“Of course I’m interested!” answered the sheriff, in an almost friendly manner. I knew he was buying time for the deputy to climb. “Who wouldn’t want twenty thousand dollars? I just don’t think you know where it is, that’s all!”
“But Mac Boat does know where it is, and I got him right here!” Ollerenshaw yelled back. “I’ll wager that he’d be happy to make a nice deal with you, here and now, to avoid jail time! Which is something I’m willing to do, too! Twenty thousand dollars goes a long way! So let’s end this strife! You put your weapons down. I’ll put my weapon down. We’ll all come to an equitable business arrangement!”
Sheriff Chalfont let out a scornful laugh. “If that fella didn’t tell you where the gold was when your men were beating the daylights out of him,” he replied, “why do you think he’s going to give it up now? Just face it, Ollerenshaw, you got the wrong man. He’s not Mac Boat!”
“It is Mac Boat! And he’s about to tell me where the gold is.”
It was at that moment that I saw, of all the things in the world to see, Marshal Farmer making his way across the creek! It was such a shock to see him there, barreling through the frothy water, his eyes gleaming. I’d given him up for dead not more than two hours before, but there he was, shining in the moonlight, charging through the rapids like some kind of mad bull.
“Come on, Ollerenshaw, this is getting tiring!” the sheriff shouted. He had not yet spied the marshal, even though the old man had reached the embankment and was now snaking his way through the mud toward the ladder. “Let’s end this now!”
“You end it first! Drop your weapons!”
“But why would we drop our weapons?” the sheriff shouted, laughing. “We have the upper hand, you idiot! You got no cards left to play! You got no men! You got no gold! You got nothing!”
“Does this look like nothing to you?”
That is when Ollerenshaw pushed Pa, mouth gagged, feet and hands in manacles, to the front of the cave, where we could all see him. Ollerenshaw himself was close behind him, pressing a revolver into Pa’s back.
I gasped, seeing Pa like that, his body bent, his face battered.
“THIS IS MAC BOAT!” Ollerenshaw screamed wildly, his pale face glistening in the moonlight. Like white marble, his head looked to me. A stone marker in a graveyard. “He admitted it to me! Told me he’d TAKE ME TO WHERE THE GOLD IS BURIED!”
“You’re bluffing!” shouted the sheriff.
“If I’m bluffing, then I have no reason to keep him alive! Drop your gun—or I’LL KILL HIM RIGHT NOW!”
Marshal Farmer, covered in mud from head to foot, had gotten to the bottom of the ladder and was now pulling himself up rung by rung.
“Let him go, Ollerenshaw!” the sheriff yelled calmly. Then he stepped away from the cliff wall so Ollerenshaw could see him holding his rifle above his head. “I’ll let you walk if you let him—!”
“I SAID DROP YOUR GUN!” Ollerenshaw screamed crazily, shoving the pistol harder into Pa’s temple. “DROP IT OR I’LL SHOOT HIS BRAINS OUT!”
“I’M DROPPING IT. LOOK!” the sheriff shouted, throwing his rifle to the ground, his palms up in the air.
“THE FAT ONE, TOO! You think I don’t know he’s climbing up?”
“Jack!” yelled the sheriff, and the deputy dutifully jumped down from the cliff wall and put his hands in the air, palms out, to show he had dropped his rifle. “There! You see? We’ve dropped out weapons. Now let the man go!”
“There were three of you!”
“No, it was just two of us!” shouted the sheriff as the deputy glared at me to stay hidden. “We have repeating rifles!”
“There were three guns. I know it!” screeched Ollerenshaw.
Marshal Farmer had, by now, reached the top of the ladder and was hiding just under the lip of the cave. Slathered in mud as he was, he seemed to disappear into the cliff wall. It was miraculous that no one had spotted him yet.
“Look, Ollerenshaw,” the sheriff continued, his palms up in the air, fingers splayed out. “Here’s what we’re going to do! We’re going to cross the creek to give you time to come down! Then you can make your way to the Falls, get your horses, and be on your way. Just let the man stay behind, and you go.”
