.  “I am a citizen of England.  I’ll….”   Henry’s voice shook, as sudden
realization set in.  He wasn’t in England now.

Ignoring his protests, the marshal continued, “Course,
if you was proven guilty of botherin’ any of our women folks, in any way,
shape, or form. Well now, folks around these parts don’t take kindly to that. 
Might be a hangin’ offense, an’ sometimes citizens been known to break a fella
out of jail, just so’s they can hang ‘im.”

Henry grabbed the bars of his cell, staring at the marshal,
as he suddenly made a decision.  His life and freedom were more important than
anything else in the world.  “I’ll leave, Marshal.”  He pleaded, “I’ll leave on
the very next stage.” 

Marshal Rhodes took the tobacco pouch from his shirt
pocket, shook his head, and began to roll a smoke.  “I dunno, Henry,” he began;
seriously, “folks might just get a little upset with me, if I don’t hold you
for trial.  Wouldn’t want to lose my badge, or nothin’.”  He stuck the tobacco
pouch back into his pocket, heaved a deep sigh, stuck the rolled cigarette into
the corner of his mouth, then stood, shoved back his chair, took his keys, and
slowly unlocked the cell door. 

Henry, hesitantly, walked out of the cell, then backed
all the way through the outer office, and practically ran all the way to the
boardinghouse.  A few moments later, Marshal Rhodes was chuckling to himself,
as he watched from the window of the jail. 

Henry Adams was practically running down the middle of
the road, carrying a valise, in one hand, and holding onto his hat with the
other.  When Henry reached the stage depot, Rhodes turned to his desk, and
began shuffling papers.  Well, the southbound stage was due in about an hour. 
He’d mosey on down, and make sure Henry got on, then maybe he’d stop, and have
his coffee.

In the Mercantile, Olivia and Amelia had finished
paying for their purchases, two heavy traveling outfits each, as they’d been
assured they would be traveling to Wyoming soon, and the weather grew quite
cold in the northern part of the country.

As they neared the door to leave, Olivia exclaimed,
“Wait, Amelia.  That’s Henry Adams across the road.  He’s actually waiting for
the stage.  Let’s not leave yet. I believe I hear the stage coming.”

“Well, I’m glad I have my umbrella with.”  Amelia
exclaimed.  “Here, hold my packages.”  And she shoved her bundles into Olivia’s
arms, as Clara, who’d followed them to the door, called.  “You don’t have to go
out this way, let me show you the back way out, then you can go around through
the alley, thus avoiding seeing the scoundrel.” 

Amelia huffed, “Huh, and avoid all my fun.  I haven’t
yet put in my two cents worth with that rogue.”  And she brushed past Clara and
Olivia, to then race out the door, off the boardwalk, and lifted her heavy
skirts to run across the road, just as the noisy stage pulled up.  Henry hadn’t
noticed, at first, the older lady waving her long black umbrella in the air as
she approached him.  He was anxiously watching the stage pull up, aware of the
town marshal standing a ways off, watching to make sure he really left. 

One lone passenger departed the stage, a young cowboy,
who looked as if he’d just woke up from a nap, but he came alive quickly, as he
saw the scene unfolding on the boardwalk next to the stage.  Henry, aware now, and
recognizing the umbrella-wielding woman at once, jumped off the walk, hunching
his shoulders to try and ward off the blows that were coming from the
umbrella.  Amelia hit three solid blows, before Henry climbed to the safety of
the stage interior, holding his head with one hand, and his valise with the
other.  He’d dropped his hat.

Amelia stooped, retrieved the hat, leaned in the stage
door, and hit him again with the hat for good measure, then threw the hat down
on the floor, shouting, “If I ever see, or hear of the likes of you followin’
my girl again, I’ll get me a gun, and it won’t be pretty.”  She glared one last
glare at the frightened man, then stomped away; the town marshal didn’t move an
inch.  He figured the lady pretty much had the situation in hand, and wondered
if she’d like a job as deputy town marshal.  But then he wouldn’t have any work
to do.