“Which one?”
“The McCall ranch.”
“When was the sale completed?” the man asked.
Evan was about to answer when Sam reached past him and grabbed the front of the clerk’s shirt. He jerked him forward across the counter so hard that his wire-framed glasses fell off.
“Look,” Sam said, “Lincoln Burkett bought the property. I’m sure you know where all the records of Burkett’s purchases are.”
“Oh, Mr. Burkett?” the clerk said. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“I’m saying so now.”
“Of course,” the man said, “I’ll get it for you.”
Sam released the man, who grabbed for his glasses and backed away from them.
“Sometimes it doesn’t pay to be too patient,” Sam said.
“I guess not.”
“First Doc acts like he doesn’t know nothin’, and then the bank president acts like he knows everythin’,” Sam said. “I didn’t feel like playin’ games with this one.”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Sam.”
“Good.”
The clerk returned with a large book with a black hard cover.
“All sales are recorded here.”
“Thanks,” Evan said. He took the book and reversed it so he could read it.
“What?” Evan said suddenly.
“What is it?”
“Wait.”
Evan read the book again, and then closed it, shaking his head. He pushed it across to the clerk and said, “Thanks.” He turned to Sam and said, “Let’s go outside, Sam.”
They walked outside and Sam stopped and put his hand on his brother’s arm.
“Well?”
“I don’t get it.”
“Get what?”
“The conditions of the sale.”
“Are you gonna make me drag it out of you?”
“Sam,” Evan said, “according to the records, the condition of the deal was an even swap.”
“A swap? Of what?”
“The ranch for the house they…they died in.”
Sam started to say something, then stopped and put his hands on his hips. He stared at the sky for a few moments before speaking.
“Let’s get Jubal,” Sam said. “I think it’s time to take a look at the house.”
Before leaving the Miller house Sam made sure Dude Miller had a gun by his bed.
“What about Serena?” Miller asked.
“She’s gonna show us where the house is,” Sam said, “and the markers.”
They went to the livery for their horses, rented one for Serena—who insisted she’d rather ride than take a buggy—and rode out to the adobe house where their parents had died.
“We can go to the markers first,” Serena said after they’d ridden a couple of miles. “They’re not right near the house.”
“All right?” Evan said to Sam.
After a moment Sam said, “All right.”
She lead them to the grave markers, which were about a half mile from the house. They were plain wooden markers on which someone had scrawled their names. Obviously whoever had done it did not know their birth-dates, so only the dates of their deaths were recorded.
Evan and Jubal dismounted and walked to the markers. Serena remained mounted and stared at Sam, who did the same.
Sam felt her looking at him, and did not look at her. Instead he stared not at the gravesites, but at his brother’s backs.
After a few minutes Evan and Jubal turned and remounted. “We’ll have to get them something better,” Evan said.
“Sure,” Sam said, “but first let’s make sure they’re buried in the right place.”
A stranger rode into Vengeance Creek while the McCall boys were out of town. He rode directly to the livery and asked the Swede for directions to the Burkett spread, and then immediately left town and headed for the ranch.
From the gravesites they rode to the house, where they all dismounted. They went into the house together, a small two-room house with a hard-packed dirt floor and flimsy wooden doors and shutters.
“They lived here?” Evan said in disbelief.
Sam looked down at the dirt floor. There were stains in some places, which made the floor darker. He knew they were bloodstains.
“No,” Sam said, “they died here.”
There was some furniture, but it was all old, dusty and in various stages of disrepair. Evan walked over to the wooden chair, shook it, and then lifted his foot and easily smashed it.
“They traded the ranch for this?” he said, angrily.
“What?” Jubal asked. “Traded?”
“Even up,” Sam said. “The ranch for this.”
“They didn’t get any money for the ranch?” Serena asked in disbelief.
“Not a penny.”
“I don’t believe it,” Jubal said.
“It’s on file at the courthouse,” Evan said.
“I mean, why would Pa do that? It doesn’t make any damn sense.”
“I agree with Jubal,” Serena said. “We all heard that Burkett had bought the ranch. We never suspected…this.”
“Well,” Evan said, looking around in disgust, “it’s plain that the answers are not going to be found here.”
“Jubal,” Sam said, “take Serena back to town.”
“Where are you going?” Jubal demanded.
“Out to see Lincoln Burkett.”
“I wanna go with you!”
“As a matter of fact,” Serena said, “so do I.”
“Sam,” Evan said, “I have a suggestion.”
“What’s that?”
“Since I’m just a little less excitable than you, I think I’d better go and see Mr. Burkett alone.”
“I don’t like that suggestion,” Sam said.
“I like it better than yours,” Jubal said, with a smile.
“Besides,” Evan said, “someone has to register us in the hotel. It’s plain that we can’t stay here.”
“Evan—”
“Sam,” Evan said, “I’m just going out there to talk.
That won’t take all three, or even two of us. Come on, see it my way.”
Sam frowned, obviously not happy. Jubal was smiling because Sam was getting some of his own medicine.
“I can go with you and introduce you, Evan,” Serena said.
Evan smiled.
“Don’t worry, Serena, I know how to introduce myself. You go home with Jubal.” Evan looked at Sam and said, “All right?”
Sam’s jaw was tight but he nodded and said, “Yeah, all right…but watch your step.”
“I’ll watch it, brother,” Evan said. “I’ve had a lot of practice doing just that.”
The stranger rode up to the Burkett house and dismounted. As a ranch hand approached him to ask if he could help him, the stranger tossed him his horse’s reins and said, “See to my horse, boy.”
The hand tossed the reins right back and said, “I ain’t your boy. Whataya want here?”
The stranger ignored the reins, which struck his chest and fell to the ground.
“I have business with Mr. Burkett.”
“Is that so?” the hand said. “Well, maybe Mr. Burkett doesn’t have business with you.”
The stranger’s face split into a humorless smile. He was very tall, and clad in black, which made his dark eyes seem black, as well—as black as two small holes which now bore into the hand’s own eyes, chilling him.
“Why don’t I go and ask him?” he said, and started for the front steps.
“Hold it—” the hand said, putting his hand on the stranger’s arm. The stranger turned and rammed the heel of his other hand into the man’s jaw. The man’s head snapped back and he fell to the ground, blood from his severely bitten tongue seeping out from between his lips.
As the stranger turned to approach the steps he heard some more men running up behind him. At that moment the front door opened and a man stepped out.
“Are you Coffin?” Lincoln Burkett asked.
“That’s me,” Coffin said. “You Burkett?”