Loving the Lawmen

by Marie Patrick

“Yessir. They was real tired like, so we let ‘em stay a couple days. Then, early one morning, I found that Wildcat woman stealing our stash. I got the jump on her, so she couldn’t shoot me. She fought hard and dirty, gouging my eye right outta my head. She ran off. Took the gold, and left me for dead. Next thing I know, I hear gunshots coming from our cabin. By the time I get there, I see her in the saddle stealing the horses from the corral. I tried to catch one back and follow her, but I was hurt too bad. I headed for the cabin. Found my friends and the marshal murdered and the building on fire. I figure she did that to hide the murder she done. That claim was dry as tinder, like most of Wyoming this year. Without horses, I nearly died. Would have, if I hadn’t managed to find a trickle of a stream that wasn’t dried up. Was sheer luck that I ran into Clem Salter and his men searching for the Wildcat. They brought me back to Laramie and got me fixed up, so’s I could have my say in court. I wanna make sure that woman don’t kill nobody else ever again.”

  “Is that all?” asked the prosecutor.

  “‘S everything that matters.”

  The judge eyed Kiera thoughtfully then sighed as if he carried a heavy burden. “Why I imagine a horse thief would do anything but lie, I don’t know. However the law requires that I ask if you got anything you want to say to this man or about his testimony?”

  Kiera stood. “He’s lying. He and his friends tried to steal my gold. I filed a claim on that land under my legal middle and last names, Boudicca Alden. They set fire to my cabin. They tried to kill me and Marshal Quinn. The last time I saw the marshal, he was seriously injured, but alive.

  The prosecutor hooked his thumbs in his vest pockets and stuck out his chest. “A likely story, and a very convenient pack of lies that accounts for everything but this.”

  He and the judge seemed to have forgotten that it was her turn to speak. She intended to remind them and remained standing.

  The lawyer withdrew an object from a pocket in his suit coat and presented it to the judge. “Your honor, I wish to place into evidence this badge. You will note that it is a US Marshal’s badge with the name Evrett Quinn engraved on the back side.”

  The lawyer displayed the pointed metal star to the gallery then walked to the jury giving each member a good look at the blackened metal before returning it to the judge.

  “How’d you come by this?” asked the judge.

  “It came into my possession from the hand of the witness. Mr. Davis, explain to the court how you obtained this item.”

  “It was an impulse, sorta. I was in the cabin, and it was burnin’. I tried to get my friends and the marshal out, but weak as I was from loss of blood I couldn’t manage. I knew that nobody’d take the word of one old miner against that of a beautiful woman, no matter how evil she might be. So I took the marshal’s badge to prove what I said was true. No marshal would give up his badge ‘less he’s dead.”

  The jurors nodded their agreement, and excited whispers circled the room.

  Faint with the certainty that Cream must have gone back and killed Ev or robbed his dead body, Kiera sat before she could fall down. Tears welled. To halt their flow she dug her fingers into the splintered tabletop. She concentrated on that small pain instead of the greater ache in her heart.

  After the judge dismissed Cream with a warning that he could be recalled, Kiera hardly listened to the parade of witnesses. None of them knew her, although all of them said they saw her in or near the corral the night she and Muh’Weda had stolen back the Shoshone ponies. Several outright liars claimed to have seen her come out of the barn where the murdered sheriff had been found after the fire had been extinguished. Big Si made a huge deal of how the rubber hoses he’d ordered from back east saved his barn and prevented the sheriff’s body from being burned beyond recognition.

  Even Si’s daughter, Elise, got in on the act giving a tearful account of the sheriff’s unrequited love for her. He’d been in the barn hoping to meet her. Of course she would never have done anything so rash, but if he hadn’t loved her he might still be alive, instead of dead at the hand of a murdering horse thief. The prosecutor’s piercing stare in Kiera’s direction made certain that judge, jury, and observers all knew that Kiera was the thief responsible.

  At the end of the grueling day, Kiera was almost happy to be escorted back to the jail.

  • • •

  Boyd, on the other hand, was despondent. If the evidence was true, and it looked to be, Quinn was dead. Despite their differences, Boyd had liked and respected the lawman. The world would be worse off for his loss. In addition, Boyd was now forced to send a second telegram, one that he’d hoped he’d never have to send.

