Chapter Eight

Gorman moved quickly up the path, ignoring his aching limbs and the sweat that poured off him. He could see Tate up ahead and ducked down behind a boulder as the outlaw turned and fired a shot in his direction.

‘Stop! It’s me, Gorman! You haven’t got a chance!’ he called after him.

‘I’m not going back!’ replied Tate as he turned in panic and let off two more shots. Gorman threw himself back behind the boulder as the first one whizzed past his ear and the second bullet ricocheted off the ground. Then he heard the click of an empty chamber and came out from his hiding place, his gun pointed straight at Tate’s chest.

‘We’ve got a deal. You can’t take me back!’

The detective smiled as he walked towards him. ‘No, Tate. You’re right, I can’t take you back. You’d talk, wouldn’t you?’

‘So, you let me go and we’ll get another job organized, right?’

Still smiling and pointing the gun, Gorman shook his head.

The sudden realization of his accomplice’s real intent came too late. ‘Now, hold on a minute. . . .’

Tate’s last words were cut off in midsentence as Gorman fired three shots at point-blank range. The outlaw slumped sideways, crumpled to the ground and lay still. Gorman approached the dead man cautiously, still pointing his gun. He gave Tate a shove with his foot and was relieved to hear no moaning sounds or signs of breathing. Blood pooled beneath the body as Callaghan and Carver arrived, both men panting heavily.

‘I tried to take him alive but he fired at me twice,’ said Gorman.

The sheriff bent down and picked up the dead man’s revolver. His eyes widened in surprise when he opened the chamber. ‘Well, they were his last two bullets.’

The detective shrugged. ‘I didn’t know that. I guess he didn’t either since he made no attempt to surrender.’

‘Maybe he preferred it this way, to hanging I mean,’ suggested Carver.

‘That doesn’t sound like Tate to me. I’d expect him to be trying to figure a way out even as he stepped on to the gallows,’ replied Callaghan.

‘I mean no disrespect, but I expect you have little experience of desperate outlaws like Tate. The manner of his death was entirely in keeping with the way he lived, I assure you,’ said Gorman.

‘Even so, I thought you’d be disappointed that he couldn’t be taken alive.’

Gorman shrugged. ‘Oh, I know he’s escaped the noose, but if a man gets hanged properly he should die straightaway from a broken neck. I don’t see the difference, really.’

‘I was thinking more of the mystery you haven’t solved. With Tate dead, how will you ever find out who gave him his information?’

‘Well, when I questioned Silver, he seemed to think that it was from either the guard or the driver. Tate was certainly ruthless enough to double cross an accomplice.’ He nodded in Carver’s direction. ‘I have concluded that Mister Carver here knew nothing of it. My apologies for suggesting otherwise.’

‘Forget it. I guess you were just doing your job,’ said the station agent.

‘It’s good of you to be so understanding. Well, gentlemen. I suggest we bury Tate out here and re-join Sergeant Pike and his men.’

When they finally caught up with Pike and his men, the sergeant asked them what happened.

‘Mister Gorman here shot our fugitive,’ explained Callaghan.

‘Apparently, Tate was more desperate than we thought, and didn’t surrender even when he had no bullets left.’

Pike raised his eyebrows. ‘Is that a fact? Well, I guess it’s no loss. I got better things to do than drag some outlaw’s ass across the desert.’

‘You must be relieved this business is all over,’ said Carver.

‘Yeah, I guess I am. Now I just wanna get these exhausted men and the payroll money to Fort Bowie.’

‘You’re welcome to rest up at Maxwell for a day or two,’ Callaghan told him. ‘It’s the least we can do after all you’ve done.’

‘Well, there’s a lotta men here. We wouldn’t want to be any trouble. Soldiers ain’t the easiest guests to have,’ said Pike reluctantly.

‘It’d be no trouble. We can put some of them up at the inn, and folks will be glad to billet others in their houses,’ Carver urged him.

