Kinch Riley / Indian Territory

by Matt Braun

  Ryan quickly recounted the day’s events. He ended with the gang leader’s dying words about Tappin’s involvement in the conspiracy. When he finished, there was a moment of stunned silence.

  “I’ll be damned,” Stevens finally muttered. “It was an execution! Tappin rigged the whole thing just to get Collins!”

  Ryan nodded. “Collins was the only witness against him. Nobody else could tie him to the bridge collapse.”

  “And the murder of six of our men—six white men!”

  “Not much doubt about it. He couldn’t risk a federal murder warrant or a trial in Fort Smith. He knew he’d wind up getting hung.”

  “So he suckered us into helping him! A payroll robbery makes Collins’ death look legitimate.”

  “Except for one thing,” Ryan noted. “He never figured on Collins living long enough to talk.”

  “Wait a minute,” Stevens said anxiously. “Will that hold up in court?”

  “It should,” Ryan allowed. “I think it’d be treated the same as a deathbed confession. Especially where it concerns murder.”

  “Then we’ve got him! And don’t forget, it’s premeditated murder. He ordered the trestles on that bridge to be cut through.”

  “We don’t have him until we get him to Fort Smith. But I’ll see to that myself, first thing tomorrow.”

  “Why not send for federal marshals?”

  “It’s personal.” Ryan’s voice was hard and determined. “I aim to settle Tappin’s account myself.”

  Stevens agreed. “I understand completely. You handle it however you see fit.”

  “One other thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “As of today, I’m off the payroll. I quit.”

  “You …” Stevens faltered, gave him a dumbfounded stare. “You’re resigning?”

  “That’s about the size of it.”

  “But you can’t! We’re only halfway through the Nations. I still need your help!”

  “Not anymore,” Ryan said. “Tappin was behind all your trouble, start to finish. I’ll tend to him tomorrow.”

  “Even so, you’re leaving me in the lurch. Why not delay awhile and think it over?”

  “Nothing to think over. Besides, you’ll replace me easy enough. You pay too good for the job to go begging.”

  Stevens fixed him with a skeptical look. “There’s more to it, isn’t there? You’re just using Tappin as an excuse.”

  “Why push it any farther? I’ve already quit.”

  “No!” Stevens said sharply. “I want to hear your reason. I insist on it!”

  “All right,” Ryan said without expression. “I don’t like you and I don’t much care for the way you do business. Guess I finally got a bellyful.”

  Stevens waved his hand as though dusting away the insult. “Why do we have to like each other? What’s that got to do with your job?”

  Ryan’s mouth lifted in a tight grin. “You’re one of a kind, Colonel. It’s been an education knowing you.”

  “Now, hold on!” Stevens said as he turned away. “At least give me a chance—”

  Ryan went through the door without looking back. As he started down the steps, Sally Palmer rushed out onto the rear platform. Her china-blue eyes were dancing, and her face was wreathed in a big smile. She stuck out her hand.

  “Before you go, I just wanted to shake your hand.”

  “Yeah?” Ryan said, taking her hand. “Why’s that?”

  “You told him off good, and he was overdue. I suppose it makes up a little for the way you’ve treated me.”

  “Nothing personal,” Ryan assured her. “Another time, another place, we might’ve got together.”

  “I tend to doubt it. But I’ll make believe you’re telling me the truth.”

  “Look, if things are so bad, why not pack a bag? I’ll see to it you get on the next train out.”

  She laughed, shook her head. “I’d just end up in another parlor house. And believe it or not, Stevens beats that!”

  “Maybe so.” Ryan smiled. “Take care of yourself, Sally.”

  A short while later Ryan found Tom Scullin. The big Irishman was overseeing loading of a train for the Arkansas River bridge site. He whooped when he saw Ryan.

  “By the Jesus! You’re back and all in one piece!”

  “Just passing through, Tom.”

  “Passin’ through?” Scullin repeated. “You talk like a man on his way to somewheres.”

  “I guess I am, at that. I just quit the railroad.”

  “You what?”

