Jurisdiction Page 15

“Really?” Billy Odle raised his eyes now, looking a bit surprised. “She was that worried?”

  “That’s right, and with good reason,” said Sam. “Willie John is on the run from the law. That puts him and anybody with him in danger. He’s got to say and do whatever he has to to keep the law from closing in on him. If he has to give up a friend who’s riding with him, then that’s how it’s got to be.” He studied Billy’s face for any telling response. When none came, Sam added, “You’ve been playing a dangerous game, Billy. It’s time to stop and get straightened out before it goes any further.”

  Billy shook his head. “This hasn’t been no game for me. Willie never gave me up,” Billy said. “And you’re wrong about him, lawman. Willie and me are best of friends, and he would never give up a friend, not for any reason.”

  “Yeah? Then why are you standing here in handcuffs instead of him?” Sam asked.

  Before Billy Odle could answer, the doctor came into the room, having heard the Ranger’s voice. “I see you’re awake,” he said, standing inside the doorway with his hands on his hips, the front of his white apron stained with blood.

  “Yes,” said Sam. “How’s the woman doing?”

  “I gave her something to make her sleep,” said the doctor. “It was a close call for her, but that bullet managed to slip past every vital organ. She’s in a lot of pain . . . she’s going to be all right, though. I’ll be giving her something to stave off any infection. You, too.” His eyes went to Billy Odle. “Well, young Billy, you appear to be no worse for the wear. Should I take a look at you?” As he asked, his eyes went to the cuffs on Billy’s wrists.

  “No, I’m fine, Dr. Blanton,” said Billy. “Are you talking about Tinnie, from the saloon?”

  “Indeed I am, Billy,” said Doc Blanton. “She took a bullet wound in—”

  “What will you give her for infection,” Billy cut in with no hesitancy, “some kind of herb medicine?”

  Noting Billy’s keen interest in what the doctor had to say, Sam listened and observed.

  “Well, there are several things I use, depending on what’s available,” said Blanton, bemused by Billy Odle’s sudden interest in the healing arts. “Why do you ask?”

  “Nothing,” said Billy Odle, shrugging, looking back down at the floor. “Do you ever keep any haga creer medicine on hand?”

  The doctor turned his gaze to the Ranger as he said to Billy with a curious expression, “Haga creer? Why, I believe that’s Mexican isn’t it, Billy? If I’m not mistaken, it means—”

  “Yes, it’s Spanish,” the Ranger cut in, before the doctor had a chance to offer any further comment. He saw something at work here and wanted to know more. He looked at Billy Odle, knowing how young and pliable this boy was. “What would you need with something like that? Is that something for Willie John? Something he sent you here to get for him?”

  The doctor chuckled under his breath, saying, “But, Ranger, you can’t be serious.”

  “Doc, would you leave us alone here?” the Ranger asked in a sharp tone.

  Doctor Blanton’s smile melted. “Certainly . . . I’ll just go check on the woman.”

  When Doctor Blanton had left the room, the Ranger turned back to Billy Odle. “I see what this is now, young man. It’s not going to work. You’re not going anywhere. Even if you did, Willie John is long gone.”

  Billy started to protest, but he caught himself and said, “I never said he was anywhere waiting for me.”

  “You don’t have to. I can tell by the look on your face that you think he is. But you’re wrong.” The Ranger swung his legs off the side of the bed and sat up. He grunted slightly at the pain in his shoulder but then pushed himself to his feet. “Willie John’s not there. He gave you something to do to get rid of you . . . so he could cut out on you.”

  “No he didn’t! That’s a lie!” Billy shouted.

  “Do you know what haga creer means, Billy?” Sam asked.

  Billy Odle didn’t answer.

  “In Spanish it means ‘make believe,” ’ Sam said, his voice softening to take some of the sting off of his words.

  “Make believe?” Billy Odle looked stunned. There was hurt in his child’s voice. “That can’t be right. Willie John didn’t double-cross me!”

  “I didn’t say he double-crossed you.” Sam picked up the bloodstained shirt hanging across the chair back. “I said he gave you something to do to get rid of you. He knew if you came here asking for haga creer, somebody would see it was just his way of sending you home. You’re lucky, kid. He must’ve taken a liking to you.” Sam slipped his good arm through the shirtsleeve, then said to Billy, “I’d appreciate it if you’d hold my shirtsleeve out so’s I can stick this arm into it.”

