Justice for Jasper

by A. T. Butler

  “But at the same time,” she continued, ignoring his question, “I understand that I cannot possibly know every little thing that goes on in my business. That’s when I’m grateful to get other people’s opinions.”

  Mr. Farnsworth exhaled a groan.

  “For example, Mr. Devlin here.” She gestured to the neatly dressed man standing on her left. “He has had many interactions with Floyd Daly, and each of them has left him poorer than the last.”

  After a moment of silence, she elbowed Devlin in the side, prodding him forward.

  “Ahem.” He cleared his throat. “That’s right. Mr. Daly was a customer of mine since he moved to Jasper, but—”

  “But can you really call him a customer,” Abby interrupted, “if he has never paid his bills?”

  “That’s right.” Devlin nodded, Abby’s confidence seeming to bolster his own. “Mr. Daly opened a credit account at my store—using his job at your own company as collateral, Mr. Farnsworth. But he has yet to pay a single dime of what he owes me.”

  “You want me to pay his bills, is that it?” Farnsworth asked, pulling out his money clip. He peeled a bill off the top and tossed it across the desk.

  The bill floated to the ground at Devlin’s feet. He looked confused, but bent to pick it up. “No, I—”

  “He owes me money, too,” Gentle Jack shouted.

  “Mr. Farnsworth, we seem to have lost the thread here.” Santos spoke soothingly, trying to regain control of the conversation. “These fine citizens are all here to testify about how they have been wronged by the man currently in your employ. If you could tell us where to find him, so that we may apprehend him in accordance with the law, we hope to stop him from wronging you or your company.”

  Farnsworth stood again, this time coming around his desk. Jacob hoped for a short moment that they had gotten through to him, despite what his gut was telling him.

  “Your five minutes was up long ago, and I have been more than polite. The only ones costing me or Rockville Mining Company money are you lot, so I’ll see you out. Good day.”

  Even with five people in their group, unless Santos indicated they should get violent and physical with Mr. Farnsworth, there was nothing they could do. Without Daly anywhere in the room, there was no call for the law to do anything other than leave the company in peace.

  Jacob waited to exit last, still looking for that one hint that would indicate that Farnsworth and Humphries were ready for whatever might befall them, but the solid walls of wooden planks looked bare.

  Chapter Seven

  “Now what do we do?” Abby demanded as they stepped out of the mining office.

  Devlin still held the twenty-dollar bill loosely in his hand. Abby snatched it from him.

  “We are all owed money,” she said, before he could object. “If this is all we’re getting, we’ll have to split it.”

  “He owes me money, too,” Gentle Jack said—again practically shouting the words.

  Santos tried to calm them down, but Abby and Jack were already yelling at each other.

  Jacob inched around to the side of the building where he had seen the man watching them earlier. None of the other workers came over to this corner; it was farthest away from the mine and the water supply, and there were no entrances to the office on that side.

  The bounty hunter approached cautiously, his hand on his grip.

  The shade of a nearby tree hit this side of the building, creating a curtain of dappled shadow that made it difficult for Jacob to immediately identify any footprints or other possible clues. He stopped to listen, but the bustling and arguing of the group behind him was too distracting. He sniffed, checking to see if he could smell an unwashed outlaw, but no aroma stood out to his keen nose.

  Five more steps brought Jacob around the corner of the office, but there was no one skulking around here either, and as far as he could see, there were no clues or indications of where the man had gone.

  It had to have been Daly, though. Jacob could not think of any other reason a man would sneak around watching a U.S. Marshal and his deputy unless that man was a wanted outlaw. All this meant Daly was likely somewhere nearby. He wasn’t in the office, nor was he around the office anymore.

  Jacob turned around and strode off to the mouth of the Vernon Copper Mine.

  This early in the day, there were only a handful of cars full of ore above ground. Men covered in a thin coat of dirt, hats pulled low over their eyes pushed past Jacob to go down into the shaft. He hesitated; confronting and trying to capture the outlaw in the dark mine could put all of these other workers at risk. He eyed each man he passed, trying to see if one of them might be Daly.

