The Dark Sunrise

by Terrence McCauley

  “Take a look at the graves at the left side of the cemetery when you get up there. The part they call Mackey’s Garden. Done a fair amount of planting up there myself. And I plan on doing a lot more when I’m done with Grant and Brenner.”

  Nellie wheeled to him. “No Hancock will ever be buried up there. Ever!”

  It was Mackey’s turn to smile. “That part’s up to you.”

  Nellie’s men urged her to join them as they kept walking up the hill toward the mourners.

  Billy uncocked his pistol and slid it back in its holster. “The day I plug that hag is going to be one of the best days of my life.”

  Mackey glanced back at Jerry, who had already lowered his rifle. “Let’s get moving. We’ve got a train to catch.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Once Jerry parked the funeral wagon out front, Mackey thumped on the jailhouse door. “Open up, Josh. It’s us.”

  He heard the bar across the heavy door lift before Joshua Sandborne opened the door; his double-barreled coach gun in his hand.

  The twenty-year-old was not especially tall, and he still bore the open expression of youth, but what he lacked in years he made up for in grit. So far, he had been able to walk the fine line of cockiness and confidence, which was rare for a man so young with a star pinned to his shirt. “Glad you made it back okay, Aaron.”

  Mackey, Billy, and Jerry filed into the jailhouse, and Sandborne closed the door behind them. “The prisoners are all dressed and ready to go. Brenner’s still a bit out of it from Billy busting his nose yesterday. He’s awful shaky on his feet. Think he must’ve hit his head when he fell.”

  “Good.” Mackey filled four mugs of coffee at the stove and handed them to each man. “A sore head and a busted nose will make them think twice before they pull anything on the way to Helena.”

  “I didn’t think of it that way,” Sandborne admitted as he accepted the cup. “But I guess you’re right.”

  “Ay, chicito,” Jerry teased him in Spanish as he pinched the young deputy’s cheek. At twenty-three, the two young men were close in age and had developed a friendship since Jerry had come to town. “You have so much to learn.”

  Sandborne pushed his hand away. “At least I’m getting out of this jail for a few days instead of being stuck here like you.”

  That reminded Mackey of something. He said to Josh, “The horses loaded on the train?”

  “I did it last night before I turned in,” Sandborne said. “Billy’s roan was no problem, but Adair is a spirited animal. She didn’t bite me, but looked like she wanted to. Guess the mob got her worked up.”

  “She doesn’t like trains,” Mackey told him. “Likes people even less.”

  “Kind of like her owner,” Billy observed.

  Mackey ignored him and spoke to Jerry, “I don’t like leaving you alone in town like this, but someone’s got to stay behind and keep an eye on the Hancocks while we’re gone. They’ve got a new man in charge of the company. A Mr. Paul Bishop. I know he’s technically the responsibility of Steve Edison and his policemen, but it couldn’t hurt for you to be around and lend a hand with things if they need it.”

  “I’ve handled worse,” Jerry Halstead told him. “My coffee might not be as good as Billy’s, but I’ll make do until you get back. Maybe I’ll get Billy to tell me what he does to make his coffee taste so damned good before you boys take your holiday in Helena.”

  “No chance of that,” Billy said from over the rim of his mug.

  Mackey checked the clock on the wall. It was almost half-past eight. “Time to get dressed and get these two loaded on the train. I’m going to need all of you to keep a sharp eye between here and the station. Pay attention to the windows high up and the rooftops. Brenner’s a Hancock, and I wouldn’t put it past one of them to try something.”

  “Especially with Nellie up at the cemetery,” Billy added. “She’s got a lot of witnesses up there who can prove she was nowhere near us if something happens. Be ready for anything.”

  Sandborne drained his mug and set it back on the table next to the stove. “Deputy Sunday. I was born ready.”

  Mackey and Billy smiled.

  Jerry mussed Sandborne’s hair. “You were only born yesterday, young one. How ready could you be?”

  Sandborne nudged him toward the door. “Get out of here while we change clothes. I wouldn’t want you to be embarrassed by seeing real men getting ready to ride.”

