Authors: Robert J. Randisi
“Miller,” Conners said, nodding. “We know what he’ll tell them.”
“What should I do?”
“Just go back to town and keep an eye on them, Sheriff,” Conners said, clapping the man on the back. “That’s all you have
to do—for now.”
As Sam and Evan McCall entered the small Bank of Vengeance Creek the bank president, James Boland, stood up behind his desk,
but did not come around. He fidgeted from one foot to the other as the two brothers approached his desk.
“You the bank president?” Sam asked.
“That’s right,” Boland said. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”
There was only one other person in the bank, a bored-looking clerk standing behind a caged window.
“We’re the sons of Joshua and Miriam McCall.”
“I see. Terrible thing. You have my sympathy.”
“Thank you,” Evan said. “We’re here to see if our parents left any unsettled accounts behind. If so, we’d like to settle them.”
“Unsettled accounts?” the bank president said. “No, no unsettled accounts.”
“You know that without looking it up?” Sam asked.
“Oh, yes, yes indeed,” Boland said. “I am, after all, the president of the bank. I look at every account personally.”
“I see,” Evan said. “What about the house they were living in?”
“It was theirs.”
“Theirs?”
“Yes, they owned it outright. I believe it was included in the sale of their ranch.”
Evan looked at Sam, who shrugged.
“All right,” Evan said. “What about the estate? Did my father have a lawyer in town?”
“No, no lawyer,” Mr. Boland said, “and there was no estate.”
“What do you mean, no estate?” Sam asked. “What about the money from the sale of the ranch?”
“I don’t know anything about that,” Boland said. “All I can tell you is that there is no estate.”
“Did my father have an account here?”
“He did,” Boland said, “and he still does, but it’s empty.”
“Empty?”
“Completely.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have anything else to tell you, uh, sir.”
“It’s all right,” Evan said, cutting Sam off. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
As Sam and Evan McCall left, John Boland sat down heavily behind his desk and heaved a sigh of relief.
Outside Sam said, “What the hell—”
“Let’s go to the courthouse and check on the sale,”
Evan said. “I don’t like the way this smells.”
They stopped at the courthouse next and told the clerk they wanted to look at some sale records.
“Which one?”
“The McCall ranch.”
“When was the sale completed?” the man asked.
Evan was about to answer when Sam reached past him and grabbed the front of the clerk’s shirt. He jerked him forward across
the counter so hard that his wire-framed glasses fell off.
“Look,” Sam said, “Lincoln Burkett bought the property. I’m sure you know where all the records of Burkett’s purchases are.”
“Oh, Mr. Burkett?” the clerk said. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“I’m saying so now.”
“Of course,” the man said, “I’ll get it for you.”
Sam released the man, who grabbed for his glasses and backed away from them.
“Sometimes it doesn’t pay to be too patient,” Sam said.
“I guess not.”
“First Doc acts like he doesn’t know nothin’, and then the bank president acts like he knows everythin’,” Sam said. “I didn’t
feel like playin’ games with this one.”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Sam.”
“Good.”
The clerk returned with a large book with a black hard cover.
“All sales are recorded here.”
“Thanks,” Evan said. He took the book and reversed it so he could read it.
“What?” Evan said suddenly.
“What is it?”
“Wait.”
Evan read the book again, and then closed it, shaking his head. He pushed it across to the clerk and said, “Thanks.” He turned
to Sam and said, “Let’s go outside, Sam.”
They walked outside and Sam stopped and put his hand on his brother’s arm.
“Well?”
“I don’t get it.”
“Get what?”
“The conditions of the sale.”
“Are you gonna make me drag it out of you?”
“Sam,” Evan said, “according to the records, the condition of the deal was an even swap.”
“A swap? Of what?”
“The ranch for the house they…they died in.”
Sam started to say something, then stopped and put his hands on his hips. He stared at the sky for a few moments before speaking.
“Let’s get Jubal,” Sam said. “I think it’s time to take a look at the house.”
Before leaving the Miller house Sam made sure Dude Miller had a gun by his bed.
“What about Serena?” Miller asked.
“She’s gonna show us where the house is,” Sam said, “and the markers.”
