by J. Roberts
“Do you still find it gratifying?”
Dodge hesitated, then said, “It’s important.”
“Not exactly the same thing.”
“I know.”
Angel came walking over and linked her arm in Clint’s.
“Hello, Deputy.”
“Miss Angel. You look lovely tonight.”
“Why, thank you, sir.”
“And hello to you,” she said, squeezing up tight next to Clint.
“Angel.”
“We heard that you brought in Barney Riggs.”
“Charley Smith brought him in,” Dodge said. “We backed him up.”
“So there’s gonna be a trial?” she asked.
“Definitely.”
“Why?” Clint asked. “What’s your interest?”
“Not me,” she said, “but a lot of the Hudson outfit visit the girls downstairs, and they’ve been saying there’s going to be trouble if Barney Riggs is brought back to town.”
“Where’d they expect us to bring him?”
“From what I heard, they wanted you to leave him in the ground out there, somewhere.”
“Well, that wasn’t gonna happen,” Dodge said. “Miss Angel, if you’ll excuse me, I got to make my rounds.”
“Of course, Deputy,” she said. “Have a good night.”
Dodge nodded at Clint and left.
“Angel, are there any of the Hudson outfit downstairs now?”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “When they got word that Barney had been brought in they left.”
“Probably went back to the ranch to stir up trouble,” Clint said.
“What do you care?” she asked. “You don’t wear a badge. You just have to worry about me stirring up trouble for you, mister.”
He laughed and said. “Oh, you’re trouble, all right, but Dodge is a friend of mine. And I was one of the men who brought Riggs in. If there’s trouble because of it, I can’t walk away now.”
“Well,” she said, “just don’t get yourself hurt.” She put her hand on his chest. “I want you at full strength.”
“Don’t you have work to do?” he asked, smiling to take the sting out of the question.
“Yeah, I do,” she said, “but I’ll see you later, Mr. Gunsmith.”
He watched her walk away, then finished his beer and left the Bird Cage.
From the back of the Bird Cage, where he could see Clint and Dodge but they could not see him, John Shaunessy watched them interact with Angel, then watched Dodge walk out of the place. Finally, he stood up so he could watch Clint leave.
“What’s goin’ on, John?” one of the men at his table asked.
“That’s what I’d like to know,” the miner said. “Remember the last time Adams was in town?”
“No,” the other man said.
“We did our duty and hung John Heath,” Shaunessy said. “Remember that?”
“Oh, yeah, I remember.”
“And both Dodge and Adams had some harsh things to say about that.”
“So what?” the other man asked. “Heath got hung, he’s gone, it’s over.”
“Naw,” Shaunessy said, “it ain’t over. When somebody talks like that to me, it ain’t hardly over.”
“So whataya gonna do?”
“I don’t know,” Shaunessy said, “but I’ll think of something.”
THIRTY-TWO
Clint walked over to the sheriff’s office and entered. It was quiet, but he knew somebody had to be there because they had a prisoner. He was about to go and have a look in the cell block when Bob Hatch came walking out from there. He stopped, startled for the moment, then relaxed when he saw it was Clint.
“Adams, hey.”
“Bob. What’s going on?”
“Hmm? Oh, nothin’. I was just talkin’, uh, to young Barney.”
“About what?”
Hatch thought a moment, then shrugged and said, “I was askin’ what he wanted to eat. That’s part of my job, ya know?”
“Mmm, yeah,” Clint said.
Hatch walked around his desk and sat down, making himself comfortable before speaking again.
“So, what brings you here?”
“I heard some talk at the Bird Cage about the boys from the Hudson outfit.”
“Comin’ in and causin’ trouble, right?” Hatch asked. “Yeah, I heard.”
“What are you going to do?”
“My job, Adams,” Hatch said. “That’s what I always do.”
“You got enough deputies?”
“Deputies, constables,” Hatch said, waving a hand. “I think we can handle a few drunken cowboys. Why, you want a badge?”
“No, no,” Clint said, “that’s okay. I just wanted to warn you.”
“I appreciate it. Anything else?”
“Nope,” Clint said. “Nothing else. Good night, Sheriff.”
“ ’Night, Adams.”
He turned and left the office. He couldn’t help but wonder about Dodge’s comments concerning Hatch maybe not wanting to bring Riggs in. What else could he have been talking about with Riggs.
He decided to go and find Dodge, who was probably still making his rounds.
Clint found Dodge checking doors on the corner of Sixth and Allen streets. Dodge turned and jumped back until he realized it was Clint.
“Crap, Clint,” Dodge complained, “you scared the hell out of me.”
“Sorry.”
“Why aren’t you at the Bird Cage?” Dodge asked. Then he leered and added, “Or in your hotel room with the willing Angel?”
“I wanted to talk to Hatch about the Hudson boys,” Clint said. “Angel told me some more about what they’ve been saying to the crib girls and I figure they’re on their way here to cause some trouble.”
“You think they’ll try to break Riggs out to lynch him?”
“Could be.”
Dodge frowned.
“We had enough of that three years ago, with John Heath.”
“I remember,” Clint said. He didn’t mention that he’d gone over that whole incident again in his head while taking a bath. “Whatever happened to that fellow, John Shaunessy?”