  Ryan explained the reasons behind his decision. He went on to elaborate regarding sabotage of the Verdigris River bridge and David Tappin’s involvement. Cursing savagely, Scullin’s features mottled with rage. The murdered men were members of the Irish Brigade, and he swore revenge. Ryan firmly declined his offer of assistance.

  “Leave it to me, Tom. It’s a job for one man, and it’s the kind of work I know best. I’ll see to it that Tappin gets his neck stretched.”

  “God’s blood!” Scullin said, frowning. “How do you hope to pull it off by yourself?”

  “I don’t,” Ryan said calmly. “William Ross will deliver him into my hands.”

  “You’re mad!”

  Scullin’s arguments were wasted. He saw that Ryan simply would not be dissuaded. He wished the younger man Godspeed and good hunting. They shook hands with the warmth of two strong men who had shared a dangerous time and emerged friends.

  An hour later Ryan rode out of town on the roan gelding. His direction was northeast.

  The sky was dark as indigo. Ryan tied his horse behind the stables and paused only long enough to loosen the cinch. Then, skirting the corral, he walked toward the house.

  A chill wind knifed out of the northwest. The snow had crusted over and his footsteps sounded crunchy as he circled the house. On the front driveway he spotted a shaft of light from a side room. Cautiously, he made his way to the tall windows outside the study. He saw Ross seated at the desk, bathed in the glow of lamplight.

  The Cherokee leader was alone, hunched over a sheaf of papers. Visibly startled, he jumped when Ryan rapped on the window. Then, peering closer, he rose and moved across the room. His features were set in a scowl as he raised the window and stepped aside. Ryan boosted himself over the sill and onto the floor.

  “Your gall amazes me,” Ross said, closing the window. “Unannounced and uninvited, in the dead of night.”

  “Sorry about the hour,” Ryan replied. “But it won’t wait till morning. I have to talk to you now.”

  “About what?”

  “David Tappin.”

  Once more Ryan recounted the details of the aborted train robbery. He stressed Brad Collins’ last words, which implicated Tappin in the murder of six railroad workers. Then, after mentioning that he’d quit the Katy, he went to the reason for his late night visit.

  “I intend to arrest Tappin,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll need your help to do it without bloodshed.”

  Ross appeared at a loss for words. He walked to his desk and stood there a moment. Then without turning he finally spoke.

  “I have a confession to make,” he said. “I suspected that Tappin was behind the assassination attempts and all the rest. But there was no proof and I chose to take the easy way out. It seemed politically expedient.”

  “What’s past is past,” Ryan said quietly. “All I’m interested in now is getting Tappin to Fort Smith. He’s got a date with the hangman.”

  Ross turned from the desk. He studied Ryan with a thoughtful frown. “You’re no longer a marshal,” he said. “In fact, you’re no longer a special agent for the railroad. You have no authority to make an arrest.”

  Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “What’s your point?”

  “You could never arrest Tappin without a fight. In the end you would have to kill him.”

  “Are you saying you won’t help?”

  “No,” Ross said crisply. “I’m offering you an alternative.”

&nb
sp; “Such as?”

  “Bring Tappin to trial for murder in a Cherokee court.”

  “I don’t follow you.”

  “Brad Collins,” Ross said in a musing tone, “was both an outlaw and an outcast. But he and his gang were nonetheless members of the Cherokee tribe. And Tappin ordered them shot down in cold blood.”

  Ryan regarded him with an odd, steadfast look. “You’re joking! Charge Tappin with Collins’ murder? It’ll never stick.”

  “On the contrary,” Ross assured him earnestly. “I have the authority to make it stick. I’ll see him tried, convicted, and executed.”

  “Without witnesses?”

  “We have your testimony as to Collins’ dying words. That establishes a motive.”

  “It’s not enough for conviction.”

  Ross pursed his lips, nodded solemnly. “Could you identify the Light Horse who shot Collins and the other gang members?”

  “What if I could?” Ryan persisted. “They’re not about to testify that they acted on Tappin’s orders.”

  “Oh, I think they will. In exchange for immunity, they’ll gladly betray Tappin. In fact, I can guarantee you their testimony.”

