Cotton's Law (9781101553848)
Page 25
“Never thought about it.”
“Havens was not stupid. He was cunning and clever. He never did anything without a well-thought-out reason. And that’s what we’ve got here, pardner, a reason.”
The waitress came with the coffee and pie. Accompanying them was a silly grin left over from Cotton’s clever deduction as to the day’s dessert. She did, however, have on a clean apron.
Chapter 53
“I reckon you got me, Cotton. I never gave none of that any thought.”
“Yeah, well that’s not all, not by a long shot.” Cotton forked off a piece of pie, then slipped it into his mouth. He took a sip of coffee, dabbed at his lips, and leaned forward. “Consider this. You were with me when Thorn came ridin’ into town with the money in those four satchels, right?”
“Yep.”
“What was it he told us about seein’ Havens take his buggy and head east?”
“Uh, he said he thought it curious for Havens to leave town so close to time for the bank to open, so, after finding the bank empty, he saddled up his horse and followed the buggy out of town. Caught up to him too late to save him from a crowd of angry men, though.” Jack sipped his coffee with a frown.
“And when he came into town drivin’ Havens’s rig, where was Thorn’s horse?”
The look on Jack’s face was more than just surprise; it was a mixture of realization that what had seemed so clear and simple had turned muddy and complex, along with a touch of self-recrimination for not making the connection himself.
“Damn!”
“Another thing, I looked the ground over real good where we found Havens, and there was no evidence of any gang of horsemen trackin’ up the surrounds.”
“So you’re sayin’ there were no vigilantes lookin’ to even a score?”
“That’s the way the signs read.”
“Mrs. Blanchard’s bunch of angry ranchers didn’t take retribution on the thievin’ banker?”
“Not the way I see it.”
“That means Thorn had to have been the shooter,” Jack said with a scowl. “I said it before, and I’ll say it again, I never did trust that fella. But how’d he get out to where he shot Havens?”
“I figure he went out with Bart, or maybe made him go at gunpoint. Could have plugged him along the way.”
“What about his horse?”
“Maybe he left it tied up just outside of town. I don’t know. Doesn’t really matter.”
“So Thorn had a plan of his own from the beginning?”
“I’d say it happened about that way. That’s probably why he wanted to get me aside early on and convince me he was a marshal disguised as a gunslinger. Likely he did that to keep one of us from shootin’ him.”
“Why would he think we’d shoot him?”
“He probably knew the others were like as not to explode at any moment, like a jug of nitroglycerin lyin’ in the sun. Very unstable. He wanted to separate himself from the scum.”
Jack stared at his plate for a moment, then took a sip of coffee. He wasn’t through with his questions, and Cotton must have seen by the way he frowned over the top of his cup that he was mulling over something that didn’t quite fit. Then, like a jackrabbit flushed from the brush by a coyote, Jack put his cup down and looked at Cotton with narrowed eyes.
“Since he brought the money back, what the hell did Thorn gain by his tomfoolery?”
“Everything he came here to get, he got.” Cotton downed the last drops of coffee and scooted his chair back. He started to get up, when Jack took hold of his sleeve.
“Uh, and just what was that? That ‘everything’ stuff?”
“He came for all of Havens’s money and a beautiful woman, to boot.”
“Delilah?”
“Why don’t you go up and ask her about him?”
Jack got up, put his hat on his head, and said, “I think I’ll do just that.”
Cotton went outside while Jack asked the desk clerk if Delilah was in. The sheriff had strolled halfway down the street when Jack came running after him.
“Damn! You knew, didn’t you?”
“Yep.”
“When did you figure it out?”
“When I saw her gettin’ on the Silver City stage just before Thorn came back with the buggy.”
Jack’s face went ashen. He and Delilah went back a long way. In fact, at one time he was sure he was in love with her, thought marriage might even be in the works. Things hadn’t worked out for them, but he still had deep feelings for her. He’d even shared her bed when Melody was gone. The spark was still there. For whatever reason, he was crushed by the revelation that she might have had something to do with Thorn McCann killing Havens and, perhaps, even played a part in getting away with Havens’s money. Jack stood shaking his head. His eyebrows loomed dark over eyes that seemed to search for a more simplistic answer, but he was greeted by no such revelation. He didn’t even want to consider the worst about the beautiful Delilah Jones. “Damn!” he muttered, again. “Then the satchels that Thorn brought to town weren’t all of them?”
