Montana Gundown

by William W. Johnstone

  Reluctantly, the men who had been picked to be disarmed unbuckled their gunbelts and placed them in the back of the wagon Trask had pointed out. Frank, Salty, Hal, and Carlin did likewise.

  “You, too, Jubal, if you’re goin’ in,” Trask said to Embry.

  The rancher drew himself up. “I didn’t figure the rule applied to me.”

  “No exceptions,” Trask repeated dryly. “Take off that smokepole, or stay out here with the rest of your boys.”

  “All right, blast it, but I don’t like it.”

  Trask didn’t have to explain the new ordinance to Brady Morgan and the other gunmen. Baldridge said, “Excuse me, my dear,” to Laura and walked out into the street to intercept Brady. He spoke in low tones as Frank watched. Frank saw the flash of anger in Brady’s eyes, but Baldridge was insistent. After a moment, six men dismounted, including Brady, and started removing their guns to place them in the wagon.

  The delegations were going to be the same size, Frank thought, then amended that slightly. The Boxed E would actually have superior numbers, once you counted him, Salty, Hal, and Carlin. Embry and Baldridge countered each other.

  And Frank still wasn’t sure exactly how Laura figured in all of this.

  “All right,” Trask said at last as he moved back from the door. “Anybody who’s not carrying a gun can go on inside, and just as soon as we can, we’ll get this inquest started.”

  Chapter 18

  The crowd filed into the town hall in an orderly fashion, probably because Marshal Trask was standing beside the door glaring and holding the shotgun. Nobody in his right mind was going to argue with a Greener.

  The chairs in the hall were arranged in two sections with an aisle between them. When Baldridge, with Laura on his arm, took a seat on the front row of the section to the left, Brady Morgan and his men followed suit, filling the first two rows of that section. Embry and the men from the Boxed E went to the right.

  Six chairs stood by themselves along the right-hand wall at the front of the room. The jury would sit there, Frank knew. A table for the judge, with a chair at the end of it for witnesses, faced the audience. A small man with wispy white hair and a round, unlined face, so he looked like a cross between a baby and an old man, emerged from a room at the hall’s rear and came to the table. He wore a black suit and string tie.

  From the back of the room, Trask called, “Everybody settle down! All—”

  People started to get up. The judge waved them back into their seats.

  “This is an inquest, not a trial,” he said. “We don’t have to be too formal.” He picked up a gavel that lay on the desk and rapped it. “Come to order.”

  The spectators all settled back in their seats. Judge Woodville sat down behind the table and took a pair of spectacles from his vest pocket. He put them on and peered around the room.

  “Madam,” he said as his gaze landed on Laura and stayed there. “You appear to be the only lady in attendance today. Some of the details in the matter at hand may be quite unpleasant. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to withdraw, in order to protect your feminine sensibilities?”

  Frank grunted and tried not to grin. He had a hunch Laura wouldn’t react too well to that suggestion.

  “With all due respect, Your Honor,” she said, “my sensibilities are quite sturdy, even though they are feminine. So I’ll decline your kind offer.” Then she gave Woodville a dazzling smile that robbed her previous words of any sting. “Though I do so appreciate your chivalrous consideration.”

  Woodville glanced down at the papers on the table in front of him, obviously flustered but pleased at the same time.

  “As you wish, ma’am.” He straightened the papers, picked them up, and looked them over even though he had almost certainly read them before now. Then he cleared his throat and continued, “We are here to render a verdict as to the cause of death of three individuals, and the appropriateness of same. For that a jury of six good men and true is required.”

  The judge picked up the gavel, used it to point out half a dozen townsmen among the spectators, and called their names.

  “Line up here in front of me while I question you as to your suitability for this panel,” he told them.

  The questioning was quick and simple. None of the men Woodville had selected worked for or had any connection with either Jubal Embry or Gaius Baldridge, or so they claimed. Frank supposed it was possible some or even all of them leaned one way or the other. It was almost impossible not to in a small town like Pine Knob.

