by John Legg
“You hungry, Joe?”
“Some.”
She bounced up off the couch and held out a hand. “Come with me to the kitchen. We can talk while I fix you up something. Or not talk, if you’d rather.”
He took her hand and let her tug him up. “We’ll see.” In the kitchen, Coffin sat at the table and watched Amy. She had been delighted to see him, but he could see the remnants of tears in her red-tinged eyes. He knew she must be torn by happiness at his return and grief over her brother’s death.
“What’s going to happen now, Joe?” Amy asked as she set a cup of coffee in front of him.
“I’m going after Merkle,” Coffin said flatly.
Amy, who had gone back to the stove, looked over her shoulder at Coffin. “Do you have to?”
“Yes.”
“But it’ll be dangerous.”
“Life’s always dangerous.”
“But you don’t have to go. You don’t,” she insisted. “Of course I do,” Coffin said evenly as he rolled a cigarette. “What would Beryl think of me if I didn’t? What would you think of me if I didn’t go?”
“I’d have you here, and that’d make me happy.”
“Maybe, but when I put on this badge, I agreed to do the hard things as well as the easy.” He grimaced. “Besides,” he added flatly, “I’ve offered him a challenge. I’ve got to see that justice is done. Nobody ever said it was going to be pleasant.”
Amy nodded. She didn’t like it, but she understood. Having had two brothers who were lawmen made it easier for her to understand. No easier to like, but easier to understand.
Coffin ate listlessly, almost numbed from what had happened today. Still, Amy was a fine cook, and he did not want to insult her by not seeming to enjoy the meal. Afterward, they went back to the sitting room. Amy was of a mood to chat, but Coffin wasn’t. Then he realized that she wanted to talk as a way of getting her mind off all that had happened—and all that might happen yet. So he made an effort to be more social.
Amy sensed after a while that Coffin’s heart was not in chatter, but by then she was feeling considerably better. It had been almost a week since they had buried her brother, and she had never let that thought out of her mind. But she knew she had to go on, and her love of and fear for Joe Coffin would help her get through. She also thought that since she and Coffin were planning to marry, that she should begin putting his interests before her brother’s. It helped her a little that she was closer to Enoch than she had been to Beryl. She often had thought Beryl too prim.
“Why don’t you go on down to Duncan’s, Joe, and get yourself cleaned up. A haircut, shave, and bath’d do you a lot of good, I suspect.”
“You tryin’ to tell me I’m a dirty, smelly old coot?” Coffin joked, though there was little heart in it.
“Well, not old,” Amy responded in kind.
“And I asked you to be my bride?” Coffin said, warming a little to the lightheartedness. “Lord, what was I thinkin’ at the time?”
“You were thinking that you were getting the most desirable woman in all of Madison,” Amy said, breaking into a small giggle.
“I must’ve been talkin’ to a different woman then.”
“I ever catch you even talkin’ to another woman, I’ll...”
“You’ll what?” Coffin was actually smiling a little.
So was Amy. “I’ll lock you up in your own jail and keep you there just for me.”
“Oh you would, would you?” Coffin said with a little laugh. He grabbed her and pulled her close, then kissed her hard.
She responded willingly, even a little desperately, and she was rather breathless when their lips separated.
“Maybe you’re right,” Coffin finally said. “A sprucin’ up’d probably do me good. I’ll be back directly. You’ll be all right?”
Amy nodded. She looked a lot more confident than she felt.
Coffin was only a little surprised when he got back to Amy’s house that he felt so much better. The ablutions refreshed him more than he had anticipated.
Pembroke had not stirred when Coffin had returned, and showed no signs of waking anytime soon.
“You want to take a stroll, Amy?” Coffin asked. He was edgy, anxious to move on, to be doing something. Sitting around would not lessen his tension.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Amy’s eyes looked up the stairs toward Pembroke’s bedroom, and her eyes grew a little misty.
“It’ll do you a lot of good. A dose of your own medicine.”
