Sabrina's Man (19 page)

She waited until the water had grown almost tepid. She stepped inside and sat down slowly, sighing with pleasure as the water lapped over her. She let her body slip down under the water. As she lay there soaking, she grew sleepy but knew she had to hurry. She stayed as long as she could, then got up and dried off as best she could with the dress she had worn. It was dusty, and she hated having to use it this way. She made a note to buy some washcloths and towels. As she dressed, she thought,
I've got to see Judge Parker, and he's got to help me!

She went downstairs and said, “I need to see Judge Parker.”

The clerk shook his head and said apologetically, “Well, ma'am, that ain't going to be possible until after the hanging.”

“The hanging?”

“Yes ma'am, there's a hanging. Takes place in about thirty minutes. They're going to hang five men.”

“At the same time?”

“Yes, ma'am. Go on down the street, and you'll see the courthouse, and right across from it you'll see the gallows. The town's fillin' up. They always come for a big hanging. There ain't been five men hanged here in a spell.”

Sabrina left and moved down the street, aware that indeed a crowd had come. The street was packed with wagons and mounts with saddles, and there was a babble of voices in the air. She finally saw the courthouse and had to endure the pressure from the crowd. She thought,
Do I want to see a hanging? It must be horrible
.

She almost left, but she said to a woman who had come to stand next to her, “Does Judge Parker come to the hangings?”

“Oh, he does. Look up there.”

Sabrina looked up where the woman's gesture indicated, and the woman added, “That's him right there in the window. He comes to every hangin' right there at that window. I don't know how he stands it, all these men dying and all on his conscience.”

“Well, he's a judge. That's what his job is.”

“I reckon so, but I'd hate to be meetin' my Maker with Isaac Parker's record.” It was only a few minutes later before a group of men came out of the courthouse. “The jailhouse is down underneath the courthouse,” the woman said. She was a middle-aged woman with a wealth of freckles and reddish-blond hair. She was well padded and nodded, saying confidentially, “Looky there. They're all going to meet God. Ain't that a shame.”

Sabrina watched the men. Indeed they were a mixed crew. One of them, the first one out, was a hulking giant who glowered at the crowd.
He has some Indian blood in him
, she thought, for his skin was dark and bronze. The man next to him was small and neatly dressed. Beside him were two men of medium height. Both of them were terrified. It showed in their eyes. The fourth man was tall and spindly, and the fifth man was a Mexican apparently, who looked down at the crowd as if they had come to be his entertainment.

“That's him right there! That's George Maledon. He's the hangman for the judge.” She was a talkative woman, and she began to say, “My husband owns the store, and Maledon came in to buy some rope to hang men with. Nothin' suited him. He ordered it all the way from El Paso. He found the thickest hemp he could, and he buys linseed oil, and he spends hours working it by hand into the fibers until those ropes are plied just as well as your hair is. It will just glide around the prisoner's neck, and he ties a monstrous knot and puts it right behind the right ear. When the man falls, the neck snaps like a bit of celery.”

The gruesome information disgusted Sabrina, but her neighbor was not through. “He makes up two hundred pounds of sandbags like they use to dam up the Arkansas River. He ties those ropes, and he throws the trap. You can hear 'em
squee-thump
almost day and night like he takes pleasure in it.”

Maledon wore two guns at his side and was a small, sour-looking man with a pair of dead eyes it seemed. He did not speak except to say, “You fellows can talk.”

All five of the men had something to say. The Mexican said, “I am not afraid to die. I have found the Lord Jesus Christ as my personal Savior, and He will take me right to heaven.”

His was the only gentle speech. The rest of the men were angry. One of them who stood next to the giant said, “There's worse men than me I see out there in that crowd. Some of you ought to be here hangin'. Not me.”

As soon as the last man had spoken, Maledon moved down, putting a hood over each man's head and arranging the hangman's knot behind his ear.

Sabrina began to grow a little sick and wished she were not there, but she was. When the last knot was tied, Maledon, without further ado, caught Sabrina off guard. He simply turned and pulled the lever, and all five men dropped through a trapdoor.

She distinctly heard the popping of necks, and then she heard the most horrible sound of her life. One of the men had not died but was strangling and kicking. Blindly she turned and made her way out of the crowd.
I can't stand this anymore
, she thought and went directly toward the courthouse.

“I'm sorry, ma'am, but you can't see the judge until after the court has dismissed.”

Sabrina stood in the judge's courtroom. Now she looked around with disgust and saw that the courtroom was as plain as art can make it. There were rough-hewn benches made from warping pine.

Judge Parker, the presiding judge, stood upon a slight platform behind a desk. She stood there while he went through the process of handling the business at hand, and he seemed to be a man without feeling. He appeared to be in his early fifties, and there were white hairs in the brown hair that he kept neatly combed. She noticed that Parker had dark smudges under his eyes that looked like bruises. He was a dignified-looking man, handsome in a way.

Finally the last case was dismissed. The judge got up and left, but Sabrina hurried after him. “Judge Parker,” she said, catching him, “my name is Sabrina Warren. I've come all the way from Memphis to see you.”

