The Lawman

by G. Michael Hopf

  “This just can’t be. They left it unguarded,” Isaac said, astonished by the development.

  “What do you suppose got into Mr. Corrigan to allow this to happen?” Connor asked.

  “Who knows, but let’s not stand around talking. Hitch the horses to the wagon; let’s pull it out,” Duncan said, bringing two horses into the storage area.

  With the wagon hitched, they drew it out of the storage.

  Duncan had also brought his own wagon so they could split the silver between them.

  Connor tossed open the flap and was greeted by the worst kind of odor. “What in the world?”

  Isaac glanced in and saw the two bodies were still in there. “They didn’t remove them.”

  “Let’s hurry and dump them inside,” Duncan said, about to climb on board.

  “Who goes there?” a voice boomed from just outside the storage area.

  The men froze.

  The voice boomed again. “Who goes there?”

  Isaac pulled his pistol from his holster and cocked it back.

  Silence for a few moments was followed by a single crack of gunfire.

  Duncan hit the ground and crawled away while Connor took cover behind the wagon. Isaac, though, was on a mission and wasn’t going to be stopped. He stepped out, pointed his pistol and fired, cocked again and fired.

  The stranger dropped to the ground with a thud.

  Isaac ran over to find a deputy he’d hired lying dead on the ground. “Gentlemen, we need to go.”

  Hollering and yelling broke out in the distance.

  “Now!” Isaac barked, running back to the wagon.

  “We need to transfer our share to the other wagon,” Duncan said.

  “No, let’s go,” Isaac said.

  Duncan got on his wagon and pulled away.

  Connor got onto the covered wagon with the silver and took hold of the reins.

  Isaac climbed onto the back of a horse, but instead of turning to head south, he pointed the horse back towards town.

  “What are you doing? No. They’ve been alerted. Don’t do this,” Connor begged Isaac, knowing what he was about to go do.

  “I have to try one more time,” Isaac said.

  “No, come with us,” Connor said.

  “I’ll meet you at Devil’s Fork. If I’m not there before dawn, head out.”

  “We’ll wait for you,” Connor said, slapping the reins hard against the backs of the horses.

  Isaac kicked the ribs of his horse, causing it to rear and race towards town.

  CORRIGAN RESIDENCE, BANE, NEVADA

  When Isaac reached the house, his heart felt like it was about to explode. He didn’t know what to expect but was prepared for anything. With his pistol in his hand, he approached the door and saw his things sitting next to it still. They’d not been touched since he was evicted from the house days ago. With little time, he banged on the door.

  Phyllis opened up and said, “Sheriff Travis, or whoever you are, you’re not wanted here.” She attempted to shut the door, but Isaac stuck his boot across the threshold.

  “I need to see Lucy,” he said.

  “That’s not possible.”

  “Phyllis, step aside. I need to see her,” Isaac demanded.

  “Sheriff, I was given specific instructions not to allow you inside. Please be on your way,” Phyllis said, her voice cracking with fear.

  Impatient, Isaac pushed his way inside and called out, “Lucy! Lucy, where are you?”

  “Sheriff Travis, I demand you leave this residence immediately,” Phyllis barked.

  Ignoring her, Isaac went farther into the house. “Lucy!”

  Appearing at the top of the stairs, Lucy replied, “What are you doing here? You need to go, they’re looking for you, and if they find you, they’ll kill you.”

  “I’m here for you,” Isaac said, running up the stairs to the landing. He holstered his pistol, took her hands, and said, “Come with me.”

  Phyllis cried out, “Sheriff Travis, leave Mrs. Corrigan alone and leave this house this instant or I’ll get the shotgun!”

  “Lucy, please, this is our moment; come away with me,” Isaac begged.

  “I can’t, you know I can’t. I thought I was clear in my note the other day,” Lucy said, pulling away from him.

  “I have the money, lots of it. We can run away together, go very far away, and make a real life for ourselves. We won’t have to struggle. I know you wanted me to have means, and now I do, but I don’t have time to waste, we must leave now!” Isaac insisted.