Amy nodded. She looked in a mirror to make sure she looked presentable. The walk was not long, but it seemed to brighten both Amy and Coffin. When they returned to the house, though, Coffin was still on edge.
“I’ve got to do somethin’, Amy,” he said.
“What?”
“I don’t know. All I know is I can’t just sit here twiddlin’ my thumbs. Maybe I’ll head to the office and see if I can find somethin’ to do there.”
“I’d rather you stayed here, Joe.”
“Me, too. But if I stay here much longer, I might do somethin’ to insult you.” What he figured to do was head over to Big Sophie’s place and work off some of his tensions with one of Big Sophie’s girls. But he certainly was not about to tell Amy that.
“I trust you not to do anything that’d shame me.”
Coffin had no answer for that, but he said, “Well, I’d still like to be doin’ somethin’. Maybe I can make the rounds for Enoch. Let him sleep some more.”
“He’ll sleep all right. And he hired on two men to act as temporary town marshals. They’ll make do for most things. If there’s a big problem, they’ll come get Enoch. He told me he doesn’t think anything’ll happen. Not for a while.”
Coffin nodded, more or less glumly. He decided he would humor her, at least for a little while, and then argue it out again. Maybe an hour or so of his grumping around would serve to change her mind. “All right,” he said quietly. “I could do with some more coffee and another piece of that peach pie you made.”
Amy smiled proudly. “Here or in the kitchen?”
“Kitchen’d be better, I reckon, sloppy as I am.” When he was eating, Amy said, “I’ll be back in a minute.” When she returned, Coffin was done with the pie and was smoking a cigarette while sipping coffee. “Can you come help me for a minute, Joe?” Amy asked.
He looked up at her sharply. Her voice had not sounded right to him, and he thought she looked more than a little nervous. He wondered why, but all he said was, “Sure.”
She led him to a former pantry that had been converted into a spare bedroom for guests. Inside the room, Amy shut the door and then leaned back against it.
“What’s this all about?” he asked, both hoping and worrying that it was what he thought it was.
“I...I ...” She paused to lick her dry lips. “I’m eighteen, Joe, and have never been with a man. Never even wanted to till you come along.”
“We’ll be married soon enough,” Coffin said, finding it a little hard to talk. “Then we can...”
Amy moved forward and into the welcome warmth of Coffin’s embrace. She kissed him, then said, “Joe, ever since Beryl was killed, I’ve had a feeling that something else bad was going to happen. I’m afraid for you, Joe. Scared right down to my toes.”
“But that’s...”
“Hush,” Amy said, placing a soft, dainty finger against his lips. She let it linger there for a few moments. “I know you’re going out after those outlaws, and I know there’s nothing I can do to stop you. I tried earlier today to stop you, because I’m so afraid for you. But even then I knew deep down I couldn’t stop you.”
“So why this? Here, now?”
“Joe, I’m scared to death you’re going to get killed out there. And if that comes to pass, well, I want to know the intimate touches of the man I love just once.”
“What happens if I come back alive?” Coffin asked seriously.
“Then I’ll have had my wedding night a little early,” sh
e said practically.
“What about Enoch?”
“He’s not slept more than a few hours since Beryl...Well, anyway, he won’t be waking up anytime soon.” Still Coffin hesitated. That was unlike him, but then again he had never been so deeply in love with a woman. Not even Edna Yarnell.
“Joe,” Amy said in a tiny voice, “Joe, don’t reject me. I couldn’t bear it if you didn’t want me.”
“Oh, I want you all right,” Coffin said with a low growl. “But I don’t want you doin’ somethin’ you don’t want to do because you think you should, or because of some premonition.”
“Joe, I love you, and I’ve made up my mind to do this,” Amy said, almost as if she were scolding him. “If you don’t want to, say so and we’ll forget all about it. If you want to, then hush up and let’s go on.”
“You ain’t worried about your name bein’ sullied in town?”
“No one’s going to know except you and me.”
“Well, ma’am,” Coffin said with a small smile, “it seems you leave me no choice.”
