Jon squinted in the hot desert sun; he wiped the sweat off his face and neck and stuffed the handkerchief in his pocket. He looked over and smiled at the old chief. “Thank you, Yellow Dog.”
Yellow Dog nodded, and Jon handed the Chief two bags of coffee and sugar. Yellow Dog grunted something to his men; two warriors carefully laid the stiff body of Little Bear in the coroner’s wagon. The latch clicked as County Coroner Jake Nussbaum pushed the tailgate shut.
“Good bye, Brave Bear,” Chief Yellow Dog said, raising his spear to the legendary lawman. Brave Bear was the name given to Jon by the Piutes for his courage and size.
“Until we meet again,” Jon replied, tipping his hat.
The friendly chief and his small band of Piute warriors rode quickly away.
Jon tuned toward the meticulous coroner, “Bullet in the head?”
“Yes, it appears as though there is gun trauma to the back of Little Bear’s head,” Jake replied.
“I’d like to keep this quiet ’til we know more,” Jon suggested.
“No problem Jon. I’ll take the back way into town. It should be okay. Besides, I’m always bringing bodies in; no one will think much about it,” Jake said as he carefully unfolded a wool blanket and laid it over the rancid body.
“Preciate it, Jake, see you later,” Jon replied.
Jake jumped up on the wooden seat, cracked the whip and the two horses leaped forward. The wagon turned and headed for the little used back road to town.
Jon turned in the saddle, searching the surrounding rocks. “I think somebody’s watching us,” he whispered to Babe. A bright, blinding light flashed. Jon’s hand went up to his eyes as he struggled to locate the light. “Gun barrel,” Jon said under his breath.
He grabbed the butt of his rifle and slid it out of the holster. He jumped off Babe; he hit the ground and rolled toward some nearby rocks.
The dust flew as two bullets crashed into the ground near Babe’s hooves. The brave horse whinnied but didn’t move. “Go Babe, go!” Jon shouted. Hearing his command, she reluctantly moved behind some rocks.
Jon fired a shot to establish his location and then he rolled up on all fours and crawled rapidly around the rocks.
Sparks flew as hot lead ricocheted off the rocks above Jon’s head. That’s a Remington, first two were a Winchester, got two shooters, Jon thought. Sweating profusely, Jon moved swiftly to his left. Ready to climb, he found a notch in the rock above. His finger tips slipped into the notch, and he pulled himself up to the ledge. His belly pushed up the rock as he moved up to eye level for a look. Hat in hand, he peeked over the top of the large boulder. Once again, a bright reflection temporarily blinded him. He squinted into the light and saw a shadowy figure near the domed rock. Jon ducked down; his Carbine went up to shooting position. Time only allowed for a couple of shots, he had to make them good. Breathing rapidly, Jon rose up, took aim and fired two shots at the shadowy figure.
“Uhggg!” The shootist grabbed his chest, his rifle dropped out of his hands. As if in slow motion, his body rolled off the side of the rock. With an awful thud, it landed on the hard, jagged rocks below.
Jon sat still for a minute and then he heard a voice.
“Gitty up!” A voice came out of the rocks, the pounding hooves of a galloping horse could be heard leaving the scene. The second man had lost nerve and ran away.
Jon grabbed his hat and slipped off the ledge. He ran back to the opening. “Babe!” he shouted. The big steed charged from between several large rocks and stopped at her master’s side. Jon’s boot hit the stirrup iron; he quickly mounted Babe and rode up the hill toward the shooters. They came to a sudden stop, Jon jumped off and sprinted toward the domed rock, looking for any sign of the downed gunman.
“Gawd!” he exclaimed loudly, his eyes looked away. The bloody, battered body of the attempted assassin lay in a grotesque position in the middle of the jagged rocks.
Face contorted, Jon stepped over near the body. He pushed on the dead man’s shoulder with the barrel of his gun. The body rolled over on its back, his arms fell to the ground, his face pointed skyward.
Don’t know him, must be a hired gun, Jon thought as he looked at the lifeless face.
Jon hurried back down the hill. His boot hit the top of a large boulder as he hopped onto Babe. “Let’s do a little tracking,” he said.
* * *
Back at the Barbee, Ed and Camp were enjoying a noon day game of stud with a couple of miners.
“Need a good one,” Camp said, waiting on his next hit. The dealer flipped the next card, an ace of hearts landed face up in front of the young stable hand. His right thumb bent up the corner of the hole card ever so slightly revealing the ace of clubs.
“Two dollars,” he said, the two shiny silver coins landed on the growing pot.
“I’m out,” Camp said disgustedly. He flipped his hole card over. “Got nothin’ again.”
Four dollars hit the pot as both remaining players called Ed.
“Aces up,” Ed said quietly.
“Beats me,” one of the miners said.
“Kings up,” the other man said as he dejectedly tossed in his cards.
A grin broke out on Ed’s square face as he drug the pot in. He glanced over at Camp, “Gotta go, got a court hearing in ten minutes,” he said.
“Oh yea!” Camp replied. “That’s why you ain’t drinkin’, huh?”