Pike’s bearded features broke in to a grin. ‘Well, in that case we’ll be glad to accept your invitation.’

‘What about you? You’ll be in no hurry now you’ve no prisoners to escort,’ Callaghan asked Gorman.

‘Thank you, Sheriff. I’d be glad of a rest. It would be convenient, as I do have other business to attend to in Tucson and can get the stage from Maxwell.’

Their journey now continued without incident. ‘Why did you invite that snake Gorman to stay in town?’ grumbled Carver as they prepared to make camp at dusk.

‘It seemed impolite not to since he’s travelling with Pike’s men. Besides, it gives me a chance to watch him.’

‘What for?’

Callaghan shook his head. ‘I don’t know, but he’s hiding some secret. There’s something odd about the way he went after Tate, not like him at all.’

‘I see what you mean,’ conceded the station agent. ‘He’s not exactly brave, is he? Yet he seemed to forget all about the danger this afternoon. It was almost as if he had to kill Tate.’

‘That’s what I figured. And why was he so keen to pin you down as an accessory? He seems to have forgotten all about that now.’

‘Well, whatever it is, we’ll just have to keep an eye on him and hope he makes a mistake.’

Callaghan nodded slowly. ‘Oh, that’s one thing people who break the law always do eventually.’

Dusk was falling and the weary travellers had endured a long day of dust and sweat with a hard battle thrown in. They made camp for the night and Callaghan fell into a deep and dreamless slumber. The sun was up and men were bustling around him when he finally awoke and sat up groggily. Carver handed him steaming coffee in a tin cup and a plate of beans.

‘The breakfast’s a bit basic. I think Pike might be getting low on supplies.’

‘Anything would taste good this morning. Yesterday I wasn’t sure I’d ever see the sun come up again.’

‘Me neither, but we did.’ Both men spied Christina tending to her horse a short distance away. ‘So, are you gonna marry that girl or what?’ the station agent asked.

‘Cut it out, Matt.’ Callaghan’s face reddened as he shovelled a spoonful of beans into his mouth. ‘I’ve got other things to think about right now.’

‘Like what?’

‘What we were talking about yesterday.’

‘Oh, Gorman. What about it?’

‘I reckon it was Gorman who gave Tate his tip-off about the payroll.’

Carver frowned. ‘How do you figure that?

‘Think about it. First, he was desperate to pin it on you – he even tried to get Silver to say it was you. Then, when all the outlaws were dead except the one man who knew the truth, what did he do?’

‘He killed him,’ said Carver, nodding slowly. ‘When you put it like that it all makes sense – but you can’t prove anything.’

Callaghan washed down the last of the beans with the dregs of his coffee cup. ‘Maybe, maybe not. Anyway, there’s something I could try that might just trap him, but I’ll need Pike’s help to make it work.’

‘You still haven’t answered my question.’

The sheriff stood up. ‘No, I haven’t, have I?’ he replied with a grin.

‘Well, you’d be crazy not to!’ his friend called after his retreating back.

When they set off that morning, Callaghan rode at the front beside Pike. He confided his suspicions about Gorman during a whispered conversation, and the sergeant listened intently.

‘Well, what do you think? I’ve tried to set aside the fact that I don’t like the man, but it all seems very suspicious to me.’

‘I reckon you’re right, Sheriff. Gorman’s gotta yellow streak and he was hardly winnin’ medals against them Apaches. Then, suddenly, he’s riskin’ his neck to finish off Tate. It don’t make no sense to me neither.’

‘Then you’ll help?’

‘Sure I will. Just tell me what you want me to do.’

Callaghan outlined his plan, the sergeant nodding as he listened before giving a final grunt of approval.

‘Well, I’m just a simple soldier but it sounds pretty good to me. Let’s just hope it works.’

‘If it doesn’t, I’ll have misjudged the man, but there’ll be no harm done.’

