The Killing Season

by Compton, Ralph

  Nathan mounted the grulla and rode slowly back to Eppie’s. He wasn’t broke, for in his saddlebags was four thousand dollars. If he went to court and was freed, he could then go on to Dakota Territory. Where there was a boom town there would be an abundance of saloons, and where there were saloons there would be gambling. As a means of making his living, he considered it only a cut or two above stealing, but it paid better than any other frontier trade. Thinking back, he recalled something Wild Bill Hickok had said:

  “If a man’s bound to gamble, somebody’s got to take his money. It’s just the decent thing to do, and I’ve always been a decent sort. ”

  Reaching Eppie’s boardinghouse, Nathan unsaddled the grulla. Rubbing the animal down with an old blanket, he stabled it and pitched down some hay. Silver’s horse wasn’t there, and Nathan wondered what Silver was doing. Asleep on the porch, Empty opened an eye as Nathan approached. It was almost suppertime when Silver returned, and he had not a word to say about the success or failure of his mission.

  “Well,” Nathan inquired, “did you serve the subpoena?”

  “Yes,” said Silver, “and don’t ask me anything else.”

  Silver was silent throughout supper, but Nathan detected an excitement in him that seldom surfaced unless he had drawn the card he needed to win the hand.

  Time dragged. Silver said little about the upcoming trial. Occasionally he had Nathan accompany him on trips to town, and although he often sent telegrams, he seldom got an answer. Nathan spent some time with Joel Netherton, at the Kansas-Pacific terminal, and once, when he visited the AT and SF offices to meet with Foster Hagerman, he encountered the four trainmen who ran three thirty-eight.

  The last two weeks before the trial, not a word appeared in the newspapers. Finally, on the morning of August thirty-first, Silver briefed Nathan during breakfast.

  “Remember, the prosecution will be laying it on thick. There may be a dozen or more Pinkertons who will testify. While they can’t actually prove you shot Hankins, they’ll be hell-bent on proving there was a vendetta—a conspiracy—that led you to kill Hankins and the six men who rode with him. If I must, I’m going to put you on the stand, and you’re going to admit to going after Hankins and his renegades. You’re going to tell the court what they did, and why you went after them. Then I’m going to prove that Hankins fired first, and that you fired in self-defense.”

  Nathan said nothing. If Silver failed, Nathan Stone was a gone beaver, but Nathan had no better defense than that which Silver had proposed. The courtroom was enormous, the most imposing Nathan had ever seen, and it was crowded. Many people spoke to Nathan, and he was surprised to find Sheriff Harrington there, from Dodge City. Nathan and Silver were seated at a table to the left of the bench, while at a similar table to the right sat Daniel Hankins and his attorneys.

  “Everybody stand,” said the bailiff.

  From his chambers, the judge entered and took his seat.

  “Court is now in session,” the bailiff said, “Judge Holmes McClendon presiding. Case at hand is the State of Missouri versus Nathan Stone. The clerk will read the charges.”

  The charges were read at great length, to Nathan, each word sounding more damning than the last.

  “Attorneys may make their opening statements,” said Judge McClendon.

  “The defense has no opening statement, Judge,” Silver said.

  There was a whispering between Kritzer and Dilworth, Hankins’s lawyers. Finally, they consulted with Hankins himself.

  “The court is waiting,” said Judge McClendon. “Does the prosecution have an opening statement?”

  Kritzer and Dilworth, Hankins’s lawyers, approached the bench.

  “Your honor,” Kritzer said, “we request a short recess.”

  “Gentlemen,” said Judge McClendon, “you have had ample time to prepare an opening statement. If you have none, then present your evidence. Request for recess denied.”

  “I will present an opening statement,” Kritzer said. He then launched into an account of how Bart Hankins, unarmed, had been brutally murdered. He and Dilworth would present evidence through qualified testimony, and he closed by demanding a guilty verdict from the jury.

  “Call your witnesses, then,” said Judge McClendon.

  Silver had called it close. There were no less than eleven Pinkerton operatives, every one of whom had been involved in piecing together the lives and deaths of the men who had once ridden with Bart Hankins.

  “Cross-examine,” Kritzer said, following the first Pinkerton testimony.

