Where the Bullets Fly Page 27

  “What difference does it make?” Billy touched the handle of the Bowie knife. “Died well, though. Fought until the end.”

  Pappy rubbed his hands on his pants legs. “One of the best men I knew. We’ll give him a fine military burial. As fine as we gave Old Wilkes.”

  Mackey set his mug on the desk. “That’ll make everything better.”

  Pappy looked at his son. “It’s not about making anything better, boy. It’s about paying respect.”

  “Sim had more respect for this town than any of the other men in it.”

  Pappy was on his feet. “And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means he did something when this town was attacked. He could’ve stayed behind and licked his wounds like the rest of you. He rode out after the whores and the vagabonds you and the rest of them deemed unworthy. He paid for it with his life. And you thank him with a military funeral, like that makes it all better. Well, it doesn’t, Pop. Not by a long shot.”

  “What the hell do you expect me to do?” Pappy said. “What else can anyone do?”

  “There was a time when you would’ve ridden out there with us,” Mackey said. “Hell, there was a time when I would’ve had to fight men from saddling up after a bunch like Darabont. But I guess things change, don’t they? Towns change, just like Mayor Mason said they do. People change, too.”

  The sheriff unpinned his star and dropped it on the desk. “Well I’ve changed, too. This isn’t the same town I grew up in. And it’s not my home anymore. You’ve got Rice and Underhill now to run things. You don’t need me and my difficult ways.”

  Billy’s star landed on the desk right next to Aaron’s. “Goes for me, too.”

  “Aaron, you don’t mean that. I . . .”

  But for the first time since he could remember, Mackey talked over his father. “Billy and I buried Sim on the trail. We’ll fetch him home where he belongs. How you honor him after that is up to you. After that, I’m leaving.”

  Pappy tried to steady him down. “Son, you’re upset. After what you’ve been through, I can’t blame you. But . . .”

  “I made my decision the day I rode out of here. Sim’s death just made it easier to say. Now, get back to your store and back to your gossips. You’ve got plenty to tell them.”

  His father had plenty to say, but at that moment, words seemed to escape him. He simply stood and quietly walked out of the jailhouse, back to his store.

  Pappy had no sooner disappeared from the doorway when Mackey heard heavy footfalls followed by a clomp on the boardwalk outside the jailhouse. He wasn’t surprised when Mr. Rice removed his hat and stepped inside.

  Mackey let out a long breath. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rice, but I’m not in the most hospitable mood right now.”

  “Can’t say I blame you,” he said, “especially by the way you were greeted on your way into town. That’s no way to welcome heroes home from the battlefield, so I hope you’ll accept my apologies on their behalf.” He stuck out a hand to Billy. “And my welcome and admiration.”

  Billy shook his hand. So did Mackey. “Thanks, but it’s not my home anymore.”

  “I overheard you say that,” Rice admitted. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it was kind of hard not to hear. I didn’t want to interfere.”

  “You’re not interfering. It’s your town now, not mine.”

  “Might be my town, but it’s your home,” Rice said. “And before you jump on me for saying it, you need to hear me out. I’m a little bit older than you and I’ve done my fair share of wandering. Was a time when I didn’t want any of my family’s money. I wanted to be a soldier.”

  “So you’ve said. But your knee . . .”

  “The knee kept me from being a soldier, not acting like one. I realized I had responsibilities I couldn’t shirk and duties I needed to perform. Mine was handling my family’s affairs. Yours are handling this town’s affairs. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve argued with my father and my brothers and uncles over the business decisions I’ve made. Sometimes I was wrong and sometimes I wasn’t, but I made them because they needed to be made. I made them because I couldn’t escape who and what I was no matter how much I wanted to. Same thing applies to you.” He looked at Billy. “Both of you.”

