“I don’t work for you, I work for Mr. Corrigan,” Edwin blared.
“So do I, and I intend on going to him right away and telling him my concerns about your trustworthiness.”
“Sheriff Travis, I expressed my reluctance about hiring you. Your reputation is, as they say, that you’re brash, rude and…”
“And? Please keep insulting me,” Isaac joked.
“You’re indignant!”
“Your response to simple questions is very telling,” Isaac said, sensing that Edwin was hiding something crucial.
“Good day, Sheriff,” Edwin snapped. He threw open the door and angrily exited, slamming the door behind him.
Isaac intertwined his fingers and pondered the exchange. His instinct that Edwin was up to no good was all but confirmed by his conduct. Needing to know where he went from there, he hopped up and exited the office to find Wallace sitting outside, his feet propped up against a pillar. “Deputy, I need you to man the office.”
“Okay, Sheriff, where are you off to?” Wallace asked.
“I’m going to see what our friend Edwin does today,” Isaac said.
“You’re going to follow him?” Wallace asked, intrigued by the idea. “Is something going on?”
“There might be some trouble brewing. Keep your head on straight today,” Isaac said.
Tipping his hat, Wallace said, “I’ll hold the fort down.”
Connor’s team came around the corner and approached the office.
“Good morning, Sheriff, is Connor here yet?” one of the men asked.
“No, he’s not,” Isaac said.
“He’s an hour late. He told us yesterday to be here then, and he hasn’t shown up. We waited then decided to go get some breakfast at the hotel,” the man said.
“I’ll find out where he is while I’m out. Head inside and wait.” Isaac sighed then headed off to follow Edwin.
MCCARTHY LIVERY AND STABLES, BANE, NEVADA
Marcus entered the darkened and musty stables. He looked around but saw no one. “Anyone here?”
Popping his head around the corner near the back, Duncan replied, “What can I do for ya?”
“I need to get that wagon I dropped off the other day,” Marcus said to Duncan.
“Yes, the wagon. I’ll pull it around,” Duncan offered.
“Not necessary. I’ll bring my horse over and move it out myself,” Marcus said.
“If that works for ya, sure,” Duncan said. “Follow me.”
The two walked through the stables, out the back and to the smaller barn adjacent. Duncan unlocked the large brass lock and removed a chain that held the two large doors together. He opened them, allowing the early morning light to illuminate the wagon and other stored items inside.
“You need any help at all?” Duncan asked.
“I’ll be fine. What do I owe you?” Marcus asked.
“Five dollars will do it,” Duncan said.
Marcus pulled a few coins from his pocket and handed them to Duncan. “Keep the change.”
“Why, thank you, pleasure doing business with you. Do store your wares anytime you need to,” Duncan said with a broad smile.
Marcus nodded and went to work cinching up his horse to the wagon.
Duncan returned to the stables to find Edwin standing there. “Hello, fine sir, how can I help you?”
“There was a wagon stored here the other day; I’m here to retrieve it for my friend Marcus Burner,” Edwin said, clearly intent on stealing the silver out from underneath Marcus.
Duncan furrowed his brow and gave Edwin a puzzled look. “That’s odd. He’s…”
“He’s here now, isn’t he?” Edwin said.
Duncan pointed behind him and said, “Yes, he’s pulling the wagon out as we speak.”
“Liar and thief,” Edwin said, pushing past Duncan. He ran through the stables and out the back. There he encountered Marcus climbing onto the wagon. “You were going to steal it for yourself!”
“You’re wrong. I was merely removing the temptation from you,” Marcus replied. “And might I ask what you’re doing here?”
“I was…I was here to check on it, make sure it was safe,” Edwin lied.
“I think you’re the liar and thief. You came here to steal it,” Marcus said.
Edwin reached inside his coat and pulled out a Colt 1862 Pocket Navy. It was a familiar .36-caliber round ball revolver with a short barrel. He cocked it and pointed it at Marcus. “Get off the wagon!”
“You’re making a big mistake,” Marcus said calmly, raising his hands slowly.
“Off the wagon, now!” Edwin yelled.