“That’s right, sir,” Amy breathed. She leaned her head back some, waiting for his kiss. It was not long in coming.
Coffin looked at Amy’s sleek form lying naked beside him. He felt fulfilled, whole, and far more pleased than he had any right to be. Amy stirred a little beside him, and he returned her happy smile.
Despite his enjoyment in just lying here and enjoying looking at Amy, he said, “I reckon we’d best get movin’.” Amy stretched, self-conscious of her nudity. “Do we have to?”
“Yes, ma’am, much as I hate to say it.”
Amy rolled out of the bed, then stopped and turned back to face him. She bent and kissed his lips gently, just a mere hint of a buss. “Thank you, Joe Coffin,” she breathed into his mouth.
“My pleasure, Miss Amy.”
Twenty minutes or so later, they were eating a supper of fried beefsteaks, yams and broccoli. After the meal, Coffin stood. “I really should go take a look around town, maybe make sure the prisoners have been fed.” Amy nodded. “I’ll clean up here. Don’t be gone long.” He wasn’t. The two acting deputies—Russ Chapman and Casey Baldwin—were at the office and had made sure the prisoners were fed. They had even cleaned up the jail cell in which Coffin had killed Pendergast. The two men had nothing amiss to report and were planning to make the rounds about town.
“I’m obliged to you both for helpin’ out like this.” Both nodded, and Baldwin said, “It was the least we could do after Marshal Pembroke was done in. Is Enoch goin’ after the killers?”
Coffin shook his head. “I am,” he said flatly.
The two temporary lawmen were quite sure they would not want Marshal Joe Coffin on their trail. Not when he had that cold, deadly gleam in his eyes.
“Goodnight, boys.”
When Coffin got back to the house, he found Enoch up and eating hungrily. He looked considerably better than he had when Coffin had first seen him that morning. Pembroke looked up and nodded. “How’s everything?”
“Fine. Russ and Casey have things under control.”
“Good.” Pembroke paused to swallow. “I’m obliged for you letting me get some sleep, Joe. Damn...Sorry, Amy...I needed it.”
Coffin shrugged. “Looks like you can use some more, once you pack away those groceries.”
“You’ll need it more than me now.”
“No reason we can’t both get some sleep. It’s night already. I’m just wonderin’ how to arrange it.”
“What do you mean?”
“By rights, I ought to go back to the hotel for the night. But with the way things are, I’d feel a little better about stayin’ here.”
“So would I,” Pembroke said.
“What about...?”
“To hell with the people,” Pembroke said vehemently. A fierce glance at Amy cut off any protests she might be thinking up about his language. “Those bastards didn’t do a damn thing to help Beryl. Let ’em think what the hell they want. This is all over, I’m pullin’ up stakes. You and Amy get married then, you’d be wise to leave here, too. You’re stayin’ here tonight, Joe, and that’s all there is to it. You can use the spare room.”
At that, Coffin and Amy glanced knowingly at each other.
Chapter Thirty
“You sure you got everything you need, Joe?” Pembroke asked. He was nervy, skittish. He had lost a brother already. He didn’t want to lose a friend and soon-to-be brother-in-law.
“Yes, dammit,” Coffin snapped more peevishly than he wanted. He was anxious to be on the way now that he was prepared.
“Bye, Joe,” Amy said, interjecting herself between the two testy men who meant so much to her.
“Bye, Amy. Enoch.” Coffin smiled tightly as he climbed on his horse. “Enoch, you best keep a good eye on Amy, you hear?”
“I will,” Pembroke promised.
“And, Amy, keep that brother of yours out of trouble.”
“I’ll try.”
Then Coffin trotted out of Madison. As he rode, his anger simmered just below the surface. When it was time to release it, it would be at a full boil and would push him on as hard as was necessary, through any hardship and any pain.
He rode straight for Virginia City. Since Pendergast had told him that Merkle had an insider in Virginia City, he figured it was the logical place to start. He tied his horse and his mule to the hitching rail in front of the town marshal’s office, and he went inside.
