Kinsman of the Gun Page 5

  Marcus and Eloise stood on the sidewalk outside the newspaper office. The curious spilled out of the stores and rushed toward the jail. Marcus started to go also, but then Ezra headed away, leading the horse with Harrison to Slade’s. He did not see Marcus or Eloise. At least, if he did, he did not acknowledge it. The twilight grew darker, and Eloise felt a chill. A chill in this heat, she thought.

  Lawrence Byrd, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up past his elbows, walked out of the office. He looked up the street.

  ‘Who got killed?’

  ‘Sheriff Harrison.’

  ‘I’m – I’m stunned. Who would have expected—’

  ‘Nobody ever expects something like this. I want you to go to the jail. Zeke Stuart is in there. Find out what happened. We’ll have to replate the front page.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘And after you write the story, get on the telegraph. The papers in New York will want to know about this.’

  ‘Sure thing.’

  He went back inside the office and soon emerged, a notepad and pencil in his hand. He ran toward the jail. Eloise did not watch. Instead, her eyes followed Ezra. He was at Slade’s now. He was still sitting in his saddle, in the darkness.

  Chapter Five

  Into the blackness of the night, some of the ranch hands drifted out of the bunk house and lit cigarettes. They were tired of poker. They were tired of the heat. The open air gave them relief from the poker, but not from the heat. They looked at the big house and saw Swearingen, a silhouette next to one of the columns.

  ‘Stringbean, I bet the boss ain’t too happy with you,’ one said. ‘He gave you a job to do, and you failed.’

  ‘Hell, it warn’t my fault Doc Grierson was out of town somewheres. I was sent to fetch him, but fetchin’ warn’t possible.’

  ‘Is that why Peter Swearingen headed out later?’

  ‘Reckon so. I heard tell he went to git the other doctor – Tisdale, John Tisdale’s brother.’

  ‘I guess he figured if he got something done right, he had to do it himself. Stringbean, we’re sorely disappointed in you.’

  ‘Yeah, Stringbean, you make us look bad.’

  ‘To hell you say,’ Stringbean said. ‘You look bad and it ain’t none of my doin’. Fact is – you were born lookin’ bad.’

  ‘No need to hurt my feelings.’

  Their cigarettes burned red in the darkness of the Wyoming night. They shuffled their feet and glanced at the big man still on the veranda, still leaning against the column as if he could do a better job of support than it could.

  ‘Has anybody seen Curly Pike?’ one asked.

  ‘Not since this morning. He rode out and hasn’t been back.’

  ‘I wonder if he quit.’

  ‘If he don’t come back, I’d say he quit.’

  ‘That’s right smart of you, Stringbean. The way you figure things out, you should be in one of them Eastern schools.’

  ‘I’ve thought about it.’

  ‘Well, keep thinking.’

  ‘I wonder why Harrison was here this morning,’ the tallest of the group said.

  ‘I couldn’t hear what was said,’ one of the men said, ‘but I don’t think it was a social call. Nobody looked too pleased. The old man looked like he was half dead. Must have had quite a night in town.’

  ‘He’s had quite a few of those lately.’

  ‘But why do you think Harrison rode out here?’

  ‘I bet it had something to do with Andrew.’

  ‘Where is that young scoundrel anyway?’

  ‘Haven’t you heard?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘He cleared out.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He’s gone. I’ve heard he ain’t coming back.’

  ‘He left his old man?’ Stringbean asked.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘So, both Andrew and Curly Pike are gone.’

  ‘Looks like it.’

  ‘Maybe Harrison was looking for Andrew. Maybe he knew Harrison would come for him, and so he cleared out.’

  ‘Why would Harrison come for him? I heard he shot that farmer fair and square, pure self-defense.’

  ‘I ain’t talking about that farmer.’

  ‘Then what the hell are you talking about?’

  ‘The lynching.’

  ‘What lynching?’

  ‘Where have you been? One of the homesteaders got lynched. He was nothing but a boy. At least that’s what I heard. Rayburn was in on it. Said the boy was rustling Swearingen cattle. Andrew was part of it too.’

  ‘Then it makes sense Harrison would come out here.’

