by Paul Colt
“Ty Ledger, you said it.”
“Said what?”
“You said you love me.”
“Aw, you knew that.”
“Maybe deep down, I hoped, but it’s nice to hear you say it out loud.”
“Now, don’t you go and get me all distracted. I mean it.”
“Of course you do. I love you too.”
“Not that. I mean it about the store.”
“Then you don’t love me.” She put on a pout.
“You got me all twisted up. You know I love you.”
She smiled. “I like that. Com’on, sit a spell.” She sat on the top step. Ty sat beside her. “I can’t just walk out on Alex and Susan. We’ve got Big Jim to look after us. I’m more worried about you runnin’ to every gunfight in the county with them Regulators.”
“I’m not runnin’ with the Regulators. They were deputized marshals but they’re behavin’ like vigilantes. I need to see Alex about that and don’t change the subject.”
“It’s a woman’s place to change the subject. I’ll think about it while I’m waitin’ for a certain tall Texan to make an honest woman out of me. Tell you what, since you’re skulking around town the way you are, I’ll make up a picnic and meet you up on the hill north of town around sundown. You remember the place?”
“There you go changin’ the subject again.”
Her kiss ran deep with promise.
He caught his breath. “I guess it’s all right.”
“What?”
“Your changin’ the subject.”
She bit his lip. “’Course it is.”
McSween heard the knock. Who the hell comes knocking on the back door?He left his desk and went to the kitchen door. Ty Ledger, that makes sense.
“Come in, Ty. I’m glad you’re here.”
“We need to talk.”
“We do.” He led the way to the office. “Have a chair.” Mc-Sween settled behind the desk. “So what’s on your mind?”
“I’ve just come in from the Flying H. The Regulators replaced Brewer with Frank McNab as captain.”
“Frank’s a good man.”
“He’s a gunman. Those men don’t sound like a posse anymore. They sound like vigilantes. Every attempt they’ve made to serve those warrants has ended in killin’ without a single arrest.”
“I know it looks bad. We need real law in Lincoln. That’s what I want to talk to you about. Governor Axtell has convened a grand jury to investigate everything that has been happening here. They should be here next week.”
“Won’t the Santa Fe boys just whitewash things Dolan’s way?”
“Maybe some but there is undeniable dirt on both sides of the street. New Mexico’s chances for statehood depend on law and order. Congress will be looking over their shoulder on this one. They’ve got to play it straight or some of us will make sure the right people know about it. Axtell knows that. He’s chosen jurors with sympathies on both sides.”
“So what does that have to do with me?”
“One of the things the jury will do is recommend appointment of a sheriff to fill out the balance of Brady’s term. I think you’re just the man for the job. You’ve got the background. You’re new here so you don’t appear to have strong ties to either side.”
“You won’t fool Dolan with that.”
“I’m talking about appearances for those looking over the jury’s shoulder. God knows it won’t be easy for them to find anyone in this county who fits the bill any better than you. If you’re willing, I think I can arrange it.”
It did solve the problem of havin’ a job to support a wife. That is, if she’d still have him as sheriff of this hornet’s nest. “See what you can do.”
Sunset painted the hills purple against an orange and crimson sky. Black traces of cloud drifted along like smoke sign. He waited with his blanket spread on the hillside overlooking the town below. A lone rider loped through town, splashed across the river and mounted a climb into the hill. He smiled.
Billy Mathews scratched his chin, watching her ride out of town. Odd time of day for a ride, he thought. She’d been seein’ Ledger since Tunstall’s death. He disappeared after the Brady ambush. Too much for coincidence, it gave him a hunch. He left the cantina and collected his horse in the gathering gloom.
Lucy drew rein. “You lost, cowboy?”
“Not now.” He took her by the waist and lifted her down. She smiled up at him in the last fading glow. His kiss drew her up on the tips of her toes. She hung on tight.
“Hungry?”
“I could stand a second helping of that.”
“Save room for dessert.” Her lashes dipped.