  He set off for the telegraph office. Halfway there he stopped, ducking into an alley and behind a stack of crates that sat between a mercantile and a blacksmith’s shop.

  Big Si and his daughter came down the boardwalk, and they appeared to be arguing.

  “You did the right thing today, girl,” Si was saying as they paused in the opening to the alley.

  “But I lied.”

  “You lied for a good reason. Now no one’s going to suspect you of murdering Sheriff Boswell.”

  “I didn’t shoot him, Daddy. I told you I went into the barn to be alone for a minute, and he was laying there dead.”

  “You don’t have to lie to me, daughter. I know Sheriff Boswell had been pestering you.” Si gave an impatient shake to his head. “You should have listened to me when I told you to stay with the Marshal. When he quits marshaling to learn how to run my ranch, he’ll make you the right kind of husband.”

  Elise bowed her head, but through a gap between the crates, Boyd saw pure hatred on her face. Si was too tall to see her expression, especially bowed like she was.

  “But Marshal Quinn’s dead. That man, Davis, said so.”

  “Are you doubting my word?”

  “I’m sorry, Daddy. Please let me make it up to you.” Her voice was meek and humble. However, the hands linked in front of her showed white knuckles.

  What in tarnation is the woman doing?

  “I got word from one of the men I set to watching the trails into Laramie. That the marshal ain’t dead. He’s headed this way with that redskin friend of the Wildcat’s. They should arrive tonight. You go to the hotel and make up to him. Be nice, find out what they’re planning then come tell me, and get those pictures that soldier said the Wildcat claims will prove her innocent.”

  “You want to stop them from doing anything that might save Kiera Alden?”

  Her father gave her a considering look. “Maybe you’re not so stupid after all. Now go wait at the hotel. I’ve got to meet Judge Richter back at the saloon.”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  Si waited until he saw his daughter walk into the hotel then he turned on his heel and strode off to the saloon that was open for business now that court wasn’t in session.

  Heart leaping with relief that Quinn was alive and well, Boyd stayed hidden until he was certain Si was out of sight. He’d hold off sending that second telegram, but what to do now? If he tried to meet Quinn on the trail he might take the wrong one and miss him. No. He’d have to wait in town and try to get to Quinn before Si’s daughter. Maybe they could make use of her. Meantime, Boyd had a somewhat different telegram to send. Then he’d go tell Miss Alden that Quinn was on his way. After today’s barrage of lies, she could use some good news.

  • • •

  Ev dropped his things at the hotel and set out for the jail. He wanted to see Kiera, to know for himself that she was physically all right. Muh’Weda waited on the street. As Ev exited the hotel, he tipped his hat to Elise Van Demer “Evenin’, miss.”

  The jailer asked for proof of identity before allowing Ev to see Kiera. He couldn’t find his badge, and his papers were too damaged by smoke and water to be legible.

  “Knew it,” cackled the old man tending the jail since the sheriff died. “Can’t prove you’s Marshal Quinn, ‘cause he’s dead. Saw the evidence m’self over t’
the courthouse today.”

  “I still want to see Miss Alden.”

  “Nope. Ain’t lettin’ no liar with an Injun for a friend get anywheres near that she-devil. Y’ll try to break her out, and I ain’t lettin’ that happen.” He drew his pistol pointing it toward the ceiling. “Now get out of my jail b’fore I call for re-in-forcements.”

  The man jerked his gun hand up and down for emphasis.

  Quinn raised his hands, palms out. “We’re going.”

  Outside, he and Muh’Weda decided to fill their bellies. They’d ridden as hard as possible, given Ev’s wounds—now mostly healed, thanks to Spirit Talker. Eating only hardtack and biscuits in the saddle, they hadn’t stopped since leaving Yellow Stone Lake. As anxious as Quinn was to see Kiera, he couldn’t do anything about it now, and he needed rest. Despite the healing powers of Spirit Talker’s gift, Ev’s thigh pained him mightily. He’d be glad to lie in a bed tonight, even if worry for Kiera kept him awake.

  “We’ll have to wait until tomorrow to see her in court. With the evidence we brought, this travesty will be over before noon.”