  ‘I bet the old man wasn’t happy.’

  ‘I’ve never seen him happy.’

  ‘He’ll do what he has to to protect Andrew.’

  ‘None of this sounds good. I don’t like what’s going on. I keep hearing talk of a range war.’

  ‘It’s just talk.’

  ‘Have you ever been in a range war?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, I have. Just the talk of one makes me a mite uncomfortable.’

  Treutlin walked out of the bunk house. ‘What makes you a mite uncomfortable?’ he asked.

  ‘Talk of a range war.’

  ‘Nothing to worry about,’ Treutlin said. ‘If the bullets start flying, just stand behind me. I’ll protect you.’

  Treutlin laughed and walked away.

  ‘I don’t like that guy.’

  ‘Me neither. He’s supposed to be good with a gun.’

  ‘Reckon that’s why Rayburn hired him.’

  Richard Swearingen stared at the ranch hands and wondered what they were talking bout. A sudden shriek came from one of the upstairs bedrooms. Anne was having a hard time of it. He wished Peter would hurry back with Luke Tisdale. He did not like the sounds he was hearing.

  He thought about Andrew. He wondered where he was. Probably a long way from Cheyenne by now. Probably some place where the law would not find him.

  There was no need for him to run, Swearingen thought. I would not have let anything happen to him. Running makes him look guilty. It was not Ginevra’s concern. She should not have meddled in something that was none of her business.

  He looked toward the east, then toward the west. One day it was going to be Andrew’s. That was his plan. Peter was good with numbers. He belonged in New York. Andrew belonged in Wyoming.

  ‘I hope you’re OK, boy.’

  Silas Taylor rocked back and forth in front of the dormant fireplace and smoked his pipe. Across from him Luke sat on the sofa and listened. Jennifer sang to her son in the bedroom. Her voice was soft, and he didn’t think he had ever heard anything quite so lovely. He imagined her running her fingers through Bobby’s hair. He realized Silas was observing him.

  ‘Yes, she has a nice voice,’ Silas said. ‘I don’t imagine it’ll be too long before Bobby is asleep. In fact, it won’t be too long before I’m asleep.’

  ‘I hope I’m not keeping you and Mrs Taylor up. I hope my coming around isn’t an imposition.’

  ‘Not at all. You being a doctor raises the chance of intellectual conversation.’

  ‘I heard that,’ Charlotte said from the kitchen. ‘As if you don’t get intellectual conversation from me.’

  ‘Damn – that woman hears everything. I’d better go in there and help with the dishes.’

  Jennifer came out of the bedroom and Luke stood.

  ‘Let’s go on the porch,’ she said.

  They sat in the swing and listened to the stillness of the night. He touched her hand and felt the warmth.

  ‘It was kind of you to come to the cemetery. I appreciate it.’

  ‘There’s no need to thank me.’

  ‘I wish you had known John,’ he said. ‘You would have liked him.’

  ‘I’m sure I would have. I felt so sorry for Meta Anderson. It’s obvious she felt deeply about your brother.’

  ‘I think he cared deeply about her.’

&nbs
p; ‘What are you going to do now? Are you going back East?’

  He looked at her. Leaving was the last thing he wanted to do. As long as she was in Cheyenne, he wanted to stay. He wondered whether she knew.

  ‘I – I don’t know.’

  ‘Maybe you should stay in Cheyenne. Of course, it would be hard not to go back to Boston. I’m sure you have many friends and many patients in Boston.’

  ‘Boston has wonderful people.’

  ‘And probably many doctors.’

  ‘Yes, many.’

  ‘Cheyenne has only one.’

  ‘Do you think Cheyenne needs more doctors?’

  ‘It’s not important what I think.’

  ‘Of course it is,’ he said. ‘I’ve talked with Doctor Grierson. He’s not averse to the idea. But it’s more complicated than that.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘There’s Ezra.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Ezra came with me to make sure I didn’t get into any sort of trouble. If I stay, he may get it in his head to stay too.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘He can’t stay. He has to go back.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘He just does. There are some things I can’t explain.’

