Appleby shrugged, although he could not keep all of the venom from his voice as he replied, ‘It ain’t necessary.’
‘Never said it was,’ Jake told him. ‘I just figgered if we was along Jim wouldn’t take it into his head to do sumthin’ foolish, like mebbe makin’ a run for it.’
He smiled as Appleby’s head jerked and the lawman laid a burning gaze upon the prisoner. The old homesteader had made his meaning crystal clear, and none of the posse had missed the inference: Harris did not trust the Marshal or his posse out of sight. Green would hardly be the first prisoner to have been killed under the umbrella of ley del fuego, the old bounty-hunter’s fool proof way of bringing in prisoners who were wanted dead or alive, and were easier to handle dead. Such prisoners were always ‘shot trying to escape’, and their brutal murder was tacitly accepted by the Law which paid the rewards for their bodies.
‘Do as yu please,’ snarled Appleby. ‘I ain’t no back-shooter.’
‘Never said yu was,’ agreed Harris equably.
The posse moved on down the trail towards the town, leaving a cloud of sun-silvered dust hanging heavy in their wake.
Chapter Twenty-One
ON THE morning of the trial old Smithy, the stove-up puncher who kept the jail clean and acted as an unpaid jailer in return for a roof over his head and a few dollars for drinks, shuffled over and rattled a tin cup against the bars of Sudden’s cell.
‘Rise an’ shine, Mr. Sudden,’ he cackled. ‘Yu gotta be up bright an’ early. Wouldn’t want to miss all the fun, would yu?’ His rheumy eyes watered as he enjoyed his own humor. ‘Want some cawfee?’
‘If yu mean that dishwater I been drinkin’, no thanks,’ Sudden told him, smiling inwardly at the old man’s enjoyment. Smithy had become more important these last few days than at any time in his life. Having the celebrated Sudden as his charge had made the old man garrulous, and he had spent the night reminiscing about his years on the Chisholm Trail.
‘Yu reckon yu could loan me a razor?’ Sudden asked the old man. ‘Might as well look as little like a bum as possible.’
He gestured ruefully at the three-day stubble on his chin, and the creased clothes which were the result of his confinement. Jake Harris had been in to see him several times; he and his two neighbors were staying in town until the trial was over, and Sudden had done his best to reassure the old homesteader about his predicament.
‘They tell me it’s all goin’ to be legal an’ above board, he had told his employer. ‘Appleby’s sent down to Tucson for a circuit judge.’
‘He’s been stirrin’ things up a mite, too,’ growled the old man angrily. ‘Not to mention that loud-mouthed son o’ Gunnison’s. It’ll go bad if they find yu guilty, Jim.’
‘Hell, I ain’t expectin’ it,’ Sudden had smiled, but in truth he was perturbed that the tenor of the town might be conducive to violence which would involve his friends. The shave made him feel much better, and he sat down to eat the bacon and beans Smithy had heated up. After he had finished he rolled a cigarette and leaned back against the wall of his cell.
‘Yu shore don’t act like a man might be hanged by sunset,’ the old man observed.
‘Ain’t plannin’ on it, ol’ timer,’ Sudden told him with a smile.
‘They says yo’re as guilty as hell.’
‘No sign o’ Gunnison’s body yet, then?’
‘Nary a one. Appleby’s had men out in the Mesquites every day. Ol’ Lafe Gunnison’s just plain disappeared.’
‘Yu know Gunnison well?’ asked the captive.
‘Know everyone in this town,’ boasted Smithy. ‘Been here a slew o’ years. Worked for Tom Appleby’s predecessor, afore he was killed.’
‘When was that?’ asked Sudden.
‘Two year or more ago. Rock-slide caught him up in the Yavapais. He was a good man, George Rogers.’
‘How come Appleby was made Marshal?’
‘Don’t recollect exackly,’ Smithy said, scratching his stubbled chin. ‘He arrove in town, applied for the job. Randy Gunnison spoke for him, as I recall. Knowed him in Santa Fe, or some such place. He had some references. Been a good Marshal. How come yo’re askin’ so many questions?’
‘On’y way to get answers,’ Sudden told him, grinning.
‘I hope yu got a few for the trial,’ Smithy retorted, his sly old face grim. ‘Yo’re shore goin’ to need ’em, boy.’
