falcon and wolf 17

 

Who needs protection from whom

Chapter 17

 

Blackwind was so pleased to see Luke, when he went to Jones’s livery stables, that he only bit him gently.

“You old fool,” said Luke. “Hey, Jones, or whatever your name is! Where’s the boy I paid to exercise and groom my horse? He looks as if he hasn’t been curried in days.”

“He hasn’t,” said Jones.  “Short answer is, he’ll only let the boy anywhere near him. And he ain’t been here.”

“He must be ill, then,” said Luke. “Tommy’s a good boy, and             he loves Nightwind.”

Jones shrugged.

“He’ll let me – you go see Tommy,” said Wolf.

“Thanks,” said Luke. “Remember, if he bites you, bite him back.”

Blackwind gave him a flat, unfriendly stare, and Luke patted him. Wolf picked up the curry comb.

“Come, friend, Luke has to go find your little buddy,” he said.

 

It was a shock when Luke got to the corner where Abbotts’ Hotel stood, to find it burned to the ground. He sank down in a squat, trying to control an urge to vomit.

“Hey, jock, you looking for someone particular?” the clothing store proprietor came out to Luke. “Most o’ the guests got out, thanks to that boy who works there. They went to Rose’s Hotel and Guest House.”

“Tommy… I was looking for Tommy. The boy who works there, and his family,” said Luke.

“Abbott and Mrs. Abbott are dead,” he was told. “They put Tommy and Annie-Beth in the orphan asylum.”

“What, was there nowhere for them to stay whilst the insurance is sorted out?” demanded Luke.

The shopkeeper shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I suppose it must be insured.  Abbott wouldn’t pay extra… that’s why he was burned out….” He wrung his hands.

“I don’t understand,” said Luke. “If the premium were raised, why would the insurance company burn the hotel? It’s in their interest to be paid to prevent fire.”

“Not the insurance people! Big Freddy and his boys!”

“Protection?” said Luke. “Haven’t any of you gone to the marshal?”

“Abbott went to Sheriff Ephraim Taylor, and that’s when he had his kneecaps shot. And he still wouldn’t pay.”

“I see,” said Luke.

“And I don’t know any more!” said the shop keeper, scuttling inside.

This was largely to avoid the two gunsels who approached Luke.

“You got an interest in the Abbott Hotel?” asked one.

“What’s it to you, Mary-Lou?” asked Luke, rudely. If these were Freddy’s men, he owed them a bad favour, and sometimes it took a while for it to sink in that he wanted a fight.

“You ain’t got no manners,” said the other.

“Those double negatives again; it’s a killer for being taken seriously,” said Luke. “You said I have some manners, by process of elimination.”

“Wot?” said the second.

“Jes’ let’s give the little ponce a beatin’ then he’ll tell us his interest,” said the first, aka Mary-Lou.

“Oh, Mary-Lou, I thought you’d never ask,” said Luke, warmly. “You and Susiebelle are just the cutest.”

Conversation went rapidly downhill at this point.

Which is to say, conversation ceased as the two heavies closed in on Luke, anticipating beating him into submission.

They were a trifle surprised – briefly – when Luke dropped back into a squat with one leg sweeping out and round to take one of them off his feet, whilst he jabbed an elbow into the crotch of the other.  Luke’s maxim when facing superior odds was that only a fool fought fair and with Queensbury rules. Hence, when he exploded upright, Mary-Lou was bending over across his offended manhood in the perfect position for Luke’s head to impact under his chin, which simultaneously partially unbent him again, and also caused more violent shaking to what passed for brains inside his skull leading to what professional healers call a concussion, and fighters refer to as a KO, or knock-out. Mary-Lou did not call it anything, as he was too unconscious for coherent thought.

Susiebelle was meanwhile heaving himself to his feet, in time for his face to meet Luke’s hard fist going the other way, and he may have had time to wonder if the red mist spreading before his gaze was the ruin of his nose before darkness crept inexorably over his consciousness.

 

“Oh, it’s you,” said Sheriff Ephraim Taylor. “You’re lucky I saw them attack you.”

“I gather Thomas Abbott came to you about someone called ‘Big Freddy’ who subsequently shot him in the kneecaps and burned down the hotel, and killed Abbot and Mrs. Abbott.”

“I can’t do anything about Big Freddy; the only person to lay a complaint is dead,” said Taylor.

