Clementine's voice became icier. “Exactly as I said, Mr. Tatum. So, he and my mother packed a few necessities into the wagon. The whole event seemed a bit hurried, now that I come to think on it. At any rate, we struck out the next morning and, three days later, arrived here by the river. My mother deemed it a lovely, inviting spot.”
“No doubt 'bout that, missy,” Glo mumbled.
Boz shook his head. “A lovely, inviting spot,” he muttered.
“Not sure why, but I got the impression she and my father might have visited this particular spot before. In any case, we've been camped right here ever since.” Clementine's voice faded as she scratched the dog's fly-notched ears and added, “And we were having a right wonderful timeâa right wonderful time. Until this morning.”
I stepped away from the dewy-eyed, flush-cheeked child, turned and gazed up at thick, roiling, puffy-white clouds, threw one arm across my chest and rested the other atop it. Striking a thoughtful pose, I tapped my chin with one finger.
To no one in particular, but loud enough for Boz to hear, I said, “Then, out of the clear blue, some of the worst men in all of Hell and the great state of Texas showed up and killed everyone. Entire family. All of them but this one child. Why? Why would men like Murdock, Atwood, and the Pickett brothers follow the upstanding family of an innocuous Uvalde politician all the way down here to our front doorstep, commit such an odious act, then beat a hot path for Del Rio? Now, there's a puzzler. A real, blood-soaked puzzler.”
I came out of my self-imposed cave of deep thought when Boz made an all-inclusive sweeping motion with one arm and said, “Well, by God, don't matter one whit to me why murderin' skunks like Murdock, Atwood, and them sorrier'n hell Pickett boys showed up here on the banks of Devils River. Only thing as matters to me is what they went and done, Lucius. And what they done was murder five people, mostly children, on land we're responsible for. Far as I'm concerned, we need to be hot on their trail right damned quick and put this sorry deed to right. Hang the men who had a hand in this mess, or kill 'em all. Quicker the better, by God.”
Glo stood, snatched up his long-barreled Greener, and laid it in the crook of one arm. “You know me, Mistuh Dodge. I'll ride five hundred miles outta my way to avoid any kinda gunfight. But in this instance, Mistuh Boz is right. Men as would kill innocent women and chil'ren need sendin' to the good Lord for His heavenly judgment. Figure if we hit the trail, right quick-like, probably catch Murdock and that bunch with 'im whilst they's still eatin' and drinkin' and womanizin' at Mendoza's
.
Then, we can send 'em on their way so's Jesus can usher them on to Hell, where they can shake hands with the Devil hisself.”
I shot a resolute gaze back and forth from one grim face to the other. “What about Clementine?” I said.
Boz waved the question away as he said, “Guess we probably need to take her on back to the ranch. Leave her with Paco. Figure he can take care of 'er till we can get back.”
Glorious Johnson shook his head. “No. Cain't do that, Mistuh Boz. Gonna use up a buncha valuable time makin' a trip all the way back down to the ranch. Then we be havin' to come back out here 'fore we actually gets started after them sorry killers.”
Boz slapped the oiled, walnut grips of the glistening pistol strapped high on his hip. “Well, we damn sure cain't let this here little-bitty girl ride along with us, Glo.”
It surprised the heck out of all three of us when Clementine Webb snapped, “Don't you dare talk about me like I'm not here.” Looking angry enough to bite the head off a ball-peen hammer, another round of tears piled up in the girl's eyes and, one at a time, streamed down reddened cheeks. “I'll not have you ride off and leave me. No, by jiminy, that's not about to happen.”
“Well, what
would
you have us do, little missy?” Boz said.
An uncomfortable silence fell over the scene. Got so quiet the whispery rustle of cottonwood leaves on the near-undetectable west Texas breezes became readily apparent. An attentive listener could have easily perceived the sound of water in Devils River as it trickled past and headed south for the Rio Grande.
Me, Boz, and Glo locked our gazes on Clementine Webb and waited. For some seconds the girl appeared incapable of bringing her wounded gaze off the ground. Bear sat up, nuzzled her hand, and leaned against the girl's leg when she scratched his ragged ears. The three of us couldn't do much but fidget and paw at the ground with the toes of our boots.