  Staring down glares from the white patrons already dining, the men entered the café and saw Boyd sipping coffee alone at a table, a frustrated expression on his face.

  “Hey there, greenhorn.” Ev slapped the man on the shoulder.

  The coffee Boyd had just drunk spurted from his mouth. He dropped the cup, spilling coffee across the table and leapt up to clasp Ev around the shoulders. Things must be pretty bad if Boyd didn’t even remark on the greeting that caused the spilled coffee.

  “Am I glad to see you! Did you see Miss Alden?”

  Ev shook his head. “That jailer refused to let me see her.”

  “Me too,” said Boyd.

  Muh’Weda appeared with a couple of rags. “I told the owner we’d clean up the mess, if he’d let us stay. I added that we’d pay for steaks and potatoes.”

  Quinn grabbed a rag and started soaking up spilled coffee. “Tell us what’s happened. Is Kiera on trial yet?”

  Boyd nodded.

  “How’s it going?”

  “Not well.”

  With the table clean and dry, the three men sat, and Boyd related all that had happened in the two days of the trial. Then he told Ev about his suspicions, based on the conversation he’d heard between Big Si and his daughter. The explanations ended about the same time they finished their meal.

  “She was sitting on the hotel porch, just as we were headed to the jail,” remarked Muh’Weda.

  Ev nodded. “We’d better get back there pronto and find out what she’s up to.”

  Boyd offered to pay for the meal. Ev and Muh’Weda rushed off to the hotel to talk to Miss Van Demer.

  However, Miss Van Demer was no longer at the hotel. Boyd caught up with them, and the three men searched the town to find Big Si or his daughter.

  They found Big Si pacing the lobby when they returned to the hotel. As they entered the building, Si strode to the desk. “You’re sure you haven’t seen my daughter?”

  He sounded angry, or worried, or both. Ev observed the tension in the rancher’s shoulders and wondered what could possibly bother a man with Van Demer’s power? Did Si’s obvious concern mean something good for Kiera, or God forbid, worse?

  Chapter Eleven

  Big Si gripped the edge of the hotel’s registration desk, to prevent himself from choking the idiot clerk. “You’re certain you didn’t see my daughter leave the hotel?”

  “No sir, Mr. Van Demer. As I said earlier, I haven’t seen her since she came in about an hour ago,” responded the clerk, with the deference due the most powerful rancher in Wyoming Territory.

  Where could she have gone? With Marshal Quinn back in town, Si needed to be certain that photographic evidence had been destroyed, and the only way he could be certain would be to destroy it himself. He had to do something about Davis, too. God forbid the defense should call Davis back to the stand and force him to change his story. The man wasn’t all that bright. He might just think saving his own filthy hide was more important than keeping faith with his employer.

  The liar had assured him that Quinn was dead. The last thing Si needed was to have that interfering marshal sniffing around.

  “Send a man over to the livery stable. I want to know if her horse is still there. Also, ask the stable hand to saddle my stallion as well as Mr. Davis’ horse.” At least Si would know if Elise was still in town. If not, he’d send one of his hands after her. You’d think the girl would know better than to go defying him after he’d gotten rid of that money-hungry sheriff who’d been making up to her. Daddy knew best, and the best thing was for Elise to do what he told her—get that evidence and hand it over. She wouldn’t be so happy if the truth came out. She’d lose her only family and the ranch she thought she would inherit. Eventually she’d find out different about the Flying V, but not now.

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Van Demer. Immediately, Mr. Van Demer.”

  Si pushed away from the registration desk. Time to locate Davis. They were going to take a ride. He spun on his heel and came face to face with Marshal Evrett Quinn. That no good redskin stood just behind him.

  “Marshal!” Si tried to act surprised. “You’re alive. Thank the Lord.”

  He gripped Quinn’s shoulders. The man’s eyes narrowed, and he shrugged off Si’s hands. “I am.”

  “One of the witnesses at the Wyoming Wildcat’s trial claimed she murdered you. Even produced your badge as evidence of the killing.”

  “The witness is mistaken.” The marshal spoke quietly through gritted teeth. “You wouldn’t know where I could find this so-called witness?”

