Teacher With a Tin Star Page 2

  These were also men who needed plenty of space around them and did not like to be jostled at the bar or even to have others brush against them as they walked past. Any unwanted contact was met with cold and menacing stares.

  Still and all, Parker was an important man locally and it was really nobody’s business who he was employing up on his own land. Nevertheless, the presence in the saloon of these hard-looking and apparently touchy types made some of the regular customers feel uneasy. As the evening wore on, the uneasiness increased. There was nothing anybody could put a finger on, but the usual patrons began to drift away from the saloon earlier than would generally be the case. Nathan Dowty shook his head gloomily when he realized that pretty well the only drinkers left in the place were Parker’s boys. He had a sharp nose for trouble and although there had been no quarrelling or fighting yet, he surely hoped that these men would not be making a habit of drinking in his saloon. They were the kind of folk who made others feel nervous.

  Chapter 2

  News travels fast in a small town and when the children began to trickle into the schoolroom the morning after their teacher had rescued Billy Cartwright’s sister from her awkward predicament, every single child appeared to know exactly what had taken place in that alleyway off Main Street. The source of their information was of course Lily-May’s young brother, who was basking in the reflected glory of being among the first to discover that Mark Brown was not the soft fellow that everybody thought him to be.

  As his pupils arrived, Brown was a little irritated to see that they were staring at him with new respect. Lord, he thought to himself, all it takes to make these little ones regard you as a grand sort of person is to knock somebody down in the street.

  ‘Is it true, sir, that you beat up on one of the men from the Parker ranch?’ asked one boy, who was but eight years of age.

  ‘That’s nothing to the purpose,’ said the teacher repressively, ‘We come here to learn, not discuss nonsense of that kind.’

  The morning progressed well enough, until about ten, when there was a knock at the door. One of the girls jumped up to open it and Brown saw to his surprise that standing outside was Linton J. Avery.

  Linton Avery’s position in the town was a strange one. Although he had a house five miles from Barker’s Crossing, he was not a homesteader. As a matter of fact, he was a highly educated man; a qualified lawyer who was also a Justice of the Peace. Although a partner in a law firm in Cheyenne, he preferred living out in the wild for a lot of the time. He was a regular visitor to town and often made business trips south. Why he had made his home out on the range was something of a mystery to folk in town. There were those who suggested that Avery was sweet on Aggie McDermott and that it was that which kept him living out there among the farmers.

  ‘May I help you, Mr Avery?’ asked the teacher. ‘It’s about time for recess, so if you want to talk, we can do so privately here.’

  ‘Thank you. I would like a word or two, if quite convenient.’

  Brown addressed the class. ‘Children, you may go out quietly to the yard now. Quietly, I said, Billy Cartwright. Unless you’d all like to stay in and do some sums instead of playing outside?’

  The children grinned openly at this empty threat and went careering out into the school yard.

  ‘Take a seat, if you please, Mr Avery. How may I help you?’

  Avery drew up a chair to the teacher’s table and said, ‘I’ve been hearing all about you in the store, this morning. I tell you, Brown, you’re the theme of general conversation!’

  ‘People have nothing better to do with their time than talk a lot of foolishness,’ said Mark Brown dismissively. ‘Tomorrow, they’ll be gossiping about something else.’

  ‘But is its true that you took on one of those new boys from Parker’s place? The ones that everybody is so worried about?’

  ‘I don’t know who it was I dealt with,’ said Brown shortly. ‘He was making a nuisance of himself to a young lady and so I put a stop to it. It’s nothing. Surely that wasn’t what you wanted to speak to me about?’

  ‘Well, only in a manner of speaking. You know, things are coming to a head with Parker and his carrying on against those settlers. It’s time you people in town took a stand.’

  Mark Brown rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘I’ve only been here a fortnight, barely that. I wouldn’t say I qualify as one of the townspeople yet awhiles. And what d’you mean by “taking a stand?” ?’