  He nodded down at the two stars on the desk. “You can unpin a star, but it doesn’t make you any less a lawman, just like being thrown out of the army made you any less of a soldier. You were right about towns changing, and I intend on changing Dover Station for the better. And it’ll be a hell of a lot easier if you’re around to help me do it. Easier for you, too, because like it or not, this is your home. It’s where you’re from.” He pointed at the stars with his cane. “And that is what you are.”

  Rice set his cane back on the floor. “You’re hurt and angry now, but all I ask is that you give yourself some time before you walk away and do something you’ll regret. Underhill isn’t a lawman anymore. He wants to be a rancher and I intend on making him one. And I intend on making this town the kind of place men like you will be proud to call home again.” He placed his hat back on his head. “You’ll have my respect and admiration no matter what you decide.”

  And with that, Fraser Rice strode out of the jailhouse. Mackey noticed he leaned less on the cane now than when he’d walked in.

  Billy cleared his throat as he drank some coffee. “Quite a speech.”

  Mackey was still looking at the spot where the wealthy man had stood. “Yeah.”

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, Mackey and Billy were out on the boardwalk in front of the jail. Mackey rocked back and forth in his rocking chair; his pace steady. Billy sat on the bench building a cigarette in his nimble fingers.

  The sun had settled farther in the west and cast long crooked shadows across the thoroughfare. A cool breeze had picked up, and it promised to be a chilly evening. More flatbed wagons had come and gone on Front Street. The boardwalks were a hive of activity, strangers mostly, in city clothes. There was an excitement in the air that Mackey could feel, but barely describe.

  Mr. Rice was right. Dover Station was a different town than the one he had left.

  Neither man had spoken since Pappy and Mr. Rice had left. It wasn’t an uneasy silence. Their silences had never been uneasy. There was simply nothing to say.

  Billy lit his cigarette and said, “You going to apologize to your old man?”

  “No reason to apologize. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “For your tone, not what you said.”

  Mackey thought he had a point, but he wasn’t in an apologizing mood. “I don’t know. Maybe later. Figured you’d be sore at me for not telling you I was planning on quitting.”

  “You didn’t have to tell me. I felt it in you the moment you turned toward the trail and rode out of town after Darabont.”

  Mackey wasn’t surprised. Billy had always known his mind even when he didn’t know it himself. “You can stay on if you want. I’m sure Underhill would be glad to have you.”

  “Underhill’s a rancher now, remember? Besides, I wouldn’t stay on even they did ask me to stay. I rode in here with you, Aaron. I’ll ride out the same way.”

  Mackey thought that would be the case. “I didn’t ask you to do that. Didn’t ask you to give up your job.”

  “You didn’t have to ask. And you never will.”

  The two men sat quietly for a while longer. They watched more city people walk past the Tin Horn and head toward the train station. They walked with purpose and promise.”

  “Still thinking over what Mr. Rice said?”

  “A bit.” In fact, he hadn’t been able to think of anything else since the man left. How he pointed to the stars on the desk. That’s what you are.

  “Mighty persuasive fellow. Guess that’s why he’s got all that money.”

  “Family already had money when he was born.”

  “But he got more of it for them. Something to be said for that.”

  Mackey watched th
e city people clap each other on the back as they rounded the corner toward the train station. Their excitement and happiness was almost palpable. “I suppose so.”

  Billy took a drag on his cigarette. “Think you’ll change your mind about quitting?”

  “No,” he said too quickly. Then, he thought of what he’d said to Katherine and of what Mr. Rice had said to him. About people needing rebuilding, too. “Maybe. I pinned the star back on, didn’t I?”

  “Yes you did.” Billy rubbed a sleeve across the star on his own chest. “And so did I.”

  They watched a woman in a fashionable dress and parasol stop outside the Tin Horn, straighten her hat, then walk inside.

  Mackey said, “Looks like the Tin Horn might be taking on some new talent.”

  “Looks like.”

  “She’ll probably lend the place a little class. Change it from a hellhole to a respectable place.”

  Billy smoked his cigarette. “Nothing lasts forever.”

  Mackey rocked in his rocker. “Thank God for that.”