  Billy hesitated for a second, trying to get a mental grip on what Willie John had done. “Well . . . then all that means is that Willie was looking out for me. Ain’t that what real friends do for one another?”

  “The sleeve?” said Sam, not offering an answer.

  “Oh all right.” Billy reluctantly stepped forward when he saw that the Ranger was not going to take his sharp stare off of him until he helped him with the shirt.

  Sam slipped his arm from the sling, and saw how Billy’s eyes went to the gun belt on the chair as he held the loose shirt sleeve up for him. “Gracias,” said Sam, working at buttoning his shirt with his free hand, keeping his sore left arm at an angle until he could get the sling back around it. “You know, there’s nothing hurts worse than a shoulder wound,” he said matter-of-factly. Nodding at the gun belt he added, “Want to hand that shooting iron over to me, Billy?”

  Billy stared at the big Colt before reaching for it. Sam could see the wheels turning in the boy’s mind. When Billy’s cuffed hands reached out to lift the holster belt, Sam said, “Not the whole rig, just the Colt . . . so I can check it.”

  Billy looked at him and swallowed back the tension that formed quickly in his throat. Sam appeared relaxed, yet he was ready for whatever Billy Odle might decide to do. Billy closed his hand around the pistol butt, and lifted it slowly. He stared at it closely, then handed it to the Ranger. “Is . . . is it loaded?” he asked.

  Sam offered a thin smile, slipped the cylinder out from the side of the Colt, turned the back end of six unfired cartridges toward Billy Odle and said, “Yep, see? As loaded as it’s ever been.” He snapped the cylinder shut, spun it with the hammer cocked, then lowered the hammer and handed it back to Billy butt first. “Ever handled a Colt that feels that well balanced?”

  Billy had not handled enough Colt pistols in his life to be able to tell the difference, yet he hefted the weight of the gun on his hand as if judging it. “I can’t say as I have. She’s a beauty, all right.” He turned the Colt back and forth while the Ranger watched intently. Billy’s thumb even went across the hammer, but Sam appeared not to notice. Then Billy turned the big pistol in his hand and offered it back to the Ranger butt first, the same way it had been handed to him.

  Sam took the pistol, holstered it, and said to Billy Odle, “If you had anything to do with stealing those horses, you better tell me now. It’ll go bad on you if anything’s happened to the old man who owned them.”

  “We didn’t steal them . . . we found them running loose just like I said.”

  “I see,” said Sam. “If that’s the truth, then you tell it to Selectman Collins, and be prepared to stick to it. If it’s not the truth, then you be prepared for whatever this town will do to you. Willie John won’t be here to face the charges. It’ll all be on you.”

  “But—but what if something had happened to the old man before we found the horses, something me and Willie didn’t even know about? Won’t they have to prove we had something to do with it? They can’t do nothing to me without any proof!”

  “Listen to me Billy,” said Sam. “It’s time you step into some grown-up boots. This is not a child’s game with wooden guns and mop-stick ponies. If anything’s happened to that old man, and you’re riding one of his horses, that
’s all it takes to tie you to it. Whatever explanations you have better be good.”

  “Would they—” Billy’s words stuck in his throat until he swallowed hard. “Would they hang me for it?”

  “I can’t say, Billy. All I can say is, whatever part you’ve played in it, you best admit to it and hope for the best. Don’t be holding nothing back to protect Willie John.”

  Billy’s face turned ashen as he ran the Ranger’s advice through his mind. Then, in a quiet voice he asked, “Do you want me to tell you about the horses . . . about what happened?”

  “Only if you want to, Billy,” said Sam.

  At the saloon, Selectman Collins tossed back a shot of rye and tried to avoid the eyes of Asa Dahl and the other men gathered around him. “If the Ranger had any jurisdiction here it would be different,” said Dahl, “but he has no right to keep you waiting. If anybody has a right to question that boy first, it’s you, Collins. Am I right, boys?” Dahl turned to the bar crowd for support and got it.

  “Damn right,” said one voice above the others.

  “We know how to handle lawbreakers of all ages,” said another voice.

