|
Short Stories & Tall Tales
Weber’s General Store
Tom Sheehan
“Go out and help unload that wagon, Nate,” Lucas Weber said, “and be careful of the peaches. Make sure you put them all in the right place.” Weber owned the general store in San Remo, the biggest store in the territory, and he kept two freighters busy all the time, and he knew cans of peaches were a great delicacy for drovers and chuck wagon cooks; but that wasn’t all that he had in his message. His helper at odd times was Nate Witham, the son of a neighbor. As Weber spoke, he kept eyeing the strange customer in the corner of the store, a man he had never seen before in the store, or in San Remo for that matter, and saw the man reach slowly down inside his heavy coat. Weber knew he was drawing a weapon. Weber’s order to young Witham heading out the door carried one more element, “And make sure the wagon ammo box is full.” He waved the youngster out of the store.
Young Witham, barely 13 by a few days, was out the door and going around the corner, even as the stranger turned to face Weber, a pistol in his hand. “No noise, mister. All I want’s the money in the cash box and you won’t get kilt.”
“I understand, mister,” Weber said. “I’ve been robbed before and I know just what to do.” His hands were in the air when the robber said, “Put them hands down. You don’t have to do that to let people know you’re being robbed, in case they look in when they go past.” He looked over his shoulder to see if any other customers were on the way in or going by.
Waving the pistol at Weber, he said, “I ain’t goin’ to hurt you, mister. I just got hungry kids and I can’t do much anymore, so don’t do anythin’ funny.”
“I have kids of my own,” Weber said, “four of them, none of them old enough to work here yet, but they’re coming along soon enough to do a job. How many kids do you have?”
“I’ve got four too, but none of them’s got a job to step into when the time comes. I ain’t even got that.” The look on his face said he was getting nervous.
Weber thought the man looked hungry as well as undernourished. He thought about the load of canned peaches due soon and not yet outside, as he had told Lucas.
“Is this your first robbery?” Weber said, deciding to take a chance.
“How’d you know that?” The robber’s face was lit up by surprise.
“You want a job?” Weber said. “You can help me. You better put up that gun before the sheriff gets here and locks you up for good.”
“How’s he gonna do that? He don’t even know I’m here with this gun on you.”
“He knows now, mister. The boy that ran out went right to him and told him I was going to get robbed. He’ll be here in a few minutes. Better put that gun away. We’ll tell him it was a joke.”
“How’s he know?”
“Remember the last thing I told the boy?”
“Yuh, you said make sure the wagon ammo box is full.”
“Exactly. That’s my warning message that there’s trouble here. Only used it one other time. The robber got killed by the sheriff on his way out the door.”
This robber, caught up in a whole lot of self-argument and measurement, put the gun in his waist band, just before the sheriff came rushing in the door.
Sheriff Bob Talcott, gun in hand, said to Weber, “What’s going on here, Lucas? You got trouble?”
“No, Bob, I just hired me a new store man and we practiced our alert signal on Nate. It worked pretty good, didn’t it? He got down there to warn you in a hurry, I was showing the new gent who’ll be working for me.”
The sheriff put out his hand. “Glad to meet you, mister. You got a good boss there, and sharp as they come. I guess you seen that already. I didn’t get your name.”
“My names Lennie Caprio. I’m from down Rutledge way and movin’ my family up here. They be here next week.”
“You looking for a place for them?”
“I reckon I’ll be doin’ that, soon’s they get here.”
“Well, if Lucas here’s hiring you, my old place is up for rent, real cheap as it needs a whole wagonload of work. But it does have a roof on it. You handy at all?”
“I can do a few things ordinary like.”
“Good enough for me,” the sheriff said and put out his hand again. “Come by when you can talk about things. Lucas’ll tell you where I’m at if you can’t find me.” He laughed and left, picking up a penny candy as he left, saying, “This one’s on the house, right, Lucas, for my quick response time?” He laughed again.
The bonhomie touched at Caprio as real.