The day’s ride passed without incident until Maxwell finally came within sight. They heard the church bell being rung as they approached, and Callaghan was surprised to discover how quickly the townspeople had set about repairing the damage done by Aldo and his men. There was a smell of fresh paint in the air, and few signs of the carnage wrought only days previously, apart from the scorched areas of ground where the barrier had been burned down.

People gathered around Callaghan and the others as they rode along the main street, finally forcing them to a halt as they fired off questions about the events of the last few days.

‘I don’t see no prisoners, Sheriff. What happened to that varmint Tate? Did you shoot him?’ one man called out.

‘Mister Gorman here shot him,’ Callaghan answered. All eyes turned to the detective and a cheer went up before more questions were fired at them.

‘Come on now, folks, one at a time!’ cried the sheriff, raising his hands to calm the crowd. ‘You’ll get all the answers you want in time, but the main things are we rescued Miss Salinas, defeated the Apaches and got the money back. Aldo, most of his men and all the outlaws are dead.’

‘All right folks, you heard the sheriff!’ called out Pike. ‘Now, how about lettin’ us all get some rest?’

At that moment Samuel Endicott stepped forward. ‘I believe I speak for the whole town, Sergeant when I say that you and all your men can rest after you’ve eaten our food and danced to our music. This is a great day and we’re going to celebrate!’

A great cheer went up and Callaghan, Pike and the others found themselves lifted from their horses by the exuberant crowd and carried shoulder high through the streets of Maxwell. Carver was the first to be set down, into the waiting arms of a weeping Rosie and young Stevie who beamed with pride.

There wasn’t enough room to accommodate everyone in one building, so the feast that evening was held in the street. Tables laden with homemade pies, joints of meat and freshly baked bread were set out. People brought oil lamps from their homes to light up the darkening skies. The town boasted a fiddler, a harmonica player and a guitarist among its inhabitants, and if the music wasn’t quite pitch perfect, it was at least lively, with tunes that set everyone’s feet tapping.

‘I’ve stashed the payroll money in the post office and put a couple of guards on the door outside,’ Pike shouted to Gorman above the din.

‘That sounds like a sensible arrangement. You have to be careful with such a large sum.’

‘Yeah, that’s what I figured – but somethin’ bothers me.’

‘What’s that?’ asked the detective.

The sergeant gestured expansively with his arm. ‘These are good men, but the army’s a hard life. You fight Indians and eat dust for a few dollars a day. If you’re lucky you might live to draw an army pension, maybe even get some stripes on your arm. That money’s a big temptation for these fellas, and more than a few of ’em know how to pick locks.’

Gorman leaned forward. ‘Do you suspect anyone in particular, Sergeant?’

Pike shrugged. ‘These are tough men, good in a fight but when it comes to thousands o’ dollars, I’m not sure I’d trust any of ’em, to tell ya the truth Mister Gorman.’

Gorman nodded thoughtfully. ‘I see your problem. Is there any way I can help?’

Pike clamped him on the shoulder. ‘I was kinda hopin’ you’d ask that. I know we’ve had our differences, but I figure you to be honest, bein’ a detective and a stickler for the rules an’ all. Listen, I’d like you to take special charge o’ that money. Hell, it ain’t even been counted since it was stolen, so we don’t know how much is there.’

‘Is that so? Do you think some of it has gone missing already?’ asked the detective with obvious interest.

‘Well, it stands to reason, don’t it? I mean, it’s changed hands several times between Tate, Salinas and the Apaches. I’d be surprised if the full fifty thousand dollars was still there.’

‘So what exactly do you want me to do?’

‘Well, count it to start with. Then go back and count it a few more times over the next few days. Let me know if you find any missing and I’ll take it from there. I’d do it myself, but I got my work cut out keepin’ an eye on these men as it is. I can’t ask the sheriff as he’s rather preoccupied with that girl o’ his.’

Gorman glanced over to see Christina and Callaghan dancing closely together. ‘Yes, I see what you mean. Well, it’s a simple task, Sergeant. Of course, I’d be happy to oblige.’

