by Dani Amore
“I can’t prove Jeffire thought the two were linked. I’m just guessing.”
“I’d like to catch one of these Rectifiers,” Bird said. “Most vigilantes I’ve known are cowards. The men who stand up in church and sing the loudest.”
She looked at Tower. “Don’t mean to insult the church.”
Tower smiled. “No, I know what you mean. No shortage of folks who love to come and pray for forgiveness then run right out and do whatever they damn well please.”
“Well, according to Putti, the Rectifiers operated mostly out of Big River,” Tower continued. “And we both know that nothing happens in Big River without the approval of one Joseph Parker.”
Bird nodded. “I’ll grant you that. But that just creates a hell of a lot more questions. Like if the Rectifiers are somehow behind all of this, and the bodies at Killer’s Draw seem to indicate that—”
“Or that’s what someone wants us to think,” Tower offered.
“Parker would have to be in cahoots with the Rectifiers,” Bird continued. “So then, why was his wife killed? And if you think he is the P in the note we found on Downwind Dave, ordering the killing of Verhooven, why did he do that?”
Tower finished wrapping up his back and got up from the bed, stifling a groan as his ribs screamed in protest.
“I don’t have the answers, Bird, but I suspect we’ll find them in Big River.”
Seventy-Seven
They rode into a ghost town.
Bird had never seen Big River with so few people out and about. Even the cattle yards seemed quiet.
“I’m going to the hotel to see if any of my belongings survived,” Tower said. “I don’t think there’s much of a chance, but it’s worth a look. Once I take a look, we should head over to the club. That’s probably where everyone is, anyway.”
“You do that, Mr. Tower,” Bird said. “I’m going to go over to the saloon and see if there’s any whiskey left. If there is, I’m going to restock my supply,” Bird said.
They parted ways, and Bird rode directly to the saloon in the center of town. It was the first time she had ever seen the watering hole without even a single horse tied at the hitching post. She had a brief moment of panic where she wondered if there would even be a bartender on duty. That would be a disaster. Then again, she thought, it might mean that everything behind the bar was free.
She tied the Appaloosa to the hitching post while it drank deeply from the water trough. “I’m about to do the same thing, girl,” Bird said. She went into the saloon and saw two old cowboys at a far table and a bartender behind the bar; other than those three patrons, the place was empty.
Bird went to the bar. “A glass of whiskey and two bottles. One open. One for the trail. The good stuff. I don’t care how much it costs.”
“Isn’t it all good?” the bartender asked. He was a middle-aged man with a head of thinning red hair and a bright-red bulbous nose. Bird pegged him as a former drinker. Probably got too fond of his own inventory.
“That’s what I always thought,” she answered. “Come to find out it isn’t exactly true.”
The barman reached under the bar and came out with two bottles and a glass. He opened one, splashed the glass full of whiskey, and set the other bottle in front of Bird. She counted out her money, laid it down, then tossed back the whiskey with purpose.
It was smooth and smoky, and it warmed without burning. This was definitely the good stuff, she thought as she poured herself another. Her stomach wouldn’t be spitting out this stuff. She wouldn’t let it after paying that much.
“So, where the hell is everyone?” Bird asked the bartender, who had already turned his back on her to dry some glasses that couldn’t possibly have been used recently.
He answered without turning to face her. “I heard tell there was some big meeting with the men from the club.”
“Are they there?”
He set down the glass he was polishing and walked back to Bird. He shot a glance over at the old cowboys who weren’t paying them any attention, then looked at her directly.
“Bartenders love to give advice,” he said. “So, even though you didn’t ask for any, I’m going to give you some.”
“I love advice—it helps me know what not to do,” Bird said.
“I know you’re Bird Hitchcock and you can handle those guns of yours,” he admitted, glancing down at the pistols tied down to each of her thighs. “But whatever business those men are engaged in, I would just leave them be if I were you.”
“Well, you aren’t me, that’s for damn sure. Otherwise you’d be drinking, not serving.”
“They don’t care to be trifled with. Especially now. You ride out there and stick your nose in, it might be the last thing you ever do.”
Bird smiled.
“You might know who I am. But you clearly don’t know what I can and will do.”
She grabbed the bottles.
“Now, I’ve got to go find that goddamned preacher.”
Seventy-Eight
Tower wasn’t surprised to find his room empty and his few belongings in a closet behind the hotel’s front desk.
“This is all that was in there when we cleaned it out,” the clerk said. She was a dour woman wearing a dark-blue dress and a tired expression. She handed Tower a bag that held some clothes.
“Policy is to clean out the room if it hasn’t been paid for. Did it myself and that’s all there was.”
Tower could tell she wasn’t telling the whole truth, but it was also clear that she looked somewhat guilty and ashamed, so he just took the bag and looked inside. Just his clothes. Everything else, including the paperwork from Martha Jeffire, was gone.
“We’ve all got to follow the rules, don’t we?” he asked.
She shrugged her shoulders.
