Deadman's Lament (The Deadman Series Book 1)

by Linell Jeppsen

  O’Brian smiled and clasped the man’s hand. “Well, God knows we need a few more justices around these parts. Are you planning on serving papers around here?”

  Ike shook his head. “No, but there have been some disputes further east. And Yankee and Confederate sympathizers are fixing to start a whole new war up here and I’ve been sent to help divide the territories so the guilty parties can’t get their hands on each other.”

  O’Brian’s eyes got big as this was news to him. Clearing his throat he said, “Gawd damn, Idaho just got its territorial rights. What in blazes is going to happen now?”

  Ike grinned and said, “Don’t you worry none, Sheriff. Looks like you won’t be losing any territory; it’s just being shifted around a bit to help separate those groups. I don’t have the particulars yet but, from what I understand, nothing is going to change in this neck of the woods.

  Actually, Ike Nelson had kept a close eye on political maneuverings in Washington, D.C. He figured the only way a fellow like him could stay safe was if he had enough information to keep one step ahead of the powers-that-be. He had fled his hometown in Georgia before the war when he heard that Union troops were heading that way as he had no intention of being conscripted to fight or letting the war effort seize his property.

  Through careful research, Ike also knew which routes were safest from Indian attack, and where some of the richest wagon trains and coaches were located. He knew where railroad tracks were being laid and studied up on when and where the richest gold mines were. Those places had proven to be a veritable “goldmine” of easy money for a man like him.

  Now, standing up and moving to the window in Sheriff O’Brian’s jailhouse, Ike stared outside and said, “I ran into a young sheriff and his deputy this morning at that little restaurant down the street. I heard them talking about a posse to hunt down a fella by the name of Winston.”

  O’Brian nodded. “Yessir, they were. But that search has been called off. Seems like someone…” O’Brian stuttered to a stop and added, “Well, they must have been talking about you. They told me a man saw Winston heading west on a piebald this morning.”

  Ike nodded. “Yup, that was me alright. I coulda been wrong but you don’t see that kind of horse every day. Hope I was right to mention it?”

  “Oh, yes.” O’Brian nodded. “I’ve got a limited budget as it is. Finding out that my man skedaddled like I thought saved me a lot of money so you have my thanks.”

  Ike smiled and murmured, “You are welcome, Sheriff.” Then he frowned thoughtfully and asked, “Mr. O’Brian, I was admiring that other young sheriff in town…the pretty boy? Is he one of yours?”

  “Nope. That young man is out of Granville, a small town about twenty-five miles southwest of Spokane Falls. He took over the star when his uncle, Jonathon Wilcox, retired from sheriffing and started practicing law.”

  “Is Granville where the uncle practices law?” Ike’s heart swelled with relief. Looked like he had gotten all the intelligence his boss wanted in one stop.

  ‘Well, not normally,” O’Brian said. “Wilcox is the district attorney in Spokane Falls but he took over sheriff duties in Granville when his nephew took up the posse.”

  “What’s that posse after anyhow?” Ike asked.

  O’Brian scratched his head and sighed. “You’re not from around these parts so you wouldn’t have heard of them. But there is a bad bunch of outlaws here who go by the name of the Mad Hatters.”

  “Oh?” Ike exclaimed.

  “Yup,” O’Brian answered. “About half of them carry a pretty high warrant…one hundred to five hundred dollars reward money per arrest. I figure that young Matthew Wilcox is after some of that bounty money to boost his coffers.”

  “Ah…” Ike murmured. He had found through his years of banditry that young, ambitious sheriffs often staked their reputation on how much money they could raise while in office. Some of the most successful sheriffs and rangers in the country were wealthy with bounty money and shared that wealth with the local citizens. He tended to avoid those lawmen and their towns religiously.

  O’Brian grimaced, adding, “I woulda done it myself but this place is growing too damn fast for me and my boys to go chasin’ off after a bunch of highwaymen. Besides, usually when those crooks do get too close to home, I find some money in the form of damages sent my way to make up for the loss. I don’t like to take the cash but I gotta do whatever it takes to keep this town healthy.”