He untied the basket from her saddle and carried it to the blanket. Lucy set about laying out the contents while he led her buckskin mare to a grove of trees where the steeldust cropped spring grass. She served ham and biscuits, apple pie and cider.
“What did you and Alex talk about?”
“He wants me to take the sheriff’s job.”
“You’re not going to do it, are you?”
“I need a job to support a wife.”
“Maybe so, but not that job. This county’s at war. You’d be a target for both sides.”
“I might be able to stop the war.”
“What makes you think that?”
“McSween and Chisum control one side. I can reason with them. Dolan dances to the Santa Fe tune. Those boys want statehood and that means law and order. They’ll lean on him.”
“You’re dreaming. Ty, you’re not serious, are you?”
“Who knows if it will happen, but I’d think on it.”
“And you want me out of the store.”
“That’s different.”
The rifle report chased the bullet whine to a clot of dirt that burst behind him.
“Get down!” He pushed Lucy to the ground and covered her with his body. He drew his gun and searched the darkness off to the west. “When I tell you to go, run for the trees. Understand?” She nodded.
He crawled off the blanket into the ground shadow. He made a guess at the shooter’s position. “Go!” He fired and scrambled away from the muzzle flash. Return flashes exploded fifty yards further to the west. Ty fired behind them and moved again. Lucy made the trees safely. The shooter fired again. This time Ty did not return fire. He had the shooter’s position. He moved forward, hugging the ground shadow. Minutes passed. He advanced slowly, steadily.
The sound of someone running disturbed the dark stillness. Ty fired. A horse and rider burst from the rocks above, silhouetted against the night skyline. In an instant the shadow melted into the darkness, trailing a cloud of starlit dust.
Ty stood and holstered his gun. He started for the trees. “He’s gone. You all right?”
She emerged from the trees. “I’m fine. Are you?”
He took her in his arms.
“Who was it?”
“No idea, but I reckon I won’t be gettin’ his vote.”
“You are serious.”
“This territory won’t be fit for decent folk until this thing is settled. Somebody’s got to do it.”
“Just don’t make a widow out of me before I’m a bride.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Mrs. O’Hara says you can bunk in the parlor tonight. I think she likes having you around.”
“You ready to go back to town?”
She held his eyes. “After dessert.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Lincoln County Courthouse
April 18th
“All rise. The grand jury for Lincoln County, New Mexico Territory, is now in session, the Honorable Warren H. Bristol presiding. Be seated.”
Rain pelted the roof and windows in a muted patter. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The small courtroom was crowded to standing room only. Nearly everyone in the county had a stake in these findings. The white-haired judge in his black robe took his seat and addressed the jury box. “Has the jury concluded its findings?
”
The foreman rose. “We have, Your Honor.” He handed a stack of papers to the bailiff.
“The bailiff will read the findings into the court record.”
“With respect to the murders of Sheriff William Brady and Deputy George Hindman, the jury finds probable cause to charge the following individuals: Henry Brown, Fred Waite, William Bonney and John Middleton.”
“So ordered.” The judge rapped his gavel.
“With respect to the murder of Andrew Roberts, the jury finds probable cause to charge the following individuals: Henry Brown, Fred Waite, William Bonney, John Middleton, George Coe and Josiah Scurlock.”
“So ordered.”
“With respect to the murder of John Tunstall, the jury finds probable cause to charge the following individuals: Jesse Evans and William Mathews. With respect to the murder of John Tun-stall, the jury finds probable cause to charge James Dolan as an accessory to capital murder.”
The crowd broke into a stunned buzz.
Bristol banged his gavel. “This court will come to order!” The crowd fell silent. “So ordered.”
“With respect to the allegation of cattle rustling, the jury finds probable cause to charge Jesse Evans and James Dolan.”
“So ordered.”
“With respect to the allegation of embezzlement against Alex ander McSween, the jury finds no cause to indict.”
“Case dismissed.”