  “Maybe so,” Ryan said with no inward conviction. “But you can’t guarantee that a Cherokee jury will deliver a verdict of guilty. Not against the head of the Light Horse Police for killing outlaws.”

  “Then you’ve lost nothing,” Ross countered. “You can always prosecute Tappin on the federal charge. Or kill him yourself.”

  There was a long moment of deliberation. Then, finally, Ryan conceded the point. “All right, we’ll try it your way.”

  “Good,” Ross said equably. “Now while I attend to things here, I suggest you return to Fort Smith. Otherwise Tappin will most certainly make an attempt on your life.”

  “How soon can you bring him to trial?”

  Ross smiled. “Far sooner than in a white man’s court. Don’t worry, I’ll send for you in plenty of time.”

  “Well …” Ryan hesitated, staring at the older man. “Before I leave, I’d like to see Elizabeth. Any objection?”

  “None whatever. I’ll wake her and ask her to come down. Just wait here.”

  Ross walked from the room. Ryan took off his hat and mackinaw and slumped into one of the armchairs. He suddenly felt worn out.

  Elizabeth joined him several minutes later. Her hair was pinned atop her head and she wore a cambric housecoat over her nightgown. There was an awkward moment before they got themselves seated opposite one another. Then Ryan began talking.

  Her father had briefly explained the situation. She was dismayed, though hardly shocked, by the charge lodged against Tappin. Her reaction to Ryan’s break with the railroad was a mix of hope and appreciation. But now, attentive to his every word, she listened without comment or interruption. She let him talk himself out.

  “So that’s it,” he said at length. “I’ve quit the railroad for good.”

  “I know it wasn’t easy, John. I’m proud of you, and very happy. Happier than you could ever imagine.”

  “Then maybe you’ll understand what I’ve been leading up to. I want you to come with me.”

  Surprise washed over her face. “Come with you?”

  “I know it’s a little sudden. We’ve never exactly talked about it, but I …” He paused, groping for words. “Well, I just figured you felt the same way.”

  Her voice was hushed. “Are you talking about marriage?”

  Ryan nodded soberly. “We could find a preacher in Fort Smith.”

  “I couldn’t,” she murmured. “I’ll never fit into the white world. Even if they accepted me, I could never accept them.”

  Ryan slowly shook his head. “Doesn’t that make you as prejudiced as them?”

  “Yes,” she said softly. “What they’ve done to our people—what they are still doing—breeds prejudice. I’m ashamed of it and wish it were different, but it’s not.”

  “So what’s the answer?”

  She looked at him and tried to smile. “You could stay here.”

  “Never work,” Ryan said darkly. “I’ve killed too many Cherokees. Their kin would be honor bound to come after me.”

  “And there would be more killing.”

  “Neither one of us wants that—do we?”

  “No,” she whispered, desperation in her voice.

  Ryan took a deep breath and let it out heavily. “How about farther west? Maybe somewhere in California or Oregon. It’s a long ways from the Nations.”

  “I …” Her eyes were shining moistly. “Will you give me some time? Let me think about it … please?”

  “I reckon I owe you that.”

  “Thank you, John.”

  “Maybe …” Ryan began, then stopped with a sudden grin. “Well, maybe you could give me an answer when I come back for Tappin’s trial. Think so?”

  “I’ll try.”

  Ryan stood, extending his hands, and took a step forward. Her mouth quivered and she fought to control the tears. She rose from her chair and rushed into his arms. He embraced her and she buried her face against his chest, holding him with fierce possession. Her voice was husky, almost inaudible.

  “Don’t say anything. Just hold me.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Justice in the Cherokee Nation moved swiftly. Major David Tappin was arrested and brought to trial within a week. He pleaded not guilty to five counts of murder.

  There were grave repercussions throughout the Cherokee Nation. Supporters of David Tappin, including several influential members of the Union Party, were enraged. The murder charges were labeled a plot of the railroad and Robert Stevens, designed to neutralize the Katy’s most resolute opponent. A movement arose to bring the matter to the floor of the tribal council. Some men spoke of armed rebellion.