They went to the livery for their horses, rented one for Serena—who insisted she’d rather ride than take a buggy—and rode
out to the adobe house where their parents had died.
“We can go to the markers first,” Serena said after they’d ridden a couple of miles. “They’re not right near the house.”
“All right?” Evan said to Sam.
After a moment Sam said, “All right.”
She lead them to the grave markers, which were about a half mile from the house. They were plain wooden markers on which someone
had scrawled their names. Obviously whoever had done it did not know their birth-dates, so only the dates of their deaths
were recorded.
Evan and Jubal dismounted and walked to the markers. Serena remained mounted and stared at Sam, who did the same.
Sam felt her looking at him, and did not look at her. Instead he stared not at the gravesites, but at his brother’s backs.
After a few minutes Evan and Jubal turned and remounted. “We’ll have to get them something better,” Evan said.
“Sure,” Sam said, “but first let’s make sure they’re buried in the right place.”
A stranger rode into Vengeance Creek while the McCall boys were out of town. He rode directly to the livery and asked the
Swede for directions to the Burkett spread, and then immediately left town and headed for the ranch.
From the gravesites they rode to the house, where they all dismounted. They went into the house together, a small two-room
house with a hard-packed dirt floor and flimsy wooden doors and shutters.
“They lived here?” Evan said in disbelief.
Sam looked down at the dirt floor. There were stains in some places, which made the floor darker. He knew they were bloodstains.
“No,” Sam said, “they died here.”
There was some furniture, but it was all old, dusty and in various stages of disrepair. Evan walked over to the wooden chair,
shook it, and then lifted his foot and easily smashed it.
“They traded the ranch for this?” he said, angrily.
“What?” Jubal asked. “Traded?”
“Even up,” Sam said. “The ranch for this.”
“They didn’t get any money for the ranch?” Serena asked in disbelief.
“Not a penny.”
“I don’t believe it,” Jubal said.
“It’s on file at the courthouse,” Evan said.
“I mean, why would Pa do that? It doesn’t make any damn sense.”
“I agree with Jubal,” Serena said. “We all heard that Burkett had bought the ranch. We never suspected…this.”
“Well,” Evan said, looking around in disgust, “it’s plain that the answers are not going to be found here.”
“Jubal,” Sam said, “take Serena back to town.”
“Where are you going?” Jubal demanded.
“Out to see Lincoln Burkett.”
“I wanna go with you!”
“As a matter of fact,” Serena said, “so do I.”
“Sam,” Evan said, “I have a suggestion.”
“What’s that?”
“Since I’m just a little less excitable than you, I think I’d better go and see Mr. Burkett alone.”
“I don’t like that suggestion,” Sam said.
“I like it better than yours,” Jubal said, with a smile.
“Besides,” Evan said, “someone has to register us in the hotel. It’s plain that we can’t stay here.”
“Evan—”
“Sam,” Evan said, “I’m just going out there to talk.
That won’t take all three, or even two of us. Come on, see it my way.”
Sam frowned, obviously not happy. Jubal was smiling because Sam was getting some of his own medicine.
“I can go with you and introduce you, Evan,” Serena said.
Evan smiled.
“Don’t worry, Serena, I know how to introduce myself. You go home with Jubal.” Evan looked at Sam and said, “All right?”
Sam’s jaw was tight but he nodded and said, “Yeah, all right…but watch your step.”
“I’ll watch it, brother,” Evan said. “I’ve had a lot of practice doing just that.”
The stranger rode up to the Burkett house and dismounted. As a ranch hand approached him to ask if he could help him, the
stranger tossed him his horse’s reins and said, “See to my horse, boy.”
The hand tossed the reins right back and said, “I ain’t your boy. Whataya want here?”
The stranger ignored the reins, which struck his chest and fell to the ground.
“I have business with Mr. Burkett.”
“Is that so?” the hand said. “Well, maybe Mr. Burkett doesn’t have business with you.”
The stranger’s face split into a humorless smile. He was very tall, and clad in black, which made his dark eyes seem black,
as well—as black as two small holes which now bore into the hand’s own eyes, chilling him.
“Why don’t I go and ask him?” he said, and started for the front steps.
