by A. T. Butler
“And now he’s lost another parent.”
Timothy was eating silently, looking down at his plate. Jacob couldn’t imagine how hard this last month had been for the boy. Jacob’s own relationship with his father had been strained, but at least he had been around through all of Jacob’s childhood.
“How has the last month been for you?” Jacob asked Maggie.
Maggie took a bite of her stew before answering, chewing slowly and considering what to say. Jacob stayed quiet, giving her the time she needed to think about it.
“It’s been hard, as you can imagine,” she said. “Not just the death, but the everyday as well. We never got my husband’s last month’s pay.” She looked down at her bowl, avoiding Jacob’s eyes. “Sheriff Horne confiscated it. Claimed it was evidence.”
“Evidence? Of what? What is he investigating?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. He says my Alex died of a snakebite, so I haven’t a clue what the pay has to do with that.”
“Did the undertaker say it was a snakebite?”
She shook her head. “No. That is, I’m not sure. We never discussed it. I just took Sheriff Horne at his word.” She studied Jacob’s expression. “You think I should have questioned it?”
“Maybe. Maybe not at that moment, but it might be worth looking into now. If he has your husband’s pay to dole out, he might be having an easier time bringing those deputies around to his side. But, on the other hand, if we can find evidence of another murder, it might be possible to get the other deputies out of Sheriff Horne’s pocket. The fewer men I have to fight to bring him to justice, the better.”
Timothy paled at that. “You think you’ll have to fight the other deputies?”
Jacob chewed thoughtfully. “I might. But then, there might be a way I don’t have to. If the man would just admit what he and I both know, this could be a lot more simple.”
He paused when he saw Maggie reach over to squeeze Timothy’s hand. The boy was nervous, that was plain. But whether it was at the thought of fighting the other deputies, of his first real job as a law enforcer, or of something else, Jacob didn’t know.
“I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about this at dinner.”
At this, Timothy finally looked up. “No. I want to. I want to get this guy out of here, if . . . if he really did murder all those people.”
Jacob nodded somberly. “He did.”
“Then let’s do this.”
“We will. But we have to be smart about this. We don’t want to start a shootout or put any of the other folks here in danger. A man who feels cornered may lash out, and we already know Jeremiah is capable of murder.”
Maggie ventured, “You think we need a way to disarm Sheriff Horne—I mean, Jeremiah Blanchard?”
“Maybe. But more than that, men like him need to feel like they’re in power. We need to strip him of whatever power he thinks he has.”
“How do we do that?” Timothy asked.
“Leave that to me,” Jacob said. “What I need from you is something different.”
Chapter Six
After helping Maggie wash the dishes and clean up after supper, Jacob left the little family alone for the evening. Both Timothy and Maggie had a part in the plan Jacob had come up with for the next day. He wanted to give them time, not only to rest but also to think about if the task ahead was too big of a risk. He had told them over and over that he could take the man on his own—Jacob was used to confronting dangerous men, and Maggie and Timothy were not, in spite of their connection to the previous sheriff—but they’d insisted on helping.
As he strolled along the boardwalk to the right of the street, back through the dark, quiet town, Jacob pondered what he had learned since arriving in town earlier that day.
Talking to Maggie and Timothy had shown him that not only was Sheriff Horne indeed the man he was after, but it was possible he might have another murder on his conscience as well. It seemed like too much of a coincidence that the previous sheriff died not long after the new man showed up in town.
This was a different kind of bounty than Jacob was used to. Instead of being on the run from the law, the murderer had become the law. Not only would Jacob need to overpower the man somehow, but he would also need to make sure that the rest of San Adrian was on board. Every man, woman, and child in town was upholding the criminal’s authority at present. He couldn’t afford to capture Sheriff Horne only to be captured himself by the gang of deputies.
After a few blocks, Jacob stopped. He looked around. The town seemed all but deserted. He looked up at the night sky; there seemed to be far more stars out here in Arizona than he remembered from his home back east. Or maybe he had just never taken the time to notice.
