by Jon Sharpe
Lenihan met Fargo’s gaze, held it for a moment. Then he sighed. “They lied to me.”
“How’d you figure that out?”
“Like I said, I knew them since they were little kids. I asked them if they’d held up the stage and they said they hadn’t but I knew better.”
“And what did you do?”
“I told them that people thought I’d set it up for them. Told them about the money. I asked them to tell the truth. But then Clete—he was always the weakest one—he said if he told the truth they’d hang him. The driver and that Englishman died.”
“What did the others do?”
“They told him to shut up. They told me he was lying. They told me to leave or they’d make trouble for me. They said if I told anybody what I knew they’d swear I was part of it and I’d hang, too.”
“You should’ve gone to Cain.”
From a stone ashtray on the counter Lenihan took a pipe. The bowl was comfortably blackened from years of smoking. He didn’t light it. He just started turning it over and over in his hand. It was like a substitute for a rosary. Something to give him strength. “Think about it, Fargo. If I’d gone to Cain and he’d rounded up the boys they would have lied and told him I was part of it. He’d have made sure that I hung first. There was no way I could go to him.”
“Not even when the boys started dying?”
“By then it was out of hand. The whole town thought I was in the middle of it. People who’d been my friends for years started acting suspicious around me, like I was a criminal they couldn’t trust. The stage line even sent two men out here to interview me a week ago. There’s a chance I’ll be fired. I thought of asking Amy to leave town with me but if I left that would convince everybody I was guilty. And they’d follow me. No matter where I went, somebody from Cawthorne would keep track of me. And maybe someday they’d turn up some piece of fake evidence—” He stopped. He pointed to the bank bag with his pipe. “Like this.”
“I’ve already shown this to Cain.”
“So you think I’m guilty, too?”
“I think it looks bad for you. But I’ve got some doubts. I told Cain about them. You two hate each other so much there’s no chance either one of you would listen to reason.” Fargo dug into his pocket and pulled out the badge. “I even had him deputize me so I could bring you in myself.”
“You’re bringing me in?”
“That’s my job.”
“Once Cain gets his hands on me—”
“Pete Rule doesn’t think you had anything to do with it.”
“Pete’s one of the few people who’ve stood by me.”
“And I have my doubts. So I don’t see how Cain can make any sudden moves. I was going to leave town myself but now I’m going to stay to see this through. You may be guilty but I haven’t proved that to my own satisfaction yet. The bank bag looks sort of coincidental to me.”
“Coincidental how?”
“The way it was buried. The fact that you kept it at all. You explained your meeting with the boys that night at the creek. I don’t know if it’s true but for now it sounds reasonable enough.”
“What happens if Cain decides to shoot me when you or Pete aren’t there? Tries to say I made a break for it or something?”
“Then I’ll take care of Cain. And I’ll tell him that when I bring you in.”
“You talk like that to Tom Cain?”
Fargo shrugged. “We go back a ways. I know him pretty well. He’s tough but not that tough and he wouldn’t want to go up against me.”
“He could be behind it, you know.”
“You’ve said that and I’ve thought that. But right now I don’t have any evidence of that. I want to talk to the Raines brothers. They’re not very smart but you wouldn’t have to be smart to set this up.”
Lenihan shook his head. Stared down at the counter. “I thought everything was going to work out. Amy and I would get married and move in together. And then this robbery came up. It’ll never be the same for us again, no matter how it turns out.”
“Come on, close the place up. I’ll take you down the alley so nobody’ll see us.”
“In handcuffs?”
“You think I’ll need handcuffs?”
“I don’t have a gun. Or a knife.”
“Then I don’t see any reason for them.”
“I thought everything was going to work out,” Lenihan said again.
Fargo watched as the stage line closed up for the night.
On the blackboard no coaches were scheduled to arrive until the next morning. Lenihan had a sheepskin coat. He shrugged into it after everything was set to order. Then he glumly blew out the lantern and they went outside and along the side of the building to the alley.