Parker turned and bowed slightly in a courteous manner. “Why yes, Miss Warren. Come on up to my office.” He led Sabrina up to the second floor and down a hall then opened a door. There was a man seated over to one side, and Parker said, “Heck, would you excuse us, please.”

“Sure enough, Judge.” The man got up, an ordinary-looking fellow wearing a gun as most did. There was a marshal's badge on his vest.

As soon as he left, Judge Parker smiled. “That was Heck Thomas, the best of my marshals. Would you have a seat, Miss Warren, or is it Mrs. Warren?”

“No, I'm not married.”

Parker waited until Sabrina was seated.

She took a quick look around the room. It was barely large enough to contain a black walnut desk as large as most dining tables, several chairs, shelves, and a credenza, but every flat surface was piled high with papers and bursting portfolios. The air was stagnant, redolent of tobacco long since chewed and expectorated and murky with the exhaust of cigars. A revolving bookcase to one side leaned drunkenly, threatening to fall, and mustard-colored bound case histories filled one complete bookcase.

“Now, what can I do for you, Miss Warren?”

“I've come to get your help, Judge. My sister's been kidnapped. She's in the Indian nations, and I've come to enlist your help in rescuing her.”

“Tell me all the details,” Parker said.

Sabrina went on to tell how her father had hired private detectives, but they had not been able to find her sister. “Finally,” she added, “Marianne managed to get a letter brought out. I received word from my father on my way here. Apparently she gave all the money she had to a traveling cowboy. He promised to mail the letter, which he did. In the letter Marianne said she is being held captive by a man named Trey LeBeau.”

Parker sat watching his guest with a pair of steady, warm brown eyes, and finally he said, “You've come at a rather awkward time, Miss Warren. At the present time I only have a single marshal, and I have to keep one here. I don't have anyone to send after your sister.”

“But I thought you had two hundred marshals.”

Parker shook his head sadly. “No, I did have at one time, but over fifty of them are gone. Some killed, some turned outlaw.”

“Marshals turning outlaw?”

“Oh yes, ma'am. The Dalton boys, they were marshals. Now they're out robbing trains and holding up people. If I catch them, they'll see the end of a rope.”

“But you must have somebody.”

“Well, it's like this. This very day I might have five or six rangers come in, but there might not be one for a month. They have to follow the outlaws until they catch them. And that takes longer. There's no schedule to it.”

Sabrina grew angry. “I've come all this way to get help. You're the man in charge of law and order in this territory. You've got to help me!”

“I can't help you, Miss Warren, not now. I will as soon as I get some men who will go, but I wouldn't send one man out to capture LeBeau.”

“Why not?”

“Because he's got a band of armed outlaws at his beck and call. One man wouldn't stand a chance. It will have to be a posse, maybe at least a dozen men, and I honestly can't tell you when we'll have that kind of personnel.”

Sabrina stood up. Her temper, which had gotten her into trouble before, flared out. “Well, I'll find some men who will do the job if you won't do it!” She turned and started for the door.

Judge Parker got up and said with alarm, “Ma'am, you don't know these men. I advise you to wait.”

“I won't wait! I'm going to get my sister!” She left the room.

Heck Thomas was sitting outside. He grinned as she stormed by.

She knew he was “laughing” at her expense, but she didn't take the time to stop and upbraid him. She was determined to find her sister and get out of this territory for good.

Sabrina was not accustomed to having to wait for anything. Her father's money and the family's position had always made it possible for her to get her own way. This, however, was not working in Fort Smith.

She knew no other way to find help than to simply stop men on the street and ask them. She received many indecent proposals, for men in the frontier of Fort Smith assumed that when a good looking woman stopped them on the street, she had something special on her mind. They simply grinned and said things like, “Well honey, let's you and me go somewhere, and we'll talk this thing over.”

On the third day she was seated in the restaurant having a lunch consisting of a greasy pork chop and a limp salad when two men came in. They were both tall and well built. When they identified themselves as brothers, she saw the resemblance.

“I'm Asa and this is Roy. Denvers is our name. I hear you are looking for someone that will go into the Territory and do a chore for you.”

Instantly Sabrina grew excited. “Yes. I haven't been able to find anybody. Men in this part of the world evidently don't need money or else they're afraid of the Indians.”

“Well, that's a shame,” Roy said. He had the same pale blue eyes of his brother, and both men were sunburned. There was a lupine aspect in the two. They looked rather like hungry wolves, but Sabrina had expected this.

She said, “Sit down.” The two men sat down and drank coffee while she explained about her sister being kidnapped and being held by a man called Trey LeBeau.

“That's bad news,” Asa said. He was evidently the older of the two. “LeBeau's a bad man.”

“Are you afraid of him?” Sabrina glared at him, waiting for his answer.

“It pays to be afraid of rattlesnakes and men who'll kill you for a quarter.”

“Well, then you can't help me.”

“Wait a minute.” Roy Denver, the younger of the two, seemed to be the brighter. “We can do the job, but lady, it's gonna cost a lot of money. We've got to buy horses, equipment, supplies, ammunition, and guns. Pretty expensive.”

“I've got the money, but you've got to guarantee me that you'll get my sister.”