  If a man wanted to hide, the deep, dark reaches of a mine might be a good place to do it. Jacob was sure that he’d find the man in this pit if he looked hard enough.

  He ignored the questioning looks a few of the miners shot at him. There was no time to explain. Daly could already be deep in the recesses. Jacob crossed into the mouth of the hole, pausing only a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. The banging, tumbling rock, and shouting orders were louder in here. He couldn’t cease all production, so he’d just have to do a visual search. In the dark.

  Jacob took a deep breath and began his descent.

  Twenty yards into the mine, a mancart stood waiting to ferry workers farther down. Jacob briefly tried to explain to the man in charge what he was doing here, but the worker didn’t seem to care. He just ushered Jacob into the cart with the other men and transferred him down to the next level. Once farther below, the workers scattered, leaving Jacob to wonder which way to go.

  Before the last of the miners disappeared into the darkness out of his sight, Jacob stopped him, grabbing his arm.

  “Where can I find Daly?”

  “Shoot, I don’t know, mister.”

  “Guess.”

  “I’m not sure I should.”

  “I’ve got a deputy U.S. Marshal badge that says you should.”

  “All right, all right.” The miner shook off Jacob’s grip. “No need to threaten. Daly could be anywhere, really. He seems to have a finger in every pie.”

  “But if you had to pick?” Jacob was getting impatient.

  “If I had to pick . . . well, lately Daly’s been spending more time in the older shafts. Down that way.” He pointed to the shaft behind Jacob and to the left. “There aren’t many still working that shaft, though. You’d better take a candle with you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Be careful. That flame burns too much, you’re liable to lose your breath.”

  “I got it.”

  Jacob grabbed one of the last candles that rested on a table at the foot of the cart track and lit it, holding it carefully in front of him. Anyone who came down later would just be out of luck.

  As he started down the shaft the miner had indicated, Jacob unholstered his revolver. He would prefer to take Daly without any bloodshed, but he knew that wasn’t always possible. He held the candle up in front of him. The flickering light, combined with the rock walls around him, cast harsh shadows. Twice Jacob went to turn down another branch of tunnel only to find out it was simply a depression in the wall, filled with darkness.

  After thirty yards of cautious progress, Jacob still had not run into any other workers. This really was an abandoned shaft of the Vernon Copper Mine. If he did come across Daly down here, and things went south, who knew how long it would be before anyone else came down here.

  Jacob thought he heard some kind of shuffling. It could be a rat, bat, or other creature, but he paused to listen more carefully. Somewhere near him—maybe just around that next turn in the tunnel—was something.

  Something alive. Something moving.

  He took another few steps toward the sound. He held his breath, not wanting to give anything away. Now he was almost sure those were footsteps. It sounded like heavy boots on the mine’s rock floor.

  He took another three steps, just reaching the turn in the tun
nel.

  A swift breath blew out his candle flame.

  In the darkness, Jacob heard the click of a hammer being pulled back.

  He inched toward the sound, but before he could relight his candle, the crack of gunshot echoed through the chamber.

  Chapter Eight

  The dirt wall behind Jacob exploded where the bullet hit, just inches to his left but fortunately missing him. The shot had been fired from relatively close by—his ears rang from the blast. The ringing began to fade, and the first noise Jacob could identify was footsteps running deeper into the mine, away from him.

  That was too close. And if Jacob had been shot, he would never have made it out of here. Trying to capture Daly while inside the mine was too big of a risk. Jacob kicked the rock wall in frustration and made his way back up to the surface, leaving Daly to his dark hidey-hole.

  As he returned to the daylight, Jacob did his best to avoid running into any miners. He had been deep underground, but that didn’t mean the sound of a gunshot had gone unnoticed.