Fargo was glad that he didn’t have to use handcuffs.
12
Pete Rule opened the back door of the sheriff’s office.
The lantern in his hand poured light into the darkening alley, showing the worried face of Ned Lenihan. Fargo nudged the man inside with his Colt. Once inside, Rule bolted the door. He followed the other two up front to where Cain was talking to two of his night deputies.
Fargo had never seen them before. There was no doubt about what they were. Gunfighters. One middle-aged and worn, the other young and exuding cockiness and malice. They were both the type you used at night to keep the peace. You wouldn’t want them on the prowl during daylight hours when the majority of decent citizens were out and about. Childish grins split their faces when they saw Lenihan. These two liked to gossip as much as anybody. Making sure everybody knew how important they were. And for sure within half an hour at least half the population of Cawthorne would know about Ned Lenihan being here.
“You boys get going now,” Cain said, glancing at Lenihan and Fargo, trying to pretend that he wasn’t especially interested in either of them. “It’s dark and the fun’ll start soon.”
The two deputies kept grinning but they didn’t say anything. They just walked to the door, took a final glance and went out.
Cain had been sitting on the edge of his desk. Now he went behind it and sat down. He indicated the bench on the right side of the door. This was where jail visitors sat waiting to go back to see their kin.
Fargo saw that Lenihan was shaking. And taking deep gulps of air. In the glow of the lanterns around the office his face glistened with sweat. The anger and resentment he’d expressed in the stage line office had disappeared once he’d confronted the reality of jail. Now there was just fear. This was real.
“Evening, Ned.”
Lenihan gulped. “I didn’t do anything, Cain, and you know it.” But his voice shook as he spoke. Fargo was surprised Lenihan had been able to get out even these words.
“Remains to be seen, Ned. Remains to be seen.” The pleasure he was taking with the smaller man irritated Fargo.
“You wanted him brought in. And here he is. You have some questions you want to ask him?”
“I was going to suggest you might need a lawyer, Ned,” Cain said in that smirky drawl of his. “But if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re already represented—by Fargo here.”
“He says he had no idea that the bank bag was buried in his barn. He also admitted that as Rex Connor said he did see the three boys down at the creek right before they started dying. He told them he knew they’d robbed that stage and that they needed to confess. He did it because he wanted people to know that he didn’t have anything to do with the robbery. The only way that could happen was if they told the truth. They threatened to tell you that he’d been part of it if he told anybody about them. He knew that you’d believe their story—or choose to believe it—if he went against them.” He glanced down at Lenihan. “Is that about right, Lenihan?”
“I didn’t do it, Cain. And you know it.” Rallying a bit now, the anger coming back. “I don’t know who planted that bag in my barn but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was you.”
“Well, counselor,” Cain said ironically, “y
ou got anything to say to that?”
“Nothing more than I’ve already said. That I’m not sure you’re not behind all this.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to lose this case, counselor. Lenihan here is in financial straits; you’ve got a witness who saw him talking to those boys; and you found the bank bag on his property. And what kind of proof have you got that I had anything to do with it?”
“None—right now. But I’m going to keep looking around.”
“And meantime I’ll keep asking our friend here some questions of my own.”
Lenihan’s eyes showed his fear. “He could kill me and get away with it, Fargo. If you leave me alone with him—”
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Lenihan.” Fargo’s slitted lake blue gaze bored into Cain’s face. “Because Cain here knows that if anything happens to you while you’re in his custody I’ll come looking for him.”
“That a threat?” Cain said.
“You damn right it is.”
“A man could get downright jealous, you know that?” Cain said. “Here I thought Fargo and I were friends. But I guess he prefers you.” He winked at Lenihan. “You be careful of him, though. He’s got a way with the ladies. Amy might go for him.”
“Shut up,” Lenihan said. “I don’t even like to hear you say her name.”