  Collins looked nervous for a second, then he shook it off and said, “All right, I’m not waiting on the Ranger. Billy Odle is our problem . . . we’ll handle it.”

  Seeing the tension of the crowd swell, Carl spread his hands, trying to settle them. “Listen to me! The Ranger said he’d turn Billy over to Collins as soon as he’s finished talking to him. Let him do this his way. He knows more about this sort of thing than the rest of us!”

  “Carl,” said a man with a bristly beard who stood close by with a bottle of rye in one hand and a glass in the other, “you’re a good man and a fine blacksmith. But you don’t know squat about dealing with criminals.”

  “Massey,” said Carl to the man. “You’re a mule skinner and a fall-down drunkard. Does that qualify you?” He looked at the others in turn then added, “Besides, boys, this isn’t a criminal we’re talking about. This is Billy Odle. He’s one of our own, and he’s just a scared kid who doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing.”

  “Scared kid? Ha!” said Asa Dahl. “I’ll tell you what he is. He’s the son of a town whore. He’s a thief, a liar and a troublemaker. He’s taking up with outlaws, and if you don’t stop him hard and cold right here and now, he’ll go on to worse things, I can promise you that.”

  Carl Yates stepped forward. “You’re just trying to stir things up worse than they are, Asa. Ronald and I brought the boy in. He said they found the horse running loose . . . maybe he did.”

  “Oh really?” Asa Dahl’s voice was sarcastic. He stepped in almost nose to nose with Carl Yates and said, “Look me right in the eyes, Carl, and tell me you believe that hogwash.”

  “Damn it, Asa,” said Carl, his face reddening, “it’s not my place to believe or disbelieve it. If it comes down to a matter of the law, only a jury can decide if the boy’s story is true or not.”

  “It’s not going to come down to a matter of the law,” said Asa Dahl, “not over a lying little whelp like Billy Odle. I’ll personally take him out behind the livery barn and tan his hide with a snake whip. We’ll get to the truth of it right quick.”

  “Now you’re talking crazy, Dahl,” said Carl.

  Asa Dahl ignored him and turned to Selectman Collins. “Are you ready to go get Billy Odle and tell that Ranger who’s in charge here?”

  Selectman Collins looked unsure of himself, but only for a second. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a sheriff’s badge and pinned it to his vest. “As a selectman, I have a right to assume the duties of sheriff.” Then he took a deep breath, smoothed the front of his vest down and said, “All right, let’s go get it done.”

  Asa Dahl lagged behind as the group of men left the saloon and advanced on the doctor’s office across the street. In the open doorway of the livery barn, Red Booker stood kicking snow from his boots. When he saw the townsmen, he called over his shoulder to Colonel Fuller, “Here they come, Colonel, just like you said they would.”

  “Splendid,” the colonel grinned. He stepped in beside Booker with a long cigar between his lips. He puffed a few times as the townsmen gathered in a tight group in the street outside the doctor’s office. “Now we stand back and let the law take its course. Once the town has that boy in custody, I’ll make him sing a different tune.”

  Chapter 14

  Sam and Billy Odle stepped out of the doctor’s office onto the boardwalk, only to be met by the group of townsmen in a half circle in the street. Before Sam could say a word, Selectman Collins stepped forward and called out his name. “Ranger Burrack. I want that boy, and I want him right now. I have reason to believe he stole some horses.”

  “Easy, Collins,” Sam cautioned. He took his time looking back and forth across the hardened faces in the crowd. “The fact is, I was just on my way, bringing him to you. He wants to explain—”

  “Then I’m saving you the trouble, Ranger,” Collins said in a clipped tone, not letting Sam finish. “Hand him over.”

  Sam finished scanning the crowd, the shoveled street, the piles of snow along the boardwalk. Then he said in a calm voice, “I don’t like your attitude or your tone, Collins.” His eyes met Collins’s. “Be careful we don’t lock horns here.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, Ranger,” Collins said, trying not to wither in the Ranger’s harsh glare, “I’m wearing a sheriff’s badge.” His fingers tapped the badge on his chest.

  “Believe me, Collins,” said Sam, “I saw that badge the first thing when you called out my name.” He took a step forward from Billy Odle and added, “There’s more to wearing it than just pinning it on and keeping it shined. I hope you haven’t let somebody talk you into doing something foolish.”