Duncan appeared and yelped in surprise upon seeing Edwin holding a gun on Marcus. “Easy, son, easy.”
Edwin looked over his shoulder and hollered, “Get out of here!”
With Edwin distracted, Marcus ripped his Colt Dragoon from his holster, cocked it, took aim and fired.
The .44-caliber round ball exploded from the barrel and struck Edwin in the right shoulder. The impact was enough for Edwin to drop his pistol, which he’d been holding in his right hand. He bent over in pain and cried out.
Marcus cocked the Dragoon again, aimed and said, “I warned you.” He squeezed the trigger again. This time the round struck Edwin in the neck; it traveled through his throat, exiting the opposite side. A large splatter of blood hit the barn door.
Edwin clutched his throat and gagged. Blood poured from his mouth. He dropped to his knees and gagged a bit more before falling face-first onto the hard dirt, dead.
“You killed the lad,” Duncan cried out.
Marcus cocked his pistol one more time, aimed at Duncan, and said, “And I’ll kill you if you utter a word.”
“You won’t get a word out of me, I swear on the Virgin Mary,” Duncan said.
Connor emerged from the stables, rubbing his eyes. He saw Edwin on the ground surrounded by a pool of blood. He glanced up and saw Marcus aiming his pistol at Duncan. “No need to shoot anyone else.”
“Just get out of my way and let me get on my way,” Marcus ordered, switching his aim between Duncan and Connor.
“You’ll have no trouble out of us,” Connor said.
Marcus picked up the reins with his left hand, keeping his pistol extended out in front of him and trained on the brothers.
The click of a hammer being drawn back sounded in the alleyway.
Marcus quickly looked and saw Isaac standing with his Remington pointed directly at him.
“But you’ll get trouble from me,” Isaac said, his right eye aiming over the barrel and at Marcus’ chest.
“Now, Sheriff, I shot him in self-defense. You ask the stable owner; he saw it all,” Marcus said, his pistol still directed at the brothers.
“Put down your pistol and we can discuss this,” Isaac said.
“I just want to move my wagon out of here, and later I can come visit you concerning this incident,” Marcus said.
“I’m afraid that’s not going to happen. Put down the pistol and hop off the wagon. Do it. Do it now,” Isaac ordered.
“C’mon, Sheriff, this was in self-defense,” Marcus pleaded. “Let me be on my way. I have business out of town and I’m running late.”
“You’ll just have to be a bit later,” Isaac said.
Marcus exhaled heavily. He slowly lowered his arm then abruptly pivoted on the bench seat of the wagon and swung the barrel towards Isaac.
The move was a foolish one. Isaac simply squeezed the trigger and fired the .44-caliber pistol. His aim was true and the round struck Marcus squarely in the chest.
Marcus coughed a few times; then blood drooled from his open mouth. “You shot…” he mumbled before dropping his pistol onto the ground. He toppled over and off the wagon, landing on his head and shoulder.
Isaac cocked his pistol again and advanced. When he reached Marcus, he was dead.
“Well, isn’t that a wake-up call!” Connor howled in joy as if he’d just experienced a thrilling show.
/> Duncan stood in shock. He’d heard about shootings in town, but this was the first time he’d witnessed a man being killed.
Isaac uncocked his pistol and holstered it. He bent down to confirm Marcus was dead by searching for a pulse on his neck.
Connor walked over and stood above the body. “You killed him, Sheriff.”
Looking up, Isaac said, “I sure did.”
“What the hell was so important in this wagon?” Connor asked, walking over and looking inside the covered wagon.
“Did you see the other shooting?” Isaac asked Duncan.
“I did. This man here had a gun on Marcus, and I distracted that man, giving Marcus time to draw and shoot him,” Duncan explained.
“Oh, Sheriff, you need to come see this,” Connor said.
Isaac walked around to the back of the wagon. He peeked inside to find Connor standing above several open trunks filled with silver bars. “Is that?”
“I think it’s the silver we were looking for,” Connor said.
“It sure is,” Isaac said, pointing at the stenciled name on the side of a trunk.