“With respect to the appointment of acting sheriff for Lin coln County to serve until the next election, the jury recom mends the appointment of George Peppin.”
“So ordered.”
The bailiff folded the papers.
“This court stands adjourned.”
“Son of a bitch!” Dolan paced his office in a black rage. Evans sat beside the desk, keeping out of the storm path. “Appointing an honest jury to keep up appearances is one thing, having them take McSween’s side is another. At least we got Peppin appointed sheriff. He can serve warrants on those indictments handed down on McSween’s people. This war ain’t over by a long shot. We’re not going to take this lyin’ down. You get the boys ready, Jesse. We’re goin’ Regulator huntin’.” He continued pacing in thought.
“What happened?”
“Come in.” McSween stepped back allowing Ty into the foyer. He closed the door. “I don’t know what happened. I thought I had it all arranged. Maybe Bristol got wind of it or maybe Dolan. Whatever happened, Dolan’s got himself a sheriff. I expect he’ll use that to start rounding up our men.”
“Short of having them hide out, there’s not much we can do about it.”
“There is one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Marshall Sherman is short one special deputy.”
Rio Hondo
April 29th
Deputy Sheriffs Jesse Evans, Billy Mathews and Manuel Sagovia camped in the hills west of the main ford connecting the Pecos River valley ranches and Lincoln. Evans reckoned it a good place to hunt. Men need supplies. Supplies meant travel to Lincoln. Sagovia kept watch in a rockfall near the crest of a hill, overlooking the ford. Evans and Mathews dozed in the shade of a juniper stand beside a wash running with snowmelt.
Sagovia came alert. Three riders appeared in the hills south of the river, making an unhurried pace northwest. “Riders come.”
Evans scrambled up the side of the wash, leaving Mathews groggily rubbing his eyes. He settled in beside the Mexican. “I’d know that big roan anywhere. It’s the Bonney kid.”
“His amigo is Frank McNab. I don’t know the other one.”
Evans squinted off to the north. “They’ll cross at the ford and climb that draw yonder.” He pointed a mile up the trail. “Com’on, let’s fix a little surprise welcome for ’em.”
Thirty minutes later, McNab, Bonney and Bowdre reached the river and stopped to water their horses.
“How do you plan to play this, Frank?”
The Kid was always one step ahead. Not a bad thing if a man planned on stayin’ alive. “Well, we ain’t gonna ride down the main street in broad daylight. I figure we can sneak into McSween’s store the back way along the river. We can pick up our supplies and maybe spend the night there.”
“Back of the store’s better than hard ground, but not much fun,” Bowdre said.
“Show our faces in the cantina and we’re likely to get our asses shot off. I expect McSween can find us a bottle. We’ll make our own fun.”
The Kid spat. “Fun hell, Frank, there ain’t a girl between us.”
“That Sample girl works in the store,” Bowdre offered.
“You two simmer down. You’re talkin’ about Ty’s girl.”
The Kid grinned. “I almost forgot.”
“Best not.” McNab squeezed his horse into the river and splashed across. A mile further north the trail climbed into a narrow draw. Bowdre and the Kid settled into file behind Mc-Nab as they wound their way up a steep stony slope. A large rockfall spilled down the last fifty yards to the summit, forcing the riders to pick their way forward.
Rifle shots cracked from the rocks above on both sides of the draw. McNab jerked in the saddle at the first volley and toppled from his mount. Bowdre and Bonney wheeled their horses and returned fire as they fought their way back down the trail to cover. Rifle fire chewed at the rocks, bullets sang showers of rock chips.
“Sons a bitches got Frank.”
Bowdre vented his fury in futile fire. “Now what do we do?”
“Cover me. I’m goin’ up top and clear them bastards off our trail.”
“Hell, Billy, there must be at least three of ’em. What kind of odds is that?”
“My kind.” He grabbed the Winchester from Bowdre’s saddle boot and tossed it to him. “Cover me.” He pulled his rifle, ducked around a high side in the rockfall and started to climb.