  Jerry laughed as he grabbed his Winchester and walked outside. “I’ll be in the wagon when you boys are ready.” He took his coffee mug with him.

  * * *

  As he sat in the wagon box waiting for Mackey and the others to bring out the prisoners, Jerry held his Winchester across his lap while he sipped his coffee. Billy really did make a fine pot, and he wondered what his secret was.

  Jerry had watched him make coffee several times since coming to Dover Station but had never seen him do anything special. He’d grind the beans he bought from the store, dump them in the pot, and let it boil. That was it. He vowed to discover the secret one day, but for now, he was content to let it be an entertaining mystery.

  Jerry was making a point of ignoring the four men who had gathered in front of the Municipal Building across Front Street. Their gold badges told him they were members of the town’s police force under Chief Edison, but unlike the twenty men still up at Underhill’s grave, these were not Edison men. They were Hancock men Brenner had hired during his brief time as chief.

  The reason Edison had not fired these men yet was beyond Jerry. That was something he believed was politics, a topic he avoided whenever possible. Politics had cost him a star of his own and put him in jail. Since whoever Chief Edison hired or didn’t hire was none of his business, he thought it best to put it out of his mind entirely.

  But he paid plenty of attention to the four men in front of the Municipal Building. He did not look at them directly, but out of the corner of his eye. They had not been standing there when he had parked the wagon in front of the jailhouse, but they had been there when he climbed up into the box. That was why his Winchester was cocked and in his lap, casually aimed in their general direction.

  One of the Hancock men cleared his throat and called out to Jerry, “Guess Mackey must be having a hard time finding men to help him. Him goin’ and hirin’ a half-breed and all. Heard he don’t like half-breeds much.”

  Jerry knew ignoring them would only make them grow bolder, which could lead to trouble Mackey wanted to avoid. If he bantered with them a little, he might keep them distracted until Aaron got out here with the others.

  “You’ve heard right, friend.” He drank his coffee.

  “Then why’s he got you driving that wagon?” another man called out. “Seein’ as how he’s so down on breeds.”

  “On account of me not being a breed. My mama was Mexican, and my daddy was a Connecticut Yankee.”

  The third man said, “You sure look like a breed. That skin color and straight black hair and all.”

  Jerry glanced at the man and saw he looked like he was bald under his bowler hat. “Sounds like you might be jealous, friend.”

  The fourth man, who had been quiet until then, stepped forward. He was the biggest of the group and had sandy brown hair with a woolly beard to match. “We ain’t jealous, and we ain’t your friends. You’re taking poor old Al to his death. Al’s our kin, and we aim to do something about it right here and now.”

  Jerry set his coffee cup on the seat and slid his hand onto his rifle. “Then it’s a good thing for you boys that I spent some time as a barber before I came here.”

  “A barber?” The men laughed as the woolly man stepped forward. “What good will that do you now?”

  Jerry slowly turned the Winchester so his finger was on the trigger. “Because I’ll part your hair if you make any sudden moves. You and the three idiots behind you.”

  Jerry kept his eye on the men when he heard the jailhouse door open and Mackey called out, “Everything all r
ight, Jerry?”

  “Just making some new friends while I’m waiting.” Jerry’s Winchester didn’t move. “These fine officers were just checking on my well-being and wishing us a pleasant day, weren’t you boys?”

  The woolly man looked past him. “You bringin’ out Al, Mackey?”

  “And Grant.” Mackey stepped off the boardwalk and moved to the side of the wagon. Jerry could see he’d changed clothes and held his Winchester at his side. “Hope you boys won’t try something stupid when we do.”

  Jerry smiled at the Hancock men. “Speak for yourself, Marshal. I hope they do. Could get interesting.”

  The Hancock men were too proud to move, but too scared to do anything else.

  Mackey grew very still. “Time for your boys to move along. Right now.”

