Chapter Thirty-one
The night creatures called to each other as Johnny stood looking out toward Chugwater. A cloud passed over the moon, then moved away, bathing in silver the little town that rose up like a ghost before him. Several dozen buildings, half of which were lit up, fronted First Street, the main street of the town. The biggest and most brightly lit building was Fiddler’s Green.
Someone was playing a guitar in one of the houses, and Johnny could hear the music all the way out in the hills. Johnny hobbled his horse, then walked into town. He didn’t want to be seen and he decided his arrival would be less noticeable if he arrived on foot. He checked his pistol. It was loaded and slipped easily from its sheath.
As he started into town, he caught the smell of beans and spicy beef from one of the houses, and realized that it had been a couple of days since he had eaten well. His stomach growled in protest.
A dog barked, a high-pitched yap that was quickly silenced. A baby began to cry and a housewife raised her voice in one of the houses, launching into some private tirade about something, sharing her anger with all who were within earshot.
The sights, smells, and sounds reminded Johnny that there was another world, a world different from his own. There was a world of wives and kids, dogs and home-cooked meals—the world of his youth. His father had been a meat cutter in a meat-processing plant in Chicago, and had come home at night exhausted and reeking of the smell of blood and offal.
Johnny had turned his back on that world long ago, and though he had no intention of ever returning to it, there were times, such as this, when he had reflective moments. Pushing the contemplations aside, he continued on through the town, keeping as close to the fronts of the buildings as he could in order to stay in the shadows.
Reaching the block in which the jail was located, Johnny went between two buildings, then came out in the alley behind. He knew where he was because he had been here before, the last time he had come to see his brother.
Moving down the alley Johnny stopped behind the jail, then threw a rock in through the window into Emile’s cell. A moment later, Emile’s face appeared in the window.
“Johnny! I know’d it was you soon as you throw’d that rock in.”
“Shhh,” Johnny said. “Don’t give me away.”
“When are you goin’ to get me out of here?”
“I’m comin’ up with a plan.”
“Yeah? Well, there ain’t none of the plans worked yet, have they?”
Calhoun’s face appeared in the window of the cell next to Emile’s. “You comin’ to get us out?” Calhoun asked.
“Clay, what happened after I left? Who kilt the others?”
“You won’t hardly believe it, Johnny. They was all kilt by MacCallister. And he was shootin’ from near a mile away.”
“There can’t nobody shoot someone from a mile away.”
“He was damn near a mile, I tell you. Half a mile, anyway. He was so far away that you couldn’t hear the gun he was shootin’. I mean one minute Harper was standin’ there, and the next minute he was kilt, without even a sound. Same was for Blunt and Thomas.”
“You wasn’t kilt.”
“No, I was lucky. I was shot in the leg, though.”
“Where is the money?”
“What money?”
“What money?” Johnny repeated, almost yelling the word out before catching himself. “The money from the bank job. We left it buried there, remember? Where is it?”
“They got it,” Calhoun said.
“They who? Where is it?”
“MacCallister and Gleason. They got it, only they give it to the marshal so more ’n likely it’s been put back in the bank by now.”
“How did they get it? It was hid, wasn’t it?”
“Well, yeah, but . . .”
“How did they get it, Calhoun? How did they know where it was?”
Calhoun was quiet for a moment. Then, with a deep breath, he began to explain.
“They tricked me, Johnny. They told me you had took all the money and was goin’ to run off with it. They said you already had the money. So I . . .”
“You dumb shit. You dug it up, didn’t you?” Johnny said.
“You don’t understand, they tricked me.”
Johnny pulled his pistol and shot Calhoun in the forehead. Then, as every dog in the neighborhood erupted into a chorus of barking, Johnny turned and ran away, disappearing into the dark.
“What happened?” Deputy Schumacher shouted as he ran into the back of the jail. He saw Calhoun lying on the floor with one leg still up on his bunk. There was black hole in his forehead.
“It was someone from town,” Emile said. “You remember how they was goin’ to lynch me. They just come here and shot through the back winder. You got to protect me, Schumacher. I might be next.”
From the Chugwater Defender:
CLAY CALHOUN SLAIN
KILLED IN HIS JAIL CELL
Assailant unknown
On the very night Clay Calhoun was brought in to jail, he was killed. Clay Calhoun was one of six men who robbed the Chugwater Bank and Trust on Clay Avenue between First and Second Streets.
Deputy Schumacher, who was on duty at the time of the shooting, reported that a shot awakened him in the middle of the night. Determining that the shot came from the back of the jail where the cells are located, he was confused as to how such a thing could happen, as he knew that neither of his two prisoners had a weapon.
Upon reaching the jail cell area, Deputy Schumacher saw Clay Calhoun lying on the floor, having been dispatched by a ball fired into his forehead by assailant or assailants unknown.
Emile Taylor, who was occupying the adjacent cell, testified that someone had fired from the darkness of the alley, but he could offer no description.
Murder Trial To Take Place
Emile Taylor on Trial for His Life
GALLOWS BEING BUILT
The indictment handed down, Emile Taylor must now face justice before the court of Judge Thurman J. Pendarrow. Judge Pendarrow is known as a “no-nonsense” judge whose decrees have sent many a murderer to that higher court where one day we all must be judged for our actions here in this temporal domain.
Taylor was one of six men who held up the Chugwater Bank and Trust on Clay Avenue. Of those six men, four are known to be dead. Only Johnny Taylor remains at large. Thanks to Duff MacCallister and Elmer Gleason, the money, except for two thousand eight hundred and twenty dollars, has all been recovered, and the bank is functioning, once more, at full capacity.
Marshal Ferrell says that this should be a warning to any other outlaw who might have designs on holding up the Chugwater Bank and Trust. The Chugwater Bank and Trust, located on Clay Avenue between First and Second Streets, is known by all to be one of the finest banks in all of Laramie County.