Since we didn’t have to make any detours, search for any tracks, or travel through streams, we arrived in River Bend Friday afternoon. We had taken the time Tuesday to find the bodies of Hank Frobisher, Terrell Tolliver, and Ed Monger. “Right where they wanted to be,” Allie commented. We wrapped them in blankets, draped them over their horses, and brought them back for burial. Even rogues like those men usually deserve better than to be buzzard food. I think even Allie agreed with that.
On the trip home, I talked quite a bit with Gus Ferrara. Allie kept her ears open and mouth closed most of the time, trying to size him up. He actually seemed like a rather decent sort, a fellow who had simply gotten a bad break in life and had to do what he thought was necessary to survive.
“My father and mother taught me better,” he said, “but I guess I got a little bitter towards society, and the fact that the law would do nothing to avenge their deaths.” That struck home to me. Readers of Whitewater might recall that my introduction to these stories was as an outlaw who also was bitter because the law wouldn’t give me justice. He continued, “I guess, over time, you can become hardened to a lot of things. Robbing banks and stages was one thing; killing people was something that never quite sat well with me. But I didn’t run the gang and I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Why did you finally decide to leave?”
He looked at me. “Taking children hostage and killing two women, one of whom was totally innocent and another who was only protecting a decent man, was just a little more than I could handle.”
I shifted my eyes to Allie. She was listening, but I couldn’t read her face. She tended to be verrrrry skeptical and cynical, and for that matter, so am I, but I had a feeling Gus was on the up and up.
“How old are you?’ I asked him.
“25.”
Old enough to know better, young enough to still make something of his life.
He looked at Allie. “Are you going to take me in? I guess you have to, don’t you.”
She didn’t look at him. “Just stay out of my sight, Ferrara, and don’t ever get in range of my gun when it’s not in my holster.”
There seemed to be a relieved expression on Gus’s face.
“I’m fixing to buy a pretty big spread in Clearwater,” I told him. “I might need a good man or two to help me work the horses and cattle.”
“I’d like to be considered, Mr. Conners, if you think you can trust me.”
“What do you think I’d do, Gus, if I found out I couldn’t trust you?”
He gave me a wry grin. “I don’t really think I want to find out.”
“Well, I’ll tell you anyway. I’ll sic Allie Summer on you.”
Gus looked at her, still smiling. Allie wasn’t smiling. Gus stopped smiling.
I was usually a pretty good judge of character. And I didn’t think I was making a mistake with Gus Ferrara.
Surprisingly, Kelly Atkins and I didn’t spend a whole lot of time together on the trip back to River Bend. We talked some, of course, and I could see questions in her eyes, but I didn’t think this was the time or place and I got the same feeling from her. She spent most of her time with Kelly Kramer, who was still having some conscience problems over almost getting Kelly A and me killed. Kelly A found out a little more about her namesake and told me.
“She only lived in Upton for the last seven years, and she’s only 21 years old. She was raised by Blackfeet; she has no memories of her parents, and she was never told what happened to them. From all she could gather, her mother might have been a prostitute who simply left her at the doorstep of the Indian camp. But she does have some relatives up in Bandera. Two aunts, I think she said. Once the Blackfeet were put on a reservation, the aunts claimed her, but were so sadistic that Kelly ran away and ended up in Upton.”
“I guess she learned to shoot and track from the Blackfeet,” I suggested.
“Yes.” It was obvious that Kelly felt strongly for Kelly Kramer. “She’s had it rough, Rob, and she will probably lose her job at the Gold Dust because she followed you without telling Oscar and Sudsy. Well, she left them a note is all. They may not take her back.”
I nodded. “That’s distinctly possible. We’ll find something for her.”
That was probably the longest conversation Kelly Atkins and I had on the trip back to River Bend. I felt a tad bit of uneasiness with my situation with her, and I suppose it was largely because I wasn’t sure where I stood with her. Hanging over the cliff, she said she loved me…it’s easy to say things at desperate times like that…did she really mean it?...Well, I came back to River Bend to find out, I guess I’ll have to…at least her name is still “Atkins”…
Kelly was going through the same thing. He said he loved me…was he just trying to make me feel good before we both died? Now that we’re safe…will he say the same thing? He seems a little uncomfortable around me…he rides closer to Allie Summer than he does to me…is he trying to tell me something?...oh, Rob, please don’t leave again…he never said he’d stay… Kelly hadn’t heard Rob’s comment to Gus Ferrara about buying a ranch in Clearwater Valley. But he came back…why? She wanted to believe that he had come back for her…but if he didn’t, she wanted to be prepared for that, too. Well, there’s always Dave Lee…he’s really nice…
Other than that, it was an uneventful trip.
