XVIII.
Amos glanced over at Marshal Watson again. “Marshal, it’s time to roll out of the sack.”
Amos lifted the cup of coffee to his lips and sipped the liquid. Over the rim of the cup, he kept his gaze on the Marshal. He looked for the steady rising and falling of the blanket for evidence that the man was breathing. Nothing living was ever that still.
He slowly reached down and placed the tin cup on the ground. “Marshal?”
When he stood up, he drew in a cautious breath and exhaled with resignation. He had waited long enough so that he had satisfied his sense of courtesy and respect. If the Marshal was asleep, Amos knew he had earned the right to awaken him. If the Marshal was not asleep the time had come to find out.
He stepped around the fire and circled the Marshal at a distance. He now could see the Marshal’s face. It held no expression and the man’s eyes were closed. Reluctantly, Amos took a step closer. Almost in a whisper, he said, “Marshal?”
Closer still. No rising and falling of the blanket. No movement at all. Amos crouched and watched the Marshal for another few moments. Finally, he reached out and placed his hand on the Marshal’s shoulder and gave him a gentle shake. “Marshal?”
When the Marshal did not stir, Amos placed two of his fingers on the Marshal’s neck seeking a pulse. He felt none. He withdrew his hand. For another few moments he remained crouched by the Marshal’s side. Then he slowly lowered himself and sat on the ground with his arms extended and supported by his knees. After a moment, he closed his eyes and lowered his head.
When he raised his head, his cheeks were wet with tears.
He placed a hand on the ground and stood up.
Over the next hour, he broke camp, saddled the horses and strapped the Marshal’s body over the Marshal’s horse. Then he mounted up.
He was about to turn his horse when something shiny reflected a ray of sun from the valley below. He looked down and saw several riders. Five men on horseback. One man slumped to the side in the saddle and continually held his hand on his waist. The men rode in a loose trail formation and the last rider led a pack horse.
Amos watched them for several minutes. Those riders were the ones who had caused so much death and destruction in the town he had always known as quiet and peaceful. Now the town would never be quite the same.
He gently nudged the horse with his heels. “Come on, boy. Let’s go home. They’re somebody else’s problem now.”
XIX.
Julie had just finished dressing when a gentle knock came at the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s me, Amie, Miss Weber.”
Julie walked to the door and opened it. She looked down at the little girl and smiled.
“Mommy sent me to ask you how many eggs and how many flapjacks you want for breakfast.”
“Oh my. Eggs and flapjacks. Doesn’t that sound delicious.”
“They’re real good, ma’am. And we use real maple syrup.”
“Well, you tell your mommy, I’d like one egg and one flapjack please.”
“Okay. One of each. Oh! How would you like your egg cooked?”
“I’ll take it over-easy.”
“Okay, Miss Weber.” The little girl turned on her heel and ran to the staircase and scurried down the steps.
When Julie entered the dining room, the other boarders were already seated at the table. Yesterday, during her first breakfast at the boarding house, she had become acquainted with each one.
Tim Sweeny sat across from her. He was a lad slightly younger than she. Sweeny’s complexion was extremely fair and his cheeks always appeared flush, as if he had just finished rubbing them. Sweeny was a clerk at Hazlett’s General Store.
Next was Gus Schmidt, a balding man in his mid-forties whose most prominent feature was his potbelly. Julie had heard he was a skilled carpenter.
Zeke Borland was the oldest among the boarders, perhaps in his middle sixties. Although he was officially retired from the insurance sales business, he sometimes still tried to sell life insurance to qualified prospects.
Then there was Mrs. Pemberton, a widow of about ten years and an active member of the church. She seemed to delight in extolling the virtues of the late Mr. Pemberton who had made his living as a cobbler. But among her faults was the tendency to gossip.
Finally, Leo Moretti tended bar at the Alamo Saloon. He was a man of about fifty years of age with a head of thick gray hair. Moretti was a quiet man, preferring to listen rather than to talk, which suited him nicely to the business of tending bar where customers regularly expressed their troubles to a hopefully sympathetic ear.
Julie was pouring herself coffee when Andy entered from the kitchen carrying a couple of plates of food. He placed the first plate in front of Borland and the other in front of Mrs. Pemberton. On his next trip, he placed a plate in front of Moretti and one in front of Schmidt. Finally, he brought a plate for Sweeny and one for Julie.