“Hold it—” the hand said, putting his hand on the stranger’s arm. The stranger turned and rammed the heel of his other hand
into the man’s jaw. The man’s head snapped back and he fell to the ground, blood from his severely bitten tongue seeping out
from between his lips.
As the stranger turned to approach the steps he heard some more men running up behind him. At that moment the front door opened
and a man stepped out.
“Are you Coffin?” Lincoln Burkett asked.
“That’s me,” Coffin said. “You Burkett?”
“Yes.”
“You want to call off your dogs before I have to kill some of them?”
“Hold up, men!” Burkett said.
Seven or eight hands had been rushing to the aide of their friend, and Burkett’s voice stopped them in their tracks.
“This man works for me,” Burkett said. “Gear, have some men pick up Adams and take him to the doctor. Coffin, come inside.”
“Sure,” Coffin said.
He climbed the steps without looking back.
As Evan McCall rode up to the Burkett house—what used to be his father’s house—he saw a man being helpedto his feet by several
others. There was blood on the man’s chin and chest. It seemed to be pouring from his mouth.
He reined in as the men helped the injured party away, and another man turned to face him.
“Help ya?” Mike Gear asked.
“I’d like to see Mr. Burkett.”
“About what?”
“Tell him Evan McCall is here. I’d like to talk to him about my father.”
“McCall?” the man asked.
“That’s right.”
“You Sam McCall’s brother?”
“Right again.”
“Is Mr. Burkett expecting you?”
Evan opened his mouth to say no, then thought better of it and said, “I believe he is.”
He looked at Evan as if he didn’t believe him and said, “Wait here.”
The man was gone five or six minutes, and during that time Evan looked over the house. Several improvements had been made
since the last time he was there. They could have been made by his father, but he suspected that they had been made recently,
by Lincoln Burkett. For one thing, the wood of the front steps looked rather new. There also seemed to have been some work
done on the roof. Off to one side of the house, on the second floor, a new room was under construction.
To his left he saw another horse, a gelding as black as night, tied off. From the look of it, it had just recently been ridden
in. Evan was not Burkett’s only visitor.
When the man returned he simply motioned to Evan from the top of the steps.
Evan tied his horse off on a post in front of the house and followed the man inside. Without saying a word theman led him
to a room that was either an office or a library. When he and his brothers had lived there with their parents it had simply
been a spare room. Somehow Evan doubted that Lincoln Burkett would have any spare rooms in the house when he was finished.
This room had been lined with bookshelves, which were now only half filled.
“Mr. McCall,” Burkett said. At least, he assumed the man behind the desk was Burkett. He was a big man in his sixties who,
in his youth, might have rivaled Sam McCall in size and girth. Now there seemed to be more belly than the man would have liked.
“Evan McCall, I presume.”
“That’s right.”
“You can leave, Gear,” Burkett said to the other man. To Evan he said, “Please, sit down.”
Evan moved to a cushioned chair and sat in it, his hat in his hand.
“I’m Lincoln Burkett,” Burkett said, somewhat unnecessarily, at this point. “May I offer you a drink?”
“Some good sherry, if you have it.”
“Of course I have it,” Burkett said, and Evan thought, I knew you would.
Burkett poured two snifters of sherry and handed one to Evan over the desk. He then sat in his leather chair with the other
glass in his hands.
“Your brothers are not with you?”
“No.”
“You are the spokesman, then?”
“You could say that.”
“Well, tell me how I can help you.”
“You can tell me about the…sale of this house.”
“What is there to tell?” Burkett said. “I made your father an offer and he took it.”
“An offer?” Evan said, leaning forward. In spite ofhimself he was growing angry. “That broken-down adobe hut for this ranch?”
Burkett laughed, which raised Evan’s temperature even higher.
“I assure you, Mr. McCall, it was not broken down when I made the deal. It was a fine-looking house. Your father expressed
an interest in moving to a smaller house. If it is broken down now, well…”
“Still, I don’t see how anyone could have exchanged this ranch for any house, even-up.”
Burkett put his glass down on his desk and spread his hands helplessly.
“What can I tell you, Mr. McCall? That was the deal your father and I made.”
Evan put his glass down so hard on Burkett’s desk that some of the sherry spilled.