By the time ten o’clock, the hour advertised for the opening of the trial, arrived the entire population of Yavapai and not a few strangers were crowded into Tyler’s saloon. The milling spectators jostled each other for the best vantage points from which to see the trial, and the atmosphere was almost one of holiday. Jovial insults, curses, greetings were being tossed backwards and forward across the room as various denizens of the town recognized their cronies and hailed them. Against the wall at the back of the room the homesteaders arrayed themselves; absent were Philadelphia and Susan Harris, who had stayed with the boy because she could, as she put it, ‘take better care of him than he could of himself.
The faces of Sudden’s friends were glum. They had spent the preceding evening going over and over the accusations against their friend, without ever being able to suggest a suitable alternative to put to the Sheriff. Their knowledge of the involvement of Randy Gunnison and Jim Dancy in the thefts of Saber beef was their only ace-in-the-hole, and they had, at Sudden’s suggestion, refrained from playing that card until they were forced to. Now, they could only hope that the young puncher himself would convince the jurors that the case against him was too fragile and flimsy to support a verdict of guilty.
The jury was arrayed on chairs set in two rows at right-angles to the bar, in front of which was a table and two chairs for the prisoner and his captor. Behind the bar a raised platform had been placed, which made of the long bar a kind of judicial bench behind which Harvey Mattingley, the circuit judge, would sit. He was, so one patron of the saloon informed a neighbor, due this morning from Tucson. An open space in front of the prisoner’s table had been left clear, presumably for anyone wishing to address or approach the bench, and at the side opposite the jury a witness-box consisting of a chair and an old reading lectern loaned by the Yavapai Valley Bank had been placed.
Shortly after half past nine a coach pulled to a halt in a cloud of dust outside the Marshal’s office. The few passers-by remarked on the fact that the horses had been punishingly used, and conjectured upon the identity of the visitor. They waited to see a short, rather corpulent man descend from the coach. Dressed in a suit of dark broadcloth, trousers fitted neatly into the tops of shining boots, a narrow-brimmed black hat and a soft white shirt with black four-in-hand, he looked like a preacher or a gambler except for a certain air of authority in his bearing which set him apart from these professions. The passers-by hurried to Tyler’s with the news that the judge had arrived as the short man went into Appleby’s office.
The Marshal rose to meet his visitor, an oily smile upon his face.
‘Yu’ll be Judge Mattingley, I’m guessin’,’ he said. ‘I’m Appleby, the Marshal.’
The visitor appeared not to see the proffered hand, and said, ‘Judge Mattingley was detained, I’m afraid. I have come to take his place. My name is Bleke.’
Appleby’s mouth fell open. This quiet little man with the shrewd grey eyes was an almost legendary figure. To have the Governor of Arizona come personally to superintend the trial was a surprise of such magnitude that Appleby was lost for words.
‘Don’t stand there with your mouth open, man,’ snapped Bleke, with just a shade of irritation in his voice. ‘Where does the hearing take place?’
Appleby took hold of himself. This could be turned to real advantage. If Bleke endorsed the verdict of the jury, and Appleby had taken certain steps to make that verdict a foregone conclusion, then Harris would be ruined and forced to leave the country. The hanging of the outlaw, Sudden, was incidental to Appleby’s plans. His thin mouth curved in satisfaction at the t
hought, none the less.
‘Right this way, Governor,’ he fawned. ‘We rigged up the saloon the best we could. They’ll bring Sudden over as soon as yu give the word.’
Bleke nodded and accompanied the Marshal to Tyler’s saloon. A hush fell on the audience as they entered, and Appleby nodded to Smithy to bring in the prisoner. Bleke took his seat behind the bar and surveyed the crowded room with cold eyes.
‘My name is Bleke,’ he told them, ignoring the hum of comment which his announcement caused. ‘I will be conducting this hearing and I want it known at the outset that I will tolerate no rowdiness or disorder. Let me make it quite clear. I can live up to my name when I have to.’ After a pause in which he let his double-meaning sink in, he turned to Appleby.
‘Where is the prisoner?’
‘He’s right here, Guv’nor,’ cackled old Smithy, leading in the tightly bound cowboy.
Bleke’s face tightened.
‘Why is this man tied up?’ he snapped.
‘Why … he’s … he’s a wanted murderer, Governor,’ stammered the Marshal.
