Chapter 10

On the way to our home, we dropped Juanita off at hers and made sure to greet her parents with a wave and a smile. Patty got in the buggy with her father and they drove off to their home. My three sat in the back of my buggy and Creighton drove us to our home, with me next to him in the front seat. As we approached the house, I saw Jerome leading Creighton’s horse out of the stable and to the front of the house. After he’d tied the horse to the hitching post, Jerome uncharacteristically walked into the house.

When Creighton pulled the buggy to a halt, he got out of the buggy, assisted me out first and then Michelle and Pauli. He kissed Pauli goodnight, got on his horse and rode home. The children and I unpacked our baskets and jugs and went to the kitchen to find our stableman, Jerome, sitting at the table.

“Is something wrong, Jerome?”

“Mrs. O’Dell, while you were gone, we had a visit from a Mr. Happsman. He was not happy when I told him that you were not home, and he roundly cussed at me when he finally figured that you really were not home. If you’ll pardon my language, that man is a raving asshole.”

“Thank you, Jerome.” I chuckled and nodded in agreement. “Are you all right?”

“Yes ma’am. You know I was in the cavalry. He didn’t use any language my sergeant didn’t use, and much more eloquently!”

“Very well. I’m sorry. The buggy is out front.”

“Thank you, I’ll go take care of it.”

“Jerome, I still have fried chicken, potato salad, and chocolate cake left from the picnic, would you care for some?”

“Yes ma’am. Thank you kindly.”

I handed him the basket containing the remaining food and he headed for the front door. I hired him because he was former cavalry and had many of the same values as my Paul. His wife had been killed, along with his two children, in a house fire, nine years ago. I quietly made sure that he had no financial worries and never would.

It would seem that Mr. Happsmans’ period of mourning had ended. In the morning I would talk to the children to be a bit more watchful as they went to school and went about their daily lives. I would get the word to Creighton and to the Pindars as well. Having dealt with men on an evil mission before, that night I made sure that my gun was cleaned and loaded.

“Children,” I began at breakfast, “Mr. Happsman was here yesterday, and Jerome says that he was not a happy man. I can’t believe that he would attempt anything, but just to be safe, please watch out for each other at school and on the road.”

“Do you think that he’ll do something?” Pauli asked.

“I really don’t think so, but one never knows. Just please be careful.”

“We will, Mother.”

Little did I know that I would be the one to first be accosted by Mr. Happsman.

I was at the market the Saturday following our picnic when I was confronted by an enraged man. The man was of average height, with a handlebar mustache, that he obviously took particular pride in grooming. However his large stomach and very long hair gave the impression that he felt himself above social norms of the day.

“Mrs. O’Dell. I am August Happsman, you murdered my son.”

I said nothing to the man, instead I slowly moved my hand to the inside of my jacket and took hold of my pistol. When I ignored him and tried to continue with my shopping, the angry man stepped in front of me.

“Don’t ignore me, you murderous bitch!” he yelled, drawing the attention of others in the market.

I looked the man in the eyes and knowing that I might have to put him down, I gathered my emotions and calmed myself.

“Mr. Happsman, your son was aiming a pistol...”

“It was empty!”

“I didn’t know that,” I said in a calm, yet firm voice. “He was aiming it at my son. Where I come from if you point a gun at someone, you better be ready to shoot them and if you shoot, you shoot to kill. He aimed the pistol, so I defended my son.”

“You murdered a boy with an empty gun! I’ll kill you!” He reached out to grab me and I took one step back, pulled out my pistol and pointed it at his face. He froze in mid-step.

“If you aim a gun, you must be prepared to shoot. And if you shoot, you shoot to kill. This pistol is loaded, Mr. Happsman. Do you have anything else to say?”

The man looked at the pistol and noted the tips of the bullets in the cylinders and that the hammer was pulled back.

“They were children.”

“There were six hooded figures that stopped us in the night, Mr. Happsman. Two had handguns. The only one who spoke was Robert Simmons. He was your son’s friend, so I’m sure that you’ve heard his voice. It is very deep, so how was I to know these were not six men. And then Simmons said that he was going to have his way with my niece. I was raped by ruffians, Mr. Happsman, before my husband and I killed them. I was not going to allow that to happen to my Michelle. But your son raised his gun and that sealed his fate.”

The man stood there looking at me, his focus shifting between my eyes and the barrel of my pistol. “He wouldn’t have done anything. He was a good boy.”

“He was associating with ruffians who dragged an eleven year old boy out of a buggy and slapped a twelve year old girl to the ground and threatened her with rape. He may have been a good boy with his family but clearly was not associating with good boys.”

“You’re not even sorry,” he said in sad realization.

“Of course not. As I have said, he was associating with ruffians. He raised a gun and earned his just dues.”