It was at that moment that we heard the unlikeliest of sounds, for Ollerenshaw started laughing.
“Did you think I was ever going to walk away from twenty thousand dollars in gold coins? RUFE, SHOOT NOW!”
That is when a couple of things happened all at once.
3
THE FIRST THING WAS RUFE JONES, in his long yellow duster, stepping onto the ledge to shoot the lawmen, who were out in the open now, defenseless. The second thing, what I will remember until the day I die, was a piercing shriek echoing through the ravine, like a cry from another world. It was Pony, squealing as he charged down the embankment toward the cave! In the darkness, all anyone could see was that white face of his, nostrils flared, teeth bared, like a disembodied skull flying through the air. No one but me saw Mittenwool, of course, sitting astride him, goading him into a full gallop. It was a sight to behold!
Rufe Jones instantly raised his rifle to shoot at the charging skull, thinking it must have been the third lawman gunning for him. This gave the sheriff and deputy just enough time to retrieve their guns and take cover against the cliff wall.
“SHOOT AT THE SHERIFFS, NOT AT THE HORSE, YOU FOOL!” Ollerenshaw yelled. But the moment the lawmen started firing at him, Rufe Jones abandoned the cause and scurried back into the cave.
“YOU IDIOT!” shouted Ollerenshaw, who started shooting at the lawmen himself.
This was all the distraction Pa needed. Swerving his body around, he rammed his elbow deep into Ollerenshaw’s ribs, then, as Ollerenshaw doubled over, swung at him again, bringing his manacled fists down like a cudgel onto the top of his head. Ollerenshaw collapsed to the ground, but before Pa could come at him a third time, he rolled to the edge of the cave, flipped onto his back, and pointed his gun at Pa. Just as he pulled the trigger, Marshal Farmer lunged up from under the lip of the cave and grabbed the front of the pistol. There was a loud popping sound then, like something wet hitting rock, as the gun exploded point-blank into Marshal Farmer’s massive hands. For a brief second, the old man stood teetering on the very edge of the cave, looking at the bloody stumps at the end of his arms, then he fell backward, straight as a tree, off the side of the cliff. I didn’t even hear a splash when he hit the water.
I had no time to think on that, though, for inside the cave, Ollerenshaw was banging his pistol against the wall, like one does after a misfire, as Pa was charging at him with a giant barrel hoisted on his shoulders. Ollerenshaw managed to get off one wild shot before Pa heaved the barrel at him, which would have killed him had it connected. But Ollerenshaw twisted out of the way just enough that the barrel only clipped him before smashing to bits against the floor. In an instant, white powder spewed out of the broken barrel, covering the entire cave with silver smoke. I couldn’t see anything inside after that.
Deputy Beautyman and Sheriff Chalfont rushed up the ladder and threw themselves into the cave. I heard the sound of scuffling and Ollerenshaw’s unmistakable voice shouting, then a sudden silence. Nothing could be heard after that. I was about to climb the ladder when, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the yellow duster climbing down a rope off the far ledge of the cave.
“No, you don’t, Rufe Jones!” I yelled, pointing the rifle at him.
“Oh, hang it all!” he growled, and then turned his head upward like he was going to climb back into the cave. But he jumped on me instead! Flattened me out completely. Little stars exploded inside my head and I lost sense of where I was for a split second, but then I realized I was on my back and he was trying to get up off me. The rifle had been knocked out of my hand, but I was not helpless, for a
ll I could think of was him showing up in the night and taking Pa, and this fury filled me with strength I did not know I had.
I grabbed on to his leg as he got up, wrapping my arms around him with all my might. No matter how hard he tried to shake me off, even when he pulled my hair and it felt like every strand was being ripped out of my skull, I would not let go. Finally, he started peeling my fingers back, one by one, at which point I bit him in the thigh as hard as I could. He shrieked bloody murder, and then kneed me in the face with his other leg, which is when I at last let go, as I could feel the bone in my nose shatter and my mouth fill with blood.
