Robbery at Holliday Creek (17)

When Fairness Is Not Just.

© Robert Faulkender

The experienced eye of Doc Madden inspected Danny’s foot. The child had obviously broken the two outside toes on his left foot. Someone had aligned the toes and bound them in place. The cuts, swelling, and bruising made things look bad, but the fact was; it would be fine –just take a while to heal. Doc redressed the bandages.  He looked the kid in the eye. “You’re a brave little colored. That must really hurt.” Danny nodded.

     Ted was up at first light. He arranged for Clara Maud to bring breakfast to the children, and then he headed for the general store to explain things to the mayor.

     Samuelson had a busy day ahead, but that was soon forgotten when the sheriff explained the last twenty-four hours. What to do was a debate that went on for hours. Jim Samuelson was of a particular mindset: as far as he was concerned the children were guilty of theft. Regardless of any mitigating circumstances, they must be tried and sentenced with fines. They could pay off their fines as indentured workers to the locals who can hire them cheap. Samuelson thought this was a good way to keep affordable labor in the county, and deal with the freed slaves who didn’t really fit into society.

     It troubled Ted. “You’ll just be putting them back into slavery with no chance at ever saving any money or improving their life—much less get an education.”

     “You sound like one of them carpetbaggers. These people are unskilled farm laborers and the economic base of rural Texas. We fine these children for their crimes, and then hire them out to work off the fines. We will have found them a home, put cash in the town treasury, and re built traditional southern life.” 

     Samuelson was clearly pleased with himself.  “The Bannister’s will take the older boy. They can always use another cowhand. And the Hightower farm would take the middle boy. Hell, they got three daughters. They’d love to have a good field hand. Chances are the girl child could go to the cafe.”

   It didn’t sound good to Ted. His father’s death came to mind.

Robbery at Holliday Creek (16)

 Courage Is Not A Function Of Age.

© Robert Faulkender

Darkness had fallen when the four slipped into the Sheriff’s office. Ted found the lantern and lit it. Joseph’s eyes narrowed as soon as he saw the bars. “You said we warn’t arrested.” 

     “And you’re not, but my boarding house is full, so we’re making this place work.” He led them into the back room, making a big deal about leaving the cell doors open.

     “I’m going for some food. You kids stay in the back, keep the lantern low, and don’t think of moving.”  He smiled warmly; erasing the fear in each face, then passed through the darkened front office and slipped the door lock as he left. There were limits to unsubstantiated trust.

    Ted went straight to Ma Blanchard’s. Fortunately, Doc was still at the dinner table.” Doc, I need your help. Got a situation over at the jail that calls for a medical opinion.” 

     “Emergency?”

    “Naw, it’s private, but needs attending tonight.” Ted followed Ma into the kitchen. “Ma, I have three hungry people in jail. Can you put together a pot of something warm?”

    Ma Blanchard had a feel for certain things and didn’t need explanations. Unlike Clara Maud, who saw things, and then decided what she felt about them, Ma felt things first, and if she felt good about the moment, she seldom needed explanations to take immediate action. In record time, without questions, she presented Ted with dinner for four.

      Skillman moved swiftly to the office and quietly unlocked the door. The children were exactly where he left them. As soon as he set the stew pot on the desk Sarah took charge: dishing out cups to the brim just as though she had done it every day. 

    When Doc marched through the door, four edgy people nearly jumped out of their skins. As improbable as the scene was, the only thing that surprised Doc was how the little girl wore a man’s white shirt like a dress, cinched up at the waist with a stretch of rope. 

      “Looks like you caught a couple of thieves, Sheriff.”

     “Get to that later, Doc. Right now tell me about this boy’s crushed foot.”

Robbery at Holliday Creek (15)-

 When Jail is not Arrest.

© Robert Faulkender   hhtp://robertfaulkender.com

The two older children were following the sheriff in single file until Ted looked at the youngest sitting the saddle. He barked over his shoulder. “You two come walk with me.”  He took the bucket away from Sarah and handed it up to Danny.

    “If the kid dozes off, maybe he’ll drop the bucket and wake before he falls.” He spoke more to himself then to the others. 

     The three walked along in front of the horse: the sheriff holding the reins, Sarah next to him and Joseph, flanking his sister.