  “No cross-examination,” said Silver.

  And so it went. Following each Pinkerton testimony, Silver declined to cross-examine. By the time the last Pinkerton had testified, it was nearing three o’clock.

  “Judge,” Silver said, “because of the lateness of the hour, we request a recess until nine o’clock in the morning.”

  “Objection,” Kritzer shouted.

  “Overruled,” said Judge McClendon. “Court stands adjourned.”

  “Based on all that Pinkerton testimony,” Nathan said, “I might as well admit to shooting Hankins.”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” said Silver. “You are going to admit to the shooting. The key to this whole thing will be the proving of self-defense. I gave no opening statement, because it wasn’t necessary. I’ve allowed Hankins’s Pinkertons to bore the hell out of the jury, because tomorrow we’re going to render all their testimony useless.”

  “With one witness?”

  “One witness,” said Silver. “I’m going to speak to Judge McClendon in the morning before court convenes.”

  Nathan and Silver reached the courthouse thirty minutes early. Silver was talking to Sheriff Harrington, and Nathan waited in the aisle, watching people file into the courtroom. Kritzer and Dilworth came in, followed by Daniel Hankins and a girl with blond hair, who looked to be maybe twenty-five. She had been in court with Hankins the day before. She paused, and when Nathan looked at her, she spat in his face.

  “Murdering scum,” she hissed.

  But Nathan’s quick eye had caught something, and he took Silver by the arm.

  “What is it?” Silver asked.

  “That girl with Hankins,” said Nathan. “Who is she?”

  “Hankins’s daughter, I reckon,” Silver said. “Why?”

  “I have to talk to you,” said Nathan. “Now.”

  “We’ll take our seats before the bench,” Silver said.

  Until Judge McClendon entered the courtroom, Nathan spoke. Silver listened, and only then did he remember he hadn’t spoken to the judge. When court had been called to order, the judge spoke.

  “Is the defense ready?”

  “Yes, your honor,” Silver said. “We call as our first witness the young lady behind the prosecution’s table, Miss Hankins.”

  “Objection,” Kritzer and Dilworth shouted in a single voice.

  “Overruled,” said Judge McClendon. “What is your name, ma’am?”

  “Katie Hankins,” came the reply.

  “Katie,” said the judge, “please take the stand.”

  “But ... why ...?”

  “Because the attorney for the defense wishes to question you,” McClendon said. “Then perhaps all of us will know why.”

  Katie Hankins took the stand and took the oath.

  “Miss Hankins,” said Silver, “will you remove the locket you’re wearing, so that I can have a look at it?”

  “Objection,” the Hankins’s attorneys shouted.

  “Mr. Silver,” said Judge McClendon, “are you fishing, or is there some purpose behind this?”

  “There is a purpose, your honor,” Silver said.

  “Objection overruled,” said the judge. “Miss Hankins, remove the necklace.”

  It was a thin golden heart on a long chain. On its face was engraved a honeysuckle.

  “Miss Hankins,” Silver said, “when and where did you get this?”

  “My brother Bart
gave it to me, when he came back from the war.”

  Without another word, Silver turned to the table where Nathan sat.

  “Nathan Stone, have you ever seen this before?”

  “Yes,” Nathan said, swallowing hard. “I had the honeysuckle engraved on it because it was my sister Rachel’s favorite flower. I gave it to her on her thirteenth birthday, and she promised to wear it the rest of her life.”

  “Objection,” Hankins’s attorneys shouted, but they were drowned out by the uproar in the courtroom.

  “Silence,” Judge McClendon roared, “or I’ll clear the courtroom.”

  “Objection,” Kritzer said. “The engraving means nothing, and could have been done by anyone. The defense is grasping at straws and flaunting the dramatic. The purpose of this trial is to prove a man’s guilt or innocence, and the charge is murder. Anything else is irrelevant to the case at hand.”

  “Mr. Silver,” said Judge McClendon, “before I rule, exactly what are you attempting to prove, and how does it relate to the case at hand?”

  “Your honor,” Silver said, “the prosecution took all of yesterday attempting to prove that Nathan Stone shot Bart Hankins. We are prepared to admit that he did, and we’re now about to demonstrate to the court why he did it.”

