by Jo Goodman
Kellen asked the judge, “You agree we can begin?”
Jones nodded.
“I believe I am allowed to say my piece first,” said Kellen.
“You have the gun,” Jones said.
“So I do.” Kellen tapped the Colt once against his thigh. “I am Kellen Coltrane, representing the interests of Bitter Springs in the matter of the recent deaths of Emily Ransom, George Weyman, and Nat Church.” Kellen observed the stirring in the saloon in response to this last name. “Let me be clear that this Nat Church is not the man you might have read about in the dime novels. He was a former U.S. marshal, a widower, and most recently, a hired gun. Mr. Collins, everyone here might not know what happened to Nat Church while he was a passenger on the U.P. line. It would be a help if you would tell us what you know about Mr. Nat Church, you being an employee of the Union Pacific and privy to official information.”
Jefferson Collins got to his feet. He straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed hard. “Nat Church was traveling to Bitter Springs when he met a bad end in the number six coach. He was stabbed when he boarded after a stop at Rocky Hill. He didn’t make it to Westerville before he died of his wounds. The company wired me about the incident because Mr. Kellen Coltrane was with Nat Church when he died, and Mr. Coltrane had announced his intention to the conductor that he was getting off the train in Bitter Springs. As a company man, it was my duty to keep an eye out, report anything suspicious to the U.P. detectives.”
“And did you make a report?”
“No, sir. There wasn’t anything to tell them.” Collins made eye contact with his audience. “You all know my grandsons, and you all know they favor their granny when it comes to sniffing out what’s suspicious. There’s no better recommendation than having those boys vouch for your character, and they vouched for Mr. Coltrane. They told me right off that he was sweet on the Widder Berry, and ain’t that turned out to be the truth?”
Laughter, some elbow nudging, and murmurs of agreement greeted this last statement.
“Well, thank you, Mr. Collins.”
Collins nodded, started to sit, but popped up again. “And they just told me the other day that Mr. Coltrane is real good at speculating. Seemed like something the nine good men should know.” With that, he dropped into his chair.
Kellen tapped his gun again. “I was indeed sitting with Nat Church when he died. He could not name the person who gutted him, but he did give me some things before he passed to help me learn the answer for myself.” He motioned to Raine to step forward. “You all know Lorraine Berry Coltrane, the owner of the Pennyroyal Saloon and Hotel. Raine, you had special knowledge of Mr. Church’s purpose in coming to Bitter Springs. Explain that, please.”
As though she were taking the witness stand, Raine moved from the bar to Mr. Jones’s side. She did not try to hide the revolver she was carrying. It was clearly visible in her right hand resting against her green-and-white-striped sateen gown. The Colt’s four-and-one-half-inch barrel pointed at the floor. Raine’s finger remained on the trigger.
“I answered an advertisement placed by Mr. Church in the Chicago Times-Herald. He presented himself as a gun for hire, a reputable former lawman with experience in settling disputes and the organization of responsible town committees.”
Clay Burdick snorted. “That’s just fancy vigilante talk. Tell them, Reasoner. Do your job. You see what’s goin’ on here, don’t you?”
“I do indeed, and I find it as disturbing as it is distasteful.”
“Then do something about it.” Clay pointed his lawyer to the judge. “Tell him.”
Reasoner looked sideways at Jones. “These proceedings are naught but a farce. I believe this is what is called vigilante justice, which is to say that justice cannot be served.”
“Your point is noted,” said Jones. “But they have the guns.”
Kellen nodded. “Excellent ruling, Judge. Go on, Raine.”
“I expressed interest in Mr. Church’s services. There had been a number of deaths associated with my sister’s trial that I believed deserved investigating. I was particularly interested in how the Burdicks might be involved.”
Clay swore and jabbed his brother. “You say something.”
Eli shook his head slowly, leaned back, and rested his folded arms on his chest.
“She was never your woman, Eli. She despises you. She always has.”
“Shut up,” Eli said. “Let her talk.”
Raine seized her opportunity when Clay was surprised into silence. “Mr. Church accepted my offer and was on his way here to finalize our agreement. His trip would have been without incident except someone else read at least some of our correspondence. Mr. Church’s arrival was anticipated by someone other than me, and he was murdered to keep him out of Bitter Springs.”