  Jerry did not understand what exactly happened next, but something in Mackey’s tone made the men sag just enough to show the fight had gone out of them. It was a quality that Jerry’s father, Sim, had mentioned in his letters to him over the years. A grave finality, his father had called it, that made a man lose his sand quicker than any bullet or knife blade could. A tone that could also spur a man to ride into overwhelming odds with complete confidence that he would live to see another sunrise.

  Whatever it was, Jerry watched the four men begin to move back toward the steps of the Municipal Building. The woolly one said, “You goin’ with them, breed?”

  “Nope. I’ll be staying right here in town. It’ll give us the chance to get to know each other better.”

  The four of them backed up the steps of the building and shut the iron door behind them.

  “Don’t back down from them,” Mackey told Jerry, “but don’t goad them, either. Edison might not back your play if you do, and there are a lot of Hancocks in town.”

  “No one ever backed my play before, Uncle.” Jerry realized that sounded too harsh and quickly added, “Except for you. I don’t know if I ever thanked you for that.”

  “You can thank me by still being alive when we get back.” Mackey kept an eye on the Municipal Building as he called to the jail. “Bring them out, boys.”

  Jerry heard a great commotion and rattle of chains from the jailhouse. With Mackey covering the street, he looked back and saw Billy pulling Grant out the front door backward. The barrel of his big Sharps was flat against the small of Grant’s back.

  Brenner followed, and it was clear to Jerry that the men’s hands had been shackled so they faced each other. They moved at a snail’s pace, but the awkward movement made it next to impossible for either of them to make a run for it.

  Joshua brought up the rear with his coach gun pressed against Brenner’s back. He shut the door and locked it. He tossed the keys up to Jerry, who caught the ring easily.

  The two prisoners grunted and complained as they had to angle their way onto the tailgate and into the funeral wagon. Billy and Joshua followed them up. The wood creaked under the combined weight of the prisoners and the lawmen.

  Mackey climbed up into the box next to Jerry. “Take it nice and slow. We’ve still got time to make that train.

  Jerry rode the hammer down on the Winchester and set the rifle aside while Mackey and the others eyed the street.

  He threw the brake and snapped the reins, spurring the Clydesdale toward the station.

  It was good to have someone watch his back for once.

  CHAPTER 6

  Between spectators and passengers, the station was crowded, too crowded for Billy’s liking. He thought most of the town was up at Underhill’s funeral, but it looked like everyone else was here, waiting for a glimpse of James Grant and Al Brenner in chains.

  Chief Edison had assigned a few men to keep the crowd back, but his best men were still up at Underhill’s grave, and those who were here were not much good. At least they were not Hancock men.

  “I wasn’t counting on this,” Mackey told them as they got close to the station. “Change in plans. Jerry, park the wagon at the back near the stock car. We’ll board there where the crowd is thinnest. Jerry and I will hold them back while Billy and Josh get the prisoners on the stock car. We’ll help Edison’s men keep the crowd from swarming all over us.”

  Billy watched Jerry bring the Clydesdale to a halt and set the brake before hopping down and moving toward the crowd.

  Mackey climbed down, too, and covered the crowd with his Winchester. “Bring down the prisoners and load them into the stock car. Now.”

  “You can’t do that!” Grant yelled as Josh and Billy pulled the prisoners to their feet. “I know those cars. There’s no way through to the rest of the train from there.”

  Joshua opened the tailgate and jumped down. “Shut up and get moving. Time’s wasting.”

  But neither prisoner moved. Brenner said, “You ain’t locking me in a goddamned car with livestock all the way to Helena.”

  Billy grabbed hold of the shackles and yanked the chain up. “Get moving or we’ll put these chains over the tail hitch of the train and drag you there.”

  The prisoners slid along their backsides until they got to the edge of the wagon, then slid down to the ground. With Joshua prodding them from the back, Billy climbed over the side and helped move the prisoners along as they crab-walked to the stock car.

  Billy saw Mackey holding his Winchester low but ready as he watched the crowd that had finally spotted them and began to surge their way. Edison’s men did their best to hold them back, but it was only a matter of time before the crowd broke free and moved toward the stock car. He had seen how mobs worked, and if he had forgotten, he had been reminded of it the night before. A group of people that large tended to take on a mind of their own, and there was no way of knowing what might happen next.