    “Where you kids from?”

     Joseph answered. “Missisip, sah.”

     “How is it you are out here alone? Where are your parents?”

     “Dey’s dead.” Joseph spoke without emotion.

     Sarah added. “Dey die of da fever.”

     Ted thought that made sense. There was a yellow fever epidemic in the lower Mississippi valley —it still was a problem. “They die along the Mississippi river?”

    “No, sah, not till we gets to the Red.” said Joseph. “We gets as far as dat riber whilest go’n to Kansas to meets wif Pap Singleton, but den the fever come on.” 

    “And your family left Mississippi just like that?”

    “Not azakly.” 

     Joseph explained that a white man representing the Singleton settlement west of Topeka was to guide them into the territory. Seemed the man left them as soon as their pappy came down with the fever.  

   Sarah spoke flatly. “Mamie catch da fever, too, and she say we gots to go. Follow the riber she say. So we does – ‘till Danny drops a rock on his foot.” She shot a disgusted look over her shoulder at her little brother. 

    Skillman processed the information. It was too wild not to be likely. “How did you get the rifle, Joseph?” 

     “Pappy gived to me afor he die. He gets from his pappy aft da wawr. Grand pap fights wif Union at Nor Lens.”

    Skillman could see Holliday in the distance, and his attention shifted to what to do next. Very quickly he must reconcile these little thieves with the town’s folk. The three were going to need help.

      “You kids’ been doing the stealing around town?” It was more a statement than a question.

     Joseph was quick to respond. “Warn’t no stealing, Massar Sharf. We gived back in kind.”

    “And that’s to your credit, Joseph.” The boy’s chin came up. 

     No lame excuses there. 

     Skillman wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but he would start with proper shelter and finding Doc.

   It was dusk. The edge of town was just ahead. Skillman stopped, and spoke so Danny, on the horse, could hear, too.  “Here’s how it’s going to be. I’m bunking you kids in my office for starters, and then having Doc come see your little brother.” 

 

     Three blank black faces stared at the ground…

      “And, I ‘spect you might be hungry, too.”

     Heads up. Smiles all around for the first time that day--maybe even longer.

Robbery at Holliday Creek (14)-

http://www.robertfaulkender.com

Not the Usual Crook.

© Robert Faulkender

The widow Colby’s cottage was down the cross street and over the Holliday Creek bridge. Her garden stretched from the creek bank up into her backyard.  For reasons he could never have explained, Ted rode his horse down into the creek, upstream from the bridge. The stream was about twenty feet wide and shallow enough for Spirit to walk across.

    He could tell, even from mid stream, that whatever lay on the far bank didn’t belong there.  He dismounted on the shore for a closer look at… son of gun, tops of corn stalks.  And there they were; barefoot prints pointing upstream. Ted tracked the water’s edge; now and then catching the hint of a footprint. He continued.

     It was late afternoon when he smelled the smoke, but he didn’t see them till he was on top of their site. From shock, to disbelief, to arrest; in fifteen minutes he had them under control.

     This was not what Ted had in mind when he took up sheriffing – walking beside his horse through the west Texas plains with three colored kids in tow. 

     How in the name of Sam Hill did these kids wind up on the leading edge of the Llano, in a dugout cave on the south bank of Holliday Creek? 

     And the first thing out of the older one’s mouth, “Is dis here Kansas?”

   Ted checked to see if the youngest was sleeping in the saddle.

    All that kid needed was to fall asleep, slip off the horse, and break his other foot – judging that was the problem with kid’s rag-wrapped first one. 

   The busted foot didn’t look too good, all swollen and red. His older sister had done the best she could, but the boy really needed Doc Madden to look at it. 

    The oldest, Joseph, said he was maybe fifteen and that Sarah was thirteen. Danny was nine.

     And what’s a fifteen year old black kid doing with a carbine? 

     The lad hadn’t turned over the Spencer without objection. Ted had to pull his sheriff rank for the boy to reluctantly hand it over. By and large, however, they had cooperated with the law respectfully. They were scared; not panicked. When Sheriff Skillman told them that they were not under arrest, and that he was taking them into town, he thought he detected a look of relief on Sarah’s face.

     “Gather up your things,” he told them, “You’re coming with me. Put the small one on my horse. You got two minutes to clear this dugout. Make sure the fire is buried.” 