  ‘Here’s the way of it. Parker has brought a bunch of men up here from Texas. They’re little more than mercenaries, hired guns. You heard about Tom Sadler? Well, that’s just the start. What’s needed in this town is some proper law. Somebody who will stand firm and rally folk hereabouts to put a stop to Parker and his bandits.’

  ‘Why come to me?’ asked the teacher bluntly. ‘I’m nobody here.’

  ‘You’re an educated man, the same as me. If we want to have a sheriff hereabouts, then first we ought to have a town council. I’m asking if you’d sit on something of the sort, if I could get others to join it?’

  ‘I suppose I might. What then, we would engage guns of our own to stop Parker taking over the district?’

  ‘We’d appoint a sheriff, who could then have deputies, maybe raise a posse, if need be. I want to see proper law and order come to this town. Otherwise, Parker will begin throwing his weight around in town, same as he thinks he rules the range.’

  ‘You’re a Justice of the Peace, or so I heard. You could just swear in a sheriff yourself, couldn’t you?’

  ‘In theory,’ said Avery, ‘But that’d look mighty high-handed. I’d as soon the town chose somebody for the job.’

  After school had finished for the day and he had tidied up the classroom, Brown went for a stroll along Main Street. It must have been as Avery said, because he was met today not with veiled mockery, but smiles and greetings from the men he passed. The story of how the teacher had knocked down one of Parker’s hard men had evidently been doing the rounds. Some of the men he passed on the boardwalk cowered away playfully, as though afraid that the teacher was going to attack them. After five minutes of this, he’d had enough and decided to go for a walk in the hills before heading back to his lodgings. He needed time to think.

  The idea of a town council was not a bad one, as far as Brown could see. Randolph Parker was certainly flexing his muscles and Avery was right; if they were not careful, then the rancher would soon be trying to lord it over Barker’s Crossing, as well as the scattered homesteads which he was determined to see swept away. The teacher just wasn’t sure if he felt like putting himself forward as part of all this. It was one thing to tackle one of those men in the way he had done on the spur of the moment, quite another to become an official part of the town by sitting on a council. On balance, he was of a minded to refuse.

  Having come to a decision, Brown felt better. He pulled out the silver hunter which he had inherited from his father and consulted it. It lacked only ten minutes to the hour and if he wasn’t careful, he would be late for the evening meal.

  Miss Clayton was an elderly spinster who rented out the top floor of her house to what she referred to genteelly as ‘paying guests’. She was waiting in the kitchen when Brown hurried in from his walk. He went quickly up to his room, splashed a little water on his face, brushed his hair and hoped that he would pass muster.

  ‘I suppose, ma’am, that you’ll be asking what I’ve been up to, brawling in the street?’ said Brown, once the two of them were seated at the table and ready to eat.

  ‘Oh no, Mr Brown,’ the old woman assured him, ‘I shouldn’t dream of doing anything so vulgar. It’s nothing to do with me. Besides, Mrs Cartwright has already given me chapter and verse on that subject.’

  ‘You don’t sound shocked,’ said Brown and to his surprise, Miss Clayton gave what, from a less respectable and refined person, might have been termed a ‘snort’.

  ‘Surprised? Why should I be surprised? I knew what type of man you were whe
n first you came to town. I was pretty well counting off the days ’til you cut loose. I’m only surprised you waited so long.’

  ‘Ma’am?’ said the teacher, stunned at this unexpected statement.

  ‘Oh, don’t bother with your play acting here, Mr Brown. Putting on a suit of black and walking about looking sober all the time don’t change who you are. For all that you’re studying to be a man of the cloth, you’ll always be of the same brand.’

  ‘I’m not sure that I rightly take your meaning. . . .’ began Mark Brown, before the old woman cut in.

  ‘Pah, don’t talk to me! You think I didn’t have you pegged for a wild one when first I laid eyes on you? I could pretty much tell you your life’s history. Soldier in the war is plain enough. What happened when the bugles sang truce? What did you become then? Road agent or lawman?’