  Collins stood rigid. “As the town council’s selectman, it’s my right, my duty, to fill the position of sheriff until such time as we appoint someone through the appropriate procedure.” As Collins spoke, Colonel Fuller and his men left the livery barn and drifted in slowly behind the townsmen. Sam took note of this out of the corner of his eye.

  “I’ve already questioned young Billy about those horses,” said Sam. “Apparently, Willie John stole those horses while he was holding Billy captive.”

  Billy Odle was surprised to hear Sam say such a thing. Only moments ago he’d come clean and confessed what had happened to the Ranger. Now the Ranger was lying, changing the story around to save him. Billy couldn’t believe his ears.

  “Nice try, Ranger,” said Colonel Fuller, shoving his way to the front of the crowd beside Collins, “but if it’s all the same with you, Sheriff Collins here would like to question the boy anyway. Right, Collins?”

  Collins’s face reddened as he stared at Fuller, not expecting Fuller to come forward and butt into town business.

  “Well, Sheriff Collins,” said Sam, “now that this bounty hunter is doing your talking for you, tell him I said it’s not all the same with me.” His eyes went from Collins to Fuller. “I’m not turning this young man over to anybody as long as I think you’re still in the mix of things, Colonel. I saw what you were going to do to his ma.”

  “What about my ma?” Billy Odle said, taking a step forward beside the Ranger.

  “Keep your mouth shut,” the Ranger said in a harsh whisper, swinging a cold stare at Billy Odle. Billy shied back. Sam turned his gaze back to Collins. “This young man is in my custody. Any questioning will have to be done with me present.”

  “You have no jurisdiction here, Ranger!” Collins shouted.

  “I heard that enough to know it by now, Collins,” said Sam. “But the fact is, Billy’s father is a prisoner in Yuma, Arizona. That makes Billy here a ward of the territory until his pa’s released.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Colonel Fuller raged.

  “It’s federal law,” Sam said with a slight shrug. “Go look it up if you don’t believe me.”

  “Collins,” said Fuller, “that�
��s nothing but a sack full of pure bullshit!” He pointed a finger at Sam as he spoke to the townsmen. “This Ranger is making a mockery of the law, and he’s treating all of you like a bunch of idiots to boot!”

  “No,” said Carl the blacksmith, stepping around from the edge of the townsmen. “The Ranger’s telling the truth. I’ve heard of that law myself.”

  “You’re a damn liar!” shouted Colonel Fuller. He stepped toward Carl Yates, then stopped short when Ronald Andrews swung the sawed-off shotgun up off the crook of his arm and cocked it toward him.

  “Don’t call my boss a liar,” Ronald warned. “Now back off before I chop one off at the knee for you. I’ve had enough of your guff to last me the winter.”

  Fuller looked to Red Booker and his men for support. Red Booker gave him a nod, yet Fuller knew that having his whole force present wouldn’t help him one bit once the hammer fell on the ten-gauge. “All right, blacksmith, I’m stepping back, see?” He took a slow step back, then let out a tense breath and said to Collins, “Sheriff, you’re well within your right to take that boy to jail.”

  “I know.” Collins bit his lip in deep consideration, seeing the way the Ranger had let his right hand fall back near his pistol butt. Whether there was such a law or not really didn’t make any difference. The Ranger was just letting him know that the boy wasn’t going to be taken from him. “I’m not an attorney, Ranger,” said Collins, “and I’m not all that familiar with federal law. But I do want to know what went on out there with Renfro’s horses. I’ve got a right to question Billy Odle.”

  “Indeed you do, Collins,” said Sam, “and I’ll be right there watching just in case I can help.”

  “He doesn’t need you there, Ranger,” said Colonel Fuller. “If he needs help, I’ll help him.”

  Collins shot Fuller a hard look. “It’s time you butt out, Fuller. Nobody asked for your two cents.”

  Fuller fell silent under Collins’s stare.

  “Ranger,” said Collins, “I’ll question this boy when I think it’s time to question him.” He looked a bit embarrassed. “My main concern now is whether Old Man Renfro is dead or alive.” He looked around at the men in the street.