“You’ll be sorry.”

“If I believed that, I’d kill you where you stand. Regardless of the witnesses,” I said as he looked around us. A crowd had gathered and were witness to all that was said.

It was at that moment that a police officer ran into the market, his gun drawn and pointed at me.

“Drop the gun!” he shouted in a loud, commanding voice.

I slowly pointed my Colt towards the ceiling, then in plain sight of the officer, let the hammer back to its uncocked position and then lowered the pistol.

“Officer, this man accosted me and threatened me. He is clearly distraught and upset. There are many here who saw and heard what has transpired.”

“That’s right,” several people said.

“He said he was going to kill her!” a woman said.

The officer, still aiming his gun at me, looked at Mr. Happsman.

“Are you carrying a gun, sir?”

“No.”

“Did you threaten this lady?”

“She’s no lady. She murdered my son.”

“Officer, I shot Karl Happsman when he threatened my son with a gun.”

“Oh, that explains a lot,” the officer said. “Mr. Happsman, you cannot go around threatening people. Especially people carrying a gun.”

“She murdered Karl!” He raised his voice again.

“Sir! That is not what the reporting officers have said.”

“They are probably fucking her. Everyone knows about her. Where does she get her money if not by selling herself?”

The speed with which I raised my pistol and cocked it surprised everyone.

“If my husband was still alive, he would hunt you to the corners of this Earth and kill you for those words. I’ll do it in his stead.”

“Mrs. O’Dell! Put the gun down. NOW!” The officer said in a commanding voice without raising his pistol.

I paused for several seconds and then in a flash, I uncocked the pistol, spun it on my trigger finger and slapped it back into the hidden holster in my jacket. The suddenness and the flair with the pistol took Mr. Happsman aback. He stepped away an expression of pure hatred on his face.

“If there is nothing else, I’m going to finish my shopping and return to my home. Mr. Happsman, I would advise you to stay away from me and my family. It is clear that your son was a ruffian and that apple did not fall far from the tree.” I turned my attention to the policeman, “Officer, if there is nothing else?”

The policeman told everyone to return to their shopping and took Mr. August Happsman by the arm and forced him away from me, speaking loudly to get through the veil of hatred Happsman carried.

“Mr. Happsman. The city attorney looked into the matter and found that, tragic as it was, the shooting was justifiable homicide. The report says your son was in the wrong. It seems that if your goal is to make your wife a widow, as well as a grieving mother, you are on the correct path. My report will show that you threatened Mrs. O’Dell. If you do so again, I fear that you will end up like your son. Now go home and take care of your wife and your business.”

Happsman slumped and walked to his buggy and drove away. The policeman returned to me.

“Mrs. O’Dell, may I speak with you while you finish your shopping?”

“Yes, of course officer.”

“Mr. Happsman is used to having his way around Boise. His son was the focus of his life, but the boy was spoiled and felt that others owed him because of what he saw as his elevated station. Karl was his sole heir. He now sees all of his efforts in life as a waste. It could make him feel that he has no reason to live. Protect yourself, but please give his situation some consideration.”

“Officer, I will not care a whit for his situation if he comes after my family. I can take care of myself, but they are children. They have no means of defense other than me. Please make sure he, and anyone else with an interest in the matter, understands that.”

“The market was rather exciting today,” I said to the children helping put the groceries and supplies away.

“How so, mother?” Pauli asked.

“Mr. Happsman accosted me. He made quite the fuss until the police showed up and removed him.”

“Nothing has happened at school. All of the boys involved were expelled, but I believe one of the teachers has been hired by some of the parents to teach classes at night.”

“Good. The boys should not be punished every day for one day’s offense.”

The task of filling the shelves with supplies completed, we settled into the remaining duties of the day. Sunday, we attended church, noticing that the Happsmans were there for the first time since the incident. After the service, they immediately left, but we stopped and chatted with the Marcos about the idea of the whole church picnic, and finally met with Creighton’s parents.

“Mrs. O’Dell, may I please introduce you to my father and mother? This is Glenn and Helen Miller. Mother, Father this is Mrs. Opal Ann O’Dell.”

I took the offered hands of the father and then the mother.

“Mr. and Mrs. Miller, you have raised a wonderful young man. It has been a pleasure getting to know him.”

“I can say the same about your Pauline, Mrs. O’Dell. She is a fine young lady and if they are headed where I suspect, perhaps you should call me Helen.”

I smiled and chuckled a bit.

“You see it as well then? In that case it is only common sense that you call me Opal Anne.”

I spoke with the Millers for several minutes when it became apparent that my children were wanting to have lunch.

“Opal Anne, it would appear that your brood are champing at the bit.”

“They are. Would your family care to join us for a meal next week after church?”