“Well, I’m pressing charges on these two,” said Luke. “Attempted assault. If they get bail, I won’t be gentle next time, and you can tell them so.  You can’t do anything about Big Freddy, but I can, and I will. And by the way, why the hell are Tommie and Annie-Beth in an orphan asylum? Tommy’s a landowner now his daddy is dead.”

“Well, where else were they to go?” asked Taylor.

“Well, when we get these two in your jailhouse, you are going to write me an affidavit to collect them because if nothing else I’ll bloody well adopt them,” said Luke. “My mother will be happy to have two more the same age as my youngest siblings. And Tommy already has a bank account, towards his schooling, and so the insurance money can go into there. Does he have a lawyer? Who is handling the insurance claim?”

“I… I don’t know,” said Taylor.

“A lot of use you are,” said Luke. “You can bloody well deputise me, and Wolf, and we’ll deal with this problem.”

 

The director of the orphan asylum read the document from the Sheriff.

“This seems in order; release the destitutes Thomas Abbott and Anne-Elizabeth Abbott into your custody,” he said.

“Excuse me? They aren’t destitute,” said Luke. “Unless you’ve been up to any shenanigans with Tommy’s lawyer to get your hands on the insurance money. They shouldn’t even be here, the insurance company should have been putting them up at another hotel while the claim was settled and a new property built, or the lot sold, and added to the insurance claim for the building. Are you engaging in peculation?”

The director’s eyes bulged.

“Now see here! I’m an honest and respectable man! Nobody has ever suggested anything else! I know nothing of an insurance claim or property!”

“I hope that’s true,” said Luke. “Fetch them, please. And make sure such clothes as they escaped with come with them, not asylum wincey.”

Shortly, a scared looking Tommy and Annie-Beth were ushered into the room, Tommy saying, “You have no right to farm us out! I want to see my lawyer!”

The stout woman holding him clouted the boy about the ear.

“Less of your cheek! Lawyer indeed!”

Luke picked her up by the top of her gown.

“Yes, his lawyer,” said Luke. “Watch what you do with my wards, you besom. Tommy’s a wealthy man, if there has been no peculation.”

“Mister Luke!” Tommy threw himself on Luke, who dropped the woman unceremoniously to embrace the boy, and welcome Annie-Beth into his embrace as well.

“Come on, you two,” said Luke. “You, worm! How many kids are here?”

“Sixty-two,” said the director.

Luke fished in his pocket for a roll of greenbacks and peeled several off.

“Buy them all a slap-up supper with ice cream and so long as they get it, Tommy and I might become benefactors,” he said. “Tommy, do you know who your pa’s lawyer is?”

“Yes, sir, he’s Mr. Chartovsky, and he has his offices in 6^th street,” said Tommy.

“Good. We’ll go and see him first,” said Luke. “Will he recognise you?”

“I hope so,” said Tommy. “He helped me sort out things with the bank to make sure all you paid me is well invested.”

“Good,” said Luke.

 

 

Mr. Chartovsky stared at Luke.

“Why, bless my soul! Bless my soul! He said. “I thought you had died in the fire, my boy! Why has it taken so long for you to come to me?”

“Because that idiot sheriff bundled us both off to the orphan asylum and when I asked to see my lawyer, they thrashed me,” said Tommy, and dissolved, to his horror, into tears. Luke wrapped his arms around him.

“And you are?” asked Chartovsky.

“Luke Sokolov; I’ve stayed at Abbotts a few times and employed Tommy as a help-mate. I’m deputised for now, but I’m a bounty-hunter. I gather you helped him invest what I paid him for his aid.”

“A generous sum, too,” said Chartovsky.

“He was a great help; he was owed it,” said Luke.  “What about the insurance claim?”

“Dear me, I have not pursued it, assuming all the family were dead… I know of no other family elsewhere,” said Chartovsky.

“Fine; you pursue that, it’s what you’re paid to do,” said Luke. “And if anyone called Big Freddy appears on the horizon trying to claim that he had any shares in the place, he burned it down, and he’s going to pay for it.”

“The name has arisen in the mouths of other clients,” said Chartovsky, cautiously. “I believe he charges for protection from… well, from himself.”

“Find me a property someone is selling up because of it, and get me into the thick of it,” said Luke. “I suppose we shall have to stay at Rose’s; what a cursed nuisance towns are, in a decent bit of wilderness I’d just build a shack. I won’t have these two subjected to Big Freddy again.”