Kellen raised his free hand to quiet the saloon. “Thank you. Stay where you are because we will need to hear more from you in a moment, but for now, I would like everyone to hear from Walter Mangold. Walt?”
Walt set the revolver he had taken from Eli on the table between Howard Wheeler and Jack Clifton. Visibly nervous, he wiped his damp palms on his trousers. “Yes, sir. Do I tell folks about the letters now?”
“Yes. Tell them just what you told me this morning.”
“Well, Mrs. Coltrane—she was the Widder Berry then—trusted me to take her letters to Mr. Collins at the station. I was happy to do it for her, but Emily Ransom took it in her head that it would be a help if she took the letters. I didn’t see the harm, so I let her deliver letters and packages and such. It wasn’t only the things the widder gave me, but also the things guests asked me to post for them.”
Mr. Reasoner put up his hand. “I see where this is going, and poor Miss Ransom is not able to defend herself. How do we know Mr. Mangold is not blaming her for something he did?”
Kellen pointed to Mr. Collins. “We need to hear from you again.”
Mr. Collins stood. “Most everything that came for posting from the Pennyroyal was delivered by Miss Ransom. Sometimes a guest would bring his own letters to post. Mr. Petit was particular about his photographs, for example. Most of the time he liked to put them in my hands himself.”
Reasoner spoke up after the station agent sat. “Mrs. Coltrane indicated that someone read her correspondence. If we can believe what is being said, we now know that at least three people had the letters in their hands: Mr. Mangold, Miss Ransom, and Mr. Collins.”
Frowning deeply, Walter rocked forward on the balls of his feet. “Mr. Coltrane won’t say it. I don’t suppose other folks want to say it either, but everyone knows I don’t read so well. Mr. Clay used to make fun of me regular about it. Mr. Eli, too, if he was in a mood to kick someone.”
Reasoner threw up both hands and sat back in his chair. He stared hard at the men he was charged with defending and shook his head slowly.
“Mr. Collins can read just fine,” said Clay. “Say something about him.”
Mr. Reasoner rolled his eyes.
Kellen said, “Even more important than who read the letters is what that person did with the information. No one is saying that Emily Ransom or Mr. Collins murdered Nat Church.”
Jefferson Collins jumped to his feet. “And I do not read anyone’s mail.”
Kellen said, “Judge. A ruling please.”
Jones sighed heavily. “Mr. Collins does not read anyone’s mail.”
The station agent eased himself back into his chair, and Kellen continued. “Raine, you recently learned that Emily Ransom had a secret admirer. Will you tell us about that?”
“Emily was keeping company with Clay Burdick.”
“That’s a goddamn lie,” said Clay. “Where the hell is Dan Sugar? Why isn’t the real law here tonight?”
“Deputy Sugar was not invited,” Kellen said. “What would his contribution be? People have always told me that you and Eli are the real law in Bitter Springs.”
“Us? If someone sai
d it was us, they meant it was Uriah.”
Eli said, “You probably want to stop talkin’, Clay.”
“Why? No one else is speakin’ up. You’re not.” He jerked his chin at Reasoner. “He’s not. You know Emily never spoke to me if she could help it. You’ve said as much yourself.”
Eli shrugged.
“Where’s your proof?” Clay asked Raine.
“In good time, Clay.” She spoke to her audience. “You should take into account how naïve our Emily was. She was a harmless flirt, encouraged by most of you because she made you feel important. Some of you might think she had the good sense to stay away from Clay and Eli because my sister was her friend and, well, because they are the Burdicks. To Emily’s way of thinking, though, she was showing good sense by keeping it from everyone, including her family. Keeping it a secret and hiding it are really two different things, and while Emily didn’t say a word, there was at least one person who noticed her attachment to Clay Burdick. Sue?”
A harsh, discordant sound rose from the piano when Sue stood and used the keyboard to brace herself. As startled by the noise as anyone else in the saloon, she jumped away from the piano and quickly tucked her trembling hands in the folds of her skirt. Her eyes darted nervously around the room until they rested on Raine.