     Sarah produced a two gallon bucket and dumped the water on the fire. She then collected the sum of their possessions in the bucket. Ted watched them clear the area. The boy’s clothes were ragged but clean, and he noticed the bar of soap in the bucket. Joseph was quick about getting his little brother on the horse, and, in two minutes flat, the eclectic little party headed northeast along the banks of Holliday Creek.

Now what to do...

Robbery at Holliday Creek (13)

What’s hassen pfeffer?

The mayor and sheriff had just tied up their horses in front of the general store when Leitha burst out the door and flew into her father’s arms. Big smiles and laughter like music. Ted nervously gathered his shirt at each hip and tucked the excess material neatly under his belt. 

     Leitha shined on him. “Good morning sheriff, I see congratulations are in order.”  

     Samuelson turned loose of his daughter. “You two talk. I have a store to run.”  And he left them on the boardwalk.

     “Good morning, Miss Leitha. How was your visit to St. Louis?”

     “Oh, not just a visit, sheriff; I shall be moving to St. Louis as soon as arrangements can be made with my aunt.”  

    That caught Ted off guard and he blurted. “Why would you want to do a thing like that when taming the west is so exciting and … and filled with opportunity?”

    Her broad smile shrank to the size of a button hole. “My dear, sheriff, it is the difference between saddle-breaking a bronco and training a trotter for the sulky harness. The former is violence leading to crude beginnings. The second is discipline, leading to graceful integration of man, horse, and machine. ”  

     He was in trouble. The black hair, contrasted against the ivory skin, was the perfect frame for flashing dark eyes set over high cheek bones. She was magnificent.

     He managed to say, “A person could get by very nicely in the settled west.”  He heard his step-father’s words.

     “Sheriff Skillman, the machine age in the east promises more than subsistence… Welcome to our town.”  She disappeared into the store.

     Skillman studied the tops of his cowboy boots a moment. That went well. He decided to stop by the hotel restaurant for a bite of lunch.

    Clara Maud watched the pair from the window. She didn’t have to hear the conversation to see things didn’t bode well for the young ones. She had a cup of coffee at his table as he walked in the door. “Ma Blanchard must be losing her touch… sit. Either that, or you heard that the special today is hassen pfeffer.” 

     “What’s hassen pfeffer?”

     “A rabbit dish made German style—like the cook.  Turns out Mrs. Colby found a brace of rabbits on her back porch just before she discovered three, nearly ripened, corn stalks cut out of her garden, clean as a whistle.”

     “Why would anyone take the whole stalk instead of just pick the ears?”

     “Ever try to carry a dozen ears of corn without a poke?”

     The rabbit stew was certainly something special. Clara Maud hustled around severing the noontime guests, but rushed by to spot him coffee from time to time.  He lingered after the meal hoping she would have time for a little conversation—and she did.

     
       “When did Mrs. Colby first miss her corn?”

     “Well, she found the rabbits this morning, but the corn could have been taken a day or possibly two days ago. She just couldn’t be sure… You know Leitha is back from St. Louis; came in on the morning stage.”  Clara Maud watched for a reaction – a slight smile on her face.

     Ted looked at Clara Maud an extra moment then turned away. The thought crossed his mind: Too bad Clara is twice my age.

     “Yeah, I saw her earlier. Don’t expect her to be around here much longer.  Think I’ll go over and see what Mrs. Colby has to say.”

Robbery at Holliday Creek (12)

Making the Rounds

The mayor and his new sheriff turned up the only side street in Holliday. Samuelson paused at the front door of the first house on the left.

      “In a minute we’ll be into local howdy-do’s, but the smart thing for the new sheriff to do is meet the owner of XBARX. He’s the largest employer in the area, and his men are likely tenants for your jail. I’ll come by in few days after you get settled, and we’ll ride out; make the introductions.” He smiled sheepishly. “Good politics.”

     With that, the mayor opened the front door of Ma Blanchard’s boarding house, and the smell of Texas cooking said, “home”.

     Three days later, Samuelson returned to Ma’s breakfast table. “Brought you a side of venison, Ma. It showed up at the back of the store—guess Howard must have brought it in from XBARX.”