As I fell on my back, he spun around to make his getaway, but out of nowhere, suddenly, Pony was rearing up in front of him, ten feet tall on his haunches, squealing like mad. People don’t think of horses as being roaring creatures, like lions or elephants, but that really was the sound Pony made as he pummeled Rufe Jones with his hooves. He was roaring. Mouth frothing. Eyes open wide. Rufe Jones raised his arms to shield his face as he stumbled backward against the cliff wall, but it was of little help. Pony’s hooves were like hundred-pound mallets bludgeoning him. I’ve no doubt he would have been smashed to death then and there had he not been socked on the head by Deputy Beautyman, who had descended the ladder, covered in dust. Rufe Jones went down like a puddle, which is what saved his life in the end, for it was only then that Pony stopped attacking him.
I was about to say something to the deputy, I don’t know what, when he pulled me to my feet and practically hurled me up the ladder.
“Hurry,” he said to me, with an urgency I had not expected.
I climbed the ladder and jumped headfirst into the cave. Everything was covered in that white powder, but the first thing I made out was Roscoe Ollerenshaw lying motionless next to the broken barrel. And then, by the wall, was Sheriff Chalfont tending to Pa. He was bleeding from his stomach, the sheriff moving quickly to bind his wound.
“Pa!” I cried, falling to my knees next to him.
Pa looked at me with utter disbelief. His face was covered in the fine white dust. Except his eyes. His eyes glowed blue.
“Silas?” he said, barely able to comprehend the seeing of me.
“Silas, move back, give him room,” said Sheriff Chalfont, using his jacket to stanch the bleeding.
“He was shot?” I asked, not comprehending what I was seeing.
“How did you get here, Silas?” Pa whispered.
“I came for you, Pa,” I said, holding his hand. “I brought the sheriff. I knew you needed us.”
“I did,” he answered. “I thought if I helped them, they’d let me go, but…”
“Save your strength,” said Sheriff Chalfont, whose hands were drenched in Pa’s blood.
I squeezed Pa’s hand.
“I should never have left you, Silas,” he said. “I didn’t know what else to do. I just wanted to keep you safe.”
“I know, Pa.”
“I promised her I’d keep you safe.”
“I know.”
The blood continued to spurt out of him. It seemed unnaturally red against the white powder that coated everything.
“Is Mittenwool with you?” he whispered.
Mittenwool nodded.
“Yes, he’s right here. He’s next to you, Pa.”
Pa smiled and closed his eyes. “Your mama tried to save a boy from drowning once. Did I ever tell you that?”
Mittenwool blinked and looked at me.
“No, Pa,” I answered.
Deputy Beautyman came up behind me now, and placed his hand gently on my shoulder. This is when I knew that Pa was going to die.
“I brought her violin with me,” I said. “I don’t know why….”
“You brought it?” His eyes opened wide, as if I’d answered a question that had always been a mystery to him. He reached out his other hand and put it on top of mine. He held my hand tightly between his own.
“You’re a good boy, Silas,” he said. “You’re going to have a fine life. You’ll do good in the world. Being your pa has been the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“Pa, please stay. I don’t want to be alone.”
But he was gone.
4
IT IS SOMETHING, TO SEE a soul rise from its moorings. I am not sure why I’m gifted with the ability to see these things, or why the line between the living and the dead has always been so blurred for me. I don’t know why some souls linger and some don’t. Mama’s did not linger. Pa’s did not, either. It rose from his body and hovered briefly, unencumbered by weight. Have you seen the way heat rises above a shiny field and melds the edges of the world contained beyond it? This is what a soul leaving the earth looks like. To me, at least. It may look different to others, but I can only catalog my own perceptions.
Mittenwool closed Pa’s eyes softly. I could not even cry, for the wonder of it all was with me. To this day, and it has been years, I cannot be too saddened by the passing of souls between worlds, for I know how it is, how they come and go for us through the ages, in our lifetimes. It is not unlike Pa’s irontypes, I’ve come to realize. We don’t see the images until the action of sunlight, or some other mysterious agency, gives form to the invisible. But they are there.