“Nothin’,” Dodge said, “absolutely nothin’. He still works in the mines.”
“Haven’t seen him around, have you?”
“Not tonight. What did Hatch say?”
“Not much, just that he knew about it and would do his job, but something odd happened.”
“What?”
“When I walked into the office he was in the cell block, with Riggs.”
“Why?”
“He said he was talking to him. When I asked what about he came up with a story of asking him what he wanted for breakfast.”
“And you don’t believe him?”
“Do you? You’re the one who said he didn’t really want to bring Riggs in.”
“I said maybe he wouldn’t bring him in.”
“You said he didn’t want to, or wouldn’t bring him in.”
“Okay, so I said that.”
“What if Riggs isn’t in his cell, anymore?”
Dodge stared at Clint for a long moment, then said, “Let’s go and find out.”
THIRTY-THREE
When they entered the jail, Bob Hatch was at his desk. He looked up at them in surprise.
“Dodge, thought you were doin’ your rounds,” Hatch said. “Back again, Adams?”
“I ran into Dodge outside,” he said.
“I told Clint I wanted to relieve you, let you go and get a drink,” Dodge said. “He offered to keep me company.” >
“A break does sound good,” Hatch said. “Maybe one beer and a change of clothes.” As Hatch spoke he seemed to be a bit puzzled by the offer.
“Take your time,” Dodge said. “Charley ought to be in here soon.”
“I thought he turned in.”
“Charley only sleeps a few hours a day,” Dodge said. “He’ll be around.”
“Well . . . okay,” Hatch said. He gr
abbed his hat and stood up. “But I won’t be long.”
“Whenever,” Dodge said. “Don’t worry about it.”
Hatch nodded and headed for the door, but still didn’t seem fully committed.
When the door closed, Dodge said to Clint, “Let’s go have a look.”
They both headed for the cell block. Only one cell was occupied, and it was all the way at the end. They couldn’t see Riggs until they actually reached the cell. He was lying on the cot against the back wall. He was awake with his left arm across his forehead. When he heard them he dropped his arm and turned his head.
“Come to gloat?” he asked.
“Just checkin’, Barney,” Dodge said.
“Where’d you think I’d be?”
“Actually,” Clint said, “we were just checking to make sure you’re still alive.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Riggs asked. “I ain’t about to hang myself, you know.”
“You might not have to,” Dodge said.
“Whataya mean by that?”
“We heard the Hudson outfit may be coming in to do that for you,” Clint said.
Riggs sat up, slapping his feet down onto the floor.
“What?”
“Just a rumor,” Dodge said.
“You can’t let ’em take me,” Riggs said. “You got to protect me.”
“Hey,” Dodge said. “I’ll do my job, but that’s about all I can do.”
“Where’s Bob?” Riggs demanded. “Where’s Sheriff Hatch?”
“He went home to freshen up,” Dodge said. “He should be back later.”
“Does he know about this?”
“He’s the sheriff,” Dodge said, “he better know.”
Riggs got up, rushed to the front of the cell, and grabbed the bars. He pressed his face between two of them.
“Get me out of here, Dodge,” Riggs said. “Put me someplace else.”
“Hey,” Dodge said. “You’re in a cell, where you belong.”
“But—”
“If I was you,” Clint said, “I’d move that cot away from that window. Don’t want to make it too easy for somebody who wants to kill you.”
Clint and Dodge started walking out of the cell block, with Riggs continuing to shout after them to get him out of there.
“So, he’s still there,” Clint said.
“I didn’t think Hatch would let him out, not just like that.”
“Maybe he’s planning to let him escape.”
“Maybe,” Dodge said. “But not while I’m here—or Charley.”
“Was that true about Charley?”
“Oh yeah, he don’t sleep much,” Dodge said. “When he says he’s turnin’ in, you can pretty much depend on the fact that you’ll see him three hours later.”
Bob Hatch walked into the Bird Cage, approached the bar, and asked for a beer. He looked around, didn’t see anything of interest to him. The place was real busy, and all he could see was a crush of bodies. Briefly he considered going down to the cribs, but that wasn’t really something he had to do. He had a wife at home, and he had the woman next door, who he was having an affair with. He was very friendly with his neighbor. In fact, the man had helped him out of financial troubles more than once, but that didn’t stop Hatch from sleeping with the man’s wife, who was very susceptible to flattery.
If he could get a message to her . . . but no. It was too short notice. Maybe after this beer he’d go home for a change of clothes, and have sex with his wife before going back to work. He’d have to wake her up, or else he could just poke her while she slept. She wasn’t all that interested in sex anymore, and sometimes she hardly moved at all. That was one reason why he looked to the woman next door. Cheating sure added a lot more energy to things.
He was finishing up his beer and getting ready to leave when he noticed a man walking toward him.
“Hello, John,” Hatch said.
“Bob,” John Shaunessy said. “Talk to you about somethin’?”
THIRTY-FOUR
Dodge had put a pot of coffee on, and he and Clint were sitting around with their feet on the sheriff’s desk, drinking it when Charley Smith walked in. He walked right to the coffeepot and poured himself some.