“What are you planning to do today?” Sweeny asked from across the table. He sat erect in his chair and sipped coffee. His cheeks appeared on fire as the sunlight beamed through the window and reflected off his face.
“Oh, I have a lot of work to do to get ready for school. This morning I’ll be working on lesson plans. I believe in thorough preparation before I walk into the classroom each day. Then this afternoon Charli Benton is going to show me the schoolhouse.”
Borland leaned back in his chair. “What I’ve found most important in life is knowing human nature. Look at me. I’ve been a successful salesman for most of my life. Now I’m retired on a comfortable income. I’ve done all that by studying human nature, the kind of thing you can’t put in books.”
Julie shifted in her seat. She told herself to wait before responding to what she interpreted as an attack on formal education.
“Seems to me,” Borland continued, “a person could have all the book-learning in the world and never become a success if he didn’t know human nature.”
“I don’t know about that,” Schmidt said. He scooted away from the table to make room for his potbelly which bulged from the several flapjacks he had eaten. “In my line of work of building things it’s practical experience that counts. You learn by watching someone who already knows how to do it. You study the way he performs the task and you do it day after day. Most things people do have a set of steps that you gotta do in order. Get one step out of order and you might ruin the whole project. I don’t see much use for knowing human nature when it comes to building a house, for example. A person who can build a house is probably worth more than someone who can sell a life insurance policy. So, I say it’s experience that counts.”
Borland raised his eyebrows. “Now wait just a minute! I agree that the know-how to build a house is important, but let me tell you just how important life insurance is—”
“Gentlemen,” Mrs. Pemberton interrupted. “Let’s not argue. I’m sure everyone will agree that both knowing human nature and having experience are important. Funny thing is, my husband, God rest his soul, always used to say, ‘It’s not what you know; it’s who you know.’”
“Yeah,” Borland said in a softer tone in deference to Mrs. Pemberton, “but Gus said building houses is more important than selling life insurance.”
Mrs. Pemberton nodded, “Yes but I’m sure he didn’t mean one is more important than the other. Both are important to a civilized society.”
“No,” Schmidt said, “I did mean it. Who can deny that building a house is more important than selling life insurance?”
“You see!” Borland snapped. “He said it again!”
Sweeny held up a fair hand. “Let’s allow the school teacher to tell us which of the two, either knowing human nature or having practical experience, is more important.”
Julie looked up at Sweeny and rolled her eyes. “Thank you, Tim, but you’re asking me to give an opinion that would offend either Mr. Borland or Mr. Schmidt.”
Sweeny pressed his lips together. He glanced at the two men. Both were glaring at him.
Mrs. Pemberton leaned forward and looked down the table at Julie. “I think we should drop the whole subject, don’t you, Julie?”
“We could do that, Mrs. Pemberton. But I haven’t heard anyone mention how important formal education is.”
“Well, why don’t you tell us, Missy?” Borland said.
Julie was about to speak when Moretti looked up. “It seems to me that a good education, next to faith in God, is just about everything.”
As one, the boarders turned their heads toward Moretti. All were surprised that the quiet man had chosen to speak.
“I don’t claim to be an expert,” Moretti continued, “but ever since I moved out West after the war, I’ve seen a lot of change. I’ve seen
“So, what’s your point, barkeep?” Borland snorted.
“It seems to me that to look at the future of the West we must look at the present time in the East. One day the West will become civilized.”
Borland exhaled heavily from exasperation. “For a fella who don’t talk much you’re using a lot of words to say a whole lot of nothing about formal education.”
“You mean you haven’t caught on yet, Zeke? The point is who is going to build the West into that civilized society? It’s going to be the youngsters of today. Those who know how to read and write and cipher are going to be tomorrow’s leaders.”
“Here, here!” Julie blurted.
“Miss Weber,” Moretti continued, “I think we all owe teachers a debt of gratitude. Those of your students who make the right formal education their top priority give themselves the best possible chance of success.”
With the last few words Moretti humbly bowed his head so all anyone saw was his thick gray hair.
“Well!” Borland retorted. “That’s quite a speech from a common bartender. The question is what does such a man know of success? Seems to me that to speak of success with any authority a person must first be successful!”