  Billy saw the ramp for the stock car had been moved aside, and he called out to Jerry to help put it back in place. It would be nearly impossible for the prisoners to climb up into the car the way they were chained together, and there was no way he would take off their shackles now.

  As Jerry jogged back to help him, Billy saw two men break free from the crowd and charge forward. One had a knife and the other had a pistol.

  Men, women, and children cried out.

  Billy shoved the prisoners to the ground, but before he could bring up the Sharps, Mackey raised his Winchester and fired at the approaching men.

  Jerry dove out of the way just in time.

  The man with the knife dropped to the platform. The right side of his head disappeared in a cloud of red dust.

  The second man with the pistol stopped in his tracks as Mackey levered another round into the chamber.

  The crowd surged again, only this time as far away from the train as they could manage. Billy had a clear shot at the man with the pistol, but knew at this range, the fifty-caliber round would go through him and several people behind him.

  Besides, Aaron had the man in his sights. He was not going anywhere.

  “Set your pistol on the platform nice and slow,” Mackey ordered. “You don’t have to die today.”

  “Shoot him, Andy,” Brenner yelled to the gunman. “Shoot him now!”

  But Andy did not shoot. He looked at Aaron and the prisoners. He looked at the people who had backed away from him and at all the guns aimed at him.

  He was all alone and with only one way out.

  Billy saw the shift in his eyes, and knew this could only end one way.

  Andy yelled, “Remember the Hancock Boys!”

  His pistol jerked up.

  Mackey dropped him with a single shot to the chest.

  Andy’s pistol fired wide as he fell to the platform.

  While the people on the platform cried out, Jerry scrambled over and helped Billy get the ramp back in place, then helped Josh drag the prisoners to their feet and into the stock car.

  Billy covered Aaron as the marshal walked toward Andy, rifle still aimed down at the man he had just shot. He stepped on the dead man’s wrist and plucked the pistol from his hand. He stood over the cor
pse and faced the spectators, his voice ringing loud over their screams. “Anyone else want to try us today?”

  The crowd fell silent. No one stepped forward.

  One of Edison’s men slowly walked over to him. “I’m sorry about this, Marshal, but—”

  Mackey handed him the pistol and walked back toward the stock car. Billy eyed the crowd in case anyone came at Mackey. No one did.

  Jerry walked down the ramp as Mackey approached. “You know, I felt that bullet go right past my ear.”

  “You’re welcome.” He walked up the ramp and into the stock car.

  Jerry helped Billy pull the ramp away from the train. “Aaron’s awful handy with that Winchester, isn’t he, Uncle?”

  But Billy was not in the habit of discussing Aaron’s shortcomings or his talents with anyone other than Aaron. Maybe it was from all the years he had spent hunting Apache and Comanche, but he was superstitious about certain topics. He had come to believe that a man was born with only a certain amount of medicine, and talking about such things could make him lose some of it, the way a glass of water gets empty if it sits too long.

  “Cinnamon,” Billy said.

  The answer caught Jerry short. “What?”

  “The secret to why my coffee’s so good,” Billy told him as he stepped up into the stock car. “I put a pinch of cinnamon in the water, let it boil until it’s almost gone, then add the coffee and more water. It seasons the pot and gives the coffee a nicer flavor.”

  “Cinnamon,” Jerry repeated as he helped Billy slide the stock door closed. “You two are a strange pair, Uncle. You and Aaron.”

  “Stay alive, Jerry Halstead,” Billy said as he slid the door shut. “We’ll send a wire when we get to Helena.”

  Billy would smile every time he thought of the puzzled look on his nephew’s face on the long trek to Helena.

  * * *

  The light inside the stock car wasn’t the best, but enough of the morning sun shone through the slats for the men to see what they were doing.

  Enough for Billy to see Grant and Brenner dig in their heels at the straw outside Adair’s stall.