“Corrigan Mining Company. Yep, this is the silver,” Connor howled happily. “Praise be all the saints and the baby Jesus.”
Duncan appeared and said, “We best tell Mr. Corrigan.”
“No, no, that’s not what we’re doing, big brother,” Connor said, jumping over the trunks until he reached Duncan. “This here silver is now ours.”
“Sheriff, we can’t keep this,” Duncan said, looking to Isaac to back him up.
“Your brother is right. We’re not turning this over…just yet. Not until I can confirm it’s his,” Isaac said, deliberately being misleading.
“You said if we found it, we’d keep it. You said I could make a lot of money, and this is the money,” Connor argued.
“The silver isn’t ours, it’s Mr. Corrigan’s,” Duncan barked. “If they find out we kept it, we’ll hang.”
“They won’t find out because no one knows we have it except you, me and the sheriff,” Connor said.
“I’ll tell him myself,” Duncan said.
Pulling Duncan aside, Isaac explained, “Let me first confirm this is his, and if it is, we’ll return it; if it’s not, we might keep it.”
“But that’s not what you said,” Connor said, openly challenging Isaac.
“It’s someone’s and most certainly stolen,” Duncan said.
“Stop being straight as an arrow. This silver will set us up for life,” Connor barked at his brother.
“And it could end our lives,” Duncan shot back.
“Stop, enough. We will keep the silver hidden in the barn like it is. I’ll confirm if it’s Mr. Corrigan’s, and if it is, we’ll return it to him. What I don’t need you doing, Duncan, is talking to anyone. This silver is now part of an investigation, and I don’t need you spreading rumors and disrupting what I’m doing. Do you understand?”
Giving Isaac a leery look, Duncan replied, “I won’t say a word, Sheriff, but we’re not keeping this in my barn. Take it with you and hide it somewhere else. I don’t want to be involved with this; just keep me out of it.”
“I’ll honor that,” Isaac said.
“We don’t want you around anyway,” Connor said, closing the trunks and jumping out of the back of the wagon.
“What do I do about the bodies?” Duncan asked.
“Connor will take care of them, won’t you, partner?” Isaac said, climbing onto the wagon.
Placing his hands on his hips and grunting, Connor replied, “I’ll need compensation for doing it.”
Raising his hands as if surrendering, Duncan said, “I don’t want to know anything. Don’t tell me a thing.” He walked off, disappearing inside the stables.
“Where are you going to stash the wagon?” Connor asked.
“Not sure, do you have any ideas?” Isaac asked.
“I don’t, and where am I supposed to dump them?” Connor asked, pointing to the bodies.
“I don’t know,” Isaac replied. He was now feeling a bit out of his element. By not reporting the recovered silver and the bodies, he wasn’t only violating his oath and most certainly some law; but he was going against the mandate Mortimer had given him. He was acting like a criminal, the very thing he said he wasn’t. Stewing on it for more than a few minutes, he said, “Toss the bodies in the back of the wagon.”
“What are you going to do with them?” Connor asked.
He sighed loudly and said, “I’m turning everything in, I have to.”
“What?”
“I’ll compensate you for your troubles,” Isaac said, feeling better that he was doing what was right.
Agitated, Connor blared, “If you’re turning that silver over to Corrigan, you can load up the bodies yourself.”
“Help me, Connor, I’ll pay you,” Isaac said, feeling bad that he was going against the plan he’d set up with Connor.
“I’m done being a deputy for you…Sheriff,” Connor said, strutting off.
Isaac loaded the bodies into the back of the wagon and headed for Mortimer’s office in town.
CORRIGAN MINING COMPANY OFFICE, BANE, NEVADA
During the short ride, Isaac batted around the idea of keeping the silver, but each time he convinced himself to do so, his conscience would scream in his head to do the right thing.
He parked the wagon in front of Mortimer’s office and hopped off. Again he paused and thought about what he was about to do. By turning the silver over, he’d give up the one chance for him and Lucy to run off. Without the vast fortune that sat in the back of the wagon, he’d be unable to provide for her or compete with Mortimer and Everett.