Marshal Jud Wilson looked up, spotted Coffin’s badge and stood. “You must be that new deputy marshal Enoch Pembroke hired,” he said, holding out his hand.
“I am. Name’s Joe Coffin.” He shook hands, then tossed his hat on the desk and sat.
“Make yourself at home, why don’t you,” Wilson said sarcastically.
“Just sit down and skip the smart-ass remarks,” Coffin ordered.
Something in Coffin’s eyes made Wilson obey. “What can I do for you, Marshal?” Wilson asked stiffly.
“We had a prisoner over in the jail in Madison. A whinin’ little puke named Alvin Pendergast. He was a known confederate of Cady Merkle.”
“What’s that got to do with me?”
“Under some persuasion, he was encouraged to spill what he knew about Merkle. One of the interesting things he told me was that Merkle had a man—a respectable one—here in Virginia City helpin’ out.”
“Who?”
“Pendergast claimed he didn’t know. Since he was just a gun to Merkle, I figure he really didn’t know. I was hopin’ you’d be able to enlighten me.”
“Me? How would I know that?”
“You’re the town marshal. You’re supposed to know what goes on in your town.”
“I do know most things,” Wilson said stiffly. “But if what you say is true, he’s well hidden here. I couldn’t think of a single respectable townsman who might be involved with Cady Merkle.”
“I suspect it’s more likely you can’t think at all,” Coffin snapped.
“There’s no call for such talk,” Wilson said, offended.
Then he sneered. “After all, you’re the important, hot-shit deputy United States marshal,” he said, drawing the words out. “And you come lookin’ for help from little ol’ me.”
“You best hope that you ain’t lyin’ to me about this, boy,” Coffin said harshly. His face was like stone, and his words cold as old ice. “Because if I find out you’ve hidden information from me, I’ll pay you another visit, and I won’t be so friendly.”
Wilson tried to brave it out. “Hell, them boys’re scattered all over hell and creation, I suspect, what with the great Marshal Joe Coffin on their trail.” There was another sneer in the words.
Coffin grinned a little, and Wilson began to sweat. There was the hint of death in Coffin’s chilling smile. “Just remember,” Coffin said. “Those boys killed Beryl Pembroke, and neither me nor his brother Enoch is likely to forget that.” He paused. “You got anything useful to me?”
Wilso
n shook his head. As Coffin stood and put his hat on, Wilson said, “I hope you get the bastards, Marshal.” There was a note of respect in his voice this time.
Coffin nodded and stalked out. He spent the rest of the day poking around Virginia City, talking to people, trying to pry loose any scrap of information that might help him hunt down Cady Merkle. He kept coming up dry. He gave it one more day, but still nothing.
That night, as he was eating, Wilson showed up and sat down uninvited. “Pardon my takin’ liberties, Marshal Coffin, but I got some information that might help you.”
Coffin nodded and wiped his mouth on a napkin.
A waiter came along and set an empty cup down. “You want somethin’, Marshal?” he asked, looking at Wilson. The waiter was just to the good side of surly.
“No.”
“You want some coffee?” Coffin asked. When Wilson nodded, Coffin filled Wilson’s cup and replenished his own. “Now, what’ve you got to tell me?”
“Well, nothin’ definite, but a few of the men who frequent a festerin’ den of iniquity called the Bull’s Blood are the kind who stray into criminal deeds on occasion.” He paused, as if waiting for something.
“You expect me to be shocked at that?” Coffin asked, annoyed.
“No, but I suspect-though I can’t prove, of course— that some of ’em ride with Merkle’s bunch now and again. They ain’t in his inner circle, you understand. Anyway, two of ’em told me they thought Merkle was headin’ down to a place just filled with hot springs and such.”
“Down along the Yellowstone?”
“Yep.”
Coffin nodded. “I’ve been through there. Why’s Merkle gone there?”
“There’s a heap of folks like to partake of such springs, Marshal. Just ’cause a man’s an outlaw don’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy that, too.”
“I expect you’re right. These friends of yours tell you how long ago this was supposed to have taken place?”