  ‘I was a lawman for almost ten years.’

  ‘Ah, I thought as much. What about after that?’

  ‘Approached a theological college and they offered me a conditional vacancy next year. In the meantime, here I am.’

  Miss Clayton shook her head emphatically. ‘That won’t answer. Not for a fellow like you. You can hold yourself in for a year or two, but you’ll break loose again. I’ve known others like you. Tried to change, but found that they couldn’t alter what they were within. Go back to being a lawman, you’ll never make a priest.’

  ‘That’s a matter of opinion, ma’am,’ he said, a little stiffly. He was far from pleased that this old woman turned out to be the only one in the whole town who had read him for what he was and also a mite ticked off at the casual way that she dismissed his ambitions. ‘I reckon there’s worse men than me become ministers of God.’

  ‘That’s true enough. But you ain’t one of them. I’ll warrant another couple of months will see you back to carrying a gun again. Sooner than that, most like.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Brown, determined to bring the conversation to a close. At that very moment, just as though they had been in a play, there came the sound of shooting from the centre of town; first a single shot and then a ragged fusillade of fire. Brown looked up in alarm and then began to stand up.

  Miss Clayton said, a wicked gleam in her eye, ‘Ah, this is where the knife meets the bone, as we say in these parts. If you’re really determined to be a peaceful minister, then I guess you’ll just sit right down again and finish your meal. After all, it’s none of your affair who’s shooting who.’

  The teacher froze for a second like a waxwork in a tableau, unable to decided whether he should just ignore the gunfire or go and see if there was some mischief afoot. There was no telling what might be happening on the streets and with no sheriff or other law within a good many miles, it fell to concerned citizens to handle such matters. He stood up completely and said, ‘If you’ll excuse me, ma’am, I think somebody ought to see what’s what.’ He took no notice of the satisfied look on the old spinster’s’ face as she was confirmed in her opinion of him.

  At odd intervals over the twenty-four hours since he had struck down the man who had been pestering Billy Cartwright’s sister, Brown had wondered whether or not the fellow would make a point of seeking revenge for being knocked senseless. There was little purpose in speculating further about this, because the man concerned now lay stone dead in the middle of Main Street, with a bullet through his head.

  ‘What happened?’ Brown asked one of the group of bystanders surrounding the body.

  ‘A row, over yonder in the saloon. Couple o’ Parker’s men accused this ’un of cheating at play. He’s one of the same crew. They traded blows, then pulled their pistols. Started shooting in the Luck of the Draw, and then it kind o’ spilled out here.’

  ‘I guess,’ said the teacher slowly, ‘That this man was asking for trouble and he found it.’

  ‘That ain’t the whole story though,’ said another man, ‘See over by the general store?’

  Brown looked towards the row of wooden buildings and noticed that the front window of the store had been shattered. He was about to remark that a broken window wasn’t that serious, when a group of four men emerged from the store, carrying a door on which was laid a body.

  ‘Old man Chivers was just tending his store and peering out the window when a stray ball took him in the chest.’

  ‘Don’t tell me he’s dead as well?’ asked Brown.

  ‘Yep. Two men killed and all over a game of cards. It’s the hell of a thing. Never seen the like in this town.’

  ‘What’s being done about it?’

  The other men in the little group looked curiously at the teacher. They didn’t say it out loud, but the unspoken opinion hung in the air between them: what’s it got to do with the town’s teacher, a man who hasn’t lived here more than a few weeks? At length, one of them said, ‘Don’t know as there’s much to do. Chivers was killed by accident and we’ll never know whose bullet hit him. Maybe Mr Parker up at the ranch will make some provision for his widow. . . .’

  ‘Do I understand that you’re prepared to let this business go?’ asked Mark Brown sternly. ‘An innocent man gunned down while minding his store and bullets flying round the streets where they might have killed any man, woman or child?’