  One by one, the judge waved the men into the chairs along the wall. When the jury was seated, he went on. “As I said, this is a legal proceeding but not a trial. There will be no opening or closing statements. I will call witnesses and ask questions, and then the jury will render its verdict. As the first witness, I call Hal Embry.”

  Looking slightly uncomfortable, Hal stood up, set the hat he had been holding in his lap on his chair, and went to the table where Woodville swore him in. When Hal had settled into the witness chair, the judge said, “Tell me in your own words what happened yesterday morning in front of the Feed Barn café, Mr. Embry.”

  “Well, sir, Your Honor, we brought in a couple of dead men and delivered them to Mr. Omar Finnegan’s undertaking parlor—”

  “Who were these dead men to whom you refer?”

  “I believe their names were Royal and Dobbs.”

  “Who do you mean when you say ‘we’?”

  “There was me, Gage Carlin, one of the hands from the Boxed E, and Frank Morgan and Salty Stevens.”

  Several people in the crowd murmured at the mention of Frank’s name. By now everybody in Pine Knob probably knew that the notorious gunfighter known as the Drifter was in their midst, but Frank Morgan was a famous name and brought a response from folks anyway.

  “Do Mr. Morgan and Mr. Stevens work for the Boxed E as well?”

  Hal tilted his head to the side and said, “That’s sort of hard to say, Your Honor. They’re staying at the ranch and riding with us, but I can’t say that my pa has actually hired them.”

  “So they’re visitors?”

  “I reckon you could say that.”

  “Go ahead,” Woodville said, nodding solemnly.

  For the next several minutes, Hal ran through the story with the judge stopping him from time to time to ask a question. Frank watched Brady while the testimony was going on, and he could see that his son was seething with anger inside. Other than his skill with a Colt, a gunman’s pride was really the only thing he had, and when that was challenged, it was very difficult not to respond with hot lead.

  Frank knew the feeling. He had experienced it as a young man. But he had conquered it years ago.

  “Do you have anything else to add?” Woodville asked when Hal was finished with the story.

  “No, Your Honor, that’s all I remember about what happened.”

  “Very well. Step down.” Woodville looked at the audience. “Gage Carlin, please step forward and be sworn.”

  When Carlin was seated in the witness chair, the judge asked, “Do you have anything to add to Mr. Embry’s testimony, Mr. Carlin?”

  “No, sir, Your Honor,” the cowboy said. “Hal told you what happened, and that was the straight truth of it.”

  “All right. Step down, please. Call Frank Morgan to the stand.”

  Frank rose slowly to his feet. He had been in court before, and even though Judge Woodville had said a couple of times that this wasn’t a trial, it sure felt like one.

  “Mr. Morgan, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

  “I do,” Frank said.

  “Please be seated, and tell me, do you have anything to add to Mr. Embry’s testimony?”

  “I don’t, Your Honor. That’s the way it happened.”

  “Very well.”

  Frank started to get to his feet, grateful that it was over so quickly.

  “Wait just a moment, Mr. Morgan. I have
another question or two for you.”

  “Oh,” Frank said as he settled back in the witness chair. “Sorry, Judge.”

  “Is it true that you are also known as the Drifter?”

  Frank took a deep breath and nodded. He said, “Some folks call me that. It’s not a name I gave myself.”

  “And you’re a gunfighter?”

  “Well ... I think I like drifter better, Your Honor.”

  “But you have killed a number of men in gun duels?”

  “Yes, sir,” Frank said heavily. “I have. More than I like to think about.”

  “Were you hired to come to this valley?”

  “No, sir, I was not. I didn’t even know there was trouble in this valley until Salty and I got here.”

  Woodville looked like he was about to ask something else, but then he said, “All right, that’s all. Step down.”

  Frank did so, gladly.

  “I’m going to call Marshal Trask to testify now,” the judge said.

  As Frank sat down by Salty again, the old-timer leaned over and whispered, “He didn’t ask me any questions. How come?”

