Kill Crazy

by William W. Johnstone

  “The marshal didn’t say one way or the other, but I don’t think so,” Pierce replied. “Leastwise, not until the regular trial. Then, of course, we’ll be needin’ you again.” He looked up at the clock. “The hearing starts in fifteen more minutes. What do you think is holding up Miss Boyce?”

  “You aren’t married, are you, Deputy?” Caldwell asked.

  “No, why?”

  “Because if you were married, you would know better than to even ask such a thing. I’ll tell you what holding her up. What’s holding her up is that she is a woman. That’s all there is to it.”

  Duff and Caldwell laughed at the deputy’s expense. A moment later, Cindy came down the staircase, then walked into the lobby flashing a big smile to the three men who were waiting for her. Duff stopped in mid laughter. Never had Cindy looked more like Skye than she did this morning. She was even wearing her hair exactly like Skye, as if someone had told her how Skye wore her hair. A few errant strands of hair fell across her forehead and she reached up to push them back, using just her index and middle fingers, exactly as Skye had.

  For just a moment, Duff felt a twinge of guilt over the night he’d just spent with Meagan, as if, somehow, he had cheated on Skye. He forced the thought out of his mind.

  “Why, Mr. MacCallister. You look as if you have seen a ghost,” she said.

  “I beg your pardon, lass. ’Twas nae my intention to stare, so.”

  “I waited up for you to come in last night, but you must have slipped past me without my noticing.”

  A frown of curiosity spread across Duff’s face. “And would you be for tellin’ me, lass, why it is you were waiting on me?”

  “No reason,” Cindy said. “I just wanted to tell you good night.”

  “Well then, ’tis sorry I am that I missed it,” Duff replied without any further explanation.

  “We’ve only got about six or seven minutes to make it to the hearing,” Deputy Pierce said. “We’d best be goin’.”

  Deputy Pierce led them out onto the front porch of the hotel.

  Meagan Parker had awakened that morning to an empty bed. She had no idea how long it had been since Duff left, but the aroma of him lingered in the sheets . . . the spice, wood, and lavender scent of his soap, a hint of leather, bay rum, and his own musk. She had mixed feelings about him having left without awakening her. On the one hand, she would have welcomed the intimacy of his being in her bedroom this morning; on the other hand, she knew it might also have been an awkward moment for both of them. She was sure that he had thought that as well.

  Getting dressed, Meagan went downstairs to the emporium, but instead of opening her shop, left the CLOSED sign hanging in the window of the front door.

  Johnny Taylor and the other riders had pulled hoods down over their faces, and were riding into town at the very moment Deputy Pierce and the others were coming out of the hotel.

  “Look!” Ike shouted, pointing. “There they are!”

  “We can end this right now. Let’s gun ’em down!” Johnny said, slapping his legs against the sides of his horse.

  The riders all broke into a gallop. Johnny pulled his gun as a signal to the others, and they rode hard down the middle of the street.

  Seven masked men, riding galloping horses, raised quite a commotion, and those who were crossing the street had to move quickly to get out of the way.

  Meagan had planned to attend the preliminary hearing, and had just stepped out onto the porch in front of her shop when the gang of riders came galloping down the street, firing their pistols. At first she thought the firing was indiscriminate, but then she saw that they were all wearing hoods, and they were shooting toward Duff and the others who had just stepped out from the hotel. She saw Deputy Pierce go down.

  Duff MacCallister made no effort to get out of the line of fire, but seemed to expose himself even more. Her heart was in her throat with fear that he might get shot, but she had to admit that she had never seen anything quite as magnificent as the sight of him standing there, totally unconcerned for his own welfare while he engaged the group of outlaws.

  “Get back in the hotel!” Duff shouted, pulling his pistol to return fire. Cindy and Caldwell darted back inside, but Deputy Pierce was sitting on the boardwalk, leaning back against the front wall of the hotel, bleeding from a leg wound.