  When he emerged back into the light, he noticed Santos and the group still waiting for him. The marshal sat atop his horse, eyes scanning the horizon in all directions. When his gaze fell on Jacob, the other man’s shoulders visibly relaxed.

  “Payne!”

  He dismounted and hurried over to where Jacob was exiting the mine. As he got closer, Jacob realized how much he must have worried Santos. The man was frowning and reaching out to grab Jacob as soon as he was close enough.

  “What happened? Where did you go? I thought I heard a gunshot, but I wasn’t sure. I don’t like the idea of us splitting up.” Santos began brushing dirt off Jacob’s sleeve. He hadn’t realized how much the exploding wall had hit him in the dark.

  “He almost shot me,” Jacob said. “In the dark. Daly shot at me. I didn’t even know he was there. We’ve got to come up with a better plan.”

  Santos nodded soberly. “Let’s head back to Jasper and reassess.”

  Jacob started toward the horses, but the marshal stopped him.

  “It’ll be easier to do this once we no longer have the whole gang with us,” Santos said in a whisper.

  Jacob nodded and made his way to where Yellow stood, patiently waiting for him.

  “You okay?” Abby asked cautiously.

  “Fit as a fiddle,” he said. “The man surprised me in the dark, but it takes more than a shock to take down Jacob Payne.”

  Abby laughed at his bravado. “All right, Mr. Payne. Just don’t you go dying on me before we get justice, ya hear?”

  “Wouldn’t think of it.” He climbed on his horse, taking the reins from the miner who had untied Yellow for him.

  “We all ready?” Santos asked the group.

  Among a chorus of yeses, the marshal led them back up the road to town. He rode ahead, listening to Gentle Jack rant and rave angrily about all the injustices done him. Jacob didn’t hear everything he said, but caught the general idea. He was happy to trail in the back of the group, making sure no one got separated but also able to have a private conversation with Abby.

  “How long have you lived in Jasper?” he asked her.

  She smiled and flashed a dimple at him. “Why? You thinking about staying around?”

  He chuckled. “No, nothing like that. Just wondering what brought you here.”

  Her smile grew strained, but she didn’t give any other indication she was distressed by his question. All she said was, “I came here a couple years ago. From South Carolina.”

  “Really? I thought I heard some southern in that accent of yours.”

  “Yes, sir. After the war a lot of things changed in our hometown, so we lit on out of there to look for a new chance somewhere else.”

  Jacob almost didn’t want to ask the next question, didn’t want to seem like he was prying. But he asked anyway. “We?”

  They rode in silence for a minute or two. Jacob wasn’t even sure she had heard his question until she looked at him again. She didn’t say a word, but just from her set jaw and pained expression he could tell his question had struck a nerve.

  “How exactly were you cheated by Floyd Daly?” Jacob asked quietly.

  The look she shot him broke his heart. She was trying to be so strong and so brave, but he could tell that Daly had really hurt her. She bit her lip, as though thinking, but they were already to her hotel. Abby dismounted and handed her horse’s reins over to her stable boy, who had been waiting for her. She went inside, not say anything more to Jacob.

  Chapter Nine

  Abby’s stable boy offered to take care of Jacob’s and Santos’s horses as well, and Jacob gratefully handed over his reins. He wanted to hurry inside to finish his conversation. What had happened to this poor woman to make her so angry? How exactly had Floyd Daly hurt her?

  When he stepped inside, Jacob looked everywhere before finally noticing Abby sitting alone in the corner of her saloon. It was just about lunchtime, but since most of the men in Jasper worked at the mine, business was slow. The room was quiet.

  Santos noticed Abby about the same time and elbowed Jacob forward.

  “You go,” he said in a low tone. “I’ll get us food. I get the feeling she doesn’t want to be crowded.”

  Jacob nodded, removing his hat and crossing the room. As he reached Abby’s table, one of her waitresses brought a glass of beer and set it down in front of her.

  “Can I get you one, Mr. Payne?”

  “Coffee?”

  The waitress nodded and left.