From inside, Mortimer saw Isaac and waved.
Isaac simply nodded.
Again Mortimer waved, this time motioning for Isaac to come inside.
Knowing he couldn’t stand outside, Isaac made up his mind and headed inside the offices.
Meeting him at the door, Mortimer said, “Good day, Sheriff.”
“Can we speak in private in your office?” Isaac asked.
“Yes, please come in and take a seat,” Mortimer said.
Isaac walked into the office with Mortimer just behind him, closing the door after himself. “If this is about last night, I don’t think you have to apologize. You didn’t feel well, and those odd afflictions can affect us all.”
“I found the silver,” Isaac blurted out.
Mortimer’s mouth jutted open in shock at the unexpected news. “You found the silver, my silver?”
“Yes.”
“Where was it? Who had it?”
“And you should know now that Edwin is dead, murdered,” Isaac said, revealing all the news up front with no filter.
“Dead? How? Are the two related?” Mortimer asked.
“Yes.”
“Sheriff, you’re being a man of few words. I know you Texans pride yourself on that sort of thing, but I need details. Tell me everything, and please, please tell me that Wilkes was involved in this.”
“I believe he might be,” Isaac said, answering as honestly as he could, but based upon his own experience in being wrongfully accused, he went further. “However, I don’t know for sure.”
“Tell me everything. I need to know, tell me,” Mortimer said, leaning across his desk.
Isaac hadn’t thought about how he’d address the Edwin situation and his suspicions concerning him. Should he mislead, or should he divulge all he knew and suspected?
“Well?” Mortimer asked, his hands clasped tight in anticipation. Something caught his eye and he looked outside again. He put his focus on the wagon and continued, “Is my silver in that wagon?” He stood up and headed for the door.
Isaac got up and followed him.
The two went outside, with Mortimer tossing the canvas flap aside to look inside. “That’s my silver, and that’s Edwin and Marcus.” His eyes fixed on Edwin’s eyes, which lay open in a deathly stare.
“I found it at
the livery. The wagon was being stored there,” Isaac said.
“Have you arrested that filthy Scot for being an accomplice?” Mortimer asked.
“No.”
Giving Isaac an odd look, Mortimer asked, “Why not? He’s surely involved.”
“He’s not. I know that for sure,” Isaac said.
“Sheriff, I need you to be sure. I need everyone who was involved with this arrested, charged and, if found guilty, hanged.”
“I will do everything in my power, but I can assure you that the McCarthy brothers had nothing to do with this,” Isaac said.
“And no hard evidence to link Wilkes?” Mortimer asked.
“Only circumstantial,” Isaac replied.
Ogling his silver once more, Mortimer said, “Tell me everything.”
Isaac told him all he knew, the facts, his suspicions, and the exchange between Edwin and Marcus.
Confused, Mortimer asked, “And you’re sure you heard him say it like that?”
“Yes, he said he was making sure it was safe,” Isaac answered, his recollection crystal clear. He’d overheard their conversation as he walked up on the encounter, listening intently as the two exchanged comments.
“I can’t believe Edwin helped steal my silver. He had information on the shipment, so that makes sense. He would have known how many men we were sending and the route once they were out of the mountain pass. And if he was working with Marcus, that has to mean Wilkes is a party to this,” Mortimer declared.
“We don’t know that for sure,” Isaac said.
“Marcus is his right-hand man,” Mortimer blared.
“And Edwin was yours. There could be an argument made you were a party to this,” Isaac shot back, his senses telling him that the two men were operating alone.
“You’re wrong, and the implication, even though used to illustrate a point, is insulting. Go arrest Wilkes and charge him with the theft of the silver and the murder of those deputies,” Mortimer ordered.
“That would be premature,” Isaac said.
“You work for me. Go and arrest him now! I want to see him behind bars within the hour!” Mortimer barked.
“But, Mortimer, I don’t have anything linking him directly,” Isaac countered. Falsely arresting anyone, even someone as notorious and low-down as Wilkes, for a crime he didn’t commit didn’t sit well with him.
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