Death Comes Quickly
by Nelan McMichael

Déjà vu. That's what I was thinking as I stepped down from the train a few blocks south of the courthouse in Waco, Texas. A dusting of soot fell on my hat and shoulders, as steam from the noisy engine enveloped me.

Twenty years ago, when Bill Overton and I were young, hot-shot deputies here, Waco was still wild and woolly, east of the river anyway. Often known as "Six-shooter Junction", Waco was a crossroads for drovers, outlaws, gamblers, prostitutes, liquor peddlers, thieves, and renegades. Back then Waco was the edge of the Texas frontier.

Today, the frontier has moved much farther west, and the law and church-going people have settled things down quite a bit. Waco has changed.

Striding toward the Santa Fe Depot with my stuffed saddlebags and bulging bedroll slung over my shoulder, I was on the lookout for Bill. He'd sent me a telegram in Corsicana saying that he needed my help. After spending fifteen years partnering with him in law enforcement, first in McLennan County, and then with Pinkerton down in Temple, I knew he would fill in the particulars when we met. A few days later I wired him back my estimated arrival date.

There are only two things that can break up a partnership like we had: death and women. In our case it was, of course, women. Bill met one that hooked him right through the heart and reeled him in. After that, I wandered up to Corsicana and set myself up as a private detective and security agent. For me, there was no hesitation about answering Bill's summons . . . he wouldn't ask if he wasn't in trouble.

Suddenly, I saw him coming through the doors of the station, chewing on his mustache as he scanned the crowd for me. He looked a little frayed around the edges, his jacket worn and shiny at the elbows and his baggy pants stuffed sloppily into his boots. His hat looked like it had been sat on, or run over by the train behind me. Seeing me, he held up a finger as a signal and met me halfway.

"Hey, Mack. How you been?"

"Good. You?"

"Been better."

"Katy?" His eyes lit up when I asked.

"Oh, she's fine, Mack," he replied with a grin that completely changed his face. "I've got horses waiting, but let's have a bite to eat first, before we head out," he continued, reminding me that we had a twenty-mile ride west to McGregor ahead of us. "We'll give the horses a breather at Harris Creek, then I'll tell you what's going on."

Summers in Texas are always hot and generally miserable. Although I appreciated the difference in humidity between Corsicana and Waco, hot is hot. Prudently we hadn't pushed our mounts very hard when we reached Harris Creek, about halfway to McGregor. Finding a trickle of water for the horses and relishing the shade of the trees along the creek, we dismounted and untied our canteens.

"So, you ready to fill in the blanks for me?" I asked. I had assumed he didn't want to have this conversation where other ears could overhear.

"Yeah. First I want you to know that I appreciate your coming." He paused to gather himself. When Bill and Katy got married, they settled in McGregor where he has been sheriff for the last four years.

"Two years ago the young daughter of a colored family was raped and murdered. My investigation led me to a pair of brothers who were the sons of Elton Ross, one of our more prominent citizens. Not only is the man prominent here, but his money and influence carry a bit of weight around Waco as well. I found one witness who, after a few minutes alone with me, told me what he saw and identified the two brothers. So, I arrested them. Two days later that witness was seen at the depot in McGregor, where he caught a train bound for Galveston. That's when their daddy personally emphasized to me that it was in my best interest to release his boys and drop the charges. Given I no longer had a witness or proof, I really had no choice anyway." Bill paused for a sip of water from his canteen.

"Well, not long after that, the bank informed me that the note on our place north of town had been paid in full. When I asked by whom, the bank said they assumed it was a relative of Katy, but beyond that, they were bound by client confidentiality. I could guess where the money came from, and it certainly wasn't a relative of Katy, but I had no proof. When I asked the suspected man directly, he smiled, congratulated me on being the recipient of 'manna from heaven.' That, of course, didn't confirm or deny my suspicions."

"Sounds like "Daddy" wants you indebted to him." Bill gave a nod as I spoke.

"The two brothers have continued their rowdy ways, knowing they can always run and hide behind their papa when things get too hot. They've been known to pick fights, run off livestock, destroy property, that sort of thing. I've always been left with no proof, or charges that were dropped after money changed hands.

"Well, recently another colored girl has been raped and murdered, and my first suspects are those two boys. I'm also up to my ears with some cattle rustling west of town. I'm at the end of my rope on this murder case, and of course, the old man alibied for his miscreant boys, but I could tell he was lying. However, he told me, in no uncertain terms, that I should stay clear of them or pay the price."

"Any witnesses?" I asked, tipping my own canteen.

"No. Nobody here's going to go against Elton Ross and his boys for the sake of a colored girl."

"Where do I come in?"

"I want to deputize you as a special investigator to see if you can get anything solid on those Ross boys, so I can get them behind bars, or out of Texas. I'll have to pay you out of my own pocket when I can."

"If we can convict them, I'll get my money from Mr. Ross."

"How you going to do that?"

"I'll think of something. Maybe I'll offer to drop the charges of interfering with an officer of the law in a murder investigation for a small sum of cash. I'm sure he's familiar with bribe money."

"No question there!"

Needing to push on, we took a last sip from our canteens and mounted up. A few miles farther west, we swung to the north to circumnavigate town, and went to Bill's place.

The next morning I rode with Bill into town. I had spent a delightful evening, thanks to Katy's hospitality and charm, but Bill and I agreed that I should stay in town to keep our relationship as separate and professional as possible. I found a room at the hotel on Main Street, which lies parallel to, and west of the railroad tracks about four blocks away.