He left the hotel, put his belongings in his saddlebags, and rode to the saloon. Bird was just walking out with a bottle of whiskey in her hand.
“How long have you been out here?” she asked, as she untied the Appaloosa and climbed up.
“Long enough to appreciate the peace and quiet,” he answered. “I don’t think it’s going to last very long.
They turned their horses and headed down the street toward the Big River Club.
“Find anything at the hotel?” Bird asked.
Tower shook his head. “Everything was gone. I’m guessing once those lawyer brothers surprised you and got word that you had actually left town, they went right into my room and cleaned everything out.”
“I sure do hope we run into those boys,” Bird said. “It’s been too long since I’ve shot a lawyer.”
“Did you find out anything at the saloon?” Tower asked. “Was there even anyone in there?”
“Unfortunately, there was, otherwise I could have just helped myself to their beverages and saved myself someone money.” She glanced over at him. “You want to know what was free, though? Advice. The helpful barkeep recommended I leave the men of Big River alone while they handled whatever it is they’re apparently trying to resolve.”
“What did you say to that recommendation?”
“Let’s just say I let him live. I don’t kill a bartender unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
They approached the club, and the streets were still strangely absent of people. Across the way, all of the rocking chairs on the boardinghouse’s porch were empty.
“This is so strange,” he said to Bird. “I get the feeling everyone is hunkered down behind their doors, rifles at the ready, waiting for the bullets to start crashing through the windows.”
“I tell you what, I like the town a lot more this way,” Bird said. “The fewer people, the better this place is.”
“That sounds antisocial,” Tower said.
“As long as there are horses and whiskey, I’m fine,” Bird said. “What I don’t need are a bunch of lying, sneaky, scared folks too cowardly to do what needs to be done.”
They arrived at the Big River Club and again, no sign o
f people, horses, or activity at all.
Tower climbed off his horse, climbed the stairs, and pulled on the front door. It was locked.
“They’re closed?” Bird asked. “Why am I not surprised? Probably the first time in the history of this wonderful community.”
Tower looked around.
“Let’s try the Cattlemen's Association.”
They walked their horses over to the WCA, found another closed front door, and knocked.
Tower stepped back as the door swung inward and the face of the same woman who’d greeted Tower previously now appeared. When she saw him, and remembered his questioning of Joseph Parker, the half-smile on her face faltered.
“I’m sorry, sir, we’re closed today,” she said, and began to shut the door.
“Is this some kind of holiday no one told us about?” Bird, still on her horse in the street, asked. “You know, The Big River Run Away and Hide Festival?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” the woman said.
“Well, I have some information Mr. Parker would deem to be very, very important,” Tower said. “Do you know where he is?”
The woman contemplated which avenue of action would bring her the least recriminations.
“Mr. Parker would be very upset if he finds out you prevented him from getting this information,” Tower added. “Very upset.”
The woman’s decision came quickly. “He’s most likely at his ranch but I would strongly urge you not to bother him. He and some other men are having a very important meeting. They don’t wish to be interrupted.”
Tower turned to Bird.
“We’re pretty important people, too, aren’t we?”
“Of course we are,” Bird said. “Hell, you talk to God all the time. How much more important can a person be?”
Seventy-Nine
They trotted their horses through the main street of Big River, on their way out of town.
“I’ll be so happy when we can leave this place once and for all,” Bird said.
“Agreed,” Tower responded. “And I think the feeling is mutual.”
On the horizon, storm clouds gathered and Tower saw a flash of lightning to the west.
He was just about to put his horse to a gallop when he heard the shout.
“Preacher!” a voice called out.
Tower turned in the saddle and saw the doctor walking quickly toward them.
“Jesus Christ,” Bird said to Tower. “You just saw a doctor! My God, you are in constant need of medical attention, aren’t you?”
“He’s probably looking for you,” Tower answered.
The doctor reached them and looked up at Tower.
“We’re in a bit of a hurry, here, doc,” Tower said. “Is this important?”
“I need your help,” the old man said.
“Why aren’t you off at Parker’s ranch with the rest of them?” Bird interjected.
The doctor shook his head. “I’m not one of them. I don’t get involved in their shenanigans—not that I’ve ever been invited. The only time I’m asked to do anything is afterward, when someone needs patching up.”
“So, what can we do for you?” Tower asked. He glanced up at the sun and estimated how many hours of daylight they had left to get to Parker’s ranch. The storm clouds bothered him as well. If it rained hard, it would make tracking anyone much more difficult.
“It’s Frannie,” the doctor said. “I don’t know where she is and I’m a little bit worried about her with everything that’s going on.”
Tower remembered the young female assistant who had helped nurse him after the dynamite blast.
“How long has she been missing?”
“She didn’t show up yesterday or today.”
“Maybe she’s sick or something,” Bird offered.
“I don’t think so,” the doctor said. He looked a bit sheepish.
Tower noticed the man’s expression. “What’s really bothering you, doc? I’m getting real tired of everyone in this town keeping secrets.”