Bowdre fired harassing shots up the draw to no effect, other than drawing meaningless return fire. Meaningless that is until the shooting painted targets for the Kid. Minutes later the Kid’s rifle spoke up. The shooting up top got hot for a time and then fell silent.
“Damn!” the Kid shouted. “They’re runnin’ for it.”
Flying H
The Regulators gathered in the ranch house parlor. Bowdre recounted the events of the ambush. They’d taken McNab’s body to Lincoln. They’d slipped into town the back way, picked up their supplies and reported McNab’s death to McSween. He took care of reporting the murder and turning over the body to the sheriff.
“Who done the killin’?” Scurlock demanded.
“Didn’t get a good look at ’em,” the Kid said.
“They got to be Dolan men,” Bowdre said.
Scurlock cut his eyes from one man to the next. “Then I say we pay Jimmy Dolan a visit.” Murmurs of agreement went round the room.
“I say Doc’s our new captain,” the Kid said.
“I don’t know about that. That job doesn’t do a body any good.”
“Someone’s got to do it, Doc. I say it’s you.”
US Marshal’s Office
Santa Fe
Sherman sat at his cluttered desk reading McSween’s request. He’d seen this coming before he even filed his report on Brady’s death. Special deputy appointments were serious business. So were their deaths in the line of duty. He knew Axtell had ordered a grand jury convened in Lincoln. The governor took great pains to maintain appearances beyond reproach. He’d read the findings in the newspaper. The proceedings must not have gone according to everyone’s satisfaction. Likely it had something to do with the appointment of an interim sheriff. Chisum’s lawyer had stirred up an official inquiry into the situation in Lincoln. McSween and his friends had some influence higher up the federal ladder than the Santa Fe Ring. He could almost hear the telegraph chatter from Lincoln to Washington. It might be good if he were seen to be above the partisan squabble.
McSween wanted him to appoint a new special deputy. Ty Ledger was a good man. The reports coming out of Lincoln Co
unty were disturbing. It amounted to open warfare. He could appoint a special deputy, but how much would that accomplish? Under the circumstances it might amount to signing Ledger’s death warrant. What the governor needed to do is use the army to declare martial law. He’d give McSween his special deputy. No point in fighting him on it, but he’d also make his point about martial law with the governor.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Lincoln
May 2nd
That many horses on Lincoln’s quiet street made enough noise to get noticed even at a walk. Ty glanced out the sheriff’s office window at the commotion. Doc Scurlock led a half dozen heavily armed Regulators up the street. The situation had trouble written all over it. He’d stopped by the office to notify Peppin of his appointment as special deputy US marshal. The sheriff had a stack of warrants for men on both sides and nary enough jail cells to hold half of them. In this case he was out with a posse lookin’ for the men about to shoot up his town.
Ty pulled a sawed-off shotgun down from the rack beside the door. He opened the cupboard below and picked out a box of shells. He broke the action, loaded both barrels and snapped the weapon closed. He stuffed his shirt pocket with shells. He stepped onto the sun-soaked boardwalk just as the shooting started up the street.
He ran toward the sound, his boots pounding a hollow beat on the planks. Rounding a gentle curve in the road, he saw Scurlock and his men shooting in the general direction of Dolan’s store at the west end of town. This made for an interesting confrontation. He’d ridden with these men. Now he wore a badge duty bound to protect the other side.
He slowed as he drew near. The Regulators were scattered along the street and around to the west of the store. They fired from the backs of skittish mounts prancing and circling in the dusty street. He recognized the Bonney kid, Bowdre, O’Folliard, Waite and Brown.
Scurlock shouted. “Throw down your guns and come out, Dolan. You’re under arrest.”
“Go to hell, Scurlock!” Gunfire punctuated the reply.
Ty ran toward the store, judging the Regulators might still consider him a friend. He skidded to a stop short of the store close to Scurlock. He pointed the scattergun to the sky and let go with a blast from one barrel. The report got their attention.