AHMM, December 2007

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AHMM, December 2007 Page 13

by Dell Magazine Authors


  Without stopping to think about it, Corey reached into his pocket, pulled out a jumble of coins, and passed them to Miss Parson.

  She glanced at them, then dropped them into her bag. “Three dollars and seventeen cents,” she told him.

  Corey looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to explain what was happening.

  "Honestly, Mr. Callaghan,” Miss Parson snapped. Then she took hold of herself and laughed. “You are such a mixture of contradictions. You let no one stand against you in the ring. You've held your ground against lynch mobs and train robbers. And yet an old man asks you for your last dollar so he can lose it gambling and you fold immediately.

  "Here's what I suggest. Let me hold this money for you as your agent, and I'll bet it on you when you fight Private Higgins. This way you'll at least have a little something left over to hold off the need for a job."

  Corey considered that for a moment. She was right, of course. He would give the money to Patrick if the old man asked for it. That would have to change! “I think Patrick and I are going to have to start doing things differently. He's a great trainer but a lousy manager."

  "I'm sorry to have to agree, Mr. Callaghan, but I do."

  "It's not that he's a bad man,” Corey said. “He really does care what happens to me."

  "He loves you like a son,” Miss Parson agreed, “but that doesn't mean he can stop gambling for you."

  Cheers erupted throughout the fort, followed closely by the sound of galloping horses. Corey whipped around in time to see a group of cavalrymen racing into Fort Bridger in an excited, disorganized cluster, rather than the traditional orderly file. Corey, with Miss Parson beside him, ran toward Colonel Holworth's headquarters to catch the news.

  Colonel Holworth, Captain Danforth, several knots of enlisted men, and a growing crowd of civilians had preceded them, gathering in front of the building to meet the riders who were shouting out their triumph as they approached.

  "We caught him!"

  "We got him!"

  "The dirty saint couldn't get away!"

  The captain had picked up on the enthusiasm and was grinning with excitement. The colonel was frowning at the very undisciplined displays.

  Lieutenant Summers rode to the front of the group, leapt from his horse with a flourish, and saluted the two senior officers. “Lieutenant Summers reporting, sir. I have captured the thief and brought him back to Fort Bridger for questioning. The stolen property was still in his possession. Private Higgins!"

  Private Higgins rode forward, leading a horse with a man tied across the saddle. As the two approached, it became clear that the bound man had been badly beaten. His face was covered with dried blood, his nose had been broken, and his eyes were swollen mostly shut. It looked to Corey as if Higgins had used the Mormon to prepare for their coming fight, but there was no way that the trader could have stood on his own to endure such abuse. If this had all been done with Higgins's fists, then someone was holding the trader up while the private punched him.

  The captain stepped off the porch, still grinning with enthusiasm. “Good work, Lieutenant. You got a confession?"

  "Yes, sir!” Lieutenant Summers responded.

  The man tied to the horse shook his head and groaned. It sounded to Corey remarkably like the word “no."

  Colonel Holworth stepped off the porch to stand next to Captain Danforth. “Where are the rest of the men? You recovered all of the missing weapons?"

  The lieutenant's boisterous confidence faltered. He seemed to choose his words with great care. “I left a detachment to bring back the merchant's wagons."

  "And the missing weapons are with them?"

  "Yes, sir!” The snap was back in the lieutenant's voice. “All that the merchant still retained."

  Corey saw the colonel's frown deepen. “I see. Come inside and report. Higgins, take that man to the doctor and don't hurt him any more. The rest of you men return to your duties."

  Colonel Holworth wheeled, remounted the porch, and strode back into his headquarters. The captain and lieutenant followed him. The other soldiers slowly began to disperse.

  Corey turned to Miss Parson. “Well, now that that's resolved, I guess we'll be able to get on with this hearing. I guess I'll be fighting Higgins in a couple of days."

  Miss Parson was still looking at the door to the colonel's headquarters. Corey wasn't certain that she had even heard him.

  "I wonder,” she said, “just how many carbines the merchant had left."

  * * * *

  Corey didn't see Patrick until nightfall when the old man suddenly appeared outside their lodgings, talking as if there were no disagreements between them.

