The Wrong Side of the Law

by Robert J. Randisi

  “You got that right.”

  “I don’t wanna do it,” Green said.

  Briggs and Brickhill both looked at the younger man.

  “I’d feel like I’m turnin’ one of our own in,” Green said.

  “That’s bull crap,” Briggs said. “He ain’t one of us.”

  “I’ll do it,” Brickhill said. “I’ll turn him in and collect the reward.”

  “Why would you do that?” Green asked. “You’re friends.”

  “We’re not friends,” Brickhill said. “We just pulled some jobs together over the years.”

  “Okay, then, that’s settled,” Briggs said. “We’ll snatch ’im and Brick will collect the bounty.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Palmer was determined to rise early the next morning and make sure that Brickhill and his partners left town. But this evening he had promised to go to Belle Henderson’s house for supper with Jeffrey.

  He went to his office, found Steve Atlee sitting at the desk.

  “Marshal,” Atlee greeted him, “I was just gettin’ ready to leave.”

  “You do that, Steve,” Palmer said. “I’ll be here a while, and then I’m going to Mrs. Henderson’s for supper. She’s got Jeff there and I have to pick him up.”

  They changed places, Palmer sitting behind the desk and Atlee standing in front of it.

  “But there’s something I want to fill you in on before you go,” Palmer said.

  “What’s that, Marshal?”

  Palmer told Atlee about the three strangers and how he had “asked” them to leave town the next morning.

  “Why did you do that, Marshal?” Atlee asked. “They ain’t done nothin’.”

  “Once I saw them and spoke to them, I knew you were right. They’re hard cases, not the type of men we want in this town.”

  “Are they gonna leave?”

  “Tomorrow morning I’ll make sure they do,” Palmer said.

  “I’ll meet you here, then,” Atlee said. “In case you need me to back you up.”

  “That’s a good idea, Steve,” Palmer said. “Meet me here at eight a.m.”

  “Yes, sir,” Atlee said. “I’ll be here.”

  Atlee left and Palmer sat back in his chair and thought about Belle Henderson. He knew the people of Integrity were expecting them to marry, but the two of them had never discussed it. In truth, Palmer would have liked to, but she had already been married to a man who had been living under an assumed name. He didn’t want to do that to her again. So he thought if he really wanted to marry her, he had to tell her the truth not only about her husband, but about himself. And then the final decision would be hers.

  On the other hand, he could have kept it all a secret from her and married her, anyway. He would just have to hope she never found out the truth.

  * * *

  * * *

  When it was time to go to Belle’s for supper, Palmer left his office and started walking. Along the way he was still wrestling with himself about whether or not to tell her the truth about her husband and about himself and Jeff. Perhaps if he hadn’t been so distracted, he would have heard the men coming up behind him as he turned onto Belle’s street. He stopped when he felt the gun poke into the small of his back.

  “Just take it easy,” he heard Rusty Briggs say. “Get his gun. Quick before somebody comes along.”

  A hand grabbed the gun from his holster, and then a hand took hold of his left arm.

  “This way,” Briggs said. “And if you resist, I’ll shoot you right here.”

  “What’s this all about?” Palmer asked.

  “It’s about the bounty on a man named Tom Palmer,” Briggs said as they pushed Palmer along. “Sound familiar?”

  Damn Brickhill, Palmer thought.

  “Where were you headed?” Briggs asked him.

  “Home,” Palmer said.

  “Well,” Briggs said, “you’re not gonna get there.”

  Palmer saw no point in telling them he was going to Belle’s house. Maybe, when he didn’t arrive, Belle and Jeff would get worried and start looking for him.

  He knew it was Briggs with the gun at his back, but he could also hear the footsteps of two other men behind him, no doubt Brickhill and Chad Green.

  “Where are we going?” he asked.

  “The stables,” Briggs said. “Our horses are saddled and waitin’.”

  “We goin’ on a trip?”