‘That’s great, a real weight off my mind. Now, here’s a spare key to the front door and one to the safe. I know there’s a party goin’ on but I wonder if you’d mind makin’ a start tonight?’

Gorman gave him a sly smile as he took the key. ‘Not at all, Sergeant. Anything to set your mind at rest.’

Moments after Gorman had slipped out of his seat and headed to the post office, Callaghan made his excuses and returned to the table. Pike met his look of inquiry with a grin.

‘I reckon we just gave our friend all the rope he needs. When I said that I didn’t know how much money there was and some of it had probably been taken already, well you should ha’ seen the look in those rat’s eyes o’ his!’

‘So, now we wait,’ replied Callaghan.

‘Yeah, sit down and have a drink my friend. It’s gonna be an interestin’ night.’

Gorman strode confidently up the steps to the post office. The two men on duty outside barely glanced at him as he let himself in. Presumably Pike had told them to expect his arrival. He lit an oil lamp and a sickly yellow light illuminated the interior. The detective’s tongue shot across his thin lips and he shivered with anticipation. He bent down, hands shaking and unlocked the door of the safe. The heavy iron door swung open and he dragged the saddle-bags of money over to the counter before methodically counting the contents of each one. He was surprised to find that the total came to fifty thousand dollars. Then he smiled to himself, realizing that Pike’s misjudgement allowed him to take a bigger share than he had intended.

Gorman then removed his jacket and carefully slit the lining open before removing it entirely. Taking bundles of notes from each bag, he laid them out in a thin layer, using only the largest denominations until a total of ten thousand dollars was reached, twice the cut promised by the late and unlamented Tate. Still, he reckoned the money had been well earned after all that chasing through the desert and fighting Apaches. He carefully placed the cash in an even layer inside the jacket and began the laborious process of stitching the lining back over it. This was going to take some time, but with the party in full swing, he knew he was not going to be disturbed. He worked quickly, his neck and shoulders aching as he bent over the cloth in the dim light. At last the final stitch was in place, and he put the jacket back on. There was a slight rustle if he ran his hand over the lining and it felt a little heavy to wear. However, there was no reason why anyone should notice anything untoward, and it was much less risky than hiding it in his saddle-bag. All in all, he felt quite pleased with himself, especially since there was still time for him to re-join the celebrations.

At that moment he was startled by a sudden creaking sound followed by a sharp intake of breath. Pulling his gun from its holster, he swung around to where the noise had come from. In the shadows, he could just make out the large storage cupboard in the corner of the room and the set of fingers around the edge of the door, pulling it closed after it had swung open. Gorman fired wildly in a blind panic. A witness was the one thing he could not afford. Four shots ripped through the mahogany door and it swung out once more. A small, crumpled figure slid out on to the floor, the dead eyes staring up sightlessly from behind a pair of wire-framed spectacles. Gorman recognized the face of Arthur Norris. What was that damned midget doing hiding in here, anyway?

The two guards burst in, rifles at the ready. They stared down at the dead man, then looked at each other, nonplussed.

‘It’s all right men. I’ve just caught a thief, that’s all. He was hiding in that cupboard, waiting for a chance to steal this money.’ Gorman spoke firmly, no sign of a tremor in his voice. The important thing was to get his story straight and stick to it.

‘The man you shot appears to have been unarmed, Mister Gorman,’ one of the men told him.

‘Well, it’s dark in here and I thought he had a weapon. When a thief jumps out on a man in the dark, what’s he supposed to do?’ demanded the detective with a show of belligerence.

At that moment, Callaghan and Pike burst in, having heard the shots from their table. The sheriff dropped down on one knee beside his friend, removed the spectacles and gently closed the dead man’s eyes.

‘He jumped out on me while I was counting the money, the wretched little thief. It was dark and I thought he had a gun,’ said Gorman.

Callaghan looked up and stared hard at the detective. ‘Arthur Norris was no thief. He wasn’t here to steal that money, as I’m sure you realize. He was here to find out how much of it you were willing to take.’