Lights shone out of the saloon and hotel windows, but almost no sound made it to the abandoned street where Jacob walked. Most of the homes around the Winthrops’ were dark and shuttered.
This, more than anything, told him things were off in San Adrian. The one night he spent in Bennettsville, for example, Jacob was greeted with music, laughter, and friendly hey-theres when he walked through town at this same time of night. Here it was different. The people were hiding.
Just before he reached the main street, only a few blocks away from the Winthrops’, Jacob heard steps behind him. He paused, looked back, but didn’t see anyone. He decided to move from walking along the boardwalk in front of the buildings to walking in the middle of the dusty street. There would be fewer shadows and fewer corners to hide an attacker.
He continued his stroll, and again he heard footsteps mingled with his own. It wasn’t someone running up to meet him, but rather a stalker marking his steps, keeping in time but staying back. Jacob turned to look at who was following him, but saw only shadow against the darkened buildings. Whoever it was didn’t want to be seen.
“You know I’m armed,” he called into the darkness.
Silence.
“If you have something to say, then say it, ’stead of hiding in the shadows like a thief.”
Silence . . . and then, from the darkness, a figure began to emerge.
The silhouette of a tall man wearing a long duster and Stetson. Jacob held his ground while the figure approached. As the mystery man closed the distance, stepping into the light spilling from the nearby hotel, the bright reflection of the man’s white beard identified him as Deputy Barnes.
Jacob wondered if the sheriff had sent him to follow, or if the man was acting on his own.
He stopped twenty feet away from Jacob.
“Is there something I can help you with, sir?” Jacob asked in a biting tone. “There must be a reason you’re skulking around following me.”
“We don’t want your kind around here.”
“My kind?” He laughed. “What, men from Virginia? Best tell the sheriff that, then.”
“A bounty hunter’s got no place here. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave town. Tonight.”
Jacob chuckled. “That’s your big scary threat? That I should leave town? Let me tell you, mister. I don’t aim to leave without Jeremiah Blanchard in tow. Dead or alive. I wasn’t the first to hear about him being seen in San Adrian, and I won’t be the last.”
“So I should end you right now, then?” the deputy said.
Jacob shrugged. If this man meant to kill him, he’d have been shot in the back before even hearing steps behind him. The deputy may be a bad seed, but he wasn’t in the same league as Jeremiah.
“I’m warning you . . .” Barnes said.
Jacob didn’t move. He didn’t draw his own gun, but he also didn’t surrender. He wanted this man to know he could not be intimidated. They were standing in the center of the dark main street of San Adrian. It was only nine o’clock, but there was no one else around, no one to witness this bullying.
“Look, mister. There’s something that’s been bugging me. I don’t know why you’ve thrown your hat in with this murderer, but if you’re not careful you’ll end up on a wanted
poster yourself. So tell me. What’s in it for you?”
Deputy Barnes looked taken aback. “What’s in it for me? Other than this deputy badge that gives me leave to do whatever I want?” He laughed a hard, brusque bark.
“Surely not whatever you want,” Jacob responded. “You the type of man who’d murder a woman? Like Jeremiah?”
Still with his gun trained on Jacob, he stalked forward a couple steps. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Jacob stood his ground. “You’re fooling yourself, friend. It takes a specific kind of man to murder, and not one you can count on being on your side for long. Jeremiah will use you for what he can and then discard you.”
“That’s all you know.”
“Then tell me. Why should I walk away now and leave this town to his mercy?”
“Sheriff Horne is a man who gets things done,” Barnes said. “Your showing up in town may have interrupted his plans temporarily, but it just bumped you to the top of his list.”
Jacob shook his head, disappointed in the man’s answer.
“I’ll remember your face, you know,” Jacob said. “As long as I’m a bounty hunter, I’ll be on the lookout for those blue eyes staring out at me from a wanted bill. Doesn’t even matter what name you might be going by, Deputy Barnes.”