Cain eased himself out of his chair. His face had hardened. And so had his voice. “I’ve had about enough of this, Fargo. You know damned well Lenihan here was part of the robbery and that he killed those three boys to keep them quiet. You’ve got all the evidence you need to impanel a jury and get a conviction. I don’t know why you’re so all hellfire hot to defend him like this but I’m telling you right now that it doesn’t make any difference to me. I’m going to ask him some questions and then I’m going to lock him into a cell back there and then I’m going to send a runner to get Judge Mooney down here and tell him that I want to start proceedings right away. Now do we understand each other?”
Lenihan looked like a ten-year-old who’d just been deserted by his parents. He slumped forward and put his face in his hands.
“You take good care of him, Cain,” Fargo said. “Or you’ll be damned sorry.”
Five steps out the front door of Cain’s office a slender woman in a dark cotton dress and a yellow shawl, her head down and her body moving forward like a bullet, ran into Fargo and bounced off his chest. He grabbed her before she fell. In the spill light from the sheriff’s window he saw the finely etched face of Amy Peters. Even with her years, even with the panic in her eyes, she was a beauty. In the darkening day, her shawl fell from her shoulders and she gaped up into the eyes of Fargo as if he were her direst enemy.
She ripped herself from his grasp. “You’re the one! You’re the one who arrested him! Those deputies came right to my house and told me!”
Stirring up trouble. And damned fast, too. Those two hadn’t left more than ten, twelve minutes ago. They’d be traveling saloon to saloon now, making things as dramatic as possible. They were a perfect match for Cain.
“You need to calm down, lady.”
“Calm down. Do you know what’s going to happen to Ned in Tom Cain’s jail?”
“Nothing’s going to happen. I’ve warned Cain that if he doesn’t keep Lenihan safe he’ll answer to me.”
Her angry laugh rang in the darkness. “And you’re taking Tom Cain’s word? If you had doubts why did you arrest him in the first place?”
“Because right now there are some things that point to him. Maybe he’s innocent and maybe he’s not. But there was enough evidence to bring him in.”
“Of course he’s innocent.”
The door opened and Cain himself, silhouetted in the doorway, said, “Well, I have to say you’re looking awfully pretty tonight, Amy.”
She flew at the lawman before Fargo had time to react. She knocked him against the door frame and then clawed at him with her hands. In the light Fargo could see that she’d drawn two streaks of blood down one of Cain’s cheeks.
Fargo started to grab her by the thin shoulders but before he could pull her back far enough Cain brought a fist up from nowhere and smashed her in the face. She fell backward into Fargo’s arms and began sobbing. Fargo got her on her feet and then went after Cain, backhanding the man hard enough to evoke a real cry. Then he grabbed Cain by his fussy hair and slammed him back against the door frame twice. Then he hurled him into his office. Cain stumbled, sprawled across his desk. Lenihan was nowhere to be seen. Cain hadn’t wasted any time putting Lenihan in a cell.
Fargo stomped into the office and jerked Cain to his feet. Then he threw him onto the bench where Fargo had sat with Lenihan. “You hit women now, do you, Tom? Probably felt real good, didn’t it? The woman you wanted all these years and you finally got to show her what happens to women when they cross the great Tom Cain—or whatever the hell you’re calling yourself these days. Now you’re going to let her get Lenihan a good meal over to the café and let her sit in the cell with him while he eats it. And if I hear otherwise, you’re going to be damned sorry because I’m going to this town council you talk about and tell them how you blackmailed a banker in one of the towns you cleaned up and left town with about a fourth of all the money in the bank. Maybe you’ve got a few things like that going here. In fact I’d bet on it.”
As Lenihan had just a while ago, Cain looked shaken. But his trembling wasn’t from fear but from rage. To be humiliated in front of the woman who had humiliated him—
Fargo drew Amy into the light. From what he could see, Cain’s punch hadn’t landed square. She touched her chin delicately but said, “I’m all right.” Then to Cain, “If you hurt Ned in any way, you won’t have to worry about Fargo. You’ll have to worry about me. I’ll kill you myself. And you know me well enough to know that’s not an empty threat. Now I’m going to go get Ned a good meal and you’d damned well better do everything Fargo told you to.”
