Chapter Twenty-three
Because the two men had been freight wagon drivers, their caskets were open and lying in the back of the same wagons they had driven in life. The two wagons, with Walt’s wagon in the lead, were decorated with black bunting, pulled by horses that were draped with a black pall. The wagons were driven slowly through town in a funeral cortege that grew in numbers as it proceeded toward the cemetery.
At first, people were puzzled as to why so many people would want to attend the burial, then someone suggested that perhaps it was because the boys had no family of their own to mourn for them. Their graves were side by side because, as Fred Matthews said, “They were friends in life, they will be friends through eternity.”
Elmer came into town for the burial. He knew both men on sight and had even had a few drinks with them. But he didn’t come because he knew them. He came because he had seen a lot of men—friends, acquaintances, enemies, even perfect strangers, buried in unmarked graves a long way from home. And as the two graves were being simultaneously closed, he remembered another burial. Not a burial, really, but a committal of a body to the sea.
They were fourteen days out of Madagascar when the boy fell from the rigging and died within moments after crashing onto the deck. He was buried at sea within an hour, the sail maker having made a shroud for the committal.
The ship’s company turned out for the burial, but there was no clergyman on the three-masted Baltic Trader, so the captain read the rites of burial.
The man they were burying had only come aboard for this cruise, joining the ship in Norfolk, Virginia. He had given his name as John Smith, but most just referred to him as “Red” because of the color of his hair. It was suspected by some, though nobody knew for sure, that he was running from the law, and had come on this cruise on as a means of escape.
“Think he’s got folks somewhere?” one of the other sailors asked Elmer.
“Everybody has folks somewhere,” Elmer replied.
“There ain’t goin’ to be nobody ever knows what happened to this fella.”
“That ain’t true.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll know,” Elmer said.
It was one week after Dillon and Goodman were buried, and Duff and Elmer were up on the roof of the barn replacing shingles when Marshal Ferrell came riding up.
“Hello, Marshal,” Elmer called down to him. “Get yourself a hammer and come on up and help.”
“If there is anything you don’t want, it’s me climbin’ around on a roof,” Marshal Ferrell said. “Duff, have you got a minute?”
“Aye,” Duff said, starting toward the ladder.
“Now, damn it, you two had that all cooked up, didn’t you?” Elmer said. “You prob’ly told him, ‘come on out tomorrow ’bout nine or so and say you need me so’s I can get Elmer to finish with the roof.’”
Duff chuckled as he stepped onto the ladder to climb down. “Aye, Elmer, what can I say? Sure now, and you have it all figured out.”
“I knew it, I knew it,” Elmer said, though his complaining was ameliorated by his laughter.
“Good Morning, Jerry. What brings you to Sky Meadow?”
“Johnny Taylor,” Marshal Ferrell said.
“There hasn’t been another killing, has there?”
“No, but the town is awfully uneasy.”
“I expect it would be,” Duff said.
“Duff, maybe I should have checked with you before I did this, but I was hoping that you would agree to it. And if you don’t agree, I’ll understand. On the other hand, if you do agree, why, then it won’t take no time because it’s already set.”
“Here now, Jerry, and would you be for tellin’ me what it is you are trying to say? Sure ’n’ you’re talkin’ in riddles.”
“I’m talkin’ about deputyin’.”
“Deputying?”
“Yes, deputying. In particular, I’m talkin’ about you deputying.”
“Marshal, there’s nae need for you to appoint me a deputy. Sure ’n’ haven’t I always come to your aid when asked? And didn’t I do the same thing for Marshal Craig, before you?”
“I’m not talkin’ about being a deputy town marshal, which truth to tell don’t give you much more authority than to bring in a fella for takin’ a piss in the street. No, sir, I’m talkin’ ’bout you bein’ a deputy with some real power. I been thinkin’ about this for a couple of days, so yesterday I sent a telegram to the sheriff down in Cheyenne and told him what I wanted.”
“And what is it you want?”
“What I wanted was for him to make you a deputy sheriff, and that’s what he’s done. That gives you authority all over Laramie County.”
“How can he make me a deputy? Don’t I have to be sworn in?”
“You will be. I’ve already got things all set up for it. That is, if you are willing to accept the appointment.”
“I don’t know, Marshal, you know my history. ’Twas a sheriff’s deputy that killed my fiancée back in Scotland. I don’t know how I could bring myself to callin’ myself such.”
“You can call yourself anything you want, Duff,” Marshal Ferrell said. “But I need your help. The town needs your help. Because I’ll be honest with you, with a man like Johnny Taylor out there, I don’t know where this is going to end. The town is now divided into two parts, one part wants us to hang Emile right now, and the other part wants us to let him go.”
“Take the man up on his offer, Duff,” Elmer called down from the roof of the barn. He had come down to the edge and was sitting there now, with his legs hanging down from the eves. “In the time I’ve known you, I’ve never known you to walk away from a fight. And seems to me like this Johnny fella is making it some personal. If you’re worried about leavin’ the place, don’t be. I’ll take care of things here.”