“It sounds to me, Zeke,” Schmidt spoke up, “that you believe the only way a person can be successful is if he sells insurance for a living. Either that or you enjoy putting others down so you can feel superior.”
Borland’s eyes widened and then narrowed on the balding man with the potbelly. “You watch how you speak to me, Mister!”
Mrs. Pemberton raised her hand then slowly lowered it until it rested on the table. “Now, gentlemen—”
The tension in the room vanished when the boarders noticed Faye standing in the doorway leading to the kitchen. She slowly looked from one boarder to the next. “People, I have children here and I would appreciate your remembering that. I will not have squabbling during meals. I can hear your bickering all the way into the kitchen!”
No one said a word.
“Now, if you’re finished, I’d appreciate if you would get up from the table so I can clear the dishes.”
XX.
The afternoon sun over
Julie opened the screen door and walked out onto the porch. Faye, sitting in the rocking chair, looked up when she heard the familiar squeak of the door. “Hello, my dear.”
“Good afternoon, Faye. Looks like we’re in for rain.”
“Yes, it’s that time of year when the weather seesaws between spring and summer. Would you like some tea? I made a fresh pitcher-full and I always bring extra glasses with me onto the porch.”
“Thank you. Tea sounds good.”
“Come and sit.”
Julie sat down at the table in a chair opposite Faye as the woman poured tea for her.
“This is my best part of the day. Just an hour or two of rest before starting the evening meal.”
“Faye, I apologize for what happened at breakfast this morning. There’s simply no excuse for our behavior. I’m sorry that we upset you, and that we set such a bad example for Andy and Amie.”
“That’s alright, Julie. I know it wasn’t intentional.”
“I’m very happy with the room, and you feed your boarders like we are royalty. You must be very tired by the end of the day.”
“Actually, no, my dear. I enjoy the work. And the income not only provides for my guests but provides security for me and the children. I feel most fortunate that everything worked out as well as it did.”
“Worked out?”
“Oh, of course, you don’t know. Less than a year ago, I lost my husband. He was murdered.”
“My goodness! I’m so sorry.”
“It was quite a bad time. But a fine gentleman, Parson Sam Blane, split the reward money with me. That money along with what I got from selling the farm gave me enough to buy this place and have it fixed up a bit.”
“The reward money?”
“A couple of saddle tramps killed my husband. Sam shot one in self-defense and turned the other over to Marshal Hickok. There was a fair amount of reward money for each one of them. Sam said he felt it only right that I should have half the money. Then he turned around and gave most of what was left to the church. The elders added Sam’s contribution to what they had on hand to begin construction of a new church building.”
“My! The Parson sounds like a generous man.”
“He’s a wonderful man, Julie.”
Something in Faye’s tone made Julie turn her head and look at Faye. “Sounds like you have feelings for Parson Blane.”
“Oh, I don’t know how he feels. But to be honest I’ve always felt I have a lot to offer.”
Julie glanced at the Bible sitting on the table. She remembered the conversation she had had with Faye on the day she arrived at the boarding house. “Faye, is that why you read the Bible…because the man you love is a preacher?”
“He told me once he could never be with a woman who wasn’t a Christian.”
“I see. Faye, can I be honest with you?”
“Yes, of course, my dear.”
“No one can become a believer for the purpose of pleasing someone else. Faith in God is personal―just between you and Him―and it must be genuine. You told me you were struggling with your faith. I’m guessing your motivation to be a Christian is based on your desire to have a relationship with Parson Blane. If I’m wrong please say so.”
Faye averted her gaze down and away. “I never thought about it that way.”
“Faye, may I say something else? But I don’t want to offend you in any way.”
“Yes, of course, my dear, please be frank.”
“A right relationship with Christ is more important than any relationship you can have with a man. If you sense a yearning within you, it is for Christ. Once that is fulfilled the other things will be added. Go on without it being fulfilled and it won’t matter whether you have a relationship with Parson Blane or any other man. You will still feel the yearning.”
Faye did not look up.
“Hey there!” The voice came from the vicinity of the front gate.
Julie turned and saw Charli Benton leading two saddled horses. One animal was a bay, the other a beautiful palomino.
Faye glanced up at Charli Benton and the horses. “Go ahead, my dear.” She turned to Julie who had stood up. “I think you just got yourself a horse.”
“Oh, it couldn’t be!”
