In the morning, they had jerky and coffee. Palmer gave the boy a cup to warm his belly. They then broke camp, saddled their horses, and headed for Integrity to start their new life as father and son.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Three years later . . .
Belle! What do I do with these?”
Belle Henderson turned and looked at Jeffrey Cassidy. Since the fifteen-year-old had started to work in her store several months earlier, things had been so much easier. She was lucky that after his most recent birthday, he had decided to get a job so he could start making his own money.
When Marshal Abe Cassidy had returned from Fort Meade with the son he thought was dead, he seemed like a much happier man. And the people in town were happy for him. Now that he had been the law in town for more than three years, he was totally entrenched and accepted in Integrity.
He and his son were also often guests of Belle’s for supper. She enjoyed cooking for two hungry males.
“Put them on that top shelf, Jeffrey. Thank you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Is your father coming back to town today?”
“Yes, ma’am. He said he was gonna deliver his prisoner to Pierre and then come right back.”
Pierre was a town smack in the middle of the South Dakota Territory, across from Fort Pierre on the banks of the Missouri River. Jeffrey had wanted to go with Palmer—his “pa”—but the marshal had said no.
“It’s going to be a quick trip,” Palmer told the boy. “I need you to stay here and watch over Deputy Steve. You’re also going to start working in Belle’s store. You can’t be taking time off already. Understand?”
“Yes, Pa.”
Belle had been there when Palmer explained all this to the boy, and she decided not to make any remarks. This was between father and son. Besides, she did need help in the store, which was becoming busier as the town grew.
After the boy finished stacking items on the top shelf, Belle said, “Jeffrey, why don’t you go in the back and make some room for our next delivery?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“After that, we’ll get some lunch.”
As Jeffrey went into the storeroom, the front door opened and Mayor O’Connor entered the store. He was in the midst of his second term of office, and one of the things that had gotten him reelected turned out to be bringing Marshal Abraham Cassidy to town.
“Mr. Mayor,” Belle greeted, “what can we do for you today, sir?”
“Nothing too important, Mrs. Henderson,” O’Connor said. “I just need some of my pipe tobacco.”
“Of course, sir,” she said. “We have it right here. How many packs?”
“Two, I think.”
“Here you go.”
“Thank you.” O’Connor had made the purchase enough times to know the cost already, so he passed her the money. “How’s your new employee doing?”
“Jeffrey is wonderful,” she said. “He’s just tall enough to be a big help with the top shelves.”
“He seems to be a fine boy,” O’Connor said. “Being rescued and reunited with his father seems to have changed both of their lives.”
“The marshal’s always been a good man,” Belle said. “But I agree with you. Gettin’ his son back seemed to make him more . . . approachable.”
“Well, he certainly has settled into the job,” O’Connor said, “and I’ve got to admit, he did all right hiring a deputy. Steve Atlee would not have been my first choice, but he seems to be doing the job. Yes, sir, we’ve been lucky to have had three-and-a-half solid years of law enforcement in Integrity.”
“And I’m sure we’ll have many more,” Belle said.
* * *
* * *
O’Connor left the mercantile, amazed at Belle Henderson’s attitude, since the last incident of violence in town had been the unexpected shootings of her husband and her.
She’d managed to retain ownership of the store, which appeared to be prospering, and folks in town seemed to think that she and the marshal were headed for the altar soon.
He stopped walking when he saw three strangers riding into town. Integrity was still off the beaten path, but it was growing, and strangers in town were always welcome. But these looked like saddle tramps, and O’Connor wasn’t happy to see them with Marshal Cassidy away. He decided to make a stop in the marshal’s office. Steve Atlee might not have been his first choice as deputy, but he was the deputy the town had.
* * *
* * *
Deputy Atlee was pouring himself a cup of coffee when the office door opened and Mayor O’Connor stepped in. Atlee knew the mayor didn’t want him to be a deputy, but Marshal Cassidy had made the decision. But after all these years, he still felt as if the mayor didn’t approve.
“Mr. Mayor,” he said, “what can I do for you?”
“I understand we’re expecting the marshal back today,” O’Connor said.
“That’s right,” Atlee said, “later today.” He carried his coffee to the desk and sat. There was still only one desk in the room, but that was all they needed. A second one would have made the area look and feel crowded. What they really needed was a new office.
“Well,” O’Connor said, “I wanted you to know I just saw three strangers ride into town.”
“That right?” Atlee asked. “What’d they look like?”
“Like saddle tramps on horseback,” O’Connor said. “In fact, you might even say they looked like hard cases.”
“Maybe I should take a look at them,” the deputy said.
“You probably should,” O’Connor said, “but I wouldn’t approach them. Not till the marshal gets back.”
“I’d only talk to them, Mr. Mayor.”
“Who knows who they are, if they’re wanted somewhere or not?” the mayor said. “And if push came to shove, it would be three against one. No, I just want you to take a look at them and know where they are for when the marshal gets back.”