She reached over and took Fargo’s hand. “Now I know that Ned’s got at least one good friend besides me. Thank you.”
Fargo scowled at Cain and walked out into the night.
The plate was filled with sliced potatoes, three thick slices of beef, beets. There was a deep cup of black coffee and there was a piece of apple cake in a paper napkin. A silver fork moved around on top of the feast, stopping first at the beef and then at the potatoes. Then the fork was set down on the coarse gray woolen blanket covering the cell cot and the hand reached for the cup of coffee.
Lenihan brought the coffee to his mouth, inhaled the steam. “This is good, Amy. Thanks.”
Amy had never been in a jail cell before. She had had no idea how claustrophobic it was—and she would be able to leave. Then there were the smells. She didn’t like to think about what had caused them. She could smell the sudsy cleaner somebody had mopped the floor with but that only added to the assault on her senses. And finally there was the laughter up front, on the other side of the heavy, closed door. She wondered if Cain had invited people in just so he could laugh with them and tease Ned and her. It would be like him. She had decided not to tell Ned that Cain had hit her. It would just make him angrier and more miserable.
Seeing that Ned hadn’t touched his food, she said, “You need to eat, Ned.”
“I wish I was hungry. But all I want is this cigarette and coffee.” He’d forgotten his pipe but fortunately he’d brought along his makings.
“You don’t know when you’ll have your next meal.”
Cain had let her bring a lantern into the cell. In the flickering light of it Ned appeared to be recovering from some injury or wound that had stunned him into deep shock. He spoke but the words were hollow. He saw her but he appeared to see something beyond her too. Some nightmare.
She took the plate from his lap and then picked up the knife and fork. She began to cut the beef as she once had for her little children. Tiny bites so they wouldn’t choke. These were twice that size but still they might intimidate him less
than large cuts of the meat.
She made a joke of it. When she’d cut several pieces she left the cot she’d been sitting on and seated herself next to him. “Now, my sweetheart, open wide.”
“Oh, c’mon, Amy!”
“Open wide!”
The ridiculousness of the situation must have amused him because he actually smiled. And opened his mouth.
“Now chew.”
“You are crazy.”
“There’s one bite. Open up again because here comes another one.”
And so she fed him. He didn’t eat all of it but he made a good dent in it. She thought it was endearing that he wolfed down the cake. He had a sweet tooth. Like a boy. All the time she was doing this, laughing and hearing him laugh, she was able to keep her sadness at bay. But when Ned was done with the meal and she had seated herself across from him again, the sorrow seized her. And she knew he recognized it in her eyes.
“I think Fargo’s with me on this. I can see why he brought me in. I’ve been thinking about that. If I was a deputy I’d do the same thing. But I think he’s got a lot of doubts, Amy, and I think that Cain’s afraid of him. Fargo’s not afraid to kill a man and I get the sense that he wouldn’t mind killing Cain anytime the chance came up.”
“I liked him, too, Ned. But I worry about Cain. Fargo can’t be here to watch him all the time. I just hope that Cain decides it’s not worth taking the chance to do anything to you.”
“Well, Pete’s around a lot of the time.”
Mention of Pete Rule made her feel better. “That’s right. I think he’s on our side, too. That’s what I’ve been told anyway. He stands up for you when people make accusations.”
“That’s what I mean.”
But she could tell that he was more hopeful than actually convinced that Pete Rule could stop Cain.
The door opened. Laughter and smoke rolled into the shadows of the jail cells. Cain was outlined in the door with a glass of beer in his hand. His own laugh was as hearty as a pirate’s.
Rubbing it in, she thought. Showing his contempt. She was glad she’d raked him across the cheek. She wished she’d done more damage. Except for protecting the lives of her children, Amy Peters had never had many violent thoughts. But she had them now. She felt she could cut Cain’s throat and feel no remorse at all.