Fort Sumner
Ben Curtis couldn’t find the coroner’s report the next day either. Two days later Ty rode into the old fort. He’d been fighting with himself most of the way. Pat killed the Kid. It was as simple as that. The coroner’s jurors had said as much. Something didn’t feel right though, the missing coroner’s report for starters. There could be a hundred explanations for that. Then you had Pete Maxwell. The Kid was shot in his bedroom. What was he doing there in the middle of the night? All right, figure he was seeing Pete’s sister. How did Pete wind up acting coroner? For a report gone missing? Why was Pete witnessing signatures on the inquest verdict? It left him no choice. He’d rather be goin’ home. Instead, he rode up to Fort Sumner to have a talk with Maxwell.
He rode into town past Beaver Smith’s. He continued north along the west end of the old military quadrangle to the peach orchard. He drew rein and wheeled the steel dust around. He pictured the scene as Garrett had described it. Late afternoon sun had faded into purple shadow. The curtain fell on early evening. Not yet dark, but close enough for his purposes. From this vantage point he could see the front of the buildings, lining Roswell Road. The first building, a long single story, ran off to the east on the north side of Stinking Springs Road. It appeared inhabited by Mexicans, chickens and goats. He guessed the third, a more impressive structure than the rest for the Maxwell place. It had a fenced yard and a covered porch on two sides. He couldn’t draw much from that observation. He rode back to the home with the fenced yard and stepped down at the gate. He swung the gate open and made his way up the path to the porch. Shadows amplified the darkness. He rapped on the door.
Footsteps within answered his summons. The door opened to a thickset man with a drooping mustache.
“Yeah?”
Ty took off his hat. “Evenin’. I’m Deputy US Marshal Ty Ledger. I’m lookin’ for Pete Maxwell.”
“You found him. What can I do for you Marshal?”
“I’ve been asked to look into Sheriff Garrett’s claim on the bounty for Billy the Kid. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Sure. Com’on in. I was just clearin’ up supper. There’s coffee if you’d care for a cup.”
“That’d go mighty good about now.”
“Take the chill out.” He led the way down a dark hall to a lamp-lit kitchen at the back of the house. “Have a seat.” He gestured to the kitchen table. He cleared away the last few dishes and poured two steaming cups of coffee.
Ty’s stomach rumbled at the suggestion of food. He’d had a long day on the trail and no supper.
“You out of Lincoln, Marshal?”
He shook his head. “Roswell when I work for the marshal’s service.”
“You’re a long way from home, then. What can I do for you?”
He took a sip of coffee. “If you don’t mind, you can start by tellin’ me what happened that night?”
“I was asleep.”
“Where?”
“Front bedroom, just right of the door. Sheriff Garrett woke me.”
“What time was that?”
“I don’t know, a little past eleven I reckon.”
“How well do you know Sheriff Garrett?”
He chuckled. “Well, some better after that night.”
“How well did you know him at the time?”
“We was acquainted.”
“Were you surprised to find him in your bedroom?”
“In the middle of the night, hell yes, wouldn’t you be? I didn’t have long to think on it though. Right about the time he woke me we heard the Kid in the hall.”
“Did you know it was the Kid?”
“No, just someone askin’ who those men were outside.”
“Do you remember exactly what was said?”
He thought. “Quien es, that’s it. He spoke Spanish.”
“What happened next?”
“Sheriff Garrett asked who it was.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I didn’t have a chance to answer. The Kid come through the door and asked who was out there.”
“In Spanish?”
“Yeah. That’s when Sheriff Garrett recognized him. He drew his gun and shot him.”
“Did the Kid have a gun?”
“He did.”
“Was it drawn?”
“I didn’t see it, until after we got some light on the body.”
“When was that?”
“The Kid stumbled. The sheriff went after him. It was dark. You couldn’t see anything after the first muzzle flash. The sheriff fired again.”
“Then what happened?”
“I jumped out of bed and got the hell out of there. The sheriff’s deputies come a runnin’. I practically run into one of ’em on the porch. He had his gun drawn. Lucky for me the sheriff was right behind me. He called the man off.”
“Then what happened?”
“We all kind of caught our breath. I went back inside and lit a candle.”
“Is that when you recognized it was the Kid?”
He nodded.
“Did Sheriff Garrett inspect the body?”
“He did.”
“Did anyone else?”
“Deputy Poe saw the body. Manuel Abreau helped us move it to the carpenter’s shop. Say you sure got a lot of questions, Marshal.”
“There’s a lot of money involved. The attorney general wants to make sure we’ve got the facts right.”
Maxwell pulled an annoyed half scowl. “We put the body in the carpenter’s shop until we could call a coroner’s inquest.”
“I see.” He decided to pass over the inquest for the moment. “Where’s the carpenter’s shop?”
“Down the hall there.”
“Mind showin’ it to me?”
“Suit yourself.” Maxwell picked up the lamp from the kitchen table and led the way down a long hall running south from the kitchen. The carpenter shop door opened onto a windowless room. Maxwell stood aside to admit Ty. The room was dark. It smelled of sawdust and oil.
“Where did you put the body?”
“On the bench there.” He pointed his chin to the shadows on the far wall.
Ty crossed the room. The lamplight barely penetrated the shadows at the bench. “Mind bringin’ that lamp a mite closer?” Maxwell stepped up behind him. Yellow glow spilled over the scarred bench top. Dark brown stains marked the spot where the body must have bled out. “How long was the body here?”
“Until the next afternoon when we buried him.”
“After the coroner’s inquest.”
“That’s right.”