     “ ’Bout time you balanced the ledger, what with all them free meals you been taken since Leitha left.” Ma moved into the kitchen. 

     Skillman and Doc Madden were the only two at the table. Doc poured out the history of Holiday while the mayor woofed down breakfast. The town was, basically, a quiet place with peaceful people. But, a few years back, the region was hit by the worst drought folks around could remember. Ranchers bought up distressed farms at foreclosure prices. It strained the harmony of Holiday life… And now, this stealing thing.

 

     The way Doc saw it: “Nothing worse than a little thievery to break down the neighborly trust that was just re-emerging. Everyone starts looking at his neighbor differently, and, the loss of trust leads to tension. Someone stole my shirt off Ma’s wash line last week, and I’m eying every white shirt coming through town.” 

 

By nine o’clock, Samuelson, with Skillman at his side, approached the gateway to XBARX ranch. A weathered, white-haired man in his sixty’s stood on the porch of the large rambling frame house watching the riders approach. When in earshot, he called out, “Welcome to XBARX, mayor. That your new tenderfoot in tow?”

 

The mayor introduced Ted. Banister shook hands, looking Skillman up and down. “My god, you’re young.” 

     Ted hoped he wasn’t blushing. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Banister.”

     The visit didn’t take long. Over coffee, they received a vote of confidence for the new sheriff, a pledge of support for the mayor, and a promise to caution cowboys about in-town manners. The visitors were back in the saddles in little more than an hour.

     They had ridden about a half mile when the mayor broke the silence. “You know they’re going to test you, don’t you?”

     Ted looked blank.

     “Those cowboys are more than likely going to try something just to see how much the kid sheriff can take. You need to be ready for it, if you catch my drift.”

Robbery at Holliday Creek (11)

New Sheriff in Town

After settling his horse at the livery stable Ted made the short walk to the general store. As he rounded the street corner, he saw Jim Samuelson on the walk in front of his store. He was studying the store front so intently he didn’t realize he had company until Ted stepped onto the boardwalk.

   The mayor broke into a smile. “Son-of –a-gun, Skillman. I’d about given you up. Welcome to town.”

The men entered the store. Samuelsson headed to the back room; he shouted, “Howard, come in here. I need a witness.” He turned over his shoulder, “Borrowed Howard from the XBARX to help out while Leitha is in St. Louis.”  

He slid the cover back on the roll-top desk, and pulled some papers from a couple of pigeon holes.  A shiny star-shaped badge dropped onto the writing surface. At the same moment a scruffy cowboy entered from the back entrance. 

“Skillman here is the new sheriff, Howard. Need you to witness the swearing in.” 

The mayor read the oath that swore the sheriff to uphold the ordinances for the town of Holliday. “…so help you, God.” 

His Honor picked up a booklet, briefly inspected it, and handed it to Skillman. “These are the town ordinances, duly approved by the town council. Be good for you to get very familiar with them. Now sign the oath.” 

     Skillman was surprised to see Howard sign his name as witness. The cowboy then mumbled something, gave Skillman a suspicious sideways look, and excused himself.

     Samuelson smiled wryly. “Howard don’t look like much, but he can read and write and do figures. He’s got a strong back, too-- only thing he’s got over Leitha.”

        Ted pinned the star on his left pocket, then, casually as possible, “What took Leitha to St. Louis?”

     “My sister lives there; Leitha’s visiting. Leitha has a hankering to live in the big city. I think it’s a mistake. But she feels the west killed her mother. Hell, that woman would have died of pneumonia, East or West. But, this is a chance for daughter to see if East is what she wants.”

     Ted’s poker face hid the disappointment he unconsciously felt. The mayor grabbed his hat. “Come on. I’ll walk you over to Ma Blanchard’s.”

Out on the boardwalk, Samuelson paused to study the store front. “My store’s been broken into, maybe, three times since we first talked. The thief doesn’t take much, and he’s a master at covering evidence of entering.” 

 

     They walked along the main street in Holliday. “I wouldn’t have missed the galvanized pail if my stock wasn’t down to two. One day I had just one. And I noticed this morning a couple of boxes of cartridges are missing. I have no idea how long they’ve been gone.”


Ted processed what the mayor had said. Maybe Clara Maud wasn't exaggerating.