  Duff returned fire. He had the disadvantage of standing in the open, but the advantage of having a stable platform from which to fire. The riders had the advantage of being fast-moving targets, though that was counteracted by the disadvantage of having to fire from the saddles of galloping horses.

  For a moment, the shooting sounded like a battlefield as the guns popped loudly, the echoes rolling back from the lines of buildings that flanked both sides of the street. By now, everyone had gotten themselves out of the line of fire as Duff continued to engage the galloping horsemen. Two of the riders were shot from their saddles as the horses galloped out through the other end of town.

  Moving quickly toward the two downed men, Duff approached them cautiously, and with his pistol at the ready. Reaching down carefully, he pulled the hoods off their heads. As it turned out, caution wasn’t necessary. Both men were dead.

  Although everyone had run for cover when the gunfire erupted, they began to drift back out onto the street now. Because of that, the street was crowded with people who had gathered around to stare at the bodies of the two outlaws.

  “I’ll be damn! I know that feller,” someone said, pointing to one of the bodies. “That’s Al Short. He was playin’ cards with a bunch of us just the other day.”

  “The other one is Jim Blunt,” Schumacher said.

  “A friend of yours, Francis?” Marshal Ferrell asked.

  Schumacher shook his head. “Only reason I know him is that I’ve seen him in the Wild Hog a time or two.”

  “Make way, folks, make way!” Nunnelee called as he brought his wagon down the street, parting those gathered around the bodies like Moses parting the Red Sea.

  “Hey, Tom, are you giving Mr. MacCallister some of the money you’re makin’ from the city on these folks he’s kilt? This makes three, don’t it?”

  “It’ll be four once we hang the one we got in jail,” another added.

  There was a spattering of laughter at the comment.

  “It isn’t as if I were getting rich off this. The city gives me five dollars apiece for burying them,” Nunnelee said.

  “Plus two dollars for the coffins, don’t forget,” another said. “I told the others in the city council, why bother with a casket? We could just wrap ’em up in burlap and bury ’em.”

  “That’s just real Christian of you, R.D.,” Curly Lathom said. Curly was the town barber, and his current client was standing beside him, still wearing the barber cover, and with half his face lathered. R.D. Clayton, the man Curly had spoken to, was a mule trader, and a member of the Chugwater City Council.

  “Why pay for a coffin for an indigent? There ain’t nobody around that’s goin’ to be offended, ’cause if they was, they would be paying for the funeral. And it sure as hell don’t make no difference to the folks we are buryin’.”

  As the discussion was going on, Nunnelee got help from a couple of the others, and the two bodies were loaded into the back of his wagon. Climbing back into the seat, he clucked at his mule, turned it around, and started back toward the mortuary.

  “All right, folks, nothin’ left to see out here now,” Marshal Ferrell said. “Get on back out of the street so traffic can get through. The stagecoach will be arrivin’ here soon, and you know how Don Pratt likes to whip up his team to make a show of it when he comes into town. I wouldn’t want to see any of you get run over.”

  “Hey, Nunnelee!” the man who was getting a shave called out to the undertaker. “You goin’ to put these two boys up on display like you done the other one?”

  Nunnelee neither replied nor looked around. But he did hold his hand up and wave a finger.

  “What do you think
that means?” the half-shaved man asked. “You think that’s a yes or a no?”

  As soon as the shooting was over, Meagan hurried down to the hotel to be with Duff, but he had gone out to check on the two downed men. She saw the deputy sitting on the porch, leaning back against the wall. He had taken off his hat and was holding it over a wound in his leg.

  “Deputy Pierce, you are hurt!” she said, squatting beside him.

  “I don’t think it’s too bad,” Pierce said, though his voice was strained with pain.

  “Let me see the wound,” Meagan said as, gently, she lifted his hat to see the dark red, nearly black hole of the bullet entry wound. “It’s not bleeding badly. That’s a good sign,” she said.

  By now a couple of other men had arrived.

  “We’ll look after him, ma’am,” one of the said. “No need for you to get all bloody.”

  “Thank you, Miss Parker,” Deputy Pierce said.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Meagan said.