  Sensing he’d done something wrong, she asked, “What have you done?”

  Phyllis began to climb the stairs, a shotgun in her shaky grasp. “Sheriff Travis, you must leave Mrs. Corrigan alone and leave this residence now or I’ll…I’ll shoot you.”

  “You won’t shoot me, Phyllis. You know I’m not a bad person,” Isaac said. Putting his focus back on Lucy, he said, “I’ve only done what Mortimer or your father would have done. I took advantage of a situation for myself. I have more than enough to take care of us for the rest of our lives, but we can’t stand here and think about it, there’s no debating.”

  Shocked, Lucy took more steps away from him. “Did you steal something?”

  “I took the silver shipment,” Isaac said.

  “You are a thief,” she said, her mouth wide open in awe at his confession.

  “Not any more a thief than your husband or your father,” Isaac countered.

  “They’re businessmen; you’re a common robber,” she fired back.

  “If you only knew what Mortimer did to even get this town, you’d call it stealing, or how your father lied to have me imprisoned. What else has he done?” Isaac said.

  “You’re lying. You’re a liar and a thief. You’re everything my father ever said you were,” Lucy bellowed.

  “That’s not true,” Isaac said defensively.

  “Get out of here!” she yelled.

  “But, Lucy, we love each other; we can now finally be together, as we planned years ago,” he said, stepping towards her.

  The closer he got, the farther she backed away from him.

  “Leave. You’re not the man I knew back then. He was honest, upright, a good man. You’re a common thief and a liar. You showed up representing yourself as another man. Where is the real Sheriff Travis? Did you kill him? Did you kill him then take his identity?”

  Isaac could see how it must have looked, but she wasn’t aware enough to know how Mortimer or her father operated their businesses.

  “Leave!” she screamed.

  Finally seeing there was no hope convincing her and that any idea of them ever being together was gone for good, he retreated down the stairs. Just before leaving, he looked back over his shoulder to see her embracing Phyllis, her sobs echoing through the house. Knowing he was out of time, he exited the house, hopped on his horse, and rode away.

  THREE MILES SOUTH OF BANE, NEVADA

  Isaac rode as fast as the horse would take him on the narrow and rocky trail, his thoughts swamped by Lucy’s cry for him to leave. It was the moment he’d been looking to have. He’d needed closure one way or the other, and it was now over. She’d made up her mind about him and their future. There wasn’t a thing he’d ever be able to say to her to mend what had been shattered by lies four years before. He was saddened yet felt liberated. He’d come to Bane to get the answers he was looking for and was now leaving with them and a pile of silver, and, no, he didn’t consider it theft, he considered the silver now payment for his wrongful incarceration.

  So lost in thought he didn’t hear the horses coming towards him until it was too late.

  Almost running into a group of four men on horseback, Isaac pulled back on the reins, bringing his horse to a hard stop, which almost resulted in him being thrown. The sun’s light was almost vacant from the sky, but there was enough for him to make out that it was Mortimer.

  “You!” Mortimer howled, reaching for his pistol.

  Is
aac was faster, pulling his, cocking it with one hand, and firing. His round hit Mortimer in the shoulder. He spun off the horse and hit the ground.

  Everett, who was next to him, raised his hands high and hollered, “Don’t shoot.”

  The two deputies, Jess and Porter, who had also been riding with them, sat motionless.

  Isaac cocked the pistol and pointed it at Everett. “I should gun you down right here for what you did to me.”

  “I only did what was eventually going to happen anyway. You’re low-down scum,” Everett spat.

  Jess, sensing an opportunity, went for his pistol.

  Seeing him move, Isaac pivoted in the saddle and pulled the trigger.

  The round ball hit Jess squarely in the chest with a loud thud. He bent over backwards in the saddle and fell off the horse. He was dead before he hit the ground.