“DoIsaymypiecenow?”
Raine nodded. “Just like you told me earlier. But slowly, so everyone can understand you. Charlie, maybe you could stand a little closer to Sue.”
Charlie stepped up to Sue’s side and placed a hand at the small of her back. “Ain’t no one goin’ to bother you. Say what you have to say.”
Sue took a deep breath and released it in a single gust. “Most evenings Emily and I left the Pennyroyal together. I’d walk her home and then go to my own because that was the easiest. Sometimes Walt came along. If Charlie was around, he would escort both of us.” She looked at him. “Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, it is.”
“I got to noticing that some nights Emily would take longer doing her chores. She’d tell me to go on by myself and most times I did because she would just dawdle if I waited around. I figured she was probably wanting time alone with someone special same as I was wanting time with Charlie.” Sue’s hand flew to her mouth. Her face flushed pink.
“It’s all right, Sue,” said Raine. “It’s no secret to us how you feel about Charlie. Go on.”
“Itjustcametomeoneeveningthat—” She stopped, took another deep breath, and began again. “It just came to me one evening that Emily took her time on the same nights Mr. Clay Burdick was in town. I thought that was plenty peculiar, and I did think I could be making something out of nothing, so I teased her about it. She called me flat-out crazy, and that was the end of it between her and me. I don’t think I ever brought it up again, but I noticed it just the same, and when Emily disappeared with the whiskey drummer—Mr. Weyman, I mean—I figured I was flat-out crazy to think she was ever sweet on Mr. Clay Burdick.”
Clay snorted. “Flat-out crazy is right. I never met up with Emily Ransom. I don’t wait around for women.”
Kellen ignored Clay’s outburst. “Did you ever see Clay and Emily alone?”
“No, sir. I didn’t see them, but I did overhear them once. Way back in September it was. Right here, behind the Pennyroyal. I went looking for Emily, and when I couldn’t find her inside, I opened the back door. That’s when I heard them talking. I didn’t hear the words exactly. I didn’t want to. I waited in the kitchen until she came back in, and I pretended I didn’t know that she had been talking to Mr. Burdick. I could tell she was angry, so I thought she’d given him a piece of her mind.”
“If you didn’t see Clay, how can you be certain he was with Emily? Why couldn’t it have been Eli?”
“I saw Phantom. There’s no mistaking Mr. Clay’s horse.”
“Thank you, Sue,” said Kellen. “You can sit down now.” His attention shifted from his witness to the judge. “Since there already has been mention of Clay Burdick’s horse, I want to add that on the night George Weyman and Emily Ransom disappeared, two people saw Phantom behind the Pennyroyal.”
Clay gave the table a shove. “That’s a lie!”
Jones pointed to Clay. “Enough.”
Clay huffed loudly, but he did not challenge Jones.
Kellen went on. “No one but Clay Burdick rides Phantom.” He waited for the wave of agreement to roll through the saloon. “In summary, we have testimony that Emily and Clay were meeting secretly, that Emily delivered correspondence between Raine and Nat Church to the station, and that on the evening the whiskey drummer and Emily went missing, Clay Burdick was in town.”
Mr. Collins stood again. “I’d like to say something else.” When he got a nod from Kellen and Jones, he went on. “Emily came by regular to check for the hotel’s mail. It used to be Walt I could set my clock by, but about six months ago, it was Emily who dropped in. She wasn’t steady in her time the way Walt was, but I could depend on seeing her.”
Kellen said, “Now we know that Emily also picked up correspondence from Nat Church. That circles the wagons. It is my contention, Judge, that Emily read the letters between the parties and reported what was written to Clay Burdick. This gave Mr. Burdick all the information he needed to stop Mr. Church from reaching Bitter Springs.”
“It’s all lies,” said Clay. He jabbed a finger at Reasoner again. “Seems like you should be telling them it’s all lies.”
Reasoner rubbed the underside of his chin. “It does seem as though you are arriving at unwarranted conclusions, Mr. Coltrane. This wagon circle of yours is not as tight as you would have us believe.”
“That’s right,” Clay said. “The Sioux Nation could ride through all the holes it’s got.”