“Yea, Judge Walker’s havin’ a preliminary hearing on Web Norton’s case,” Ed said as he carefully tossed his winnings in a wooden cigar box.
“Hmm... Faraday promised to get ’em off.”
“Yea, he sure did,” Ed replied. “I guess the judge was down at Faraday’s for over two hours last night. Someone said he and Alex are old friends.”
“Uh oh! That doesn’t sound good.” Smoke rose to the ceiling as Camp poked out his cigarette. “We better get down to the jail, Jon should be back soon.”
The two men folded and headed down to the jail to wait on the sheriff.
Jon arrived a short time later. His eyes immediately went to Web Norton’s empty center cell. “Well, I’ll be. The son of a buck did it. What happened, Ed?”
Ed frowned. “The judge said there wasn’t enough evidence, it was our word against his. He said he would be derelict in his duties if he held a man for trial on no more evidence then we had. So he dropped the charges. Web Norton got off scott free. Clive Cook came in a few minutes ago and picked him up. I sure hated to open that cell.”
“I’ll bet you did,” Jon replied. Jack handed him a cup of hot coffee. Jon walked over and plopped down in his swivel chair. He disgustedly tossed his hat on the desk. “They’ve gotta be stopped,” he said quietly.
“How’d it go out there with Little Bear?” Jack asked, anxious to change the subject.
“Okay at first. I tell you, it was something watching those Injuns climb down in that canyon.” Jon frowned. “Had a little problem later on.”
“Oh yea, what happened?’ Malone asked.
“The Piutes put Little Bear’s body in Jake’s wagon and he headed for town. Then the Injuns hightailed it out of there. When I mounted up to leave, I had a funny feeling someone was watching me.” Jon took a sip of coffee. “First thing I knew I was ducking rifle shots.”
“What’d you do?” Jack asked.
“I got off Babe and moved around behind some rocks. There were two shooters; I heard a Remington and a Winchester. I took one of ’em out. The other one got scared and rode off. I tracked them for awhile, but it looks like he flew the coop. His tracks headed west toward Tombstone. I guess he didn’t want to face Faraday, so he skedaddled on outa here.”
“Just as good, now he can’t tell Faraday we found Little Bear’s body,” Ed said.
“Yea, I know.”
“Did you know the dead man?” Ed asked.
“Nope, I never saw him before,” Jon replied. “‘They were probably a couple of hired guns from Tombstone. Keep an eye on things, Jack. Ed and I are goin’ over to the Coroner’s office.”
“Okay Boss,” Jack replied.
* * *
Jon and Ed hurried over to the Jake Nussbaum’s office. Jon pounded on the door.
“Come in,” a voice from within shouted.
Jon carefully pushed the door open; he and Ed stepped in. Jake stuck his head out of the back room. “Oh hi Sheriff.” The coroner peeled the rubber glove off his right hand as he approached the two lawmen. His hand extended for a shake.
“Got another one for you, Jake,” Jon said. He and Ed shook hands with the friendly coroner.
“Oh really?” Jake replied.
“Out by the canyon, near the large domed rock.” Jon frowned.
“You know, I heard some rifle shots when I was riding into town. Just thought you were doing a little hunting or something,” the surprised coroner replied.
“I wish. After you and Little Bear left, a couple of shooters tried to take me out. I got one of them. He’s layin’ out there in those rocks.”
“Oh my, sorry to hear that. Are you okay?”
“Yea, I’m fine,” Jon said. As usual the smell of embalming fluids permeated the little office. Jon’s eyes began to water.
“I’ll run out and get him soon as I can,” Jake promised.
“Just charge it to the county,” Jon said.
Jake nodded and tipped his head to the left. “Come on back here for a minute.”
The three men stepped into the back room. Little Bear’s body lay stiff on a long table in the center of the room. Jake walked over to a small metal table next to the body. The coroner slipped his hand back into the glove and pulled it tight with the other. He carefully picked something off the table, lifted it and showed it to the men.
“Took this bullet out of the back of Little Bear’s head,” Jake said.
Jon and Ed examined the bullet.
“.38 caliber,” Ed said.
“That’s right,” Jake replied.
“Cimarron’s use .38 caliber bullets, Butch Canady carries Cimarrons,” Jon said as he rubbed his chin.
“Only one problem,” Jake said as he looked over at Jon.
“What’s that?” Jon replied, curious.
“There’s a whole lot of guns that use .38 caliber shells. Canady’s a real bad actor, but this doesn’t make him the shooter.” Jake frowned.
“Doesn’t eliminate him either,” Ed said as he carefully dabbed his watery eyes with his handkerchief.
“Sure doesn’t,” Jon replied. “Thanks for the info Jake. We gotta be goin’.”
Jon and Ed nodded as they hurried across the front room to the door; anxious to get away from the pungent odors of the coroner’s office. Jon quickly pushed the door shut behind him.
“Whew!” the two men said in unison, their chests welled up as they breathed in the fresh out door air.
“How’d you like to work in that all day?” Jon exclaimed.
“Bout as bad as havin’ to look at that ugly sheriff’s picture all day,” Ed shouted.
Both men joined in a big belly laugh. Jon playfully pushed Ed toward the jail.