Unlikely Angel

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Hound Dog looked to the hands that went into the air at his latest request. He chuckled that even Cora’s had shot up. That wasn’t going to happen but he admired that girl’s spunk. Seldom did they all volunteer like this. But when it was one of their own they were taking care of, he found he had to beat them off with a stick. He figured he needed at least two of them. It was no good having them outnumbered, even if the people who’d outnumber them were bound.

“Alright, Billy and Pat,” he said decisively. “You two go.”

He knew there would be protests but these were the two best men for the job. Tusk had already had near enough of the Franklins from listening to them at the jail. The brothers’ prejudices went beyond their support of slavery. They had killed the Caseys in good part because the family was helping runaway slaves. It seemed that Morgan and Clete didn’t have any higher opinion of Indians than they did other dark skinned folks.

Although Tusk himself was pale as the moon on a clear night, it was well known he considered himself red. If it weren’t for the badge on his shirt, Hound Dog wouldn’t care one way or the other. But being Marshal meant that he had a responsibility to make sure the prisoners arrived safely. He couldn’t very well entrust men that he was certain would end up killing the people they were supposed to transport.

As it was, enough negative talk about Susan, Johnny or the Casey family and the Franklin boys could still find their way to a hole in the ground before they made it to the courthouse.

The decision hadn’t been that hard really. Pat was an obvious choice as he was a little older than Tusk and was more settled in himself besides. Billy was younger and could be a braggart and a show off but his skill with a rifle meant that should the men try to run, it would be an ill-fated attempt.

With no further ceremony, he and his chosen temporary deputies made their way to the jail to ready the prisoners for transfer.

“I’m surprised Johnny didn’t want to do this,” Pat remarked as they approached the door.

Billy nodded in agreement, “Would’ve given him an excuse.”

Hound Dog just shook his head a moment. He understood the boys’ confusion but he more clearly understood Johnny’s reasoning for staying with his little girl. She needed him more than he could ever need revenge. Someday he hoped these boys would gain an understanding of the priorities of a family man and how they had to differ sometimes from those of other men.

“For starters,” he addressed both of the boys, “Being a daddy means you think of someone besides yourself and put their needs first and for another thing, if he’d wanted an excuse, he could’ve just killed them all when it was just him and them alone. We wouldn’t’ve been none the wiser.”

Teaspoon found a certain satisfaction in saying the last half of his comment within ear shot of the two men who could have easily become victims of the legendary Black Jack Calder.

Once the men were bound and loaded on the buckboard with Billy driving and Pat riding Clover alongside, Hound Dog waved a goodbye. He wasn’t entirely sure if he really wanted the prisoners to arrive safely or not.

A few miles out of town Morgan, the elder of the Franklin brothers and the one depicted in the most frightening manner in Susan’s artwork, cleared his throat.

“That man that caught us and brought us in, I didn’t catch his name.”

“Knowing him,” said Billy, “He probably didn’t throw it at you. It’s Calder, John Jackson Calder.”

Billy made certain to emphasize every syllable in the infamous name.

Morgan’s eyes grew wide in recognition.