  Nelson was careful not to let his pride show. It had been his idea to buy off the Coeur d’ Alene sheriff in the first place and he was gratified now to hear that his plan had kept the gang safe for as long as it had.

  O’Brian stood up and said, “Well, I see that a carriage just rolled in. I think that might be the buggy Jon Wilcox sent to pick up one of his deputies who got shot last night. I best get going.”

  Ike Nelson stood as well and smiled. He was once a fine-looking young man who had set feminine hearts aflutter all up and down the Mississippi River in his cardsharping days. Some of that charm remained and, when he extended his hand to shake a final farewell, O’Brian had no idea he had just been seduced and robbed of vital information by Top Hat’s right-hand man.

  O’Brian said. “I wish you a safe journey into the Dakotas, Mr. Dodson. And be careful. The Nez Perce and Blackfoot are pretty riled up. If you stay on the main road, though, you should make out okay.”

  The sheriff and the outlaw shook hands a final time and then Ike Nelson stepped outside to get one last look at the gang’s quarry.

  Jon Wilcox stared at Higgins as he swayed in Matthew’s arms. Bandit whined in worry and kept close to the young man as he was helped into the buggy.

  “Get up, Bandit…Up! Up!” Matthew said. The wolf jumped in the buggy and sat down next to Bob.

  Matthew slammed the door shut and, looking in at Bob as Bandit anxiously licked his face, he said, “You heal up fast. I’ll be home before you know it. And make sure this wolf doesn’t come chasing after me this time, okay?”

  “Yes, sir, I will. See you soon!” Bob replied then let his head fall back on the seat.

  Matthew walked over to where Jonathon stood next to Mallon O’Brian. “Thank you, Uncle Jon. I really didn’t expect you to come all this way but I know Bob appreciates the kindness.”

  “It was my pleasure, son,” Jon said. “Here’s your money to pay off that crooked colonel.” The older man handed over a small wad of bills, which Matthew tucked in his vest.

  Thanking his uncle again, Matthew said, “I guess there are two deputies riding in from the east. They should be here by tonight.” Turning to Roy, he said, “Give Jon the warrants on those two rascals we got last night. They should fetch a hundred dollars apiece. Maybe that can go to paying you off and the doctor here in town.”

  “Yep,” Jon answered. “This will help.” Looking around at the bustling community, he added, “Maybe I ought to move my practice over here. I heard that folks were finding a lot of gold and silver around these parts but I didn’t realize how many people had come to the jubilee.”

  O’Brian exclaimed, “We could use another attorney in town, Mr. Wilcox.”

  Matthew nodded, smiling. “Yeah, an attorney might just make himself rich living here and then he would need to pay a bodyguard a handsome wage for protection.”

  Jon stared at his foster son and marveled anew. His brother had been a handsome cuss and Matthew carried his pa’s bone structure and muscle strength along with his mama’s golden hair and green eyes. No wonder half the young ladies in Granville were coming in on a daily basis to inquire after the whereabouts of their handsome young sheriff.

  Jon grinned. “And I take it you’re volunteering to be my bodyguard?”

  “Sure thing, Uncle. Roy and I both volunteer for the job…if we could ever pry you out of Spokane Falls, which I doubt.” Matthew chuckled along with the other men.

  Jon nodded. “Yeah, reckon you’ll bury me there when I’m done with life’s duties.”
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  A herd of low-flying clouds suddenly darkened the bright afternoon sunshine and a gust of wind rattled the tin plating on the doctor’s roof. Hearing thunder grumble in the distance, Jon tipped his hat and said, “Looks like a storm is blowing in. I would rather be home by my fire this evening than stuck out in a tempest, so I will say goodbye and get on my way.”

  Matthew’s hat flew off and tumbled down the boardwalk a few feet. Chasing after it, he snagged it by the rim and screwed it tightly on his head. He was just about to turn around and wish his uncle farewell when he noticed Clarence Dodson mount his horse about a hundred feet down the road. The man’s cherry-red roan did a little crow hop and Matthew saw the twinkle of Mexican Conchos scattered here and there on the saddle.

  Interesting hardware for a salesman, Matthew mused, and then tipped his hat at Dodson’s friendly wave. Shivering a little in the cool and gloomy wind, Matthew shook his uncle’s hand and watched as he took off for home.