The old man looked back toward town, then up at Tower. “It’s just that, I don’t know where she lives. She’s a very private person.”
“She didn’t tell you where she lives?” Tower asked. “It never even came up in conversation?”
“It’s not that she didn’t tell me, it’s just that she was vague. I didn’t think too much of it when she told me about living north of town with some out-of-work schoolteachers. It wasn’t until she didn’t come in that I realized I didn’t know exactly where she lived. And then I started to wonder about why I never saw these schoolteachers she said she was living with. I assumed maybe they lived closer to Harlan’s Crossing or something. But it occurred to me that I never saw Frannie with anyone else.”
Something began tugging at Tower’s memory.
“How long has she worked for you?” Bird asked.
“She came by last spring and said she had just finished nursing school. She never said where, though, and when I asked I think she mentioned a hospital I’d never heard of. But she was nice, and very serious. No matter what condition a patient was in, missing limbs, gutshot, Frannie never flinched. The girl is fearless.”
“We’re heading out that way,” Tower said to the doctor. “We’ll do what we can.”
“Thank you,” he said.
Bird and Tower turned back to the trail and put heels to their horses.
“Last spring?” Bird asked.
Tower glanced over at her.
“Yes. That would have been right around the same time Bertram Egans arrived in Big River.”
Eighty
“She’s the one they’re looking for, aren’t they?” Bird asked Tower as they rode toward the Parker spread.
“It’s an assumption right now,” he said. “No way to prove it, but it feels right.”
They didn’t say anything as they climbed a rocky hill, then made their way down the other side. At the bottom, the grass was thick with standing water and mud. The horses slowed to a walk.
Bird took the opportunity to fortify herself with whiskey and share her thoughts on the missing girl.
“I’ve got a theory,” Bird said to Tower.
“Let’s hear it.”
“Well, you remember that we had the idea this lady of ill repute may have come West and continued her old life, or started a new one?”
“I recall that.”
“Well, what if—”
Before she could finish the thought, they climbed out of the trough of thick mud to a rise in the trail where three men on horseback waited.
Instinctively, Bird moved away from Tower before she brought the Appaloosa to a stop. More space between them made a wider target. The wider the target, the harder to hit.
She studied the three men, all of whom wore flour sacks on their heads, with holes cut out for the eyes and the mouth. To some, the sight might look sinister; to Bird, it looked ridiculous.
She and Tower stopped when they were within speaking distance.
“You know, there’s no point in wearing those silly masks—everyone knows who you fools are,” Bird said.
“I suggest you two turn around and go back to town,” the one in the middle said. “You’re about five seconds away from getting a bullet in the head.”
The voice was instantly recognizable to Bird, even slightly muffled by the cloth.
“I don’t think we can do that,” Tower said. “We’re looking for someone and since we’re not wearing masks, it seems like we’ve got nothing to hide. In other words, we’re on the right side of the law. Unlike you men.”
The men on the ends both laughed.
The one in the middle said, “Actually, we are the law. If anyone is on the right side, it’s us. Not you. So, let me say it one last time. Turn around, go back to town, or die out here, right now.”
“Why do I have a feeling as soon as we turn around you’ll shoot us in the back?” Tower asked.
“I’d say you have a problem tru
sting people,” the one in the middle said.
“The preacher here won’t say it, so I will,” Bird said. “All three of you goddamned idiots can go straight to hell.”
The man on Bird’s right drew first. The move was so laborious and unnatural that she almost felt bad shooting him out of the saddle. The man on the far left was better with a gun, his motion was faster, but still rushed and awkward. His pistol almost cleared leather before she put two bullets into the shirt pocket over his left breast. He slid sideways out of his saddle, landed on the ground with a foot still in the stirrup, and his horse took off, dragging him behind.
The man in the middle who’d been doing the talking was so slow to react that Bird had no idea what he was going to do—neither did he, clearly.
Bird read his mind. He could turn and ride back the other way, but his job was to stop anyone going in that direction. He would have to come up with a lie about what happened, maybe claim they’d been ambushed.
Or he could ride off to either side and try to circle back to Big River, then come up with a story.
She made his decision for him.
“You’ve got two choices, Sheriff Chesser.”
Bird saw his shoulders slump and he pulled off his sack.
“You can live or you can die,” she continued. “If you want to live, drop your guns now. And since you like five seconds as a time frame, I’ll give you that same amount. Do it now or die. It’s that simple.”
Chesser dropped his guns and held up his hands.
“Jesus, but you are a weak man, Chesser,” Bird said. “You could have at least thrown some of your wooden fish at us or something. That was a pretty pathetic display for a lawman.”
“Please, I just want to keep my job,” the sheriff said. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I’m sure it’s quite the opposite,” Tower said. “Why don’t you help us out and tell us what’s going on.”
“I don’t think I can do that,” Chesser said.
“What, are you worried someone might hurt you?” Bird asked. “If that’s the case, I suggest you take a good look at me and then look at your friend down there kissing the dirt.”