  Si smiled. “I wish I could help you, Marshal, but I don’t know the man. However, if he’s staying here, I’m sure the clerk will inform you.”

  “Yes, he will.”

  Si kept his smile in place. “I’m afraid I must meet my daughter for dinner, or I’d assist you in your search. Good luck, Marshal.”

  Quinn touched his hat brim. Si walked away, his back crawling. Certain that the marshal was watching, Si left the building and deliberately turned in the opposite direction from the livery stable.

  • • •

  Whatever was making Van Demer so nervous; Ev sure would like to know, but finding out would have to wait. He had to secure those photographs. He turned to the stairs and noticed the puzzled looking desk clerk, staring after Van Demer.

  Ev paused and glanced at Muh’Weda.

  “I’ll get that item we need from the room,” said the Shoshone.

  The clerk didn’t even blink at the idea of an Indian going upstairs, the man was so focused on the direction Van Demer disappeared.

  Ev nodded, switched directions, and approached the desk.

  “The livery’s in the other direction,” murmured the clerk.

  “What’s that?” Ev pretended he hadn’t heard the clerk’s words clearly.

  The man smiled. “Oh nothin’, Marshal. It’s just that Mr. Van Demer ordered his horse and a friend’s saddled. Why do that, then go somewhere’s else?”

  “Good question. Do you know a Mr. Davis, and where I might find him?”

  “Why, certainly. That’s Mr. Van Demer’s friend. The one whose horse is being saddled. I don’t know where they’re heading at this time of night, but I expect if you hurry, you could find Mr. Davis at the livery before they ride off.”

  Boyd walked into the lobby.

  “Thank you.” Ev laid a double eagle on the desktop. “You won’t need to mention this conversation to anyone else.”

  The clerk’s eyes lit. “No sir. Absolutely not.”

  Running steps thundered on the stairs.

  The clerk’s head lifted, and Ev turned in that direction.

  Muh’Weda leapt the last three stairs and ran to Ev. “It’s not there.”

  Ev glanced at the clerk. “C’mon. We’ll discuss this as we go.”

  They hurried to their horses.

  “Where are we
going?” Boyd asked.

  “The livery stable.” Ev explained what he’d learned from the clerk. “Big Si tells us he doesn’t know Davis. Then the clerk claims they’re friends—good enough friends to ride out together at night. I want to know what Big Si has to say to the liar who tried to kill both me and Kiera.”

  “I heard Si tell his daughter to get the photographs. Do you suppose she gave him the pictures?” Boyd reminded, talking as they walked.

  “If she did, he didn’t have them when he left the hotel. He wasn’t carrying anything.”

  “They might be with his horse,” suggested Muh’Weda.

  “Maybe. But if Si has them, I don’t think we’ll ever see those pictures again.” Ev looked at his companions. He read the Shoshone’s face well enough now to know that the young man was as concerned for Kiera as Ev was.

  “Davis is our best hope then of proving Kiera is innocent.” Boyd stated what they all were thinking.

  “Probably. His testimony will be proven false just by me showing up in court and proving who I am. But getting him to recant will be better. I’m willing to bet he’s got the goods on Big Si, and if Si’s shown to be the villain he is, then that proves Kiera’s innocence. She’ll be acquitted for lack of evidence.”

  “Do you think Si’s going to get rid of Davis?” asked Muh’Weda.

  “He has to.”

  They arrived at the livery stable to see the stable hand closing up for the night.

  “Excuse me. Have you seen Big Si … ?” Ev asked.

  “Sure. He and his friend rode out about ten minutes ago.”

  “Was his friend wearing an eye patch?” asked Boyd.

  “Yep. That’s him.”

  “What direction did they take?”

  “Headed towards Piney Ridge. Terrain’s rocky with a lot of sharp cuts in the ridge. Not a place I’d go riding on a night this dark.” He looked at the clouds scudding across the waning moon.

  “Thanks.” Before the hand could respond, Ev set off with his friends beside him.

  “Ten minutes is enough time to kill a man, and like the stable hand said, the ground in that area’s pretty convoluted,” said Muh’Weda. “Lots of small canyons and rock falls. Plenty of places to hide a body where it won’t get found for months, if ever.”