  Isaac cocked the pistol again but suddenly and fearfully remembered his cylinder was empty after having used it since killing Marcus, but he’d never changed the cylinder or reloaded. Bluffing, he pointed the pistol at Porter and barked, “Take your pistol out and toss it on the ground.” Turning to Everett, he said the same thing.

  Both men did as they were told.

  On the ground Mortimer stirred.

  “You two, move on ahead. Get,” Isaac ordered.

  “I’ll find you. I’ll spare no expense,” Everett said as he slowly passed Isaac.

  Not allowing Everett to leave unharmed, Isaac pistol-whipped him in the face, leaving Everett with a bloody and broken nose. “That’s for having me locked up.”

  “I will find you, I will,” Everett said.

  “Leave or I’ll put you in the ground,” Isaac said.

  Everett moved on, followed by Porter.

  When they were out of sight, Isaac dismounted and walked over to a moaning Mortimer. He knelt down and asked, “How bad is it?”

  “I’ll live just so I can hunt you down,” Mortimer spat.

  “Good, looks like you’ll live,” Isaac said. He picked up his Navy Colt and shoved it in his waistband then got Mortimer to his feet. After helping him onto the horse, he said, “Don’t come looking for me. If you do, I’ll come back and kill you all.” It was a threat that he didn’t mean to follow up on. All he wanted to do was leave and never see these people again.

  “I will find you,” Mortimer roared.

  “Best you get that wound attended to,” Isaac said and slapped his horse on the rear end. The horse ran off.

  Isaac watched until he disappeared around the corner. He questioned his decision not to kill Mortimer or even Everett, but that wasn’t the kind of man he was. He regretted having to kill the one deputy but chalked it up to self-defense. He could be called a thief, but he wasn’t a murderer. He climbed on his horse and rode off.

  DEVIL’S FORK, NEVADA

  Connor stood up and cocked the hammer back on the Winchester rifle when he heard the footfalls of a horse coming his way. He placed the butt of the rifle in the pocket of his shoulder and raised it. The only light that aided him in seeing was the small fire he’d made to stay warm.

  “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!” Isaac hollered as he emerged from the darkness. He pulled back on the reins and brought his horse to a full stop. “Put it down. It’s just me.”

  “I wasn’t sure. I can’t see a damn thing,” Connor said. “Where’s Lucy?”

  Isaac climbed off his horse and walked it up to the wagon and tied it off. “She’s not coming.”

  “What happened?” Connor asked.

  Isaac turned around and said, “Remember when I told you and Travis I was coming to seek an answer to a question? Well, I got my answer.”

  “Sorry, my friend,” Connor said, genuinely feeling sorry for Isaac.

  “Better you know than not know, that’s what I say,” Duncan said.

  “I’m disappointed, but I’m also content at the same time, if that makes any sense,” Isaac said, walking to the fire to warm himself.

  “How’s that?” Connor asked.

  “Not knowing is always harder than knowing,” Isaac said.

  “That’s similar to what I said,” Duncan said.

  “That reminds me of a time when I was a young lad. Duncan, you’ll remember this. I got real sick, and I was having all these bad thoughts about what could be wrong with me. When the doctor came to the house, he diagnosed me with something very minor. It was the not knowing that was worse,” Connor said.

  “What are we going to do with all this silver?” Isaac said, looking over his shoulder at the wagon.

  “Sell it, of course,” Connor replied.

  “But where? Do you know people who buy silver?” Isaac asked.

  “You’ll find someone to buy it in San Francisco. Just ask around, it’s that simple,” Connor said.

  “You’re not coming with me?” Isaac asked the brothers.

  “Sorry, friend, we’re heading south to warmer climes. Thinking of going to Texas,” Connor replied. “Any idea where you’ll go?”

  “I’m thinking Australia or maybe even the Orient,” Isaac replied.

  “Isn’t Australia where they take criminals?” Duncan asked.

  “Yes, fitting, isn’t it?” Isaac laughed.

  The three chuckled.

  Under the light of the fire, they divided the silver. They knew Mortimer would be coming and with a larger posse.

  “The sun will be up soon,” Isaac said, looking east.