“That’s the way I figure it. McCann got away with every penny of Havens’s money, and nobody will ever be the wiser.”
“What do you mean? Aren’t we goin’ after him? Make him pay for what he did?” Jack said, surprise on his face.
“Nope.” Cotton continued on to the jail. Jack noticed his strides were more purposeful than before, his apparent resolve showing in his calm expression, and now likely his desire to push it all behind him would become uppermost in his mind.
“Why? If he’s guilty, shouldn’t he pay?”
“Yeah, I expect he should. But there are a few pieces of information missing that would make that impossible.”
“Like what? We know he did it.”
“Like how much money did Havens have? Where are his records? Did anybody see Thorn with other valises of money? If they had, did they know what was in them? Can we prove one thing I’ve just said?”
Jack sank onto the bench outside the jail. He seemed overwhelmed with the whole convoluted scheme. “Damn Havens for ever coming here,” he growled. “And damn Thorn McCann, too.”
“I agree with you, Jack, but there is not one single thing we can do about it. Looks to me like he’s gotten away with a perfect crime.”
“And maybe with a perfect woman, too,” Jack said, sadly, glancing across the street to Melody’s Golden Palace of Pleasure, just as she walked out on the porch, surveying the street. She gave him a slight wave, then went back inside. He wondered if he had ever loved Melody in the way he had once loved Delilah.
He had no answer for that.
“You’re in charge, pardner; I’m ridin’ out to tell Emily what’s happened. She’ll be relieved.” Cotton had no more than gotten five steps out the door, than he heard his name being called. He turned to see Darnell Givins hurrying toward him. He had a fistful of greenbacks and he was waving them in the air.
“Sheriff, Sheriff! Look at what I found!”
“What is it, Darnell? Just looks like money to me. Since you’re the bank president, I’d figure seeing greenbacks wouldn’t come as any surprise to you.”
“Well, it surely has this time.”
“And why would that be?”
“Because it is all counterfeit!”
“What! All that money McCann brought back to town was phony?”
“Nope. What he brought back was fine, the genuine article. What this is came from the various businesses that accepted the bills tendered by Havens’s gunslingers. They paid for drinks, clothing, ammunition, hotel rooms, whores—all of it in counterfeit paper. What do you think about that?”
“I think you’ve just completed the puzzle by supplying the last piece.”
Jack stepped outside after hearing Darnell’s explanation of what he’d found. “How does finding that some of Havens’s money was fake prove anything new?”
“Don’t you see, Jack? Bart didn’t have the money everybody thought he
had. He found someone to counterfeit enough to hire himself some pistoleros long enough to rape the town by offering no-interest loans to attract folks to put their money in his bank. That was his whole plan in the first place. He wanted to kill me and take his revenge. As soon as he had enough, he was going to take off. Problem was, you and I proved too tough for his gunslingers, so he had to depart ahead of schedule. He didn’t figure on Comanche Dan turning out to be a ringer, either.”
“Havens outsmarted himself and it cost him his life,” Jack mused, rubbing his chin as a satisfied grin came across his face.
“Simple as that.”
“You suppose McCann knew what was in those valises of Havens’s?”
“Depends on whether Delilah knew. He’ll figure it out one way or another, and I suspect it’ll occur pretty soon. About the time he tries to buy something with some of it.”
Three days later, as Cotton was cleaning his Colt, the telegraph operator burst into his office, out of breath.
“What’s got you ready to explode?”
“Got this here telegram for you. Sounds important.” The man leaned on the sheriff’s desk, panting, waving his hat to cool himself off.
Cotton unfolded the paper and read it. A wry smile curled his lips. It read:
COME TO SILVER CITY. NEED HELP. GOING TO
HANG.
THORN MCCANN
Cotton thanked the operator, shook his head, and continued cleaning his gun.