  "Ah, Corey, me lad, there you are. Where have you been keeping yourself? Quite a bit of excitement we had today."

  Corey's anger still simmered, and Patrick's pleasant pretense that they weren't fighting actually stoked his furnace. He didn't like indirect and clever attacks, and he suspected he knew what Patrick wanted from him.

  "Quite a lot of excitement,” Corey agreed.

  "And they only got three carbines back,” Patrick continued, “three carbines out of sixty. The colonel is supposed to be very angry."

  Corey tried to wrap his mind around these facts. He was so surprised by the news that he forgot about his anger. “Only three carbines?"

  "Aye, the colonel is very angry,” Patrick said again. “He says it's an embarrassment to the entire fort, and everyone says the colonel hates to be embarrassed. At least they caught the culprit with his hands still dirty."

  "But what happened to the other weapons?” Corey asked. “How long was he gone from the fort anyway?"

  "Two days,” Patrick told him. “And they don't know what he did with them, although they tried to beat it out of him. He must have sold or stashed them, I guess."

  "I guess,” Corey agreed, still having trouble grasping the scenario.

  "Anyway, that's not what's important,” Patrick continued. “With the theft resolved and Lieutenant Summers back, Captain Danforth tells me the hearing will be held tomorrow and you can fight Higgins on Thursday night."

  Corey remembered his anger at Patrick. He knew the old man too well. Patrick wanted something from him tonight and it wasn't hard to guess what. “And?"

  "Well, I had a bit of bad luck at the table last night,” Patrick confessed, “and I need to rebuild my stake. How much money do you have left on you?"

  Corey's fury roared instantly from simmer to full boil. “Nothing! I've already given you everything."

  "Now, Corey, me lad,” Patrick adopted his most cajoling tone. “I know you better than that. You always hold something back. If you let me have it, I'll win enough tonight to make this fight worthwhile."

  Corey's voice trembled with the effort to control his anger. “I have nothing left!"

  Patrick threw up his hands in exasperation. “Well, what did you do with it, lad?"

  "I spent it!” Corey spat. It was even true. He had already spent the money on his own bets.

  "Spent it?” Patrick sputtered. “Why of all the reckless, selfish, irresponsible things to do! What could you be think—"

  Patrick never finished the question.

  He also never saw the blow.

  Corey's fist shot out in a wicked right cross that took Patrick on the side of the chin and spun him halfway around. If he had kept on his feet, he might have completed the full circle. Instead his body flung out full behind him and he landed on his face in the dirt.

  Corey's side burned from the blow, a very bad sign with a fight brewing for Thursday.

  He spun on his heel and stalked off into the night without bothering to check if Patrick was conscious or not.

  "That was strange,” Miss Parson whispered as she was escorted out of the hearing a very short time after entering it.

  "What was?” Corey asked.

  "Mr. Corey Callaghan,” the sergeant announced.

  "The colonel didn't let me expand upon anything,” Miss Pars
on whispered. “I think they have it in for the good lieutenant."

  "Mr. Corey Callaghan,” the sergeant said again, staring directly at the boxer.

  "Right here,” Corey answered, as if the soldier hadn't recognized him.

  The sergeant held the door open for Corey and he walked into the room. Seven men were already present. At the head table sat three men in impressive uniforms. Like most civilians, Corey was not adept at reading military insignia, but he recognized Colonel Holworth and Captain Danforth and assumed the third man must be Captain Harris.

  Lieutenant Ridgewood sat at another table, facing the three officers, with Lieutenant Summers beside him. Lieutenant Franks sat at a separate table also facing the three officers.

  "Mr. Callaghan,” Colonel Holworth greeted Corey, “thank you for appearing before us today. Hopefully we can quickly put this whole disgraceful matter behind us."

  "Of course, Colonel, how can I help?"

  "Just swear the oath and we'll ask you a few questions."

  The sergeant brought a Bible and Corey swore to tell the truth. Then he sat in the chair near the panel of officer judges and Lieutenant Franks stood to question him.