  “We are,” Briggs said. “We’re headin’ south, my friend, where turnin’ you in is gonna make us pretty rich.”

  Palmer knew even though he hadn’t been in the Southwest for over three-and-a-half years, those wanted posters on him would still be around. He couldn’t afford to let the men take him there.

  He waited until they got to the livery stables, where four horses—one of which was his gelding—were all saddled and waiting.

  “All right,” Briggs told him, prodding him with his gun, “get mounted.”

  Palmer started toward his horse, but turned quickly to bat Briggs’ gun hand away. As he did, he saw both Brickhill and Chad Green, and then something hit him on the back of the head and everything went black.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Where is he?” Belle said aloud.

  “He probably got busy,” Jeff said. “Three strangers came to town. He’s probably watchin’ them.”

  “Then we should eat?”

  “Yes.”

  Belle put supper out on the table and they sat and ate. By the time they finished, they were both worried.

  “I’ll go home,” Jeff said. “Maybe he’s there.”

  “You can stay here, Jeff,” she told him.

  “It’s all right, Belle,” he said. He had started out calling her Mrs. Henderson, and then Miss Belle, but eventually she told him to call her Belle. “I’ll find ’im.”

  “Let me know what happened, will you,” Belle asked, “when you come to work?”

  “I will.”

  She kissed his cheek and he left. When he got home and didn’t find Palmer there, he went to the office. After that, he went to Steve Atlee’s room, which was in the back of a feed store. When Atlee answered, Jeff knew he had awakened the deputy.

  “Steve, where’s my pa?”

  Atlee wiped his face with both hands.

  “Last I saw him, he was in the office.”

  “He’s not there, and he’s not home.”

  “Then he’s makin’ rounds,” Atlee said.

  “He was supposed to come to Belle’s for supper,” Jeff said.

  “Yeah, he tol’ me that.”

  “He never showed up,” Jeff said. “Belle’s worried.”

  Atlee yawned.

  “Steve!” Jeff snapped. “I need help findin’ my pa.”

  “Okay, okay,” Atlee said. “Let me put on my pants and boots.”

  He closed the door. Moments later he opened it and stepped out, strapping on his gun.

  “We should look in the saloons—” Jeff started.

  “No,” Atlee said. “He told the three strangers they had to leave town by mornin’. Maybe they didn’t like bein’ told that.”

  “What hotel are they in?”

  “I don’t know, but let’s check the livery stable and see if their horses are there.”

  “And Buddy!” Jeff said. “Pa’s horse, too.”

  “Right. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  * * *

  At the livery stable they discovered the strangers’ three horses were gone, as well as Palmer’s.

  “Jesus,” Jeff said.

  “Take it easy,” Atlee said. “Maybe he showed them out of town.”

  “Maybe they took ’im,” Jeff said.

  “That wouldn’t be a smart thing to do, kidnappin’ a lawman.
”

  Jeff didn’t tell Atlee about Palmer’s past, but he was thinking maybe somebody had grabbed him for the price on his head. Palmer had often said his being recognized was a slight possibility. Maybe it had finally happened.

  “Don’t go overboard, boy,” Atlee said. “Let’s wait till mornin’—”

  “You wait till mornin’,” Jeff said. “I’m goin’ after them now.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll saddle my horse and ride.”

  “Do you know how to track? How to read sign?”

  “Pa showed me some,” Jeff admitted.

  “And what will you do if they took him and you catch up to them?” Atlee said. “Your pa hasn’t taught you how to shoot yet, has he?”

  “He ain’t,” Jeff said, “but he don’t know I been practicin’ on my own.”

  “How?” Atlee demanded. “With what gun? You ain’t taken any from the office.”

  “Belle’s husband had a gun. I found it one day. I take it out back of her store and practice.”

  “Rifle or pistol?” Atlee asked.

  “Pistol.”