  “I guess he figured he has the facts established.”

  Salty snorted quietly and said, “I think he just don’t want nobody as dignified as me sittin’ up there next to him. He’s afraid I’ll steal all his legal thunder.”

  “That’s probably it,” Frank agreed with a nod.

  When Trask had been sworn in, Woodville said, “In the interests of simplicity and efficiency, Marshal, let me ask you if you questioned any witnesses to the events of yesterday morning.”

  “I did, Your Honor,” the lawman said. “I talked to at least a dozen townspeople, including Katie Storm and her uncle Solomon, who saw the whole thing from inside the café. Miss Storm even has a cut on her hand from flying glass to show for it.”

  “And did these witnesses tell you anything that differed substantially from the testimony of Mr. Embry, Mr. Carlin, and Mr. Morgan?”

  “No, Your Honor, they didn’t. Everybody I talked to backed up their story.”

  “Since this isn’t a trial, I’m going to ask you for an opinion, Marshal. Do you believe those men are telling the truth?”

  “Yes, sir, I do.”

  “Thank you, Marshal. That’s all.” As Trask left the witness chair and walked to the back of the room again, Woodville turned to the jury and said, “You’ve heard the testimony, gentlemen, so now I’ll ask you to confer and render a verdict in the deaths of ...” He had to look at the papers on the table to remember the names. “Carl Peevey, Jed Wallace, and Lester Chapman.”

  “Wait just a blasted minute!” Brady Morgan said as he shot to his feet.

  Baldridge jerked around in his chair and shook his head at Brady, who ignored him and went on angrily, “What kind of a trial is this? You haven’t called anybody to testify except those killers!”

  “You’re Mr. Morgan, too, aren’t you?” Woodville asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “Then sit down, Mr. Morgan,” the judge said. “This isn’t a trial, as I’ve made perfectly clear.”

  “But it’s not fair! You haven’t asked me or any of my boys what happened!”

  “Did you witness the events, Mr. Morgan?”

  “Well ... no. I was in the hotel—”

  “And I can’t very well call Mr. Peevey, Mr. Wallace, or Mr. Chapman to the stand, because they’re all dead. My understanding is that the only other member of your group who was on hand is now at Dr. Hutchison’s house, too seriously wounded to testify. What would you have me do?”

  Brady opened his mouth to say something else, but Baldridge got to his feet and interrupted.

  “My apologies, Your Honor,” he said. “My employee Mr. Morgan is understandably upset. Three of his good friends were killed, and he believes that they haven’t received a fair hearing.”

  “There’s no way to hear them, Mr. Baldridge. They’re dead.”

  “Yes, of course. But you should be aware that this matter is directly related to the legal case concerning the false claim that Jubal Embry filed on the western half of the valley—”

  “False claim!” Embry roared as he bounced to his feet as well. “There’s nothin’ false about that claim! The only thing false around here is that snake in the grass Baldridge, who used to say that he was an honorable man!”

  Shouts broke out all around the courtroom as men on both sides started yelling angry words at one another. Woodville pounded wildly with the gavel, making a lot of racket for such a small man, but even so, it took him several minutes to restore order.

  “By God, I’ll have Marshal Trask clear this courtroom at the point of a shotgun if I have to!” Woodville threatened. He was on his feet now like everybody else in the room. He turned to the jury and asked, “What’s your verdict?”

  One of the men stepped forward and said, “We’ve already talked about it, Your Honor! Self-defense!”

  “Verdict so rendered!” The gavel slammed down again. “We’re adjourned! Take it outside!”

  Chapter 19

  Both sides turned toward the door at the same time, and Frank figured there would be a logjam there. That could lead to trouble in a hurry if Brady and his men found themselves at close quarters with the Boxed E hands.

  Marshal Trask was prepared for just such a thing. When he stepped down from the witness chair, he had moved quickly to the door and posted himself there with the shotgun. As the still yelling crowd surged toward the door, Trask lifted the Greener and shouted, “Settle down!”