  "Mr. Callaghan, I'd just like to walk you through the events that led to the robbery of the payroll and the murder of three soldiers."

  Corey awkwardly cleared his throat. He didn't like being here, and he didn't like all of these officers sitting here staring at him, but he couldn't stay quiet and let a blatant falsehood stroll past him.

  "Excuse me, sir,” he said, “but the payroll was never actually stolen. I gather the bandits didn't even move it. Lieutenant Ridgewood kept them from getting it off the train."

  Lieutenant Franks frowned. “Are you saying the robbers did not take possession of the money?"

  Corey thought about that. “No, sir, I'm saying that the bandits got into the railcar but never got out with the money. It's like getting into the bank but not getting back outside with the safe."

  Colonel Holworth interrupted. “Try to just answer the questions, Mr. Callaghan."

  Corey thought that that was what he was trying to do, but he knew better than to argue with a colonel. “Aye, sir."

  Lieutenant Franks resumed his questioning. “Is it true, Mr. Callaghan, that you observed Lieutenant Ridgewood spend most of the train trip before the attempted robbery playing poker and keeping company with a young woman?"

  "Aye."

  "And is it true that two of the players in the poker game were colluding in the robbery?"

  Corey blinked, not at all certain what it was that Lieutenant Franks was asking him.

  Colonel Holworth seemed to sense Corey's confusion. “Were two of the card players part of the outlaw gang?"

  "Oh, aye, that's how Miss Parson figured it."

  "Yes,” Lieutenant Franks said, stretching out the word with distaste. Evidently, he was not one of Miss Parson's fans. “And is it true that these two people abetted Lieutenant Ridgewood in winning a lot of money."

  Again Corey did not understand.

  "They fed him cards so that he would win,” Colonel Holworth explained.

  "Aye, sir,” Corey agreed, “not that Lieutenant Ridgewood knew that was happening. He—"

  "And is it true,” Lieutenant Franks interrupted, “that you were instrumental in recovering the payroll?"

  Corey didn't waste any time trying to figure out that question. He just looked straight to the colonel.

  "Could he have gotten the payroll back without you?"

  "Aye, sir."

  "And is—"

  Lieutenant Franks broke off his next question and looked at Corey in surprise. “Did you say yes? The question was—"

  This time Corey interrupted him. “I understood the question, sir. Lieutenant Ridgewood did not need my help to get the payroll back."

  "But Lieutenant Ridgewood's own report—"

  Lieutenant Franks broke off again, stalked over to his table, and shuffled through his papers. When he found the part he wanted, he read directly from the page: “'Furthermore, I'd like to commend Mr. Corey Callaghan for his bravery and steadfastness during the action. Without his help I feel confident that the payroll would not have been recovered and Sergeant Matlick would not have been saved."

  "Are you saying the lieutenant lied when filing this report?"

  "No, sir."

  "Then you were instrumental!"

  "No, sir."

  "Then—"

  "Lieutenant Franks,” Colonel Holworth interrupted. “This is getting us nowhere, and the longer this draws out the worse for all of us. Mr. Callaghan, as much as it pains me to ask, would you please explain yourself?"

  "It's a matter of fighting tactics,” Corey explained. “There were two plans: Lieutenant Ridgewood's and Miss Parson's. Lieutenant Ridgewood's plan depended only on himself. He wanted to cross the cars, fire on the outlaws through the doors, then enter the car, rescue his men, and secure the payroll."

  Lieutenant Franks scoffed. “That is absurd."

  "But that is what he did, sir. Just with Miss Parson's plan, he had to do it from the other end of the railcar after traveling across the roof. He'd been pistol-whipped in the head and his balance was bad, but he agreed to take the added risk to surprise the outlaws because he thought it would give his surviving men a better chance."

  Lieutenant Franks clearly didn't like that answer. “But what about the brake and your fight with Perkins?"

  "Those parts of the plan weren't necessary—they just made taking the car easier."

  "This is all irrelevant,” Colonel Holworth announced. “What's important here is that Lieutenant Ridgewood wasn't yet under my command. He hadn't reported to me yet. We should just send him back to Washington and let them court martial him."