The next day Weber introduced him to the trade, but the two talked a great deal during the day, during slow moments or tedious duties that demanded friendly chatting.
Caprio told him about himself, letting go some things he had held inside for a long stretch, like almost his whole life. “My parents brought me from Italy when I wasn’t a year old, more or less. I don’t remember none of it or the first few years, but we were coming out here and they both got killed in a raid. Not Indians, but white renegades. And they took everything in our wagon, but I was hid out by my father. I must have been the only one left because a posse came and one fellow took me to their town. I bounced around forever until I got work here and there, doing everything I could, but I never met a man as good as you on the quick. I mean that. My family will love you, knowing we got a chance. I had a ranch stole right out from under me because I was from Italy. They plain didn’t like me or my kind and plain stole it and told me they’d kill my wife and kids if I did anything stupid. I didn’t move a muscle because they were all I had in the whole damned world.”
Weber was irate at what happened. “Sounds like a real bunch of range rats, that crew. Didn’t anyone help you? The law? Nobody?”
“The law was in on it I heard later. All the way. I was a 100 miles away and spreading it more when I heard how real crooked the whole deal was. My wife didn’t dare go back, not with four kids. And I couldn’t make her.”
“That sheriff still on the job down there?” Weber stared into Caprio’s dark eyes.
“No, he don’t do any more sheriffing. Makes more money working on the other side. But one day he’ll get evened with. That’s for sure.
“Caprio,” Weber told the sheriff a few weeks later, “is a good worker. Learns real fast. I bet he’s a better grocer man than he is a cow man. Has he done any work on your place?”
“Damned if he hasn’t Lucas. He got some of the roof repaired I didn’t even see as bad, and has the whole place caulked and mudded up, like it’s tight now for cold weather coming. Place looks real homey and his wife is good at house doing, real good. We lucked out, you and me.”
“And him,” Weber said. “He lucked out too. But there’s something else with him, Bob. He’s got an eye for things, I swear.”
The sheriff had a wide smile on his face as he said, “Like what? You ain’t getting holy on me, are you, Lucas? What’re you talking about?”
“One thing leaps up at me. He has a flair for attracting the women in town.”
“You saying he’s a romancer?”
“No, not that way, Bob, and I’m not getting holy on you either. He brings women in because he knows how to dress up my displays. He’s like a magician with them. They buzz around cloth and dresses and bonnets like they’re bees at the hive. It’s like a new part of the store, but he says his wife gives him ideas.”
“Well, he’s no god then. What else he got cooking in you?”
“He says things that come around, just like he said they would. Told me to cut back on my peach orders and get more pears. Says it’s in the weather. Damned if I didn’t sell every can of pears I got and only half the peaches from last time, and people still asking for pears, like they got the real hungers.”
“So, you can’t make a judgment on that. Could be good guessing, coincidence, more luck on his part like he’s on a streak. He doesn’t play cards, does he?” The laugh was there again for the sheriff and a slap on the back of the grocer.
“It’s not like that, Bob,” Weber said. “He doesn’t bring things up so he can talk about them. It always happens when I say something and whatever it is comes to him. He’s not bashful telling me what he feels. I know he’s not afraid of being wrong, but he just isn’t, not any of the time. It’s kind of eerie if you ask me.”
The sheriff said, “You got him all practiced up on the alarm system you got going?” His hearty laugh was an aside comment.
“Oh, hell, Bob he’s practiced that to perfection. Knows everything I ever told him.” The grocer paused, thought about the conversation and said, “That’s enough of that, Bob. How’s it going with you? The town seems quiet now, quiet as I’ve ever seen it. It’s been pleasant, that’s for sure.”
“Strange you say that, Lucas. I’ve been getting the feeling that I’m missing something I should be seeing, like a turn’s being made, a change or something coming on the wind, and I can only feel it but see nothing of it. At least, not yet.”
Now it was the storekeeper’s turn to laugh. “You say that after what we talked about on Caprio. How do you feel now, wearing my boots?”