“Elmer, there is much to be done out here. ’Twould not be right for me to leave you out here alone.”
“Alone? Hell, Duff, this ain’t no two-man operation no more, not like it was when me ’n’ you first built that little ol’ one room cabin. You have fourteen men workin’ for you now. It ain’t as if I’m goin’ to be doin’ physical labor all by myself. Go on. Like the marshal said, the town needs you. And I don’t have to remind you that Vi and Miss Parker live in town. And I’d feel a heap better about ’em, knowin’ you was there to sort of look after ’em ’n’ all.”
Duff nodded. “Aye, you may have a point,” he said. He turned toward the marshal. “What now?”
“Come back to town with me,” Marshal Ferrell said. “I can’t swear you in because bein’ a deputy sheriff is a county office. But Justice of the Peace Norton can. We’ll go see him.”
“You’re goin’ to see the justice of the peace?” Elmer asked. “Hey, Duff, that would be a good chance for you to stop by and pick up Miss Parker on your way.”
“And why would I be for doing that?”
Marshal Ferrell chuckled. “He’s giving you a hint, Duff. Here, a justice of the peace can perform marriage ceremonies.”
“Sure ’n’ isn’t that something I should discuss with Miss Parker first?”
Duff rode back to town with Marshal Ferrell. As they rode by Fiddler’s Green, Marshal Ferrell asked if he wanted to stop for a beer.
“It might be good to get the dust of the ride out of our mouths,” he said.
The two men dismounted then went into the saloon. Duff was surprised to see that Meagan, Fred Matthews, and R.W. Guthrie were there, along with Justice of the Peace Norton. A sign was stretched across the back wall.
CHUGWATER WELCOMES DEPUTY SHERIFF DUFF MACCALLISTER
“Here, now, ’n’ what is all this?”
“We knew you wouldn’t turn the offer down,” Biff Johnson said. “So we thought we’d have a bit of a celebration with the swearing-in. In celebration of the occasion, Rose cooked up a batch of haggis, taties, and neeps.”
At the mention of some of his native food, Duff smiled broadly. “Did she now? Sure ’n’ ’tis a foine woman you have married, Biff Johnson.”
“Let’s get to the swearing-in so we can celebrate,” Norton suggested. “Mr. MacCallister, if you would hold up your right hand please?”
Duff did.
“Do you solemnly swear that you will faithfully perform the duties of the office of deputy sheriff for Laramie County, Wyoming?”
“I do.”
“You are now a deputy sheriff.”
Meagan pinned the badge onto Duff’s shirt.
“You know, when Biff asked me to come over here to see you and the justice of the peace, I wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted,” she said quietly.
Duff looked surprised by her comment, and she laughed and put her fingers on his lips before he could say anything.
“Don’t worry, I’m just teasing.”
“Oh, what is the awful-tasting stuff?” Cindy asked from the table, where such things as boiled eggs, bits of ham and cheese, cookies, and the haggis, taties, and neeps had been laid out. She had just tasted some of the latter.
“Bless her heart,” Meagan said. “I’ll bet she has no idea how many feathers in her cap she lost with you by that comment.”
“Sure now, Meagan, and why would you be for thinking the lass had any feathers to lose?”
After a brief celebration, and congratulations from all, Duff went down to the marshal’s office with Ferrell.
“I’ve put you a desk back there,” he said. “Of course, you are sort of on your own, but I thought, just in case you wanted to check the latest reward posters, or news about any sightings, you could have a place to come.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Duff, have you ever heard of the town of Bordeaux?”
“It’s just north of here, isn’t it? I’ve nae been there, but I have heard of it. Why would you ask?”
“The town of Bordeaux has a reputation of being rather lawless.”
“I see. And would you be for thinking that Johnny and the others might be there?”
“Not according to Marshal Cline. I sent him this telegram.” Marshal Ferrell showed the telegram to Duff.
TRYING TO LOCATE JOHNNY TAYLOR
STOP THINK HE MIGHT BE IN YOUR
TOWN STOP HE IS WANTED FOR BANK
ROBBERY STOP JERRY FERRELL
MARSHAL CHUGWATER
STOP THINK HE MIGHT BE IN YOUR
TOWN STOP HE IS WANTED FOR BANK
ROBBERY STOP JERRY FERRELL
MARSHAL CHUGWATER
“And this is what he sent back.”
JOHNNY WAS HERE FOR SHORT TIME
STOP BUT LEFT AND HAS NOT
RETURNED STOP C F CLINE MARSHAL
BORDEAUX
STOP BUT LEFT AND HAS NOT
RETURNED STOP C F CLINE MARSHAL
BORDEAUX
“Do you think the marshal is nae telling the truth?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never met this fella, C.F. Cline, but I have heard of him. And from what I heard, he would seem more likely to be a snake oil salesman, or maybe even a chicken thief, than a marshal. Anyway, it was just a thought.”