“Okay,” Atlee said, “I can do that.”
“Excellent,” the mayor said. “Thank you, Deputy.”
“You didn’t happen to see what hotel they went to, did you?” Atlee asked.
“I don’t even know if they stopped at a hotel, the livery, or a saloon.”
Over the past three years, another hotel and two more saloons had opened in town. Atlee figured he’d have to check all of them.
“All right, Mr. Mayor,” he said. “Thanks for lettin’ me know.”
“Just remember to be careful, Deputy,” O’Connor said.
“Yes, sir,” Atlee said, “I’ll do that.”
The mayor nodded and left the office.
Atlee sipped his coffee. He had planned to sweep the office so it looked clean when the marshal arrived, but now he was thinking he had something else to occupy his time. He set his cup down, put on his hat, and left the office.
* * *
* * *
In addition to the Palomino, the Last Chance, the Little Dakota, and the Silver Spur saloons, the town now also had the Diamond Lady and Bill Dunlap’s Saloon. As for hotels, the Utopia had put Integrity’s other hotel out of business the first year it was open, but since then another had opened called Integrity House. So Atlee had eight places to check—not to mention the two hotels had their own saloons for their guests—but even before that, he went to the livery stable to see if three strangers had boarded their horses.
“No strangers today, Deputy,” the hostler, Lionel, told him. “Sorry.”
Atlee thanked the man, then went to the hotels to talk to the desk clerks. The word was the same there: no strangers.
After that, Atlee went saloon crawling. There were horses outside most of them, but it was still early in the day and none of them was busy. He approached each bartender and asked about strangers. Finally, at the fourth place he tried—
the new Diamond Lady Saloon—he got the word.
“Well, yeah, Deputy,” the barkeep said. “Three strangers came in a little while ago. They ordered a bottle of whiskey and three glasses and went to a back table.”
“Don’t point,” Atlee said. “Just tell me where.”
“Under the painting of the Diamond Lady where she’s wearin’ green.”
There were several paintings of the Diamond Lady on the walls, all in different color dresses. Atlee turned his head and glanced at the three men seated beneath the green one. The mayor had been right. They looked like hard cases.
“No trouble?” he asked the bartender.
“Not yet.”
“They didn’t happen to say what they were doin’ here, did they?”
“No, sir.”
“Okay, thanks,” Atlee said.
“You gonna ask ’em?” the bartender asked.
“Not just yet.”
Atlee turned from the bar, made a point of not looking at the three men again, and left.
* * *
* * *
See?” Rusty Briggs said. “I tol’ you. I ain’t wanted here, so there’s no reason for the law to look at us twice.”
“Except that we’re strangers,” Johnny Brickhill said.
“And we look like saddle tramps,” Chad Green said, rubbing his face, “what with this beard stubble and these dirty clothes.”
“We can fix that,” Briggs said, “with a bath and some new clothes.”
“A bath?” Green said, almost in shock.
“Hey, you’re the one who talked about us bein’ dirty,” Briggs said. “We can probably use a haircut as well as a shave.”
“You sure you ain’t wanted here?” Brickhill asked.
“All through the Southwest, yeah,” Briggs said, “but ain’t no paper out on me up here. That’s for sure.”
“Well, then,” Green said, grabbing the bottle, “we got time to have a few more drinks.”
“Just remember,” Briggs said. “If we split up, no trouble. We don’t wanna attract any attention. Got it?”
“We got it,” Brickhill said. “I just got one question.”
“What’s that?”
“How long we gotta stay up here?”
“Until I figure out some way to make money,” Briggs told him. “Pour me another drink.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Palmer rode back into Integrity around suppertime. That meant the street wasn’t busy, businesses were closed or closing, and he was hungry. While he had been away for a few days, he had camped out a couple of times, and he was feeling grimy. He had more beard stubble on his face than he’d had since coming to town over three years ago. He was longing for a hot bath and some fresh clothes. But he stopped first at his office, even before taking his horse to the livery.
“Marshal!” Steve Atlee said as he entered. “Glad to see you back.”
“Happy to be back, Steve,” Palmer said. “Anything happen while I was away?”
“Not a thing,” Atlee said. “Oh, some strangers rode in today, and the mayor was kinda worried, but I took a look at ’em.”
“And?”
“They look like hard cases, but they didn’t match any posters that we’ve got,” Atlee said. “And all they was doin’ when I saw them was sittin’ and drinkin’.”
“You get any names?”
“Nope.”
“Know if they’re staying or just passing through?” Palmer asked.
“No.”
“What did you find out, Steve?” Palmer asked.
“Just that they’re here,” Atlee said, “and so far there’s been no trouble.”
“And they got here today, you said?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay.” Palmer rubbed his face. “I’m too tired to deal with them now. I need a bath, a meal, and some sleep. I’ll check in on them tomorrow.”