Kellen sighed. “There is some evidence that places Mr. Burdick with Emily Ransom around the time of her death. I have hesitated to produce it out of respect for Miss Ransom.”
Clay turned his accusing finger on Kellen. “You haven’t shown it because it doesn’t exist. Just like those two witnesses who say they saw my horse behind the Pennyroyal. You didn’t produce either one of them. And why is this all about me anyway? Wouldn’t be the first time someone mistook me for Eli. I don’t hear his name being brought up.”
Kellen raised an eyebrow at Eli. “Are you dissatisfied that your brother is receiving all of the attention?”
“Suits me fine.”
“Do you want to say anything in his defense?”
“Nothing comes to mind.”
“Do you want to say anything that supports the case being made against him?”
Eli showed his thoughtful side, scratching just behind his ear. “That would make things real difficult for me, wouldn’t it?” he said at last. “Seems like the Burdicks are always getting tarred with the same brush. A man in this family can’t have a reputation of his own for the one that swallows him up.”
“Oh, I think you might be overstating it, Eli. I’m fairly certain you have a reputation separate from your family.”
Eli nodded slowly. He pointed to his empty glass and the bottle in front of him. “May I?”
“Of course.”
Eli poured a drink and threw it back. He set down the glass. “I figure the best thing for me to do is hang my hat on the fifth.”
Clay glared at him. He had to raise his voice above the sudden burst of chatter. “What the hell’s that mean? You going to help me or not?”
John Paul Jones used the empty tumbler in front of him as a gavel and brought silence back to the saloon. “Mr. Eli Burdick is saying he will not speak against you because he has the right not to incriminate himself.”
“Is that what you’re sayin’, Eli?”
“It is.”
Clay drew back his fist. The gun Kellen leveled at his head stayed his arm. His fist remained raised and full of promise for a few seconds before he finally lowered it.
Raine waited for Kellen to rest his gun before she prompted him. “You were telling us
about some evidence.”
“So I was. Will you get it, please?”
Raine nodded and left Jones’s side to go behind the bar. Everyone followed her progress, and when she stood in front of the large mirror with her back to her audience, she saw mostly curiosity in the eyes turned on her. Raine set down the revolver long enough to lift the bottom edge of the mirror away from the wall. She caught the photographs as they began to fall. Holding them close to her chest, she picked up the Colt, and returned to her place beside the judge.
“What’s that she’s carrying?” asked Clay. “I want to see what she’s got.” He started to come out of his chair, but it was Eli who pushed him back this time, not Kellen’s gun. “Damn it! If it’s about me, I have a right to see what she’s holding.”
Raine leveled her gaze on Clay, but she spoke to everyone. “I believe all of you know that Mr. Petit and Mr. Reasoner were the ones who found Emily’s body. You might not know that Mr. Petit took photographs. He gave several to Deputy Sugar. None of the photographs would have been a comfort to the family, so he kept the rest. After a promising start, the photographs that he gave Dan Sugar ultimately proved to be unhelpful.”
She glanced at the Davis brothers. “Would any of you like to say anything about those photographs?”
Jem spoke up. “Sugar showed us the pictures. Turned out there was nothin’ about them that could help us find Emily’s killer.”
Raine continued, her attention on Clay once again. “There were other photographs, though, far more interesting in composition and perspective, that Mr. Petit did not show to Deputy Sugar. I can only guess at his reasons. Since Mr. Petit cannot answer for himself, our nine good men will have to draw their own conclusions. I am holding three photographs for them to review.”
Clay shot out of his chair. This time he ignored the gun Kellen pointed at him. In a single motion, he braced his arms on the table and vaulted it. Kellen had to lean away to avoid having the Colt kicked out of his hand. He recovered quickly, took aim, but didn’t fire.
No one else did either, even when Clay stumbled over his own feet as he was brought short by all the weapons drawn in his direction. He caught himself, straightened, and threw up his hands. Every member of the jury had a gun pointed at his chest. Even Raine had her Colt raised, and her hand was as steady as the others. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Kellen’s revolver aimed at his back. He kept his hands in the air. After facing forward again, he didn’t move.