  “Kid,” Atlee said, “you’re talkin’ about goin’ after three hard cases, and you don’t know what you’re doin’. You could get killed.”

  “Then come with me and keep me from gettin’ killed,” Jeff said.

  “Jesus,” Atlee said, “if somethin’ happens to you, your pa’ll kill me.”

  “Not if he’s already dead!” Jeff said.

  “What makes you think he was taken and didn’t go on his own?”

  Jeff couldn’t answer that question honestly.

  “I just have to find him, Steve,” Jeff said. “We have to go.”

  “Well, we can’t go in the dark,” Atlee said. “So let’s give it till mornin’ and see if he shows up. If not, then we’ll saddle up and go . . . lookin’.”

  “All right, Steve,” Jeff said, “but at first light, I’m goin’.”

  “You’re gonna want to tell Mrs. Henderson you’re goin’, right?”

  Jeff hesitated.

  “Well, yeah . . .”

  “When?”

  “Um, in the mornin’,” Jeff said. “She’ll be worried, too.”

  “Then you’ll have to wait till she’s up,” Atlee said. “You’re not gonna wanna wake her.”

  “All right,” Jeff said. “She’ll be at the store at nine. I’ll tell her then.”

  “Good,” Atlee said. “I’ll meet you there. Now go home and get some sleep.”

  “All right,” Jeff said, although he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep in the empty house. Not when something might have happened to Palmer that he’d been afraid might happen for three-and-a-half years.

  Jeff and Deputy Atlee went their separate ways, supposedly to get some sleep. But while Jeff went home, Atlee walked over to the Palomino Saloon.

  * * *

  * * *

  Whataya mean?” Wade the bartender said.

  “Jeff thinks the marshal is missin’,” Atlee said. “And he’s gonna go lookin’ for him.”

  “Why would Abe be missin’?” Wade asked.

  “Jeff won’t say,” Atlee said, “but it has to do with these three strangers who came to town.”

  “I haven’t heard anythin’ about this,” Wade said.

  “I thought you and Marshal Cassidy were best friends,” Atlee explained. “That’s why I’m here, to see if you know anything.”

  “I don’t know nothin’,” Wade said. “When did these three men get here?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “That’s when Abe got back,” Wade said. “He hasn’t been in to see me yet.” Wade frowned. “Makes me think somethin’s keepin’ him busy.”

  “And maybe that somethin’ now has him missin’,” Atlee figured.

  “If he wasn’t missin’, I woulda seen ’im by now,” Wade said. “So Jeff might be right. What are you gonna do?”

  “Jeff wants to mount up and ride out in the mornin’,” Atlee said.

  “And go where?”

  “That’s just it,” Atlee said, “if those three have grabbed him and are takin’ him somewhere, I don’t know where, but Jeff might.”

  “And he ain’t sayin’,” Wade said.

  “Not to me.”

  “And he’s gonna get himself killed.”

  “Probably,” Deputy Atlee said. “That’s why I have to go with him.”

  “In the mornin’.”

  “Right,” Atlee said, “after he sees Belle Henderson at the store to tell her he’s goin’.”

  “Well, count me in,” Wade said. “If you and me let him go after three hard cases alone and he gets killed, we’ll never hear the end of it from Marshal Abe Cassidy or Belle Henderson.”

  “You got that right,” Atlee said. “I’m meetin’ him at the store at nine.”

  “I’ll be there,” Wade said.

  “I thought you might wanna be,” Atlee said.

  “Thanks for lettin’ me know,” Wade said. “You want a beer while you’re here? On the house.”

  “I won’t say no to that,” Atlee replied, “but then I’m goin’ back to bed.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Palmer woke to the bright sun in his eyes and the smell of coffee. He looked around, saw three men by a fire, but when he tried to move, he found he was tied up, hands and feet.

  “Hey!” he yelled. “Brick! Goddamn it!”

  The three men looked over at him, and Johnny Brickhill came walking over to where Palmer was lying.