“I want to fight him,” said Tommy.

“You don’t know how, yet,” said Luke.

“I’m sure my wife would be happy for them to stay with us for a few days,” said Chartovsky.

“Then she’ll want to shop for clothes for them,” said Luke, peeling off more bills. “And for household expenses.”

“Dear me! I will make sure she keeps a close accounting,” said Chartovsky.

“Mister Luke, I want to come with you!” said Tommy. “I can keep watch, if nothing else.”

Luke considered.

“Fine,” he said. “First time you’re disobedient, you won’t sit down all the rest of the day; second time, I put you back with your sister.”

“I’ll obey,” said Tommy.

 

oOoOo

 

They called in at Jones’s Livery Stables to let Wolf know what was going on, and Tommy buried his face against Blackwind.

“This Big Freddy…” said Wolf.

“We’ll be taking him down,” said Luke.

Getting Tommy accoutred was the first priority, and Luke bought him good, hard-wearing denims. Tommy wanted to dress all in black like his hero, and Luke indulged this whim. He also purchased more ammunition and a gun for Tommy. He chose the Colt 1877 Lightning, in .38 calibre.

“You won’t handle my Smith and Wessons,” said Luke. “You don’t have the strength yet in your arm and wrist. You need a gun with less kick, and that means smaller calibre. The smaller calibre, the less damage they do, so you will need to be more accurate. And you’re going to be spending a sufficiency of hours that it starts to bore you, becoming proficient.”

“Only one gun?” said Tommy.

“Yup. When you get good with your right hand, you’ll practice until you are screaming with boredom with your left hand,” said Luke. “And when you are good with that, we’ll see about two guns. Very few people who aren’t blowhards are any good with two at once, and if you ain’t it’s more professional to stick to one, and pick the best gun you can get.  Like my Smith and Wessons, or the Colt open-top. This one is a good back-up piece for any man; it was carried, as such, they say, by Doc Holliday; I expect you’ve heard of the gun-fight at the OK Corral?”

“Yessir!” said Tommy.

“It is a double action; you don’t need to re-cock it, because the mechanism re-cocks for you. You can’t fan a double action, but being able to fan your shots is only an advantage if you are good. I’m good. You’re a Johnny Raw.”

“Yessir,” said Tommy, accepting that. “Thank you for teaching me. I want to help you take down bad men.”

“One day, you will,” said Luke. “Right now, you’re my back-up piece.”

 

Luke moved in to a candy shop, vacated by its former owner, and glad to take a good price for it. She willingly told Luke all she knew about Big Freddy.

“If the Sheriff can’t do anything, I don’t see how he can be stopped,” she wept. “I reckon you’d need an army.”

“I am an army,” said Luke.

The yard out back soon became Tommy’s practice area.

“The reason the good guys always win is more profound than that God loves the righteous,” said Luke. “God gives the righteous a conscience, and with it, conscientiousness. That means, the righteous man is careful to practise and practise and practise until he can draw a bead and shoot a man exactly where he plans to in his sleep. The crooks are crooked because they are too lazy to work at regular work, and if they are too lazy to work at regular work, they are also too lazy to practise after they get bored. They reach a level of competence which allows them to stay alive when fighting other bad men, but no more. They won’t put enough in. Because if they had the personality to make them put enough in, they would have self-respect, and would not batten off others, because they would see it as demeaning. So, we have the advantage of our preparedness to undertake hard work, and our self-respect, which must always be greater than a man whose life is built on shame.”

“Yes, I see that, sir,” said Tommy.

“You might as well call me ‘Luke’ or if that makes you uncomfortable, ‘Uncle Luke,’” said Luke. “I’ve siblings your age.”

“Thank you, Luke,” said Tommy, shyly.

“Me Wolf,” said Wolf. “Me heap good brave who talk Injun talk until white fools forget me have ears and a far greater vocabulary than I let them know.”

Tommy sniggered.  A day or two was removing the pinched look he had worn, and he was managing to laugh, the haunted look behind his eyes reducing.

And then a large man came into the shop, looking around.

“Luke,” whispered Tommy, “He’s the one who came to see my daddy.”

Luke smiled. It was not a pleasant smile.

“And so,” he said, “It begins.”