  The Southern Party wisely made no attempt to capitalize on the situation. Shunned because of their alignment with the railroad, the party leaders cautioned their followers to take a nonpartisan stance. Elias Boudinot, fearing new reprisals, went on a long trip to Washington and points east. Stand Watie surrounded himself with loyal guards, and seldom went outside after dark. No one sympathized publicly with the railroad.

  Robert Stevens took equally prudent measures. He hired a former Texas Ranger as the Katy’s new special agent. Additional railway guards were also hired. Every train crossing the Cherokee Nation bristled with armed men. Work on the Arkansas River bridge went forward without incident, with completion set for early December. No great resistance was expected from either the Choctaws or the Chickasaws. Stevens’ target date for crossing the Red River was revised to late 1872.

  William Ross moved decisively to quell his opposition. His first step was to appoint a Union Party loyalist as head of the Light Horse Police. Assured that order would be maintained, he then called all his political markers with members of the tribal council. Pressure was applied on the followers of David Tappin, and any thought of a fight on the council floor quickly went by the boards. Those who had spoken of armed rebellion retreated to a position of tactful silence. A sense of calm and political coexistence once more settled over the Cherokee Nation.

  On November 16 David Tappin was brought to trial. A jury was impaneled by late morning and the prosecution began its case after the noon recess. One by one the six Light Horse Police who had taken part in the aborted train holdup were called to the stand. They testified that Tappin had ordered them to kill Brad Collins and his gang. Further, Tappin had instructed them that no prisoners were to be taken, even though some might attempt to surrender. Collins and his men, as ordered, had been shot down while their hands were in the air.

  The prosecutor was granted wide latitude by the judge. Over defense objections, he was allowed to pose questions not directly related to the case. The six Light Horse were asked whether they believed William Ross had any foreknowledge of Tappin’s orders. To a man, they related how Tappin had insinuated that Chief Ross had been gulled into authorizing the missio
n. They further testified that Tappin had spoken openly about his plan to hoodwink the railroad. The onus for the killings was to be laid at the doorstep of John Ryan and the Katy.

  Spectators and jurors alike were aware that politics had entered the courtroom. The central issue was to establish the guilt or innocence of David Tappin, but a secondary purpose of the testimony was to remove any stigma from William Ross. The principal chief of the Cherokee Nation was shown to be a victim of his misguided trust. It was Major Tappin, deceiving both his tribal superior and the railroad, who had orchestrated the murder of Brad Collins. The responsibility, and the blame, stopped there.

  John Ryan took the witness stand last. He’d ridden into town that morning after being summoned by messenger from Fort Smith. A squad of Light Horse, sworn to protect him with their lives, surrounded him the moment he’d dismounted in front of the courthouse. His testimony represented the pivotal point of the prosecution’s case. Under oath, he recounted the attempted holdup, the killings, and Brad Collins’ dying words. Tappin’s motive, which was to silence Collins about the Verdigris River bridge, was established beyond doubt. The prosecutor allowed Ryan to put on record that six railway workers had died in the bridge collapse.

  Counsel for the defense unleashed a vitriolic personal attack on Ryan on cross-examination. He secured an admission that Ryan and Major Tappin were bitter enemies. He next established that Ryan had killed no less than nine Cherokees while employed by the railroad. He tried to create the illusion that Ryan and his railway guards had killed the Collins gang. His contention was that the railroad sought to throw the blame on Tappin and thereby rid itself of the Katy’s most outspoken opponent in the Cherokee Nation. The jurors looked unpersuaded by the argument.

  The prosecution rested its case shortly before three o’clock. After a brief recess, defense counsel called Major David Tappin to the stand. In his own defense Tappin rebutted the testimony of the six Light Horse, as well as that of John Ryan. He termed the trial a travesty, the work of perjuring tribesmen and tibo railroaders. He swore his innocence, depicting himself as a Cherokee patriot and a man of honor. The prosecutor on cross-examination was unable to rattle Tappin. Looking composed and confident, the defendant parried every question with sardonic brilliance.