‘That’s an outrageous suggestion! I counted forty thousand dollars and it’s all here. You won’t find a dollar missing, I assure you.’ Gorman was sweating and trembling, his swivel-eyed glance moving from one man to another as he gripped his revolver.

‘Forty thousand, eh? That’s funny, Gorman, because when I counted it there was fifty thousand there,’ Pike told him.

‘But you said . . .’

‘I know what I said, Gorman. I just wanted to see if you’d take the bait.’

‘I see, so it was all a trick, was it? Well, your stupidity has cost a man his life and proved nothing. Go on, search me. Turn out my pockets and see what you find!’

Callaghan and Pike exchanged puzzled glances. The sergeant nodded to the guards. ‘Go on, do what the man says.’

Gorman put his gun down and extended his arms. The two cavalrymen rifled through his pockets, tossing items on to the counter, but there were no bundles of notes. Besides, ten thousand dollars was an unusually large sum to hide that way.

‘Has he been in here the whole time?’ Pike asked.

Both soldiers nodded in response. Clearly the money was not going to be found in the detective’s saddle-bag.

It was then that Callaghan noticed something. He picked up the reel of black cotton from among the contents of Gorman’s pockets and looked at it curiously.

‘What’s this?’ he asked, holding it up.

Gorman shrugged. ‘Clothes get torn sometimes and need repairing.’

‘It matches that jacket you’re wearing. Take it off.’

‘I will not suffer this indignity a moment longer!’ Gorman began to stride toward the door, but Pike gave the guards a nod and they seized the detective before forcibly removing his jacket. One of them tossed the garment over to Callaghan, who quickly ripped the lining apart and emptied out the contents.

‘That proves you’re a thief as well as a murderer,’ said the sheriff.

Gorman looked desperately from one man to another. ‘All right, so I took some of the money but I’m no murderer. I thought there was an intruder. . . .’

‘I think you mean a witness,’ said Callaghan, interrupting him.

‘That’s not all. I’m now certain that you sold Tate the information he needed to rob the right stage,’ added Pike.

‘That makes sense,’ agreed Callaghan.

‘It makes no sense at all!’ protested Gorman. ‘You have absolutely no proof for that assertion whatsoever!’

‘It’s mostly circumstantial,’ conceded the sergeant. ‘You tried to pin the blame on Carver and to persuade Silver to testify to that effect, but there’s a clincher.’

The detective looked uncertain. ‘You’re bluffing!’ he scoffed.

Pike shook his head. ‘No, Gorman, your employer has suspected you for some time, so a little trap was laid and you’ve fallen right into it.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Callaghan.

‘It’s quite simple. All the money on that Wells Fargo stage was fake. The real payroll had already been delivered on the previous one, but Gorman didn’t know that. In fact, he was the only Wells Fargo detective who didn’t know the truth. Even the men carrying it knew the money wasn’t real. They were all sworn to secrecy.’

Callaghan suddenly exploded with anger. ‘That means that all the people on that stage died for nothing! The people of this town died defending nothing!’ He grabbed a wad of notes and ripped them to shreds.

‘Take it easy, Sheriff. We had no way of knowing what would happen. There’d been other robberies of large sums and Wells Fargo suspected information was being sold by one of their operatives. Previously no one had been hurt, but Tate obviously decided to do things differently.’

‘Look, this is all a mistake. I just stole some money, after a lot of temptation was put in my way,’ said Gorman.

‘If that’s your defence, it won’t stand up in court,’ Pike told him. ‘You’re an accessory to the murder of those folks on that stage since it can be proved you must have given that information to Tate.’

‘To hell with being an accessory!’ shouted Callaghan. ‘He killed Arthur Norris in cold blood and he’ll hang for it here in this town!’

‘Sure, that can be added to the other charges and it’s the easiest one to prove,’ conceded the sergeant. He turned to the two guards restraining the dejected Gorman. ‘Take him to the jail.’