  ‘Luke, what happened to Sheriff Harrison – Silas told me – no matter what you do or don’t do, your friend may feel compelled to stay, to help. I’ll never forget what your friend did after that train robber struck Bobby. There’s just something about him that tells me he wants to help people who need help, and the people in this town and on the farms need help. It’s the same with you. You’re a doctor, and you want to help people.’

  ‘Ezra helps people in different ways.’

  ‘I know little about this sort of thing, but I feel the new sheriff will need the kind of help Ezra can provide.’

  She’s right, Luke thought. If Zeke Stuart becomes the sheriff, he will need help. Ezra has a special gift, a special gift with a Colt .45. But he won’t do anything unless Stuart asks.

  ‘Tell me – how are things coming along at the school?’

  ‘Wonderfully. I’m getting the classroom ready. There are three other teachers, young ladies, and they’ve been eager to help. I think I’m really going to like it here.’

  ‘I’m sure the school will consider itself lucky to have you.’

  ‘You don’t know anything about my teaching ability.’

  ‘Oh, I can sense things like that.’

  ‘You can, can you? I’m impressed. Can you sense what I’m thinking?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What am I thinking?’

  ‘You’re thinking when is he going to stop talking and kiss me?’

  He leaned toward her but stopped. A rider hurried to the fence gate and tied his horse. He ran to the foot of the porch steps.

  ‘Doctor Tisdale, thank God I’ve found you. Smitty told me you might be here.’

  ‘Peter, what’s wrong?’

  ‘It’s my wife. The baby. Doctor Grierson is out of town. My wife. We need help. Please.’

  Luke stood.

  ‘I’ll get my bag. It’s at the hotel.’

  ‘I’m coming with you,’ Jennifer said. ‘Don’t look so surprised. I know something about having a baby.’

  Chapter Six

  Two of the Cheyenne city council members stood in the dim light of the sheriff’s office. Two sat in straight chairs. One stood close to the brass spittoon that sat on the floor at the edge of the desk. Eloise Endicott tried to remember a time when she had seen so many glum faces. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling, and a small lamp on the desk cast a yellow glow. The councilmen looked as if they faced a big problem, and they had no idea how to solve it. Mayor Payne stood in front of Harrison’s desk and faced the councilmen. He tried to impart confidence, to give the impression that things, while they looked bad, would be all right. Somehow, Eloise observed, his efforts were missing the mark. He was supposed to be their leader. She figured that if she were to ask the councilmen, they would express little confidence in Payne’s ability to solve the problem.

  Off to the side, near Eloise, stood Ezra, Marcus, and Owen. Payne had asked Ezra and Owen to be at the meeting. Eloise had heard him and she had heard the replies.

  ‘I don’t see any point in my being there,’ Ezra had said.

  ‘Nor do I,’ Owen had said. ‘Mayor, I appreciate you asking us, but it’s not really our affair.’

  ‘But it is, gentlemen. Mr McPherson, you stopped a train robbery not far from here. Both of you went with Zeke to find the sheriff. Whether you like it or not, whether you realize it, you’ve become involved in what happens here.’

  Marcus stood next to Eloise. She knew he wanted to be there. A story was developing, and, like her, he wanted to be right in the middle. The two councilmen who stood kept shifting their feet. They were shopkeepers. They knew nothing of range wars and murder.

  Stuart sat in a straight chair next to the wall. He could not sit in the swivel chair. It was Harrison’s. As far as Stuart was concerned, no one else could occupy it. He did not think he was man enough to occupy it. Suddenly he felt like a boy. For a moment he wished he was back on his family’s farm. By now the cows would be milked. His ma and pa and brothers and sisters who were still at home would be sitting and sewing and talking. They would not be talking about murder.

  Payne considered what to say. He never thought something like this would happen. He was a haberdasher. To the citizens of Cheyenne, he thought, he represented business. And this meeting had a lot to do with business. Without a sheriff, the town was vulnerable, which was bad for business. If companies considering a move to Cheyenne perceived that the town had fallen back into violence, they would look elsewhere. Customers would hesitate to shop. He had suggested to Harrison numerous times that more deputies should be hired. Harrison insisted that he and Stuart would be enough to deal with any problems. This sort of problem was not the reason he had come West. He was a short, nervous man. His face still bore the wounds from his morning shave.