“Where’s Bob?”
“I told him to get a drink and some rest,” Dodge said. “He’ll be back.”
“Everything okay?” Charley asked.
“Depends on what you mean by okay,” Dodge said.
Charley stared at Dodge.
“And what do you mean by okay, Fred?”
Dodge told Charley about the rumblings Clint had heard about the Hudson boys, and about Hatch’s talking to Barney Riggs while nobody was around.
“I’d expect trouble from them Hudson boys,” Charley said, “and from ol’ man Bannock and his hands.”
“You know them all better than I do,” Dodge said. “When would they be comin’ in, do ya think? Before or after the trial?”
“I don’t think those boys are gonna care if Barney gets convicted or not. As far as they’re concerned, he did it. He killed their boss.”
“That’s what I figured,” Dodge said.
“So what do we do?” Clint asked. “Just stand guard?”
“That’s the job,” Dodge said. “Our job. Me and Charley.”
“Any other deputies?”
“A couple,” Dodge said, “and we can call in the constables.” He looked at Charley. “It’s gonna be our job to guard the members of the jury. Take them to and from the hotel during the trial. Make sure they don’t talk to anyone.”
“Sounds like you’re going to be stretched pretty thin,” Clint said. “What about some of men you use for posse members? Would they help?”
“They’ll probably take sides,” Dodge said. “The Riggs outfit, and the Hudson outfit. Or they won’t wanna get in the middle.”
“Sounds like you’re going to need me.”
Dodge grinned.
“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Don’t know yet,” Dodge said, “but it’ll be good to have you around.”
“I’ll be here,” Clint said, standing up.
“Where are you going?” Dodge asked.
“Back to my hotel,” Clint said. “I didn’t mean I’d actually be here, all the time.”
“I get it. See you in the morning.”
“ ’Night, Charley.”
“See ya, Adams.”
Clint left the office, headed for the hotel.
“Whataya think?” Charley asked.
“I think we’re gonna have a mess on our hands tryin’ to get Riggs tried. I’ll talk to Mark Smith in the morning.”
“And what about Bob?”
“Hatch is the boss,” Dodge said, “but we better keep an eye on him.”
“Agreed.”
“I’m gonna go turn in, myself,” Dodge said, getting up. “Hatch’ll be back soon.”
“I’ll be here,” Charley said.
“I’ll talk to some of the boys in the mornin’,” Dodge said, “see how many extra we can count on.”
“I don’t think anybody not wearin’ a badge is gonna want to deal themselves in on this,” Charley said.
“Yeah, well . . .” Dodge said, and left.
THIRTY-FIVE
Within a few days Riggs was indicted for murder with trial set for the following week, the Honorable Judge Webster Street presiding. Jury selection was set for Monday.
Barney Riggs continued to occupy his cell, having pushed his cot over into one corner. He was usually sitting on it, or curled up into a ball to make a small target of himself.
Dodge, Hatch, and Charley Smith took turns sitting in the office, seeing to Riggs’s needs. They fed him, and kept him alive—although keeping him alive didn’t seem to be much of a problem. For some reason the Hudson boys had not made a move to break him out and hang him, and ol’ man Bannock and his hands had made no move to rescue him. This confuse
d Dodge and Charley Smith, who had read those men totally different.
The day before the jury selection Dodge, Charley Smith, and Clint sat in the office and discussed it. Hatch was out doing his rounds.
“I don’t get it,” Charley Smith said. “My read on those Hudson boys was that they’d try to break him out and string him up.”
“Maybe they still will,” Clint said.
“What’s takin’ them so long?” Charley asked.
“Maybe there’s a cool head out there,” Dodge said, “convincing them to let the law handle it for them.”
“What if they don’t find him guilty?” Charley asked.
“They will.”
“What if they don’t hang him?”
“Then we’ll probably have some trouble,” Dodge admitted.
“What about Bannock?” Clint asked. “What’s the old man waiting for? I thought he’d try to save his son, by now.”
“Especially since everybody knows we don’t have any help,” Charley said. “Nobody in town wants to end up in the middle of a war.”
They had even had two deputies quit on them.
Dodge looked at Clint.
“Maybe they know we have Clint,” he suggested. “Maybe they don’t want to face the Gunsmith.”
“The Hudson boys, maybe,” Clint said. “But I don’t think that’d stop a father from trying to save his son.”
“Maybe he don’t wanna save his son,” Dodge said.
“Why not?” Charley asked.
“The woman?” Clint said. “His son’s wife?”
Dodge shrugged.
“If they were sharin’ her,” he said, “maybe now he figures he don’t have to. Barney’s in jail, and Hudson’s dead. The old man’s got the woman all to hisself.”
Charley carried the coffeepot around and filled their cups for them, then replaced it. He sat back down with his own cup and shook his head.
“I don’t know about you boys, but that makes me feel kinda sick to my stomach.”
“I know what you mean,” Clint said.
Bob Hatch came in then, crossed to the coffee put, got about a half a cup out of it.
“You an unofficial deputy now, Adams?” he asked, accusingly.
“I just come in for the coffee, Bob,” Clint said, raising his cup.