“My friends and fellow citizens of Mankiller! I have unexpected but splendid news to report to you this evening! Our respected and beloved physician, Dr. Jason Weathers, has just told me that we have a newcomer among us this evening! A fine, healthy baby boy was added to our population a short time ago! Let’s hear it for the lad!”
That brought on a new round of whooping, hollering, and clapping. When it died away, Macauley continued, “Yes, a new baby was born in Mankiller today, which is always a cause for rejoicing!” The colonel poked a finger in the air dramatically. “But ask yourselves this question, my friends, for it holds tremendous importance! Ask yourselves…what kind of town will that child grow up in?”
The intensity of that question made the crowd remain silent. Macauley allowed that moment to stretch out for several seconds, then thundered, “Will that child grow up in a town ruled by gun and knife and fist? Will he grow up fearing for his very life because Mankiller is ruled by bloody-handed barbarians who utilize threats and intimidation and violence…even murder…to enforce their greedy, corrupt tyranny?” The colonel’s nostrils flared above his sweeping mustache as he drew in a deep breath. “Or will that child come to manhood in a community where law and order is the rule of the day, where justice is served, where people are free from the threat of wanton brutality? Think hard on each and every one of those questions, my friends, because the answers to them can be found in only one place!” Again he paused to let the tension and drama increase, before finally leaning forward and saying in an intimate tone, “The answers, my friends, can be found only in the hearts of each and every one of you.”
Bo suppressed the grin of admiration he felt trying to stretch his mouth. The colonel was good at what he did. Like a hellfire-and-brimstone preacher, he had the audience right in the palm of his hand.
Macauley took off his top hat, pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his vest, and mopped sweat from his forehead. That was a calculated move, giving the crowd time to buzz a little about what he had just said. Then he replaced the handkerchief, put the hat back on, and said, “Now, let me introduce to you the people whose mission it is to transform Mankiller into that town of law and order and justice of which I just spoke. As you know, I am a humble candidate for the office of judge, and these gentlemen want the opportunity to serve you in the positions of town councilmen. Dr. Jason Weathers! Harlan Green! Sam Bradfield! Wallace Kane!”
Each of the men climbed to the platform as Macauley called their name. They waved and smiled and looked embarrassed by the applause and cheers. As Bo looked on, he wondered why nobody had thought to have a brass band here. That was all this spectacle needed. Maybe Mankiller didn’t have enough musicians to form one.
“And now, last but certainly not least, the person who will lead us as our mayor! You all know her and respect her and enjoy the food that she and her lovely daughters and her brother serve in their café…Mrs. Lucinda Bonner!”
Lucinda cast frantic glances at Bo and Scratch, both of whom smiled reassuringly at her. Callie and Tess urged her toward the steps. Lucinda went up them like she was climbing the thirteen steps to a gallows.
Her face lit up with a smile, though, when she reached the top. The biggest cheers of all went up from the crowd.
It was so noisy that Bo couldn’t make out the words when Scratch turned and called to him. He recognized the alarm on Scratch’s face, though, so he hurried over to join his old friend.
“What is it?” Bo asked, leaning close so that he and Scratch could hear each other.
“Look up yonder!” Scratch said, pointing up the hill with the barrel of the Winchester in his hands.
Bo looked and felt his heart sink. A large group of men, at least twenty strong and led by Jackson Devery, had emerged from the old house at the top of the hill. They were marching steadily toward the rally.
And they all had guns in their hands.
CHAPTER 28
Bo and Scratch weren’t the only ones who had seen the Deverys coming. Several people in the crowd had noticed them as well and started calling out in alarm. That spread quickly. Frightened, angry cries overwhelmed the cheering and clapping. A feeling of panic jolted through the gathering.
“Colonel, settle the folks down!” Bo called up to Macauley. “We’ll see what the Deverys want.”
He hoped they weren’t coming down the hill for a showdown. If bullets started to fly, it was a certainty that innocent people would be hurt and probably killed. Not to mention the fact that the Texans were outnumbered ten to one and wouldn’t stand much of a chance, either. Bo hadn’t realized that Pa Devery could put together such a formidable force. Obviously, there were a lot of cousins and hangers-on that he hadn’t heard about yet.
Bo and Scratch hurried along the boardwalk until they were past the crowd and then cut into the street, blocking the path of the advancing Deverys. Jackson Devery was right out front, of course, striding along arrogantly. He had a gun belt strapped around his waist and carried a Henry rifle. A black Stetson was crammed down on his shock of long white hair.
Luke and Edgar followed Devery, one to each side and a step back. The rest of the bunch spread out from there until it almost filled the street from one side to the other.
Bo and Scratch planted their feet in the dirt of Main Street. Bo raised his voice and ordered, “Hold it right there, Devery!”
Jackson Devery came to a stop and glared at the Texans. The others followed suit. Devery said, “Get the hell out of the way, Creel! This is a public street, and you can’t stop us from walkin’ on it!”
“We can stop you from disrupting that political rally behind us, though,” Bo said. “That would be disturbing the peace, and that’s against the law.”
Devery sneered at him. “Nobody said nothin’ about disruptin’ the rally. Hell, we came to join in, didn’t we, boys?”
Shouts of agreement came from the men behind him.
Bo frowned. “What do you mean, join in?”
Devery nodded toward the speakers’ platform, where Colonel Macauley had succeeded in quieting down the citizens. The colonel and the other candidates stood there watching anxiously as Bo and Scratch confronted the Deverys.
“They’re makin’ speeches about how folks ought to vote for them, aren’t they?” Devery asked.
“That’s right.”
“Well, don’t the ones of us who’re runnin’ for office have a right to do the same thing?”
The question took Bo by surprise. “You want to make a speech and ask people to vote for you?”
“They’ll be a lot better off if they do,” Devery declared, “and I think I got a right to tell ’em that.”
Bo looked over at Scratch, who shrugged. “It’s a free country, I reckon,” the silver-haired Texan said. “And I can’t think of any law against makin’ speeches. If there was, all them blasted politicians back in Washington’d be behind bars. You know, come to think of it, that ain’t such a bad idea.”
Bo looked at the platform and called, “Colonel, you’re our legal expert.”
Macauley spread his hands. “Mr. Devery is correct. He has a right to speak. However, this is a private rally. If Mr. Devery wishes to stage a rally of his own, no one can stop him.”
Lucinda suddenly moved to the edge of the platform. “No,” she said, her voice carrying clearly. “He can speak here if he wants to.” She looked directly at Jackson Devery. “We’re not frightened of you any longer, Mr. Devery. That’s the biggest reason that Mankiller is about to change. The courage of these citizens is the reason.” She swept her hand toward the crowd. “And once we’ve elected a legitimate government, you and the others from your family will face justice for the crimes you’ve committed! You won’t be able to run roughshod over everyone in the area and extort so much money from them that they can’t even make a decent living, no matter how hard they work!” Her voice shook a little from the outrage she obviously felt. “Your day is done, Mr. Devery. Done. But…if you wish to speak…come up here. Tell the people you’ve oppressed whatever it is you want to say.”