Callaghan stepped forward and drew his revolver. ‘This is my town, Pike, and he committed murder here. I’ll put him in jail myself.’ Pulling Gorman roughly by the arm, he shoved him through the door at gunpoint and marched him down the street toward the jail.

Minutes later, the sheriff was locking the cell door as the disgraced detective peered at him through the bars.

‘Look, Pike put me up to stealing that money, but I didn’t know your friend was there. I thought . . .’

‘Tell it to the jury, Gorman. They won’t believe you any more than I do.’

When the lawman came outside, he found Pike waiting for him. ‘I’ll post a man in there to guard him if you like,’ he suggested.

‘Thanks, I can’t stand to look at the weasel.’ Callaghan’s response was curt.

‘Look, I can understand why you’re sore at me, but what I said earlier was true. There was no way to predict that massacre or the things that happened later. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.’

Somewhat mollified by this admission, Callaghan asked, ‘Where do you fit in to all this?’

‘During the war I worked for Alan Pinkerton. I did secret stuff like gettin’ disguised as a confederate and goin’ behind enemy lines to find information, that kinda thing.’

‘You mean you were some sort of spy.’

Pike shrugged. ‘Yeah, I guess you could call it that. Anyway, with my record bein’ known to my superiors, I got drafted in after this payroll thing started. When Wells Fargo got hired to carry it, they admitted they were havin’ problems when there was a really big consignment o’ cash bein’ carried. They suspected one of their detectives was sellin’ ’em out to outlaws for a cut.’

‘And you helped them narrow down the list of suspects and lay a trap, I suppose.’

The sergeant nodded. ‘That’s right, only now I wish I hadn’t.’

Callaghan shook his head. ‘It wasn’t your fault. Besides, Gorman would have gone on doing it and people often get killed when stagecoaches are robbed. He might have ended up with even more blood on his hands.’

‘I doubt he could have caused more deaths than there’ve been these last few days. Still, I’m glad you can see it that way.’

‘I guess I’d better tell people about what happened. Nobody else heard the shots.’

Pike placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Leave it until mornin’. Folks are havin’ a good time. Let ’em all mourn tomorrow when we bury your friend.’

‘I reckon that’s good advice. I’ll just come say goodnight to Christina, then I guess I’ll turn in.’

When he saw Christina, she looked anxiously at his troubled expression, searching his face for clues about what had happened.

‘What is it, Luke? Please tell me.’

Callaghan shook his head. ‘There’s some bad news, but it can wait until morning. For now, how about one last dance?’

As they danced with the other couples and he felt her close to him, he let the events of the last hour slip from his mind for a few precious moments.

‘Shall I stay with your tonight?’ she whispered. ‘Whatever’s happened, let me help you to forget it until tomorrow.’

‘When I’m with you, I forget everything else anyway,’ he admitted. It proved to be true throughout the night that followed, but as the sun rose and she slept silently beside him, Callaghan knew that the bitter truth of his friend’s death could no longer be kept a secret.

The Reverend Samuel Endicott led the funeral service, extolling the virtues of their departed friend, especially his deep love of Maxwell and his faith in its future. ‘If we wish to honour Arthur’s memory, then we must continue to rebuild our town and let it grow, providing a warm welcome for all who wish to make their home among us.’

Callaghan was one of the pallbearers when the coffin was carried outside the church and lowered into the earth. He could not bear to watch as the soil was thrown over it, turning to walk away from the huddle of mourners.

‘It wasn’t your fault, Luke. Arthur was very keen to help when you asked him to be your lookout, and he was the only man in the town small enough to fit in that cupboard,’ Pike told him. Then he handed him a telegram.

‘It’s a reply to one I sent last night,’ the sergeant added by way of explanation.

Callaghan looked up. ‘The judge says there aren’t the facilities to hold the trial here and he hasn’t the time to travel. A deputy marshal will be arriving on the next stage from El Paso to take Gorman on to Tucson to be tried there.’

‘Your people won’t like it,’ Pike warned him. ‘Let’s hope you don’t have trouble.’