Texas Anthem by Kerry Newcomb

Author:Kerry Newcomb
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group
Published: 2011-03-14T00:00:00+00:00

15

On the day Everett Cotter left San Antonio to return to the Bonnet, a brisk cold wind sprang up out of the north. Joe Briscoe drove a flatbed wagon to the doctor’s house and old Doc Breckinridge himself lent a hand carrying Everett Cotter to the wagon, declaring along the way he would never accuse his stricken friend of being a windbag ever again, seeing as how heavy he was.

Chapo, who had kept watch from an alley across the street, saw the early-morning activity and took off at a dead run. He raced like a frightened antelope down the unusually empty streets, across the quiet, sleepy plaza, and up to the iron gates of Mama Rosita’s. He ran through the courtyard, took the front steps in a single bound, and hurried inside the warm dining room.

Johnny was seated before the fireplace, his legs stretched out in front of him as he slumped in a high-backed chair by the fire. In the week following Everett’s stroke, Johnny had scarcely ventured outside. Twice he had approached Doc Breckinridge’s only to be turned away by the doctor himself.

Johnny spent his time brooding. At night he gave himself to troubled sleep. Charlie Gibbs and Kim Rideout were having a game of crack-a-loo when Chapo burst into the room. Each man would toss a coin to the ceiling and let it fall to the floor, and when both had taken a turn, the two men would gauge how close each coin had come to a predetermined crack in the hardwood surface underfoot. The closest coin took both. Charlie Gibb’s supply of coins was rapidly decreasing, but he seemed to be taking his losses in stride. Johnny had begun to tire of the man’s good nature, being in a rotten mood himself. So he was relieved to see the look of excitement on Chapo’s face and rose from the chair.

Two of the girls working on dinner’s caldron of chili glanced up with obvious delight. They were dark-skinned, sweet-looking señoritas, still girlish though five years older than Chapo, in whom all of Mama’s girls had taken a special interest. Whether or not Chapo had been initiated in the rites of manhood was anyone’s guess. The boy of the barrancas certainly wasn’t telling.

“Johnny, they are leaving. A flatbed wagon and a half a dozen men. I saw the yellow-haired señora riding in back with Senor Cotter.” The boy’s face was flush from running, his eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Thanks,” Johnny replied, alive at last. He grabbed his serape and sombrero and started toward the door. “Stay here with Kim and Charlie,” he ordered.

“But I ride with you,” Chapo protested.

“The hell if we’ll stay,” Charlie interjected, sweeping his last couple of coins off the table and into his hat. “Pay Mama for the drinks, Kim.”

“Why me?” Rideout protested.

“’Cause you got all my money!”

“Oh.”

“Look, there might be trouble. I hope not, but with Vin in town just about anything could happen,” Johnny tried to explain. He could see that Mama Rosita,

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