  The powerful, commanding voice and the presence of the shotgun caused a sudden silence over the town hall.

  Trask motioned with the twin barrels and ordered, “Boxed E goes out first. Baldridge, keep your men where they are.”

  Brady Morgan started to object, but Baldridge lifted a hand and stopped him.

  “Very well, Marshal. We shall remain patient ... for now.”

  The implied threat was clear. Trask flushed angrily and jerked the shotgun toward Embry.

  “Move your men out, Jubal,” he said.

  “Let’s go,” Embry growled. He clapped his hat on his balding head and took the lead. The rest of the Boxed E men followed him, including Frank and Salty.

  Frank stopped when he heard Laura call his name. He looked back at her and she asked, “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  Baldridge didn’t look happy about that at all. Maybe because he was feeling contrary, or maybe because he was just curious what she wanted, Frank said, “Sure.” He turned to Salty for a second. “Go on outside with Embry’s bunch. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Be careful, Frank,” Salty said.

  Frank knew what the old-timer meant. Laura was involved somehow with Gaius Baldridge. Baldridge seemed to think it was romantically. Frank wasn’t so sure about that, but he couldn’t be certain.

  By the time Frank reached Laura’s side, holding his Stetson in his left hand out of habit even though he wasn’t wearing a gun, all the Boxed E men were outside. Brady and his men began to follow them. Laura turned to Baldridge and said, “I’ll just be a moment, Gaius. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Of course,” Baldridge said, although his puzzled and disturbed expression indicated that he didn’t understand at all. He left the two of them standing near the judge’s table. Judge Woodville had already gone back into the small room at the rear of the hall, which was probably his office.

  “What can I do for you, Laura?” Frank asked. “Or should I call you Mrs. Wilcoxon?”

  She smiled. “I don’t think there’s any need for formality between us. Not when we’re such old friends. And that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Go ahead,” he told her when she paused.

  “I wanted to make sure that just because you appear to have befriended those people from the Boxed E, that’s not going to cause any hard feelings between you and me.”

  “Why would it do that?”

 
“Well, I am visiting with Gaius, and there’s no denying the hostility that exists between the two ranches ... so even though Gaius is just a friend ...”

  “Is that all he is?” Frank asked. “I got the feeling it’s more than that. At least he thinks it is.”

  “I’m not responsible for what Gaius thinks,” Laura said. “I’m acquainted with him because my late husband had some potential business dealings lined up with him, that’s all. When Gaius asked me to come here and see his ranch, I thought it would be polite to do so.”

  “As well as good business?”

  “I’m just a poor woman struggling to make sense of everything that’s been dumped into my lap, Frank. I can’t afford to burn any bridges.”

  Frank nodded slowly. The idea of Laura Donnelly Wilcoxon being just a poor woman out of her depth in the world of business made him smile to himself. Laura knew exactly what she was doing all the time, or at least she had when he had been with her in San Antonio.

  “I don’t hold any grudges against you because you’re friends with Baldridge,” he said.

  “I hope you don’t hold any grudges against me at all,” Laura said as she rested a hand lightly on his arm. “I’m sorry about what happened with Brady, Frank. I ... I see now that I was wrong not to find you and tell you about him. I denied you the chance to know your son, and perhaps more importantly, I denied your son the chance to know his father.”

  “You did what you thought was best,” Frank told her. “I can’t fault you for that.”

  He might fault her for not doing a better job raising Brady, he mused, but he wasn’t cruel enough to say so.

  Her touch on his arm became firmer as she pressed her fingers against him.

  “Fate has a way of helping things work out, don’t you think?” she asked. “Even though sometimes it takes a long time, maybe even years. But now we’ve come together again, Frank. You and I can mend all those old fences, and more importantly, you and Brady finally have a chance to get to know each other.”

  Frank shook his head and said, “That’s not very likely. Not with Brady working for Baldridge and Salty and me throwing in with the Boxed E.”