Sheriff Chalfont looked up at me, over Pa’s body, and I could see how pained he was. “I’m so sorry, Silas,” he said.
I couldn’t form any words. He lowered his head, and sighed deeply. Deputy Beautyman, who was still behind me, his hand on my shoulder, wrapped his arm around me and held me tight with that one arm. He pressed his chin on my other shoulder and hugged me.
It was strange to feel that tenderness from him, but I grabbed hold of his arm with my hands and held him tighter than I had ever held anything in my life, for he was living and breathing. And I needed that.
5
WE STAYED IN THE CAVE for the rest of the night. The details of that evening are a bit of a fog to me. I know that after the dust had literally settled, we saw how the cave opened into an enormous cavern, maybe forty feet high by a hundred at its widest. It was well ordered, like a storehouse. In every corner and nook and cranny were barrels full of chemicals, and stacks of counterfeit money piled up as tall as a man. All covered in a fine dust of what no one had to tell me was silver nitrate. I recognized the smell immediately.
Deputy Beautyman had brought Rufe Jones up into the cave and tied him back to back with Ollerenshaw, who was still unconscious. For whatever reason, whether it was because Rufe Jones knew a judge might show him leniency if he cooperated, or because he wanted to expunge his conscience, the sly man got very talkative in the cave that night. Despite the fact that he’d lost a mouthful of teeth, and one of his eyes was swollen shut, he started rattling off details about the counterfeiting operation as if the sheriff and the deputy were asking him questions. They weren’t. They knew a man lay dead. Silence was all that was called for. But that didn’t stop Rufe Jones.
“That contraption over there,” he said, in that same singsong voice that I remembered from the night he took Pa, “that’s the geometric lathe. We didn’t really use that too much this time around. We were trying something new. That room to your left there?” He pointed his chin to the left side of the cave. “That’s where we used solvents to wipe the banknotes clean of any ink. I bet you want to know where we got the banknotes from, right?”
“Just shut up,” said the deputy.
Rufe Jones, spitting out another loose tooth, shrugged. “I thought you’d want to know all the details of the operation, is all.”
“I should kill you right now for shooting my ear off,” answered the deputy.
“That wasn’t me! I’m a terrible shot.”
“Just shut your mouth.”
“I’ll testify against Ollerenshaw, by the way. I know all
the details of his operation. I’ll cooperate fully in exchange for some leniency. You make sure to tell the judge that.”
“Stop talking,” said the sheriff.
All this was happening behind me somewhere as I was still sitting next to Pa’s body, which had been covered with a blanket. Mittenwool was next to me, his arm draped over my shoulder. I hadn’t moved from that spot the whole time.
“I just want you to know, I didn’t think it would get this ugly!” Rufe Jones blathered on. “I’m not a violent man by nature. I’m a counterfeiter, not a killer. You could ask anybody.”
“You really need to shut your clamshell,” Deputy Beautyman warned him.
“This was all Doc Parker’s fault, as far as I’m concerned,” continued Rufe Jones. “He was supposed to be the brains of the operation, but he couldn’t figure out the chemical stuff to save his life! Didn’t even know enough to keep his fingers from turning blue. He is the one who told Ollerenshaw about the photographer in Boneville, by the way! That was all his doing! Told Ollerenshaw there was a photographer who had taken his wife’s portrait, who knew how to print photographs on paper. So, Ollerenshaw rode to Boneville to see what he could dig up on this man, and when he heard that he was a Scotsman? Well, that was all it took to convince him that it was Mac Boat, the legendary counterfeiter, living under an alias. Had us all convinced of it, too!”
I think he was looking at me the whole time he talked, but I didn’t look up at him once.
“Anyway, when Ollerenshaw came back here,” Rufe Jones prattled on, “he ordered me to take the twins and a couple of extra horses and bring that photographer back here to the cave. Which is what I did. It was nothing personal. And remember, if I had brought the kid back with me like I was supposed to, he’d be dead as a doornail right now, same as his old man. So, in a way, I’m kind of the one who saved his life, which is what I’m hoping you fellas tell the judge, if he—”
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