  “You come to check on me,” Pierce said. “And for that, I thank you.”

  Meagan smiled at him, then moved to the edge of the porch to wait as the crowd in the street began to disperse and Duff came back to the hotel. He frowned when he saw her.

  “Were you outside when the shooting started?” he asked, concern for her showing in his voice.

  “I was in no danger,” she replied. “What about you? Are you all right? Were you hit or anything?”

  “I’ve nae a scratch,” Duff replied. “And it does nae look as if Deputy Pierce is bleeding all that much, so I do nae think the bullet hit an artery. Soon as we get him to the doctor I think he’ll fare all right.”

  “If you fellas will help me up, I’ll walk down to the doc’s office,” Deputy Pierce said.

  “Nonsense, Willie, my buckboard is right here,” one of the two men answered. “We’ll ride down.”

  After the bodies in the middle of the street were removed, the crowd dispersed, and Deputy Pierce taken down to the doctor’s office, Marshal Ferrell came over to the hotel. He touched the brim of his hat toward Meagan.

  “Good morning, Miss Parker.”

  “It appears to have been a busy morning, Marshal,” Meagan replied.

  “Yes, ma’am, you’ve got that right,” Marshal Ferrell replied. He looked around. “Where are my other two witnesses?” he asked.

  “They stepped inside,” Duff replied.

  Marshal Ferrell chuckled. “Stepped inside, did they? Well, I’ll just get them out here and we’ll go on down to the city court to do what we started out to do.”

  Marshal Ferrell went into the hotel, but the lobby appeared to be empty.

  “Hello? Anyone here? Where is everyone?”

  Mr. Helms, the desk clerk, stuck his head up from behind the desk.

  “Has the shooting stopped?”

  “Yes. Where are my witnesses?”

  “We’re back here, Marshal,” Caldwell said, stepping around from behind a big, potbellied stove. “The bullets were coming in here.”

  “Really?”

  “Indeed they were,” Mr. Helms said. “Look at this, will you? A bullet hit the ink well and got ink all over the hotel register book. Mr. Calhoun is very particular about his register books. He’s not going to like this. He’s not going to like this one little bit. I’m afraid he is going to be very angry with me.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Marshal Ferrell said. “I’ll tell him what happened.” He looked back at Caldwell and Cindy, neither of whom had fully presented themselves from behind the stove.

  “Come on, you two. We have a hearing to attend.”

  “Is it safe to come out now?” Caldwell asked.

  “It’s safe,” Marshal Ferrell said. “The outlaws are gone, and thanks to Mr. MacCallister, they left two of their dead behind them.”

  “Was Mr. MacCallister hit?” Cindy asked anxiously.

  “No, ma’am, didn’t get a scratch. If you folks are ready, we’ll get on down to the city courthouse.”

  “But, surely, after all this, you aren’t still going to have a hearing, are you?” Cindy asked.

  “Of course we are going to have a hearing. The whole purpose of their coming here to shoot up the town was to try and stop the hearings, but we aren’t going to let that happen, are we?”

  “You are sure they are all gone?” Caldwell asked. “I don’t want to be walking around outside when bullets are flying back and forth. I do have a family, you know.”

  “I know your family, Mr. Caldwell. You are married to a wonderful wife and you have good children, so I have no intention of putting you in danger. I’m positive they are all gone,” Marshal Ferrell said. “Come on, let’s go. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

  “I want to walk with Mr. MacCallister,” Cindy said. “I saw how brave he was.”

  Marshal Ferrell chuckled. “He was brave all right, but as for you walking with him, that might be a little difficult.”

  “Why is that?”

  “As you’ll see when you step outside, Duff already has a woman with him.”

  Cindy’s smile turned to a pout when she saw Meagan.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Johnny Taylor and the others didn’t break gallop until they were at least three miles out of town. Then they let the horses continue on at a lope that ate a lot of ground, but was less exhausting for the animals.

  “We’ve got to go back!” Leroy Blunt shouted in anguished anger. “That’s my brother we left lyin’ in the street back there!”