  ‘I can’t believe Sheriff Harrison is gone,’ Stuart said.

  All he could see was the sheriff lying in the middle of a road on the deserted prairie, his horse standing nearby. He kept asking himself why. Harrison had gone to question Andrew Swearingen about the lynching. Maybe he was bringing Andrew in, and Andrew didn’t want to be brought in. Maybe Andrew killed him. Suddenly Stuart no longer felt like a boy. He wanted to find Andrew. He would make him talk.

  ‘Well, he is gone,’ Payne said. ‘There’s no bringing him back. The question now is what are we going to do? Eloise, what we discuss doesn’t need to be in the newspaper.’

  ‘Our sheriff has been murdered,’ she said. ‘That’s news. What goes on in here is news.’

  ‘There’s no arguing with that woman,’ one of the councilmen said. ‘You might as well accept that fact and move on.’

  ‘Right now we’re at the mercy of any murdering hoodlum that rides into town,’ another said.

  The man who spoke was Clarence Woodson, president of the Bank of Cheyenne. He wore a fine brown plaid suit, and he held an unlit cigar that he waved whenever he emphasized a point.

  ‘I guarantee you every ne’er-do-well from here to California has heard that our sheriff is dead,’ Woodson continued. ‘They’ve all heard we’re ripe for the picking. That’s no offense to you, Zeke, but you’re just one man. Harrison should have hired more deputies.’

  I wonder what the president of the Bank of Cheyenne would say, Eloise thought, if he knew a man who rode with Jesse James was standing only a few feet from him. The thought led her to smile.

  ‘What goes on here in this town is not really any of my business,’ Owen said. ‘Mr Mayor, I’ve already made myself clear on the matter. Nevertheless, since you insisted that I attend this gathering, I will say you asked a pertinent question a moment ago. What are you going to do? You’ve lost your sheriff. Your town needs a sheriff. You have a deputy. But you need a sher
iff, and then your sheriff needs to hire deputies.’

  Payne stared down at Stuart, whose eyes still appeared dazed. Him – a sheriff, he wanted to say. He’s hardly more than a boy. Not too long ago he was walking behind a mule and a plow. Owen Chesterfield was right, though. The town needed a sheriff.

  Stuart felt as if everyone was looking at him. He knew what they were thinking. He didn’t have enough experience. He had never had to shoot at anyone. He had never even pulled his pistol on anyone. The men knew that. They wondered how he could confront coldblooded killers. And whoever killed Harrison was a coldblooded killer.

  ‘Well, what about it, Zeke?’ Payne asked. ‘We need a sheriff. Are you up to the job?’

  Not exactly a vote of confidence, Marcus thought. How can Stuart handle Swearingen and the other cattle barons? How can he handle a range war if it comes to that?

  ‘You’re damn right I’m up to the job,’ Stuart said.

  Stuart wanted to sound like a man, not like a boy in a man’s clothing. He had to look like a man in charge. Inside, he was shaking.

  ‘Take it easy, sonny,’ Payne said.

  ‘Don’t call me sonny. Sheriff Harrison believed enough in me to hire me, didn’t he? He thought I could do the job.’

  ‘Well, the job’s yours. But, as Mr Chesterfield has suggested, you’re going to need some deputies.’

  ‘What about you, Mr McPherson?’ one of the councilmen asked. ‘How about being a deputy?’

  ‘Wonderful idea,’ another said. ‘It’s no secret you know how to use a gun.’

  ‘Mr McPherson, though abundantly qualified – you see, he has had some experience with the law – is ready to head back East,’ Owen said. ‘He can’t stay.’

  ‘Mr McPherson, that’s Mr Chesterfield talking,’ Payne said. ‘What do you say?’

  Ezra walked out of the shadows and crossed the office – he did not stride quickly but there was determination in his gait – and stood in front of Stuart.

  ‘Do you want me to help you?’ Ezra said. ‘I don’t care what these other men say. You’re the sheriff now. You’re the one who has to decide.’

  Stuart saw the Colt at Ezra’s side. He remembered the train robbery. He remembered what Harrison had said. Ezra was the past that had returned to Cheyenne.