Finally, Clem cut a nervous glance at her family's piteous gravesite. Stooped and a bit defeated-looking, of a sudden she came erect. She snapped her shoulders back in the manner of a young soldier recently called to action by the sound of trumpets, drums, and the possibility of quick death.
The gal wiped leaky eyes on the back of her arm, pointed at the grave, then said, “You're not leaving me behind, and there's the reason why. I'll be going along with you to find the men who did this.”
Be willing to bet that less than half a heartbeat had passed when I snapped, “Now wait a minute, Clem. I ...”
So quick I could hardly fathom how it happened, Clementine Webb was standing on the toes of my boots, her trembling finger almost pressed against the end of my nose. “You can't leave me here, and I won't let you take me to your ranch so Paco, whoever in the wide, wide world that is, can take care of me. If there's one thing I don't need right now, it's a Mexican caretaker.”
“We only have three horses, Clem,” Boz offered.
“I'll ride behind Mr. Dodge,” she snapped without taking her eyes off me. “What little I weigh, it'll do until we get to Carta Blanca. I can buy a horse there.”
“Look, don't mean to sound cruel or insensitive, Clem,” I said, “but where would you get the money for a horse? Boz and me went over the wagon pretty close, child. Didn't find anything of real value. Nothing but blood-soaked clothes, bedding, and maybe enough food for about another week out here in the wild places. Figure if there was any money at all Murdock and his bunch probably took it.”
The feisty girl turned on her heel and marched to the bullet-splintered wagon. She appeared to give no thought to the action when she began jerking at the length of rope that lashed the water barrel to the wagon bed. The leaky, dripping vessel sat atop a small platform between the front and rear wheels.
With forearms resting on the grips of the brace of pistols strapped high on his hips, Boz shook his head and called out, “What're you doing, child?”
'Course she ignored him. Continued to wrestle with the rope until it was completely loosened. Then she climbed onto the wagon's back wheel and, holding on to one of the wooden bows that normally kept the canvas top in place, kicked the barrel until it tipped over and dropped onto the ground.
The wooden container landed with a resounding splat and burst open. Splintered staves and water flew in all directions. Clem hopped down, scratched around in the wreckage, and fished out a wallet-shaped package. She strolled back over and offered it to me.
“What's this, Clem?” I said.
“Open it. See for yourself.”
With some understandable hesitation, I took the parcel. The bundle was tightly wrapped in oilcloth, like a primitive, waterproof birthday present. I pulled my bowie, sliced through a thin strip of rawhide tied around the whole shebang, and clawed the wrapper away to find a leather wallet inside. As I fingered at the contents, my eyes most surely grew wider.
“Good God, Clem,” I said. “There's probably five thousand dollars in here, maybe ten.”
Hands clasped behind her back, the Webb girl stared at the ground. She shuffled her feet, shrugged, and said, “Really didn't have any idea how much was there, Ranger Dodge. By accident, I caught Papa hiding it before we left home. He made me swear not to tell anyone. Said the money was for emergencies. Have to admit, never expected an emergency like this one, but here it is. Appears to me I could easily afford to buy a horse.”
I shook the sheaf of bills in Clementine Webb's face and said, “This don't change a thing, girl. You can't go with us. Such an endeavor is just too dangerous. Don't you understand?”
Something in her eyes had definitely changed when she raised her head and focused in on me again. A hard, calculating glare pegged me to the ground. Then, fisted hands on her narrow hips, she snarled, “Then I'll pay you to find the men who murdered my family. A thousand dollars each. But only if you take me along on the hunt. You run Murdock, Atwood, and the Pickett brothers to ground and kill them all, like you promised earlier, and I'll pay you each a thousand dollars in good Yankee cash.”
Clementine Webb's astonishing proposal fell on me and my friends like a thunderclap. Glorious Johnson stood with his eyes closed and appeared as though counting on his fingers. Boz Tatum's mouth hung open like the unlashed boot on the back of a Concord coach. My loot-heavy hand dangled in the air as if suspended from a string.
Eyes wide in surprised childlike wonder, Boz muttered, “Jesus, Lucius. A thousand dollars? Each? That there's a buncha money. We'd work our fingers to the bone chasin' badmen for Cap'n Culpepper for such an amount. Hell's iron bells, that's more money than all three of us together'd see in a year. Maybe two.”