  “I’ll overrule the objection,” said Judge McClendon, “because frankly, I’m curious as to how the defense intends to prove innocence by admitting guilt.”

  “We’re not admitting guilt, your honor,” Silver said. “We are admitting that Nathan Stone shot Bart Hankins, but we are prepared to prove that Hankins was armed, that he fired first, and that Nathan Stone shot him in self-defense. First, however, to restore Mr. Stone’s good name, we are going to prove that Bart Hankins was present the day Rachel Stone was ravished and murdered, and that he removed this necklace from her dead body. Take this locket, Judge, and my knife. Using the thinnest blade, see if that locket doesn’t open. If it does, tell me what’s inside.”

  Judge McClendon took the locket and the knife, but after several tries, was unable to open the locket.

  “Sorry, Mr. Silver,” said McClendon, “it’s solid. It doesn’t open.”

  “Sir,” said Nathan, “it’s the locket I gave Rachel. I can open it.”

  “Approach the bench,” Judge McClendon said.

  Nathan did, and McClendon handed him the knife and the locket. Quickly Nathan was able to separate the locket, and without a word, returned both the locket and the knife to the judge.

  “There should be a name engraved inside,” said Silver. “What is it?”

  “Rachel,” Judge McClendon said. “Do you want to pass it among the jury?”

  “No,” said Silver. “As the prosecution pointed out, Bart Hankins is not on trial here. However, Nathan Stone had all the reason a man ever needed for gunning down Hankins and his partners in crime. Now, as I promised, we are going to prove that not only was Bart Hankins armed, but that he drew first. Judge, in return for his testimony, I have promised this witness immunity from prosecution. Tell me if I am right. I’ve assured him he won’t be charged for withholding evidence, for two reasons. First, at the time Hankins was shot, he was believed to have been killed during a failed bank robbery, so there was no investigation. Second, this happened more than ten years ago, and any possible statute of limitations has run out.”

  “You are correct on both counts,” Judge McClendon said. He closed the locket and returned it to Katie Hankins. “You may step down, Miss Hankins.”

  But Katie Hankins didn’t return to her seat. Instead, she walked to the table where Nathan sat, placing the locket before him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “So very, very sorry.”

  “You may call your witness, Mr. Silver,” said Judge McClendon.

  “Charlie Ekert, please take the stand,” Silver said.

  Ekert, white-haired, was up in years, and he shuffled when he walked. Seating himself in the witness box, he took the oath, but kept his head down.

  “Now, Charlie,” Silver said, “you heard Judge McClendon. You’ve done no wrong, and you won’t be faulted for telling the truth. Were you in the bank the day Bart Hankins was shot?”

  “Yes,” said Charlie.

  “Where?”

  “In that big office next to his,” Charlie said. “He was takin’ that big office for himself an’ he had me in there gettin’ it ready. Always pushin’ me around, he was.”

  “Exactly what did you hear that day?” Silver asked.

  “I first knowed somethin’ was wrong,” said Ekert, “when I heard this voice accusin’ Hankins of killin’ somebody in Virginia. Bart, he denied it, claimin’ he didn’t have a gun to defend himself. The other voice said ‘I’ll lay this Colt on the desk and give you more of a chance than you give my family.’ There wasn’t no more talking, an’ the shootin’ started.”

  “In what order were the shots?” Silver asked.

  “I heard the derringer first,” said Charlie, “and right on the heels of it, a bigger gun.”

  “A Colt, maybe?”

  “Could of been,” Ekert said.

  “You heard Hankins say he wasn’t armed, but he was, wasn’t he?”

  “Dang right he was,” said Charlie. “One day he went out, leavin’ his coat hangin’ in his office. I checked it out an’ found a double-barrel .41-caliber derringer.”

  “After the shooting stopped, Charlie, what did you do?” Silver asked.

  Ekert licked his lips, swallowing hard, avoiding Silver’s eyes. He spoke softly.

  “The witness will speak up,” said Judge McClendon. “We can’t hear you.”

  “Louder, Charlie,” Silver said. “You’re not in trouble. We just want the truth.”