Ben Baker and his posse had been back in River Bend for a few days when we got there. He had captured six of Tolliver’s men, but also lost one of his own. And that loss hurt him.
“We had them surrounded at their campsite, and we were all out of sight, behind trees or bushes. But that little fellow, Snarky Allen, he went for his gun and before we could stop him, he got off a lucky shot and hit Lett Ashford in the gut. I tried to get the bullet, but he died while I was trying.”
“I’m sorry, Ben,” I said to him, “but that’s the risk men take to protect their freedoms and loved ones."
Ben knew that, of course, and none of the men blamed him. “He handled it as well as could be,” Hi Bellus said. “That little Snarky feller was fast and his shot was lucky. He didn’t even know where Lett was, he just cut loose a couple of shots. Well, the rest of us filled him full o’ lead, and none of the other Tolliver men went for their irons. But it was too late for Lett. The only consolation was that he weren’t married no more. He lost his Minny a few years ago. He had a good life.” Ben was adamant that no family men were allowed on the posse. He had no intention of risking creating widows or orphans.
Ben had wired W. T. McConnell and the Ranger Captain had sent three men to escort the Tolliver men to Port Station. “Have Allie come back with them,” his message had said.
“Oh, joy,” Allie quipped, “another transport assignment.” But I could tell she was happy to be going back to work. And the best part of the whole thing was that the Tolliver gang was no more.
“When are you going to take another vacation?” I teased her.
“Sometime next century,” she replied, and I laughed.
The other Rangers arrived in River Bend on Saturday morning, the day after we had gotten there. McConnell had told them to get the six outlaws and head directly back to Port Station, but they spent the night. “If you leave today,” Allie told them, “you’re leaving without me.” She wanted to give Ranger a full day of rest, a sentiment with which I heartily agreed. That was one fine horse and she needed to take care of him. And she didn’t need me to tell her that.
I saw her before she left the next morning. “You going to stay in Clearwater?” she asked me, meaning “have you asked Kelly to marry you yet?”
“That…hasn’t been decided,” I said, diplomatically. Kelly had actually gone straight home upon our arrival in River Bend. Ben had told her that her father was back now and in obvious angst over the well-being of his daughter. She took a moment to look at me and tell me that she hoped she’d see me soon, and then she rode off. I didn’t see her Saturday.
Anyway, I was non-committal with Allie and she just nodded. “Take care of yourself,” she said to me as she mounted Ranger. We looked at each other. “And thanks again for saving my life.”
I smiled at her. “I think we’re pretty even, Allie. And I’m not keeping score anyway.”
She nodded. “I’m not, either.” Then she turned her horse, spoke to the other Rangers—“Let’s get home”—and they headed east, with a contingent of outlaws, to Port Station.
She never looked back. But then, Allie Summer never did.
One more minor point, or maybe not so minor, depending upon perspective, I suppose. Kelly Kramer didn’t get her job back at the Gold Dust. Oscar and Sudsy were understandably upset that she had left so abruptly, but I went with her to the restaurant and explained the situation and they were somewhat placated. But they had already hired another waitress and didn’t need Kelly any more. She was somewhat distraught about it.
“I don’t have much money left, Rob, and there isn’t much I can do. I guess I could go to Bandera after all.”
“No, we’ll find you something here, Kelly. Just hang on and let me ask around.” As it turned out, she had three or four different offers. She had become known pretty quickly around River Bend for three reasons—being shot by Trent Tolliver, working at the Gold Dust, and resembling Kelly Atkins. And Kelly K was a sweet lady, too. As I write this, I’m not exactly sure which job offer she took, but I think she was leaning to working at the lady’s store. I thought that would suit her well.
And that leaves only one knot untied…