  “Yeah, and Al Short went down too,” Calhoun said. “We lost two good men and didn’t get a damn one of them.”

  “We got the deputy,” Johnny said. “I saw him go down.”

  “Hell, what good did that do? The deputy ain’t one of the ones that is goin’ to testify,” Evans said.

  “We got to go back!” Leroy Blunt said again.

  “You can go back if you want to,” Ike said. “But like as not, both of ’em is dead, so why take a chance?”

  “How do you know they are dead?” Leroy asked.

  “Because the feller shootin’ at us was Duff MacCallister. And he don’t miss all that much.”

  “Then that means you don’t really know whether they are dead or not. You’re just sayin’ that. And I say it ain’t right for us to just leave ’em there,” Leroy asked.

  “We all took an equal chance,” Ike said.

  “It ain’t right! It ain’t right, I tell you,” Leroy said.

  “We’re goin’ to go back because Emile is still there,” Johnny said. “And when we go back for Emile, why, we’ll also be goin’ back for Al and Jim.”

  “I tell you the truth, I ain’t all that anxious to go back,” Evans admitted. “We’ve been there twice now, and we’ve lost five men.”

  “Where do you get that we’ve lost five men?” Calhoun asked.

  “Julius, he was kilt. And Emile was took. And, like Ike said, it’s more’n likely, today, that Al and Jim got themselves kilt, too.”

  “That’s only four men,” Calhoun said.

  “Yeah, well, I was countin’ Harper as the fifth man. Even though he didn’t start out with us, you said he was doin’ somethin’ for us when he got hisself caught.”

  “Yeah, I forgot about him,” Calhoun said.

  “Don’t worry,” Johnny said. “I’ve got an idea that ain’t goin’ to get nobody else kilt. At least, not no more of us.”

  Justice of the Peace Richard Norton stepped through a rear door and viewed his court. Norton had never read for the law, and he was neither a lawyer nor a real judge. He was a justice of the peace, and had been appointed to the position by Governor John Hoyt. Norton wasn’t a tall man, but he was robust, with a square face and piercing blue eyes. He moved quickly to the bench, then sat down.

  Even though this was just a preliminary hearing, there were several townspeople present.

  “Be seated,” he said.

  The gallery sat, then watched with interes
t as Emile Taylor shuffled into the room, his legs hobbled with a fourteen-inch chain.

  Justice of the Peace Norton looked over at the prisoner, who glared at him contemptuously.

  “Mr. Taylor, are you of sufficient mind and intellect to understand what is going on here?”

  “Yeah, it’s a trial,” Emile replied. “How come I don’t see no jury?”

  “There is no jury, Mr. Taylor, because this is not a trial. This is a preliminary hearing. It is, however, adversarial.”

  “It’s what?”

  “Adversarial. That means that a prosecutor will present the case for the Territory of Wyoming, and you have a right to have an attorney to present your side. The prosecution has the burden to convince me that there is probable cause to believe that a crime was committed and that you committed it. The prosecutor may present witnesses, as well as physical and documentary evidence to satisfy this burden. Your lawyer will have the chance to make responsive arguments, to cross-examine the government’s witnesses, and to present witnesses and other evidence of his own in an effort to show that probable cause is lacking.”

  “I ain’t got no lawyer.”

  Justice of the Peace Norton looked over at Robert Dempster, who was sitting at the defense table.

  “Mr. Dempster, did you not visit with the accused, and inform him that you are his court-appointed attorney?”

  “I did, Your Honor.”

  “I just met him this mornin’,” Emile said. “What chance do I have with him as my lawyer?”

  “What chance did Danny Welch have?” someone shouted from the gallery. “He didn’t have no lawyer, and this murderin’ bastard shouldn’t either!”

  Justice of the Peace Norton banged his gavel on the bench and glared out over the gallery.

  “If one more person says one more word to interrupt these proceedings, I will clear this court.”

  The court grew quiet.

  “Mr. Taylor, on the fifth, instant, six men entered the Chugwater Bank and Trust with the intention of robbing it.”