  There were a few more questions, but by then it was obvious even to Corey that his answers didn't matter.

  * * * *

  "How much do you like Lieutenant Ridgewood?” Miss Parson asked.

  "He's a good man,” Corey said. “I like him."

  "And what do you think about Lieutenant Summers?” she continued.

  Corey shrugged. “I don't think much of him either way."

  "Well I don't like him,” Miss Parson confided. “I think he's too clever and too slick, and he never once opened his mouth in that hearing to defend Lieutenant Ridgewood or ask a question."

  Corey thought back on his own time before the hearing. Miss Parson was right. Lieutenant Summers hadn't asked any questions. “Should he have been doing that?"

  "He's the counsel for the defense. He should have been objecting when Lieutenant Franks asked leading questions, distorting what really happened. He should have been asking questions that showed how brave Lieutenant Ridgewood was and how he kept checking on his men despite playing cards. He didn't do anything to protect Lieutenant Ridgewood in that hearing."

  "Oh.” Corey pondered Lieutenant Summers's lack of action, trying to understand it. Finally he asked Miss Parson her opinion. “So why do you think he wasn't doing his job?"

  "I don't know for sure, but I think it is because he's already angered the colonel over losing those carbines and didn't want to further annoy him when the colonel has already made up his mind concerning Lieutenant Ridgewood's fate."

  "I really didn't understand what was happening in there,” Corey admitted. “All Colonel Holworth seemed concerned about was his embarrassment."

  "That's it precisely,” Miss Parson said. “Colonel Holworth is embarrassed that Lieutenant Ridgewood was playing cards when his men were killed. He fears it will reflect poorly upon him. He wants to make Lieutenant Ridgewood and this problem go away."

  "And there's nothing we can do about it,” Corey finished.

  "Well..."

  "Is there something we can do about it?"

  "Well, maybe, but it would further embarrass Colonel Holworth."

  "I don't care about him."

  "He's a powerful man, Mr. Callaghan. It's not smart to make him
angry."

  Corey thought about that. Usually, if he made an official unhappy he just moved on to another town, but Colonel Holworth held authority over a very large territory and would have officer friends everywhere else. “Is this why you asked how much I like Lieutenant Ridgewood?"

  "Yes, I think I have a way to help him, but it would work better if I have your assistance."

  "Count me in,” Corey said. If Miss Parson wanted his help she would have it. Ridgewood really didn't matter here. Corey stood by his friends.

  "Thank you,” Miss Parson said. “I really don't know why I'm doing this. I don't like to get involved in other people's business, but that smug Lieutenant Summers makes me angry, and those foolish officers over him will let him get away with everything."

  Corey's brief moment of clarity—standing firmly beside his friend—deserted him. “What does Lieutenant Summers have to do with this?"

  Miss Parson answered him matter-of-factly, her mind already turning to the other elements of her plan. “He stole the Springfield carbines."

  That was big news to Corey. “He did?"

  "Of course, isn't it obvious?"

  Corey didn't think it was obvious, but before he could admit this, Miss Parson was talking again.

  "Now we don't have much time if we're to pull this off tonight. First we'll have to get Father Murphy to help us, and then we'll have to convince Lieutenant Ridgewood to go along. Why don't you go ahead to the lieutenant's. I'll meet you both outside his quarters just as quickly as I can."

  She was walking briskly off into the town before Corey could ask her about the plan.

  * * * *

  An hour passed before Miss Parson caught up to Corey and Lieutenant Ridgewood.

  "What's this Mr. Callaghan is telling me about a plan to prove my innocence?” the lieutenant asked her. He'd been rather frustrated that Corey had known none of the details of Miss Parson's scheme.

  "Not your innocence,” Miss Parson corrected him, her tone hushed far lower than the lieutenant's. “Please talk softly. As far as I can see, your guilt or innocence is irrelevant to the hearing. They're really trying to decide what kind of an officer you are. We need to do something that shows them you're smart and dependable."

  Corey was confused, but he knew enough about Miss Parson to keep his mouth closed while she worked to gain Lieutenant Ridgewood's cooperation.

 

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