“Run along and try not to be late for dinner.”
Julie rushed to the edge of the porch steps. “Yes, of course…‛late for dinner.’”
Faye chuckled.
XXI.
“Ever since Ma died, my old man ain’t been good for much. But one thing we do on the ranch is raise good horseflesh. Which one ya want?”
“Oh, Charli. I’m overwhelmed! Which of the two is yours?”
“I didn’t bring mine. Mine could outrun either of these two by a mile. But he’s kinda got a wild streak too that I like. These two are a different breed. Sturdy, strong and intelligent, but gentle nature. I trained them both so they know what to do and they’re quick about it. So which one ya want?”
“Charli, I don’t think I could afford to buy a horse right now.”
“Heck, Julie. You’re not buying one. I’m giving ya one!”
“Oh Charli. It’s too much.”
“It ain’t nothin’ of the sort. All ya gotta do is promise to take care of it. We’ll keep it at the ranch for ya when ya ain’t got it in the corral out back of the boarding house. Now will ya please pick one? I’m gettin’ tired of standing here.”
Julie stepped back and viewed the two animals. Could she really bring herself to accept such an overwhelming gift? The bay, of course, was a beautiful animal. But Julie simply could not take her eyes off the palomino. “It’s this one, Charli.” She stepped forward and rubbed the horse’s neck. She felt tears come to her eyes.
“Well that’s the one I figgered you’d pick, being a city-slicker and all. I’d never be caught dead on a horse so flashy. On the trail they could see ya comin’ a mile away.”
Julie laughed. “Oh, Charli!”
“What? It’s true!”
“My dear, I wouldn’t care if they could see me coming from a hundred miles away!” Julie turned square to Charli and placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “How can I ever thank you enough? I promise you. I will take good care of—” Julie took a step back. “What’s her name? Is it a ‘her’?”
“Yes, Julie, it’s a mare. The bay’s a gelding. As a rule we don’t name our horses. If you want a name for her, you’ll have to pick one.”
“Oh, let’s see. It will have to be a very special name. How about: Amazing Grace?”
“That’s an odd name for a horse.”
“We could call her Grace, for short.”
“Well, it’s your horse. You can call her whatever you want.”
“Then Grace it is! Charli, will you teach me all about her?”
“Sure, Julie, I’ll teach ya everything, a little at a time. When I get done with ya, you’ll be the best horsewoman in the county. Next to me, of course.”
“Thank you, Charli. Thank you very, very much.” Julie drew in a deep breath and exhaled. Then she turned back to Grace. “Okay, now I do know that one gets on from the left side.”
“Aw man. This is gonna be tougher than I thought. Well, at least, you’re wearing britches and not a dress!”
XXII.
When Julie opened the door to the school building and stepped inside, she stood silent for several moments. The dingy room smelled of mold and rotten wood. Everything was covered with a thick layer of dust. The outside light struggled to shine through filthy, yellow windows. The student desks were old and some were broken. The blackboard was faded and cracked. There was not a single book on the shelves.
She walked to the small teacher’s desk at the front of the room and sat down. Charli followed her and sat on the desk itself.
Julie cupped her face in her hands and began to cry.
Charli scooted off the desk and stood up. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, Charli. Look at it.”
“At what?”
“At this room!”
“What’s the matter with it?”
“It’s a shambles. How do people expect children to study and learn in such filth and disrepair?”
Charli looked around the room as if looking through new eyes. “Well, I guess it could stand some cleanin’. And ya kinda gotta be careful not to step in the holes in the floor. Other than that…what?”
“I’ll never be ready to start the school on Monday.”
“Why, heck, Julie. We got the whole weekend to clean it up.”
“We could work on this place for a month and it still wouldn’t be ready.”
“A month!”
“Oh, don’t worry, Charli. If you’re willing to help, I suppose we could wash the place down. That might take care of the smell. But fixing the floor and replacing the blackboard and repairing the desks. How are we going to do that?”
Charli thought for a moment. “Well, ya know, there’s a lot of people working on the new church building. A couple of right-fine carpenters, too. They might be willing to fix up the floor and hammer some nails into the broken desks.”
“That would be good for a start. But I have a meeting with Mayor Little. He’s the president of the school board and the one who hired me. Maybe he’ll help us.”
“I doubt it.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see.”
TO BE CONTINUED