  “There was more shootin’,” said Ekert, “but up near the front of the bank. While all hell was bustin’ loose up there, I went into Bart Hankins’s office an’ found him dead. There wasn’t no Colt on his desk, but he had the derringer in his hand.”

  “So you took the derringer,” Silver said.

  “Yeah,” said Ekert, “I took it.”

  “Why?” Silver asked.

  “I ... I dunno,” said Charlie.

  “You quit your job at the bank soon afterward,” Silver said. “Why?”

  “I got to ... thinkin’ ... I might be in trouble. If I’d of told, I’d of had to say that I took the derringer. So I just quit, thinkin’ if I wasn’t around, nobody would be able to ask me any questions.”

  “I have no more questions,” said Silver. “Cross-examine?”

  “The prosecution has no questions,” Kritzer said sullenly.

  “This court stands adjourned until such a time as the jury reaches a verdict,” said Judge McClendon.

  There were shouts from the jury box, and McClendon pounded his gavel for silence. When he finally got it, one of the jurors spoke.

  “Your honor, we find Nathan Stone not guilty, and our hats is off to him for a damn good piece of work. He give the varmint more of a chance than he deserved.”

  The courtroom went wild, and Judge McClendon gave up trying to restore order and retired to his chambers. A dozen men waited to shake Nathan’s hand, including Sheriff Roscoe Peeler. Daniel Hankins was roundly cursing his attorneys.

  “I’ve never seen such bungling,” Hankins snarled. “You let Silver, a backwoods bumpkin, tromp hell out of you and disgrace me.”

  “Hankins,” said Kritzer, “you’d best just crawl back to your small-town bank where your ignorance don’t matter. Byron Silver is affiliated with the attorney general’s office in Washington, and he can practice law before the U.S. Supreme Court.”

  Nathan and Silver finally broke loose and left the courthouse. It wasn’t even noon, but in a festive mood, they found a fancy cafe and ordered steak.

  “God,” said Nathan, “no wonder the Federals swear by you. I’ve been in court a few times, but I’ve never seen anybody as slick as you.”

  Silver laughed. “I always stick to the truth. That was pretty shrewd on your part
, recognizing that locket. That was enough to brand Bart Hankins for a skunk, as far as the jury was concerned, but with Charlie Ekert’s testimony, old man Hankins won’t dare open his mouth again. He’s finished.”

  “All I wanted was a self-defense verdict,” Nathan said. “I don’t find any pleasure in destroying a man.”

  “It’s no different than pulling a gun,” said Silver. “Daniel Hankins, for all practical purposes, has been shot through the head. When you go after a man with a gun or with a judge and jury, finish him. If you don’t, sooner or later he’ll come after you, and next time, you may be holding a busted flush.”

  “Ah, hell, I know it,” Nathan said, “but I feel sorry for the girl, Katie.”

  “After she spat in your face?”

  “Even after that,” said Nathan. “Thanks to her daddy, vindictive old buzzard that he is, she’ll have the rest of her life to remember her brother for a renegade and a killer.”

  CHAPTER 27

  “Too bad you can’t take some time off and go with me to Dakota Territory,” Nathan said. “It might be your last chance to see a boom town fired up by a gold strike.”

  “Sorry,” said Silver, “but I had to get somebody to cover for me while I’ve been here in Kansas City. Now, every time he gets a hankerin’ to go hunting or fishing, he’ll call in all my debts.”

  Nathan had promised, before leaving Kansas City, to meet with Foster Hagerman of the AT and SF and Sheriff Harrington, from Dodge City. When he parted company with Silver, he rode on to the railroad terminal, believing he knew what his two friends had in mind. But Nathan was weary of riding the rails, and was prepared to reject any proposal to resume working security for the railroad. But that wasn’t quite what his companions had in mind.

  “Now that the Indian problem is about to be resolved,” Hagerman said, “there are more and more settlers wishing to travel to north Texas and eastern New Mexico. There is no railroad any closer than Dodge City, and there’s an increasing demand for men to guide emigrants from Dodge to points south. Pay would depend on the distance and the number of wagons. From Dodge to Fort Griffin, Texas, you could earn as much as three hundred dollars.”