Glorious Johnson's eyes popped open. “Heard you right, didn't I? You'd give us each a thousand dollars, miss? Each?”
Clementine quickly seized on her advantage. Perked up, grinned, and said, “Give you an additional thousand to split three ways if you can find out why those men did what they did. You know I can do it. You're looking right at the proof of my ability to pay up.”
I let my cash-heavy hand drop to my side. “We can't do this, fellers.”
“Oh, yes, we can,” Boz snorted. “Oh, hell yes, we can. Leastways, I sure as hell can.”
Glo appeared to stiffen. “Look here. I ain't never had that much money in hand at one time in my whole life, Mistuh Dodge. How come we cain't take it? Do what this here chile wants and get paid. We's gonna go after them mens anyway. Gonna hang 'em, or kill 'em, if'n we catch 'em. Ain't no doubt about that. For once, we might as well get paid well for our troubles.”
For the first time that day, Clementine Webb flashed a toothy, satisfied grin. “Then is it settled? Do we have a deal, gentlemen?”
I slapped my leg with the stack of bills. “Well, now wait just a minute. I never said any such thing.”
Glo propped his shotgun on one shoulder. “We done always took a vote when things got difficult in times past, Mistuh Dodge. Think we'd best take one now.”
Boz looked pleased that someone had come up with a viable method for solving the problem. He grinned like an opossum in a plum tree when he said, “There you go. A vote, by God. We'll take a vote. That's the ticket. Democracy in action. Right out here on Devils River. I vote yes. We should take Miss Clementine Webb up on her offer of one thousand dollars each for killin' Pitt Murdock and his gang of sorry-assed cutthroats. Who's with me?”
14
“. . . COULD GET LUCKY. KILL THE WHOLE BUNCH OF US . . .”
A BRITTLE SUN, the color of liquid gold, dangled low in a heat-blasted, late afternoon sky. Fiery orb appeared as if pasted there by an angry God. I drew my froth-covered mount to a halt on the western bank of the Dry Devils River. Stood in the stirrups and stretched the knotted muscles of my aching back.
Clementine Webb slid from the animal's muscular rump and set to slapping at her sweat-drenched, dust-covered clothing. Boz and Glo pulled up alongside us. Bear stuck to the girl like a happy, tail-wagging puppy.
Bone tired, us man hunters stepped down and held the reins as our animals drank from the barely moving, ankle-deep tributary of the larger, deeper Devils River. On the far side of the sluggish stream, less than a hundred yards to the east, wiggly, squirming waves of midday heat rose from the baked buildings and tired landscape of the near-nonexistent village of Carta Blanca
.
“Place ain't never been much of a town,” Boz said and fished a nickel cheroot from his inside vest pocket, then stoked it to life.
Using my hat, I whacked at the layer of coarse, irritating grime that covered me from head to foot. Stood in the cloud of powdery, swirling grit I'd generated and said, “Looks like it's even less of a town now than it was the last time we were over this way.”
“World's kinda passed on by, Dodge. Done heard rumors as how Dusty Biggerstaff's Nueces Billiards Parlor went and burned slap to the ground several months ago,” Boz offered. “Came close to breakin' my heart when I heard tell as how the fire just ripped the guts right outta what little was left of this place.”
I leaned against Grizz's side. “Yeah, I heard that one, too, Boz.”
“Damned shame,” he continued. “Ole Dusty had the only decent snooker table within a hundred miles of these parts. Plus, his hangout was, for damned sure, the spot a man could depend on to have a mug of cold beer and a friendly game of nine ball goin' anytime you 'uz travelin' 'tween Sonora and Del Rio
.
Yep, done spent many a pleasant, idle hour with a pool cue in my hand in that joint. And now she's gone. Nothin' but a heap of stinkin' ashes left.”
I knelt in the wet sand, dipped my hat in the lethargic stream, then slapped the waterlogged chunk of handwoven, Mexican palm leaf back on my sweaty head. The soothing liquid ran down my neck and onto my broiling shoulders as I rose. Hands on hips, above the grips of my pistols, I glared across a glass-smooth waterway that looked almost as though it had frozen in spite of the blistering heat.