  The others didn’t take kindly to being bated in this way and one said, ‘What would you have us do, Teacher?’

  ‘This is murder. Somebody was shooting at one man to kill him and shot another while doing so. It’s as clear a case of murder as I’ve ever seen. You men don’t want to call the killer to account?’

  It was as plain as a pikestaff that this straight-talking was not endearing Brown to the other men and he turned on his heels in disgust and walked back to Miss Clayton’s house. The old woman was sitting in the front parlour, drinking coffee. She called him in and asked what the shooting had been. He told her briefly.

  ‘Yes, it’s just as you might expect. That Randolph Parker is bringing in a set of scallywags and scamps. It’s no wonder that there’s been trouble. What are you planning on doing about it?’

  ‘Me? Why should I be doing anything? I have my hands full teaching those children.’

  ‘You stand there and tell me that you’ve not been itching over the last day or two to step in and put a stop to some of the goings-on that you’ve seen in this district since you arrived?’

  ‘I don’t belong here, Miss Clayton. It’s not for me to put myself forward.’

  ‘You’ll wait then ’til Parker has driven off all those farmers and then starts to lean on Barker’s Crossing and bend that to his will as well?’

  A little nettled by her sharp tone, Brown said, ‘If you must know, ma’am, I have it in mind to do what I should have done a while back. Tomorrow, I’m going to ride over to Parker’s place and tell him that he ought to back off a little and leave folk alone.’

  Miss Clayton smiled. ‘Ah, that’s more like it. And what’ll you do if he tells you to clear out and tend to your own affairs?’

  ‘I’ll reason with him,’ was all that Mark Brown would say further, before bidding the old woman goodnight.

  Chapter 3

  Randolph Parker had been running his herds across the range here for over twenty years now. He had begun his ranch ten years before the Wyoming Territory had even come into existence. He had been here since this land was officially designated as part of the Louisiana Purchase, watched as it became the Nebraska Territory and then seen its name changed to the Dakota Territory. Seven years ago, the name had been changed again, into the Wyoming Territory and it was about then that the trickle of hopeful settlers began to arrive on his land. Because Randolph Parker regarded all the wide acres on which he grazed his cattle as being his land, he had come here before any of them. Built his house, raised his family and hung on there through those difficult early days. Hung on, until now he was one of the richest men for many miles around. And now, everything that he had worked and fought for was being cast into hazard.

  Every day, the squatters and nesters we
re making his life more and more difficult. Already, his herds were having to travel fifteen or twenty miles to find unobstructed access to water, and the fences going up all over this part of the country were reducing the area available for the steers to eat. Not this year, maybe not next year or the year after that, but certainly within five or ten years, the range would have disappeared entirely and his ranch would be hemmed in and surrounded by little dirt farmers, grubbing for a living on his land. Well, not while Randolph Parker had breath in his body, they wouldn’t!

  Hiring those men from the south had been the first gambit in a campaign which would eventually bring this whole district under his control. It was no good fighting one little battle here, driving one man off the land there; he needed to assert his authority over the range and the town both, once and for all. If there would be bloodshed, then so be it. He hadn’t sought this trouble, but he was damned if he would back down from it now that it had arrived.

  On the morning after the killing of old Chivers, the store-keeper, Parker was standing outside his massive, stone-built house. He was admiring a strange contraption which had been put together on his instructions over the last week or so. It was a wooden hut, little bigger than a toolshed, carried on the back of a specially adapted cart with a ramp at the back which could swing down. Although it was so small, the hut had two neat windows cut at the front and looked for all the world like a giant-sized doll’s house.

  ‘That will do just fine,’ said Parker to the men who had brought the structure for his approval, ‘We can start using it this very day. Go and plant it by the stream running by Sadler’s fields. You can take it in turns to sleep there until we stake our claim. I don’t see Sally Sadler trying to stop you.’