“Whatever you say, Marshal.”
Palmer wished Atlee had been a little more thorough in investigating the three strangers. Then again, he would have been one man against three, which wasn’t smart, especially if they were gunnies. Better to wait till tomorrow and brace them together.
“Okay,” Palmer said, “I’m going to tend to my horse, then go home, see if I can find my son, and get settled.”
“He’s been working for Miss Belle at her store,” Atlee said. “I saw him there earlier today.”
“That’s right,” Palmer said. “She gave him a job, didn’t she? But she’d probably be closed by now. I’ll check and see if he’s home. I won’t be back tonight, Steve, so you close the office, and then I’ll open it up in the morning.”
“Suits me, boss,” Atlee said.
Palmer left the office and rode his horse over to the livery stable.
“Welcome back, Marshal,” the hostler, Lionel, said, taking his horse from him. “I was gonna stop by your office after I closed up.”
“What for?”
“Your deputy was here earlier today askin’ me about strangers.”
“And?”
“I hadn’t seen any, but since then a man came in leading three horses, said he’d just gotten to town.”
“Three horses?”
“That’s right.”
“Where are they?”
“My three back stalls. I’ll show you.”
The older man walked Palmer back, showed him the three animals. Two were geldings and one a mare. They all looked to be seven or eight years old and well traveled.
“They’ve come a long way,” Palmer said.
“From the Southwest, the man said,” the hostler told him. “He was a talker.”
“Did he say why they were here?”
“No, but he did say they’d be at the Integrity House, probably for a few days, and that they’d probably want to buy some horses when they’re ready to leave.”
“Are their saddles here?”
“Yeah, over there.”
Palmer went to the three saddles and saw that all three saddlebags were gone.
“There’s nothing here to tell me anything,” he said.
“Well, you’re the marshal,” the hostler said. “You can just ask ’em what they’re doin’ here.”
“And I will,” Palmer said. “Tomorrow.”
Palmer left the livery and started walking home. After he had returned from Fort Meade with the boy, he had moved out of the hotel and into the house the town was originally going to give Abe Cassidy. It was still a little large for him and the boy, but they made it home, furnishing it with the help of Belle Henderson.
Now that Jeffrey was fifteen, Palmer had agreed to leave him home on his own while he took the prisoner to Pierre. In the past when he’d had to leave town, he would have left the boy with Belle, but Jeffrey insisted he was old enough to look after himself. What he didn’t know was that when Palmer had agreed, he’d also asked Belle to look in on Jeffrey.
As Palmer entered the large one-story house on the southern edge of town, Jeffrey came out of the kitchen, chewing on a chicken leg.
“Belle sent us some cold chicken,” he said with a smile.
“And you couldn’t wait for me to get home to eat it?” Palmer asked.
The broad smile became a sheepish one.
“I was hungry, and you said you’d probably be home by this time.”
“Lucky for me I was right,” Palmer said, “or you might have eaten all that chicken yourself.”
They went into the kitchen together, and while Palmer washed up in the sink, Jeffrey laid out plates for the chicken. Palmer dried his hands and sat at the table with his “son.”
He had to admit, after living with the boy for three years and watching him mature and grow, he did love him like a son. It was a feeling he never would have thought he wa
s capable of as Tom Palmer. But as Abe Cassidy, he was a doting father.
And even though Jeffrey knew Palmer was not his real father, he had kept his word and stayed silent, for he would always appreciate Palmer for stopping to bury his family. In the end, Palmer’s taking Jeffrey’s father’s name and identity had helped the both of them.
“Any trouble with the prisoner?” Jeffrey asked.
“None,” Palmer said. “I took him there, turned him over, and headed home.”
“And you didn’t have a beer first?”
“One.”
“Ha!”
Palmer stared across the table at Jeffrey. He looked quite different from the skinny boy Palmer had brought back from Fort Meade that day. He had grown a head taller, filled out so that he almost looked like a full-grown man. Three years ago he had fought the idea of a haircut, but had finally given in and let a barber cut off those long Indian-like locks. When Jeffrey had some new clothes, it turned out he looked just like every other kid in town, and nobody looked at him twice. Palmer put him in school and nobody teased the marshal’s son about having lived with the Sioux for six months.
When they finished eating, Jeffrey volunteered to wash the dishes.
“What have you done with my son?” Palmer asked.
“You look tired,” Jeffrey said. “Why don’t you just go to sleep?”
“It’ll be nice to be in my own bed,” Palmer admitted.
“Then in the morning you can take a bath,” the boy added. “You stink.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Palmer and Jeffrey did not have a bathtub in their house, so Palmer rose early and went into town to bathe. While he did that, Jeffrey went to the mercantile store to help Belle.
Palmer intended to also have a shave and a haircut, but the barber had somebody in his chair, and two more people waiting, so Palmer decided to return later.
The Wrong Side of the Law Page 17