Ralph Compton - Death Rides a Chestnut Mare

When Danielle returned home, Dr. Soble’s buckboard stood in the yard. Jed and Tim met Danielle at the corral.

“You can’t go in,” said Tim. “Doc Soble ran us out. Did you learn anything in town?”

Wordlessly, not trusting herself to speak, Danielle handed them their father’s beat-up old wallet. Tim took the ragged billfold, and both boys stared helplessly at it. Jed finally spoke.

“How . . . where . . . did you get it?”

“From the sheriff,” Danielle said. “It came through the mail. Here’s the letter that came with it.”

She passed the letter to Jed, and Tim read it over his brother’s shoulder. Finished, they spoke not a word, for their teeth were clenched in anger and tears crept down their cheeks. Suddenly, the front door opened, and Dr. Soble emerged. Danielle, Tim, and Jed waited at the doctor’s buckboard.

“How is she?” Danielle asked anxiously.

“In shock,” said Dr. Soble. “She has a weak heart, and another such shock could kill her. She’s in bed. See that she stays there. I left some medication, and I’ll be back the day after tomorrow.”

Danielle, Jed, and Tim watched the doctor drive away. Not until his buckboard was lost to distance did anyone speak.

“We got to find the sons of bitches that done Pa in,” Tim said.

“Damn right,” said Jed. “I’m ready.”

“Neither of you will be fourteen until June fifth,” said Danielle, “and you’re not going anywhere. You heard what Doc said about another shock killing Ma.”

“But them bastards got to pay for what they done,” Jed said.

“They will,” said Danielle, “but we’re not going to discuss it anymore until Ma’s able to hear of it without it killing her. If either of you breaks the news to her, I can promise you there’ll be hell to pay. Not from Doc, but from me.”

They went on into the house, looking in on their sleeping mother. She seemed so thin and frail, Danielle wondered if she would ever be strong enough to learn the terrible truth of what had happened to Daniel Strange.

St. Joseph, Missouri. April 30, 1870.

It was ten days before Dr. Soble allowed Danielle to show Margaret Strange Dan’s wallet and the letter that came with it. She wept long and hard, ceasing only when Jed and Tim entered the room.

“Ma,” said Jed, “old man Summerfield’s hired Tim and me to do his gunsmithing.”

“Yeah,” Tim said. “Business is awful. I think he’s regrettin’ ever buying the place from Pa. Jed and me ain’t as good as Pa was, but we’re better gunsmiths than old Summerfield or anybody else in town.”

“The two of you are staying in school,” Margaret Strange said. “It’s what your father would want. Let Summerfield find someone else to do his gunsmithing.”

“Ma,” said Tim, “it takes money to live. Jed and me will each earn ten dollars a week, with a raise when business gets better.”

It suited Danielle’s plans for her brothers to take the gunsmithing work, for it would ease the shock when Danielle revealed her plans to her mother.

“Let them hire on as gunsmiths, Ma,” Danielle said. “They’re already near as good as Pa was, and they can read, write, and do sums. They’re the men of the house now, and we’ll need the money more than they need the schooling.”

It was the inescapable truth, and Margaret Strange reluctantly gave in.

Danielle waited a month more before revealing her plans to avenge her father’s death. Margaret, Danielle, Jed, and Tim had just finished supper, and were gathered around the table while Margaret read a chapter aloud from the family Bible.

“I have something to say,” Danielle told them. “I was seventeen years old the thirtieth day of April, and I’m a woman. I’m as good with a gun as Pa was. I aim to find and punish his killers if it takes me the rest of my life.”

“No,” said Margaret. “This is no task for a woman. I forbid it.”

“Woman, my eye,” Tim said. “You’re just a shirttail girl with big feet.”

“I won’t be going as a woman,” said Danielle. “I’ll cut my hair and dress like a man.”

Jed laughed. “Some man. When you walk, your chest jiggles like two cougars fightin’ in a sack.”

Margaret slapped him. Hard. Despite her tough talk, Danielle found herself blushing furiously. Tim grinned broadly, obviously wishing to comment, but didn’t speak lest he, too, incur his mother’s wrath. Danielle said no more about her vendetta until her brothers had ridden to St. Joseph, to attend to their gunsmithing duties. Her mother would be difficult enough to win over, without the embarrassing comments of her brothers.

“Ma,” said Danielle, “I haven’t changed my mind about finding Pa’s murderers.”

“I said no, and I haven’t changed my mind,” Margaret Strange said. “Whatever gave you the idea you can function in a man’s world? Why, every time you walk—”

“Oh, damn it, Ma, don’t start that again,” said Danielle. “I’ll make myself a binder for my chest and wear a shirt a size too big. Nobody will ever know.” 1

“If you get shot and somebody has to undress you, they’ll know,” Margaret insisted.

“I don’t aim to get shot,” said Danielle. “You know how fast Pa was with a gun, and you know that I’m faster than he was.”

Margaret Strange sighed. “I know you can take care of yourself under ordinary circumstances, and so could your father, but not against an outlaw gang. If I give my permission and anything happens to you, it would be the finish of me.”

“I tell you, nothing’s going to happen to me,” Danielle said. “I know it was a gang that killed Pa, but I aim to find out who they are and go after them one at a time. I’m more grown up than you think, and I’m not about to do something foolish that could get me killed.”

“But you have no money,” said Margaret, “and with your father gone, we’re going to need the little that we have.”

“I have a hundred dollars,” Danielle said. “Remem ber, Pa gave me fifty dollars for my birthday last year, and the year before. Besides, I’m good enough with a horse and rope to find work on a ranch if I have to.”

Slowly but surely, Danielle overcame all her mother’s objections. Margaret reluctantly cut the girl’s hair to a length that might suit a man. Using strong fabric, Danielle doubled the material and then sewed it securely. Under one of her father’s too-big shirts, there wouldn’t be any “jiggling” going on.

Danielle wisely said nothing to Jed and Tim of her plans, and cautioned her mother not to. It would be difficult enough for Margaret, when her sons realized Danielle was gone to perform a task that they fancied their responsibility.

St. Joseph, Missouri. June 30, 1870.

Much against her wishes, Margaret helped Danielle prepare for her journey.

“You’d better take these shears with you, to trim your hair,” Margaret said.

Danielle wore one of her father’s shirts and placed two more in her saddlebag, with her extra Levi’s. She buckled the gun belt around her lean waist, tying down the holster just above her right knee. A black, wide-brimmed Stetson completed her attire.

“Land sakes,” said Margaret, “you do look like a man. Just be careful when and where you take your clothes off.”

“Oh, Ma,” Danielle said, embarrassed.

When all else had been done, Danielle went to the barn and saddled the chestnut mare. The good-byes had been said, and Margaret stood on the porch, watching Danielle ride away. Before crossing a ridge, Danielle turned and waved. There were tears in her eyes, a lump in her throat, and a nagging premonition that she might never see her mother again. Danielle carefully avoided St. Joseph, for there was hardly a person in town who wouldn’t recognize the chestnut mare. She rode almost due south, bound for Fort Smith. Once there, she would talk to Deputy U.S. Marshal Buck Jordan.