Our next stop was the Drug Emporium, where Bill pitched his proposal to a reluctant, but agreeable mayor. He, in turn, summoned the Justice of the Peace, who swore me in. The fact that I was not costing the city any money had swung the mayor's decision, but I could see that he had grave reservations about going against Mr. Ross and his money and influence.

My first order of business, as a newly installed deputy, was to talk to the family of the murdered girl. Bill took me to their home southeast of town and across the tracks. It took some serious talking and my sincerest look to convince them that it would do any good talking to a white man, but they finally came around and told all they knew. Clearly the Ross brothers were the leading suspects, but I needed some irrefutable proof.

"The girl came down here alone?" I asked Bill as he took me to the spot near a vine-choked dry creek where the body was found.

"Apparently so. She was going for water at the well here." He gestured to the wooden well curb, some distance from the house, as we passed. It was probably out of sight from the house.

"No dogs to go with her?"

"If they did, they must have been off chasing jack rabbits."

It was slightly cooler as we stepped into the shade of the trees and vines, and crossed the dry creek bed. A room-sized natural clearing was carpeted with heavily-trodden grasses.

"This is where she was found," Bill said.

I walked around the site, as much as I could, to get a mental picture of the scene, looking for anything Bill might have missed, but not expecting to find anything that I could use from a three-week-old crime scene. I followed what looked to be a deer trail out of the trees and into a grassy meadow full of Texas sunflowers.

After clearing the trees a few paces, I wondered if the boys had approached from this direction. Bill confirmed that it was probably so. I ducked to avoid a mesquite limb, and spotted something behind a clump of blue-stem grass.

The crumpled handkerchief was gray linen with the initials CR embroidered in one corner. Way too fancy for a farmer, colored or white. A few dark spots here and there looked like dried blood.

"Bill, what are the names of those two boys?"

"One's Charlie, the other's David. Why?"

"Come look at this."

"Well, I'll be damned! That looks like dried blood, too. The girl had a cut on her lip and broken fingernails that had been bleeding. How did I miss that?"

"Easy to miss if you were looking elsewhere at the time. They probably stuffed this in her mouth to keep her quiet."

"This is the kind of evidence I've been looking for, but I guess a good lawyer could have it thrown out of court as inconclusive."

"Most likely."

"If I could get my hands on those two right now, we wouldn't need no court!"

"My, my, Bill!" I grinned at him. "And you an officer of the law."

"Yeah, well, I could do for some frontier justice about now. Those live oaks over there is where I found fresh road apples."

"Let's have a look." The dried road apples were still there, but again, inconclusive evidence.

When we got back to town, there was a colored fellow waiting for us in the sheriff's office. He gave his name as Jeramiah Washington.

"What can I do for you?" asked Bill.

"Well, suh, I heerd you was lookin' into the death of one of our young sisters again."

"Still," Bill corrected. "I've asked this gentleman for his help in the matter."

"Well, suh, I'm a swamper over at the Silver Dollar, and I heerd them Ross boys talking' about how they'd had a real good time with a certain colored girl, but she didn't have such a good time."

"When was this?"

"Last week."

"The Ross brothers regulars at the Silver Dollar?"

"Every week."

"They have a regular night?"

"Usually Saturday night."

"That's tomorrow, Bill," I said.

"Sure is."

"Care to introduce me to them, Bill?"

"I think maybe it's time."

"It must have taken some courage on your part to come in Mr. Washington. What made you decide?" Bill asked.

"The colored folks hereabouts is scared and angry. An' the white folks is goin' to mind their own business. So, I decided to make it some of my business." he replied.

"I want to thank you for coming in, Mr. Washington," said Bill. "We'll look forward to seeing you tomorrow night."

"Yes suh, I'll surly be lookin' for you."

The Silver Dollar was in the last building on a street that dead-ended near the tracks. The saloon itself was entered through the lobby of a hotel of sorts. There were rooms to rent on the second floor, but nobody expected to do any sleeping in them . . . at least not at night. Saturday evening we seated ourselves in a couple of chairs on the front boardwalk near the front door to the hotel entrance, two tall doors with painted glass panes. This Saturday night promised to be a lively one, judging by the piano music emanating from within and the number of patrons that passed through the doors.

In the waning daylight, Bill spotted the Ross boys as they rode down the street and proceeded to tie their horses in the lot across the street, along with other patrons. We stepped apart and back into the shadows.

As the brothers entered the street, Bill stepped forward and said, "Evening boys. We need to have a chat."

With that, the two brothers did the totally unexpected: they drew their pistols and fired. I saw Bill go down as I returned fire. Both brothers went down and the sudden silence that followed was just as startling as the unexpected gunfire. Then I heard several footsteps behind me coming from the saloon.

I secured the Ross brothers' weapons and went to check on Bill.

"Bill, where you hit?"

After a moment when I wondered if he were dead, he replied, "Right smack in the middle. We get 'em?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Tell Katy I'm sorry I got in the front of one."

"You tell her." But I could tell by the red froth coming from his mouth that he wouldn't get the chance. That unpleasant chore would be left to me, and I dreaded it.

I dreaded telling Katy that Bill was gone from her life, and I hated the thought that he was gone from mine. Sometimes in life you only get one best friend.