The deputy raised his arm, pointing his gun at Jacob’s face. Jacob did not flinch. After a moment, the deputy lowered his arm, quickly firing into the dirt right at Jacob’s feet.
“I won’t tell you again,” the deputy said with an angry growl. “The next time I see you, it had better be the back of you on a horse riding west. If you stay in San Adrian, you’ll die. Just like your friend Sheriff Winthrop.”
Jacob shook his head and turned his back on the deputy, to finish his walk back to his hotel room. He whistled “Battle Hymn of the Republic” as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, Jacob woke early, spent some time cleaning his gun, and made his way down to the hotel lobby. He had a few loose ends to tie up in San Adrian today, the first being to ask a favor from Mrs. Finch.
“Good morning, Mr. Payne,” she said, greeting him with a smile. He eyed today’s hat—a narrow gray thing, with a small veil and purple- and green-dyed feathers sticking almost straight up. “Will you be checking out today?”
“Not just yet, Mrs. Finch. I think my business will wrap up later today, but I’ll hold on to the room, just in case.”
“All right. Well, then, since you’ll be our guest a little bit longer, can I offer you some coffee?”
“Coffee would be great. But there’s also one other thing you can do for me, ma’am.”
“I’m happy to help if I can.”
“It’s a small thing, I hope—I don’t want to interrupt your day. Do you think you could see your way to coming down to the livery this afternoon? Or, probably better, the street in front of the livery? Say around one o’clock?”
Mrs. Finch looked confused as she poured the coffee for him. “You need me at the livery? I don’t understand . . . I thought your business was with Sheriff Horne. The livery is at the opposite end of town from the jail.”
“I don’t want to say too much,” Jacob said. “It’s better if you don’t know what to expect. You’ll see why when you get there.”
She nodded hesitantly, still puzzled. “If we don’t have any guests checking in at that time, I’ll be there.”
“Thank you, ma’am. And thank you for the coffee. Can I get breakfast at Ed’s saloon, too?”
She shook her head. “No. Sometimes Mrs. Baker has bread left over from the night before, but you won’t get much more than that till lunch, I’m afraid. My offer to supply you with jerky and biscuits still stands, though.”
“Thank you. I’d like that.”
When Mrs. Finch left to go prepare Jacob’s lunch, he wandered out to the boardwalk in front of the hotel. There were still almost no people out in the street. He needed to do something about that. He stepped back inside.
“Mrs. Finch,” he said as she returned. “If you happen to talk to any of your neighbors this morning, could you invite them to the livery as well?”
She frowned, and a hint of fear tugged at her face. “I . . . I don’t understand, Mr. Payne. Are you trying to draw a crowd? Is something exciting going to happen?” The way she said the word exciting made him believe she meant it as anything but.
“Hopefully,” he replied. “You’ll see when you get there.”
When he left the hotel, Jacob spotted Maggie Winthrop coming out of the telegraph office about a block over on the other side of the street. As she stepped off the wooden walkway, the train of her black dress caught on a loose corner and she stopped, bent down, and freed herself. As she stood back up, Maggie caught his eye, adjusted her bonnet, and smiled shyly, but didn’t stop to talk. That was okay with Jacob. After their long conversation last night, he knew she had a full day ahead of her.
He began walking in the other direction, toward the next item on his list to make this plan work, but was stopped in his tracks when he overheard a fight.
“I told you—that was your last chance!” a familiar voice shouted behind him. He turned slowly, moving his hand to unhook his hammer loop.
But Sheriff Horne wasn’t shouting at him. The little man was sitting on his horse, glaring down at another man standing before him. It took a second, but Jacob realized this was Ed Baker, and as he watched, the sheriff reached down to slap the older man across the face.
Jacob started walking to the saloonkeeper’s side, but before he could reach him, Ed was quickly surrounded by three of the sheriff’s deputies. Soon Jacob had lost a clear line of sight to him.