‘I understood he was accused of murder, not guilty of it,’ Bleke rapped out. ‘Or have you tried him already?’
Appleby shook his head dumbly, and Bleke gave the order to cut Sudden loose.
‘Phew, he’s an ol’ tyrant, ain’t he?’ one spectator whispered to his neighbor. ‘I wonder what’s bitin’ him?’
‘Search me,’ retorted the listener. ‘Whatever it is, I bet he bit it first.’ They returned their attention to Bleke, who was leaning now across the bar, addressing the prisoner.
‘You are Sudden, the outlaw?’
‘Men call me that, seh.’
‘James Green is your real name?’
‘It’s the one I use,’ was the reply.
‘You understand that we are not interested in the fact that you are wanted in Texas, Mr. Green?’ Sudden nodded, his eyes veiled. The Governor asked him who would conduct his defense.
‘I reckon I’ll do ’er myself, seh,’ was the puncher’s reply, at which Bleke nodded to the Marshal.
‘We are ready, Marshal.’
Appleby stepped forward. ‘It’s my intention to show that the accused, James Green, alias Sudden, murdered’
‘Dispense with the icing, Marshal.’ The cold voice of the Governor cut into Appleby’s speech with an irritable intonation. Startled by the interruption Appleby turned to face Bleke.
‘That’s somewhat unconventional, Governor,’ he protested.
‘I’m inclined to be unconventional, Marshal,’ was the unsmiling reply. ‘Get on with it.’
Appleby nodded, and motioned to Randy Gunnison to enter the witness-box.
‘Tell the court what happened on the mornin’ o’ the day yore ol’ ma – yore father disappeared.’
‘Well … my father had been getting more and more upset about the steady losses the Saber had been suffering through rustling. He always thought that the nesters were behind it, but it was impossible to prove without starting a full-scale range war, and he did not want that. He told me that morning that he thought maybe if he talked to Jake Harris on a man-to-man basis they might get it settled.’
‘Did he tell anyone else about this?’
‘Not to my knowledge, no.’
‘Anyone else see him leave the ranch?’
‘Jim Dancy, our – my foreman, saw him go.’
Appleby turned to face the Governor. ‘Dancy’ll so state if yu wish, Governor.’
Bleke nodded. ‘Proceed,’ he said.
‘What time o’ day was it yore father left Saber?’
‘Just after breakfast. About seven, maybe seven-thirty.’
‘Yu tried to persuade him not to go?’
‘I told him he was mad to go up there alone. He said that if he took the men with him the nesters’d think it was a war party, and he didn’t want any shooting.’
‘What happened then?’
‘You know all this,’ protested Randy.
‘Shore, I was there,’ Appleby nodded. ‘But the Governor here ain’t heard the facts. Yu tell it just like it happened.’
‘Well … yu came in about ten o’clock. We were having coffee when Dancy came yelling in from the corral that my father’s horse had come home with blood on the saddle.’
Appleby turned to face the bench. ‘There was a lot o’ blood on the saddle,’ he told the Governor. I found pine needles caught in the hoss’s shoes, so I knew he’d been up in the Mesquites. That’s the only place yu can find needles that thick. We figgered something had happened, but we didn’t know what. I sent Dancy to try to back track the old man, but it was no use, he couldn’t find anythin’. I rode back into town for help.’
‘Why did you do that rather than wait for the Saber riders to come in off the range?’ interposed Bleke.
‘We figgered if Saber blundered up into the Mesquites in force the same thing Gunnison had feared would happen. In addition it was gettin’ dark. We didn’t know where to start lookin’ – that’s a fairly big area up there.’
The Marshal nodded to Gunnison and then turned to his prisoner. ‘Ask any questions yu want to,’ he said. Sudden got slowly to his feet and walked across the space to the witness-box. He stopped with his narrowed eyes only a foot from Randy Gunnison’s and shot out a question.
‘With yore father dead, who owns the Saber now?’
‘I don’t quite see … I suppose I do.’
‘How much would yu say Saber was worth?’
Gunnison turned towards Bleke, appealing for his support.
‘I don’t see what this is about,’ he remonstrated. Bleke’s expression did not change.
You will answer,’ he told Gunnison.
‘Oh, not that it matters,’ sniffed Randy. ‘About a hundred or a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. It would need an expert appraisal.’
