“Why isn’t that man in Jail?” Bart Allen fumed.
Gib Randall was seated in his chair behind his desk in the sheriff’s office. His right leg was propped up on a chair; held out straight. His jeans covered the wide bandage wrapped around his wounded thigh.
Callie Parker was seated in a chair in front of the desk and Caleb Gant leaned leisurely against a battered file cabinet across the room.
It was the next morning after the action the day before.
“And why is he still allowed to wear a gun?” Allen was leaning over the desk, pounding its battered surface with his massive fist. Rage had turned his round face red and his eyes flared with anger.
“I told you before,” Randall said, trying to remain calm. “This man is a witness against Michael Avery for murdering the real Dave Bishop. The man you’re so concerned about was a fake. He’s not your son in law and Angie is not his widow. The Box B is not her’s. It’s being confiscated by the government. This young lady, seated here, is Callie Parker. She’s a Pinkerton detective. She’s been looking for Dave Bishop for stealing Army Payroll and International funds. She’s been working with me ever since she got into town. She had told me her suspicions about Michael Avery and the fake Bishop. When Gant showed up, we were afraid he would blow the whole deal when Bishop got back from his honeymoon. That’s why I was so insistent that he get out of town.”
Allen didn’t want to hear that. He’d already heard it told several times before, but he wasn’t accepting it.
“Well whoever the man was, Gant killed him. And Hal Beecham too. You still have to do your job. Arrest him!”
“I’m afraid, I can’t do that,” Randall replied matter-of-factly.
“Why not?”
“Because, Caleb Gant didn’t kill this man who was calling himself Dave Bishop. Beecham did.”
“Why would he do that? What reason would he have?”
“He got in the way of Beecham trying to kill Gant. Gave Gant just enough time to kill Beecham before he tried again.”
“How do you know that?”
“Gant told me,” Gil said. “Besides we’ve got a witness back in the cell next to Avery’s”
Callie Parker had arrested Michel Avery shortly after the fiasco in the street. Callie had been listening at Avery’s door when Caleb confronted him. She heard his confession. With her testimony and collaboration by Caleb Gant, there was plenty to hold Avery for murder.
“Witness? What Witness? Besides, why would Hal Beecham want to kill Gant, anyways.”
“We’ve got Muley Jones back there in a cell. Why don’t you go back there and ask him?”
“Muley?” Allen blustered. “That’s preposterous.” He straightened, stepped to the door leading to the cell block and whipped it open angrily. It banged against the office wall.
“Oh, Mister Allen,” Gib called. There was a hint of a slight chuckle in his voice. Allen halted in the open doorway and glared back at the sheriff angrily. “When you get through asking Muley,” the lawman said, “You might want to go home and ask your wife?”
Allen clenched his jaw, turned and disappeared inside the cell block.
Gib, Caleb and Callie looked at each other with a smile and laughed.
It was another sunny day in Gila Bend. There was a little briskness in the air this morning, for a change, even though the sun had risen halfway to its apex.
The morning stage to Santa Fe was stationed once again, in front of the express office. There was a new driver on duty today and he was busy tending to his four up team of horses when Caleb Gant came out of the Castle Hotel and started crossing the street toward it.
He was wearing a suitcoat over a white shirt and black string tie and was carrying a medium sized suitcase. He was on his way to Santa Fe to await further instructions regarding his role in testifying against Michael Avery. He had left the dun in the care of old Mose Brillick and Pablo. It was his intention to return to Gila Bend eventually.
“Good morning!” A feminine voice called to him from behind and off to the right. Caleb halted and half turned. He could see Helen Brent stepping off the sidewalk and hurrying after him. She was wearing a blue gingham gown and the same floppy broad brimmed hat she had worn that day at church. She was carrying a traveling bag in her hand with fingers through the strap of a hat box with it. Her right hand was raised and holding the floppy hat to her head. She was smiling broadly, even though she had difficulty with high heels in the dirt roadway. She semi staggered, but managed to shuffle forward anyways.
Caleb waited as she approached. An amused expression spread across his face. “Going some place?” He asked.
“Taking the stage to Santa Fe,” she answered as she came up along side him. She was a bit breathless as she said it.
“So am I,” Caleb said approvingly.
“Yes, I know,” Helen said, adjusting the big hat on her head where it had slipped down over her left eye.
“Here let me help you with that,” Caleb said, reaching out for her luggage. He didn’t let on that he heard her say she knew he was taking the stage too, but he certainly was pleased.
She gave up her traveling bag easily, but held back on the hat box. “Thank you. I can handle this though. I prefer to take it on the stage with me. You can put the other bag up top if you want.”
Caleb nodded. When they reached the stage he tossed both his and Helen’s bags up top.
“Better get aboard, folks,” the driver called to them. I’m taking off in a minute. He climbed aboard and took a seat, threading the leathers between his fingers. There didn’t appear to be any shotgun guard aboard this trip.
Caleb helped Helen aboard, taking the rear seat, facing forward. There didn’t appear to be any other passengers, it was obvious on their faces that both were pleased, though there were no words exchanged They had barely seated when the vehicle lurched forward. They fell backward against the seat and jostled close together. Helen grabbed a hold of her hat again and they both laughed.
“You said you knew I was going to Santa Fe today,” Caleb finally said. “I hope that’s what prompted you to come along.” He smiled expectantly.
“Don’t flatter yourself, cowboy,” she jeered coyly. “I’m on bank business, you might say.”
“I might?”
She gave him an up from under look. “At least it has to do with delivering money to a depositor you might say.”
“I might?”
She shifted the hat bag in her lap, undid the strap and lifted the lid. The box was filled with bundles of cash.
Caleb gave a knowing look. “Fifty Thousand?”
“Jeanne wanted you to have it. She only took it from you to keep it from being confiscated by the feds.
“So you and Jeanne were in on this all the time?” Caleb queried.
“You were right. Both Jeanne and I had a grudge against Dave Bishop, or whoever he really was. Now that he’s dead, it really doesn’t matter anymore.”
“So, you were tipping Jeanne off about the bank shipments. How’d you do that? Dirk Bennett?”
“You are a smart man, aren’t you? Every time I arranged a date with Dirk, it was when there was a shipment coming or going. So when Dirk was away from the ranch, Jeanne knew that was the signal. I feel kind of bad about Dirk. Using him and all,” she said with a little sadness.
“You weren’t the only one who used him,” Caleb said.
“I know. It still wasn’t right.”
“As you said,” Caleb said. It’s all over now and it really doesn’t matter anymore.”
“I guess you’re right.” She turned a slight smile. There was a glint in her eye, tinged with the hint of a tear. “At any rate, I’m not coming back to Gila Bend. I think it’s time I made a life for myself somewhere else. When we get to Santa Fe, I won’t be staying. I’ll be riding on with the first stage that goes someplace.”
“Mind if I tag along with you?”
She jolted at that, then smiled shaking her head in protest. “But you’ve got busine
ss in Santa Fe. Until this trial business is over.”
“Oh they can get along without me. Besides, If I hang around too long, someone might find out about this money.”
“Avery might beat this rap without you.”
“Maybe, but I don’t think so. They’ve got enough on him. Besides, I don’t really care, I got what I wanted.”
“Did you?”
He gazed for a long moment into her face and then said softly. “Yes, I did.”
She flustered and tried one more protest. “But,..... but what about your horse? You left him back there.”
“Mose and Pablo will take good care of him.”
The stage rolled on, wheels churning dust, horse’s hooves thundering across the plains. Clear blue sky hovering above..
The Whispering Bandit Page 21