  “I hate goodbyes, but it must be,” Connor said, opening his arms wide for an inviting hug.

  Isaac embraced him. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “We’re rich, Sheriff, we’re rich.” Connor laughed.

  “Let’s go, Connor,” Duncan said.

  “And thank you too,” Isaac said to Duncan.

  “My pleasure,” Duncan replied, tipping his hat.

  Connor climbed onto their wagon, tore off his hat, and howled, “If you ever find your way to Texas, look me up.”

  Isaac watched as the two brothers rode south, quickly disappearing over a small rise. He looked west across the valley and towards the Sierra Mountains. He had many miles to go before he got to San Francisco with most of it being the unknown, but for Isaac, that was just fine.

  EPILOGUE

  DECEMBER 1, 1869

  NEW YORK, NEW YORK

  Gerald hobbled down the snow-covered street. Each labored step he took compounded the pain in his leg. After working twelve hours, he was looking forward to sitting in front of his coal stove, eating a hot bowl of soup and the fresh bread he’d just purchased at the bakery down the street.

  Arriving at his tenement building, he climbed the icy stairs carefully, ensuring he wouldn’t slip and fall down. Making it to the top, he shuffled to the door and entered the building. Immediately he was welcome by a foul odor typical of this time of year. During the late fall and winter months, many of the tenants didn’t use the outhouses out back due to the bitter cold. Instead, they’d urinate and defecate into bowls or pots, then leave them outside their doors, and they’d take them out to dump later.

  This habit disgusted Gerald, though it was better than those lazy neighbors who merely dumped their waste out the windows and onto the sidewalks or alleyways.

  He slowly ascended the stairs, taking each step with care.

  Upon reaching his floor, he was greeted by Evan, the ten-year-old boy who lived next door. “Mailman came to your apartment today.”

  “He did?” Gerald asked, surprised. He never received mail; in fact, the last time he’d received anything was when he was notified of his parents’ deaths.

  “He shoved it under the door,” Evan said.

  “Isn’t this exciting,” Gerald said with a smile. He unlocked his door, and there, as Evan had said, was an envelope. He picked it up and first noticed how thick it was. He looked at it closely but didn’t find a return address. In the upper right-hand corner he saw a postmark for San Francisco and instantly guessed it was from Isaac. He threw a satche
l he carried onto the table and set the letter on his chair next to the coal stove. Before he read it, he would get settled in for the evening.

  After lighting his stove and changing into his nightclothes, he sat down and picked up the letter. Again he examined it, from the Lincoln and Washington stamps to the beautiful penmanship on the front. He marveled in the rare occurrence and wanted to savor it.

  Now warm under the blanket draped over his shoulders, he took a knife and sliced open the top of the envelope. He removed the contents and set them on his lap. Unfolding the paper, he discovered inside was a wad of currency. He thumbed through it and saw it totaled five thousand dollars. Curious as to what the letter said, he read it. As his eyes glanced over the words, his heart filled with joy and gratitude.

  Dearest Gerald,

  Enclosed you will find the money I borrowed plus interest. I know you told me not to send it, but I did, as I felt was right. Without your help and friendship I wouldn’t have been about to embark on a journey of a lifetime. I owe you so much and this small amount will never come close to repaying you.

  I’ll stay in touch.

  Your friend.

  P.S. Please do yourself a favor and go live life. Go back to Albany and enjoy the days and years you have left.

  Tears formed in his eyes. Knowing Isaac was doing well and seemed happy gave him satisfaction beyond what words could express. He only wished he could write him back, but understood why he didn’t include a return address.

  Gerald read the letter several more times. Each time it brought tears. He looked at the stack of money and smiled. Isaac was right, staying in New York and slaving away at the docks wasn’t a life suited for him. With what was left of his parents’ estate and this money, he could go back to Albany and live comfortably.

  With his plans set, he reclined in his chair, lifted a full glass of brandy high, and said, “Cheers to you, Isaac Grant. Safe travels.”