  Chapter 20

  A Sorry Sight to See

  Matthew and Roy were just sitting down to dinner when three men stepped inside the restaurant, looked around, then approached their table. Although they were damp from the rain that had started up earlier and their boots were filthy with mud, it was obvious to Matthew that the newest members of his posse had arrived.

  Standing up, he smiled and held out his hand. “You must be the deputies in from Wallace and Worley.”

  “Yes, sir. My name is Travis Hitchcock from Worley,” an older man said. “And these two are from Wallace.” Pointing to the men behind him, he added, “Earl Eggars and Hoss Jenkins.”

  The two men smiled and shook hands as Matthew introduced Roy Smithers. “Pull up a stump and eat something…Henrietta makes some pretty good chuck,” Roy said as the three deputies hung their dripping coats on pegs by the front door.

  “I heard that,” Henrietta cried. “Venison stew and sourdough for dinner, boys…want some?”

  The heavyset woman had been in front of her stove since dawn and yet she still carried a smile for everyone who walked into her restaurant. Of the two eateries in town, this one was by far Matthew’s favorite. Although plain with its rough plank floors and oilskin curtains, Henrietta kept it as clean as possible, warm with laughter, and filled with simple but tasty food.

  The fancy place across the street with its white tablecloths and crystal chandeliers carried the cloying stench of high society. Technically, Matthew and his family were high society if money was the measure of such stuff and nonsense. But he had never felt comfortable with the gaudy trappings of wealth.

  Matthew and Jon both lived simple lives, although Jon’s wife Margie had tried to gild the lily a few times over the years. Both men knew how to use their cutlery in a pinch—and dance a waltz if necessary—but they were most at home in simple company and with plain folk.

  “Yes, ma’am, thank you,” Travis said and sat down at the table as the two other men pulled up chairs. Sheriff Wilcox and his new posse ate dinner and talked long into the evening about how to go about chasing down Top Hat’s gang.

  “You know,” Travis said, “it’s hard sometimes figuring out who the outlaws are around here. You got your mine bosses who ride herd on those miners something fierce and, to my mind, some of those turds should spend the rest of their lives in jail. Then you got your Pinkertons. They like to act civilized but, in truth, some of those men are scarier than the outlaws they claim to be hunting down.”

  He gave a disgusted sigh and finished off the last bite of huckleberry pie on his plate. “And the criminals themselves, hell…” he continued. “Some of those boys are so rich they just sell the law off to the highest bidder. Shoot, Deadwood is a good example. That town is run by crooks and no lawman in his right mind wants to go afoul of the power in that place.”

  Matthew had listened to Travis Hitchcock for over a half hour and taken many notes on the man’s viewpoints which seemed sensible and well thought-out. However, there was a strange note of shame underlying the man’s words that made Matthew uncomfortable.

  Deciding to deal with the problem directly, he said, “I wonder, do you know where Top Hat and his boys are now?”

  Travis nodded. “Yeah, mostly, although the whole bunch of them seems to be on the move further east lately. Something has got ‘em riled up.” The middle-aged man stared into Matthew’s eyes.

  “Son, all of us are very aware of where those boys are, all of the time. We have to be…they are the worst bunch of crooks we have ever had the displeasure to lay eyes on.” Turning to Jenkins, he said, “You tell him, Hoss.”

  Hoss was a heavy man in his mid-thirties with sun-chapped skin and kindly blue eyes. Looking over at Matthew, he said, “Sheriff Wilcox, with all due respect, I can see you are itching to go nab these scoundrels just as fast as you can get your hands on them. Am I right?”

  Matthew could feel a hint of censure coming his way, but what Hoss said was true. “Yes,” he agreed. “I have a history with the leader of that gang and I want to grab as many of those boys as possible before every bounty hunter in three territories show up and beat us to the punch.”

  The big deputy nodded. “We all want that, sir,” he replied. “Problem is, most of us have just been trying to stay the hell out of the way and keep our people safe.” His face had turned an alarming rose color and he mopped a large, white kerchief over his sweating brow.