  “You not drinking with me, Jacob?” Abby smiled at him, but he could tell her heart wasn’t in her teasing.

  He reached across the table and put his hand over hers. “What happened, Abby?”

  She withdrew her hand from his and scooted her chair away—only a couple inches, but enough for him to notice. She kept her eyes on him while she gulped back several large swallows of beer. He returned his hands to his lap and waited. She would tell him when she was ready, or she would leave. He didn’t want to force her.

  The waitress returned with his coffee. He thanked her, and once she left again Jacob and Abby sat in silence for nearly a minute. Jacob was debating whether or not to get up and leave her alone when she finally spoke.

  “I haven’t told you how I came by this place, have I?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  She nodded and drained her beer before speaking again.

  “I came out west with my husband and his brother two years ago. My husband had been diagnosed with consumption, and the doctor told us the dry air in the west would be the best treatment. My brother-in-law had a hankering for space and a change, so he came with us.”

  Jacob couldn’t see where this was leading, or what this had to do with Floyd Daly, but he stayed quiet, sipping his coffee as he listened.

  “It’s a good thing he did come with us, since my husband—his name was Jacob, too, if you’ll believe it—he died while we were still in Texas. He never even made it to Arizona. Joseph and me stayed to bury him, and I suppose I could have gone back to South Carolina, but I wanted to see it all the way to the end. So Joseph and me kept on till we landed here in Jasper. Two years ago, like I said.

  “It was hard when we first got here. Joseph tried out mining and I kept house, and we went on like that for a few months. But . . .”

  She trailed off and looked out toward the window. An older man driving a cart proceeded down the road. Jacob took the moment of Abby’s distraction as a chance to glance behind him. Santos was leaning on the bar, watching them from a distance.

  “Joseph had an accident in the mine,” Abby began, and Jacob turned his attention back to her. “I still don’t know how it happened, but one of his legs was crushed. Doc Jewett amputated it in time to save his life, but he couldn’t work there anymore. We were . . . there never was anything between Joseph and me. He was like my brother, above anything. But still. I couldn’t leave him. He was my family, and we were stuck out here in the hills of Arizona with n
o job, no way to take care of ourselves.”

  Her eyes had glazed over while she spoke. Jacob was silent.

  “Bad luck following bad luck, it was . . . but I guess God done thought we’d had enough. This here hotel came up for sale, and the owner knew we had little else to do and sold it to us for a deal. His wife had died, and I had filled in as cook and maid a couple times for him, and he wanted to go back east. So I gave him everything. All our savings, all my jewelry—my husband’s gun, even. That gun had made me feel safe for a year since he’d died, but it was worth trading for a chance at having a real life.”

  “So it seems like you’ve done well for yourself,” Jacob ventured.

  Abby finally met his eyes.

  “Right about the time that the hotel was turned over to Joseph and me, Floyd Daly showed up in town.”

  “Oh.”

  “I didn’t pay him no mind, at first. He even paid his bill for the two weeks he stayed here as a hotel guest. I didn’t have any hint of what he was capable of. At first.”

  She sighed and took another swallow of beer.

  “But then, I started to notice Joseph was more and more agitated. He would yell at me for the smallest thing, like throwing away a batch of biscuits that hadn’t turned out right, or when I bought more soap than he thought we needed. I couldn’t understand why he was so stressed. The hotel was doing good business, so far as I knew. But then one night, Joseph finally cracked under all that pressure. He told me he’d had to borrow money to pay for a share in another mine some fellas were trying to open, and for the new wallpaper upstairs we’d installed recently. He told me this Daly guy had promised to be understanding and would set a reasonable interest, but that he hadn’t been able to pay him back fast enough.”

  Abby paused, letting that sink in.

  “I asked him, ‘What do we owe?’ But he couldn’t—he wouldn’t—say. Joseph Courtland—this man who had been my brother in all but blood, who I had loved dearly for years—had gone behind my back and . . .”