“Thanks, Mr. Maxwell. I’ve seen enough here.”
Maxwell led the way back to the kitchen. “More coffee?”
“A little. Thanks.”
He poured what was left of the pot and returned to his seat.
“Now about the coroner’s inquest, I saw the verdict on file at the courthouse in Lincoln. Things seem pretty cut and dried.”
“That’s the way we saw it. Say are we about done here, Marshal?”
“Just a couple more questions, Mr. Maxwell. Who is the coroner up here?”
He shuffled his feet. “We don’t exactly have one, officially that is. It’s a small town. Some of us wear whatever hats need wearin’ from time to time.”
“Who wore the coroner’s hat for the Kid’s inquest?”
He fixed Ty with a cool gaze. “I did.”
“So you wrote the coroner’s report then.”
“I did.”
“That seems a little irregular, don’t it? I mean the man was killed in your bedroom.”
“I was here. I could identify the deceased and I can write.”
“What became of the report?”
“I gave it to the sheriff to file.”
“The county clerk couldn’t find it.”
“I wouldn’t know nothin’ ’bout that.”
“How did your coroner’s report compare to the findings of the inquest?”
“They was pretty much the same. Like you said, things was pretty cut and dried.”
“Did your coroner’s report recommend Sheriff Garrett for the reward?”
He shook his head. “No, that part come later.”
“The jury foreman was Milnor Rudulph.”
“That’s right.”
“Where can I find Mr. Rudulph?”
“Milnor’s the postmaster hereabouts when we need one. He’s got a small place just north of town. Are we about done?”
“Just one last question, Mr. Maxwell. What was Billy the Kid doin’ in your house that night?”
Maxwell let the question hang in the air. “He was, ah, he was seein’ my sister Paulita.”
“He was seein’ your sister.”
“Yeah, you know, callin’ on her.”
“Was he a friend of yours?”
“Me? Hell, no. I was again’ it. I tried to talk her out of it. She wouldn’t listen.”
“Is your sister here? I’d like to talk to her.”
“She’s not here.”
“When will she be back?”
“I don’t know. She was pretty broke up after the Kid’s death. She went back East to visit family.”
Sunnyside
Ty rode into the Rudulph place at mid morning. Cut and dried, it might seem so on the surface, but the deeper he picked at the stories the more questions kept getting in the way. Small and run-down might have been a better description of Rudulph’s place. He found Milnor Rudulph balancing a new buckboard wheel in a shed that passed for his barn. Rudulph stepped back from his work. He greeted the stranger in the cordial way folks often did in rough country, with a leveled Winchester.
“Mr. Rudulph?”
“I am. State your business.”
“Ty Ledger, Deputy US Marshal. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“About what?”
“The coroner’s inquest into the death of Billy the Kid.”
Rudulph knit his bushy brows and set the Winchester aside. He wiped sweat from his brow. “Step on down. Care for a cup of cider?”
“That’d go real good about now.”
“Com’on we can sit on the porch.”
Rudulph disappeared inside the cabin. He returned moments later with two cups of cider. He set himself down in an old rocking chair.
“Sorry I ain’t got but one chair. I reckon a young fella like you can sit on the step.”
Ty smiled and took a sip of his cider. “That’s mighty good. The step will be fine.”
The rocker creaked.
“Mr. Rudulph, you acted as jury foreman for the coroner’s inquest. Is that correct?”
“It is.”
“When did you arrive on the scene?”
He scratched the gray stubble on his chin. “Mid mornin’ I’d say, right about now.”
“Did you inspect the body?”
“I did.”
“Where was it?”
“They had it laid out in the carpenter’s shop in back of the Maxwell place.”
“Were you able to identify the body?”
“Good as I could. I didn’t exactly know him. I seen a wanted poster. Seemed like a good likeness, but it was pretty dark.”
“It was dark in the carpenter’s shop?”
“That’s right.”
“Was there anything unusual about the body?”
He wrinkled his brow, then shook his head. “Nope, like I said it was pretty dark.”
“But you still saw a good likeness, to the wanted poster I mean.”
“Sure, I guess.”
“Who were the other jurors?”
“I never saw the rest of ’em.”
Ty sat up. “You never actually saw the jurors?”
“That’s right.”
“So you never really convened as a jury.”
“No.”
“Didn’t that strike you as odd?”
“Sort of, but look we done things kind a quick. The Kid had friends in Fort Sumner. They was none too pleased about his bein’ shot. Pete and Sheriff Garrett thought it best to get the proceedin’s over with.”
“Then how did you reach a verdict?”
He shrugged. “It was pretty cut and dried. The Kid was dead. The coroner’s report said so. The sheriff and Pete was there. They said so.”
“Did you write the jury verdict?”
“No. It was written by the time I got there.”
“Who wrote it then?”
“I don’t know, Alejandro Segura, the justice of the peace called me. Maybe he done it.”
“Did you see Justice Segura that morning?”
“No, he left before I got there.”
“Didn’t that strike you as odd?”
“Well maybe it should a, but like I said with the crowd, all we was thinkin’ was get the business over.”
“Who gave you the verdict?”
“Pete. He was kind a runnin’ things.”
“Pete was runnin’ things. Not the sheriff?”
“No.”
“Did the verdict Pete gave you recommend Sheriff Garrett be rewarded for killin’ the Kid?”
“I believe it did. I know we didn’t change nothin’.”
“Did you sign the verdict?”
“I did.”
“Were you the first to sign it?”
“I was.”
“Thanks for the cider, Mr. Rudulph. And thanks for your help.”