Sheriff Horne stayed on his horse. Jacob realized that was the only way he would even be tall enough to reach Ed. “You think you’re above the law, Baker? You think you know better? Better than me?”
Jacob reached the cluster in the middle of the street and noticed a crowd gathering to watch. Many of the women held hands over their mouths, shocked at the abuse they were witnessing, their men standing with their arms around them protectively but not doing anything to stop the abuse. Ed was beloved in this town, that much Jacob had gathered; but no one, it seemed, was brave enough to step forward to defend him.
Jacob wouldn’t be so cowed.
He pushed one of the deputies out of his way just in time to stop the sheriff from hitting Ed again. “Why don’t you get down off that horse if you really want a fight?”
The deputies all pushed and grabbed at Jacob, pulling him away from their boss. It took all three of them to subdue him. Jacob didn’t want a fight, so he quit struggling. The deputies didn’t let go.
“Stop this! What are you hitting him for?” Jacob demanded.
Jeremiah smiled condescendingly down from his perch atop the stallion. “This is San Adrian business, Mr. Payne. Seeing as you’re a stranger to this town, I don’t really see any reason to enlighten you.”
“Ed,” Jacob said in a low voice. “What happened?”
The man’s cheek was still bright red where he had been smacked, and he glared at the sheriff. His eyes met Jacob’s. He was angry, livid even, but still unwilling to say anything. Jacob could understand that. With his whole livelihood dependent on the goodwill of the town, it wouldn’t be in his interest to make this fight worse.
“Sheriff Horne!” a woman’s voice called over the crowd.
Jacob turned to see a squat redheaded woman coming from up the street and making her way between the men and women watching the scene.
“Sheriff Horne?” As she jogged toward the crowd, she untied and removed her apron, wrapping her hands in the calico. “What has Ed done? Something upset you, sir? That doesn’t sound like my Ed.” She reached her husband’s side and put her arm around his shoulders. Mrs. Baker was a full head shorter than her husband, but she still managed to look like a protective mother hen. She used the apron in her hand to clean the dir
t off Ed’s hands and face from where he fell in the street.
“Well, ma’am,” the sheriff said plaintively, “your husband has some outlandish ideas. Seems he thinks that he’s the one gets to decide how things are ‘round here. But maybe you’re right—maybe it’s not like him. Might be he picked up some things when talking to some of the more unsavory characters ‘round here.”
He looked pointedly at Jacob. Mrs. Baker followed his gaze and hardened her expression against the bounty hunter.
“You might be right, Sheriff Horne,” she said. “We’ll be sure to be more careful about who we serve from now on.”
Without saying good-bye or asking the sheriff’s leave, Ed and his wife cut through the crowd and back toward their saloon. Jacob was still being restrained by two of the deputies, but when he tried to shake them loose, they relaxed their grip.
“Beating an unarmed man, Sheriff? Is that the way to win hearts and minds around here?”
Jacob spat at the foot of the horse Jeremiah sat on and turned to go. As he passed, he noticed a look of concern cross Deputy Conroy’s face. Jacob noted how the big man stepped back from the sheriff and thought maybe he was already making inroads.
Chapter Eight
As Jacob walked away from Sheriff Horne and his deputies in the middle of the street, he had to weave his way through the crowd that had gathered to watch the commotion. Many of the people he passed looked at him curiously, some not so friendly. Some of them were beginning to murmur to one another, and he caught snatches of conversation as he moved through the group.
“He shouldn’t—”
“What could have—”
“I don’t like this.”
It was starting.
Jacob hoped that once the townspeople began to realize they could fight back against Sheriff Horne’s dictatorship, the tide would turn. If even Deputy Conroy was beginning to change his opinion, like Jacob suspected, this might all work out without any more bloodshed. As long as the sheriff had the town’s tacit support, the man could do whatever he wanted; but it looked as if that was beginning to change.