“Yuh, I know. Odd as hell. Can’t put my finger on it, so keep your eyes open all the time.” The sheriff, in a quick turn, walked out of the store without taking his usual piece of penny candy.
Weber took note of the omission.
One afternoon a week later, Weber looked up as his wife was closing a sale with a stocky man he had not seen before. The man had a new Colt in his hands and checked it out three or four times, feeling the balance in the weight, the movement of the trigger, the comfort zone in his hand. He was standing at the weapons counter after checking out several other guns
“It appears to be just what I’m looking for, Ma’am,” the man said, his voice deep and resonant and carrying itself out to the stockroom where Caprio came to attention. He listened to the words, not really hearing them, but only the tone in them, the recognition in them.
At first he was stupefied, believing he knew who the speaker was.
“I’ll take it, Ma’am, and two boxes of ammunition,” the customer said, closing out the sale, “and one of them there Stetson, the light gray one being the one I like best. You wrap them up in a bag for me and I’ll be back to pick them up and settle the bill. I’m going down to the saloon for a drink. It’s been a long ride today for me and my boys and I’m partial to wetting my throat in this situation.”
Caprio yelled from the back of the store, “Hey, boss, I got to make sure the ammunition box is full on the wagon. I’ll be right back.”
Weber was at attention behind the counter, while his wife, whom he had not let in on any alarm signals, wanting her out of the way by any means he could use, said to the customer, “You go right ahead and have your drink. I’ll have them ready when you come back, or my husband will. He’ll be here until closing time, around 9 o’clock, because it’s a Saturday.” She smiled as the customer left the store.
“Land’s sakes, Lucas, what was Lennie talking about? What ammo box?”
“Oh, it’s nothing, dear, but you can go now. Lennie and I will take care of things. And Bob’ll be coming in soon, too.”
She kissed him on the cheek and said, “You’re the boss,” and added, “here anyway.” She too had a parting laugh as she went out the rear door.
Caprio and the sheriff came in a few minutes later, with the sheriff leading the way and asking Weber right away what was going on. “You gents’ll have me spinning in place?”
“Lennie’s got this one, Bob. Let him tell you.”
Caprio told him the whole story, the one he told Weber about losing his small ranch. “That man here was the old sheriff down there near Rutledge. He said he has his men here. I don’t think they’re goin’ to rob the store, but I bet they’ll try the bank.”
“You sure on this, Lennie?” both men said in unison. Their earlier subject of conversation was out in the open. Now, action was required.
Weber said, “You feel pretty sure it’s the bank they want?”
Caprio, looking both men in the eyes in turn, said, “Not enough here for them. With a good cash drawer there at the saloon, that’s the only other place, but there’s too many people around the saloon.”
“By God, I think he’s right,” Talcott said. “I’ll get the deputies and appoint a few more.”
He looked at Caprio, the new hire with the voice of wisdom, and knew he could count on him. “Lennie, you slip out to the barber shop. That friendly Saturday night poker game is being played right now in the back room. Tell those boys I need them here, come in the back way. Tell them to bring their weapons. There’ll be six or seven of them there and we can use them all.”
His voice had already risen a few octaves, and his eyes had further lit up, for action was at hand and the sheriff was about to go to work. It was all part of the divine plan of good and bad, meek and powerful, the haves and the have nots, and generally came to confrontation before resolution.
The story still makes the rounds, down near San Remo and Rutledge and all the stops in between, how one bank robbery, engineered by a crooked and former sheriff, was halted, without a single shot being fired by either side, by the intervention of a clerk at Weber’s General Store. The gang was caught coming out of the San Remo Bank, bags of money in their hands, stuffed in their pockets, under their hats, only to face the sheriff, a handful of deputies, a small army of citizens, and the new clerk at the general store nodding with a new-found retribution and revenge for past sins committed by the crooked sheriff.
|
|
|
|
|
Send this story to a friend
|
|
|
|
|