  “What the hell, Brick?” he said.

  “We told you, Tommy,” Brickhill said. “We’re turnin’ you in for the reward. All we gotta do is get you down to New Mexico or Arizona. That’s where I remember the biggest price bein’ on your head.”

  “You can’t be serious about this, Brick,” Palmer said. “I’m a marshal, for Chrissake.”

  “Only in South Dakota, and only in your county,” Brickhill pointed out. “Besides, that’s not even your real name.”

  “How are you going to prove that?” Palmer asked.

  “We’ll let the law worry about that,” Brickhill said. “Now all you have to do is relax.”

  “How about some coffee?”

  “I’ll bring you a cup.”

  “Thanks.”

  Brickhill went back to the fire, poured a cup of coffee, and started walking back to Palmer.

  “What are you doin’?” Rusty Briggs called out.

  “I’m givin’ Tom some coffee,” Brickhill said.

  “Then hold the cup for him, because you ain’t untyin’ him,” Briggs said.

  “There’re three of us here, Rusty,” Brickhill said. “He ain’t goin’ nowhere. I’ll untie his hands, but not his feet.”

  “If he makes a break for it, I’ll finish him,” Briggs said. “Remember, he’s wanted dead or alive.”

  “You’re not going to kill me, Briggs,” Palmer called out.

  “Why not?”

  “Because then you’d have to drag my carcass halfway across the country,” Palmer pointed out.

  Brickhill laughed.

  “He’s got a point there, Rusty.”

  Brickhill untied Palmer’s hands and handed him the coffee cup.

  “Thanks, Brick. Where the hell are we?”

  “A few miles outside of your town,” Brickhill said. “We couldn’t go too far in the dark, especially not after Chad hit you on the head. After all, we were haulin’ your carcass.”

  “I knew I had a headache for some reason,” Palmer said, sipping the coffee. He was cold, even though his jacket was buttoned up. The coffee felt good going down. “You know, I’m not going to make this easy for you. I’ve put too much effort into leaving that life behind me.”

  “Y
ou can leave it behind all you want,” Briggs said. “It’s still there waitin’ for ya.”

  “And you, or so I hear. What makes you think these two won’t turn you in along with me and then split the take two ways?”

  “Finish your coffee,” Briggs growled, ignoring the question. “We’re gonna get movin’. I don’t wanna listen to you any longer than I hafta, so you keep talkin’ and I’ll gag ya the rest of the way.”

  Palmer drank his coffee, but his mind was working the whole time. . . .

  * * *

  * * *

  I don’t like this idea, Jeff,” Belle said.

  “He ain’t in town, Belle,” Jeff said, “and he wouldn’t just leave without tellin’ you or me.”

  “I understand he’s missing and somebody has to go looking for him,” she said. “I just don’t like that it’s you.”

  “Who else is it gonna be?” Jeff asked. “He’s my pa.”

  “Let Deputy Atlee do it,” she said. “It’s his job.”

  “If it wasn’t for me, he’d still be asleep,” Jeff said. “I have to go find him.”

  “You’re not equipped—”

  “I lived with the Sioux for six months,” he said, cutting her off. “They taught me how to ride. And Pa’s taught me some about trackin’.”

  “What if these three men you’re talking about are killers?” Belle asked.

  “Me and Steve will handle ’em,” Jeff said.

  “Do you even know how to shoot?”

  “I do,” Jeff said. “I been practicin’ for . . . a long time.”

  “And where did you get a gun to practice with?”

  “From your back room,” Jeff said.

  She stared at him for a few tense moments.

  “Ken’s gun?” she said. “I must have lost track of it after he was killed.”

  “It was just sittin’ there,” he argued.

  “No,” she said, “I forbid it. You can’t have it.”

  “That’s okay,” Jeff said. “I’ll get a gun from the marshal’s office.”

  Belle stared out the front window of her store for a few moments.