‘So yu’ll be a rich man?’ pursued Sudden.
‘I don’t follow you.’
‘I’m suggestin’ that mebbe yu had a motive for killin’ Lafe Gunnison yoreself!’
Randolph Gunnison leapt to his feet. ‘How dare you say that!’ he screeched. ‘How dare you!’ Appleby was on his feet, too, protesting Sudden’s tactics, while Governor Bleke pounded on the bar for order.
‘Do you have any evidence to support such an accusation, Green?’ barked Bleke.
Sudden shook his head and returned to his seat, content to have planted a seed of doubt in the minds of those watching the proceedings.
A buzz of conversation arose as Appleby motioned Jim Dancy to the stand. It ceased abruptly at one rap of Bleke’s mallet.
‘Yu saw Lafe Gunnison leave the Saber?’ asked Appleby. Dancy nodded. ‘Now tell us: did Randolph Gunnison leave the ranch at any time after his father had gone, or up to the time I arrived?’
Dancy shook his head. ‘Nope. Not at all.’
‘He couldn’t’ve slipped out without yore seein’ him?’
‘Not possible,’ Dancy said emphatically.
Appleby sat down, and Sudden again stood. This time, however, he remained behind the table.
‘Did yu ever hear Wes Cameron mentioned by Lafe Gunnison?’
‘Not so as I can recall,’ Dancy said.
‘Yu know Cameron killed two homesteaders in town, o’ course.’
‘I know it. An’ I know what happened to Cameron because of it.’
Bleke’s gavel again raped as Dancy’s insult prompted a murmur from the spectators.
‘Yu don’t reckon Gunnison hired Cameron, then?’ asked Green.
‘I don’t know,’ Dancy said. ‘He mighta done.’
Sudden wheeled to face Randy Gunnison, who had returned to his seat in the front row of the court.
‘Yo’re still on oath, Gunnison,’ he snapped. ‘Did yore ol’ man hire Wes Cameron to kill them two men?’
‘Certainly not!’ came the emphatic denial. Sudden nodded grimly and motioned Jake Harris to come forward and take the stand.
‘One q
uestion, Mr. Harris,’ he told the homesteader. ‘Did yu hire Wes Cameron to kill two o’ yore friends?’
‘By God, Jim, if any other man but yu had asked that I’d kill him, court or no court! The answer’s no! No!’
Bleke leaned forward as the old homesteader rose from the chair.
‘You were probably justifiably angry at the way in which the question was put, Mr. Harris. Nevertheless, I draw attention to your outburst only to point out that I will not tolerate another in this court.’
Appleby stepped forward.
‘Just a minute, Jake, I got a question for yu.’ He rocked on his heels, waiting a moment for the tension to grow before he asked, ‘Did yu hire this Sudden feller knowin’ his reputation?’
‘I did. I reckon he’s probably not guilty o’ half the things they say he done.’
‘Nevertheless, yu hired him. A known killer. I’ll ask yu the question that Mr. Sudden forgot. Did yu hire him to kill Lafe Gunnison?’
This time Jake Harris had his temper firmly under control, although a vein throbbed in his forehead and the muscles of his neck bulged with the effort.
‘Certainly not,’ he managed.
‘If he did, he isn’t likely to admit it,’ sneered Randy Gunnison.
Bleke rapped the bar. ‘Another remark like that, my boy, and you’ll do thirty days for contempt of court. Hold your tongue!’
Gunnison subsided, but Sudden knew that Jake’s denial had been offset by the sly remark. He stood up and turned to Appleby.
‘Would yu take the stand, Marshal?’
Appleby looked his surprise, but his confidence was high. Yo’re on the run, Mr. Sudden, he gloated inwardly. He leaned back in the chair and faced his questioner.
‘Yu already heard Gunnison there say he was shore his old man didn’t hire Cameron. Yu heard Jake Harris swear on oath that he didn’t either. If neither o’ them hired Cameron, who did?’
‘I ain’t heard anyone say anything to show Cameron was hired at all,’ Appleby said with a cold smile.
‘Yu think he just rode in here by accident, picked a fight with Johnstone an’ Newley, killed ’em for no reason?’
‘He killed ’em in self-defense, far as I recall,’ Appleby reminded him. ‘So where does that leave yu?’ His voice was gloating.
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