  “It’s one thing when you’re dealing with a regular ruffian or a simple bandit, but the Mad Hatters are a different breed, Sheriff.” Hoss was leaning over the table now, eyes boring into Matthew’s face.

  “I have come across things those boys have done that made me lose my breakfast, sir. They have raped women, young girls—and boys, by God—then slit their throats for the sheer fun of it,” he hissed. “There is no rhyme or reason for it either. There have been survivors who told me that, although the victims gave up all their worldly goods without complaint, Razor Head goes all hog-wild and kills them anyway!” He sat back in his chair, chest heaving with anxiety.

  Travis patted the younger man on the back and murmured, “Calm down, son.” Then he turned to Matthew.

  “The same goes for me and Earl here, Sheriff. God knows we have tried and we have nabbed a few of them, too. But taking the whole bunch down is a hard proposition. Every time our sheriffs step up to put an end to things, we suffer for it. They have burned whole farms and towns; they have hung innocent men up in trees to serve as a warning. I’m sorry, Sheriff, but I can see in your eyes you think we are cowards and we are not.”

  Matthew stared across at the three men who gazed back at him in shame and defiance. He suddenly realized that he had indeed been acting about half-disgusted with the lot of them and he felt like an arrogant pup, self-important and naïve.

  He dipped his head and murmured, “No. I am the one who is sorry…for your losses and for my attitude. But that changes now.” Turning to Roy, he added, “My deputy and I welcome your company and all the advice you have to share.

  Matthew saw Henrietta close the front door to the restaurant and turn a sign on the window that read CLOSED. Looking down at his pocket watch, he said, “It’s getting late, boys. If we’re going to head out first thing in the morning, we should all get some shut-eye, don’t you think?”

  Nodding and yawning, the five men stood up, thanked the restaurant owner, and trooped outside to the local boarding house to catch some sleep. Matthew was the last one out the door and he fished in his pocket for a moment, finally finding a ten-dollar bill. Handing it to Henrietta, he said, “Thank you, ma’am, for your fine food and good service.”

  Her eyes got big and she said, “Son, that is way too much money!” But her cheeks had turned pink with excitement as she figured ten dollars would buy enough foodstuffs to make a profit two months in a row.

  Matthew knew it and he smiled. “That’s alright, ma’am. Maybe next time me and my boys come in, you can sport us a free dinner?”

  Her face clouded up and
she clutched his hand in hers. “Listen, Sheriff, I couldn’t help but overhear what you boys were saying…and Mr. Hitchcock is correct. Sometimes it’s just best to leave a rattlesnake in its hole.” She cleared her throat and added, “I have been to too many funerals in the last couple of years and I think my old heart would break if I had to attend yours as well.”

  Matthew held the woman’s hand for a moment. Then he tipped his hat, winked and said, “We’ll be alright, ma’am. Just make sure you have some of that good pie left for when we return.”

  Henrietta watched as the handsome young sheriff walked out the door and tried not to shiver at the goose she felt walking over her grave.

  The next morning was clear and cool when Matthew and his posse mounted up. They planned to head northeast into the Silver Valley area; Travis had heard that a couple of gang members were terrorizing a brothel just outside of one of the bigger mines.

  Apparently, the miners—drunk and exhausted from their toils—were easy pickings as they took their meager paychecks to the whorehouse for some relaxation and relief. Even worse, it sounded like the madam of that establishment was being coerced into paying outrageous protection fees just to keep her girls from being beaten and robbed blind.

  They were about ten miles out of town when Eggars said, “This ought to be a cakewalk, sir. Seems to me, all we need to do is hide in amongst the trees and nab those rascals as they come a ridin’ up.”

  “Sounds good, Earl,” Matthew said.

  Then he gazed across a muddy field at a crowd of men standing, sitting, and walking slowly behind a high fence at the foot of a stony bluff. Covered in dirt and soot, they looked to be sagging with exhaustion. Other men sat on horses and stared down at them with sullen expressions, cracking long coiled whips in the air and barking orders.

  Matthew saw something else. Well-dressed gentlemen in suits and ties—smoking cigars and chatting—stood far away from the mud inside of the fenced area. Matthew brought his horse to a stop and asked, “What is that over there? A prison?”