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Marshal McKinney lay in a corner of the saloon with a blanket drawn over his head. Carter and Louis had dragged the other bodies behind the bar. Solemnly the survivors of the gunfight gathered in the center of the saloon room to decide what they did next. Major Kelley, Louis and Vance had claimed guns from the dead men, but Annie had refused the offer.
“McKinney gave me a duty, and I intend to discharge it,” Carter said. “Do you all accept I’ll take charge of this situation?”
Carter had only asked out of courtesy, but to his surprise Kelley raised a hand.
“It was only by accident that you were with the lawman when he died,” he proclaimed, “or he might have laid that duty upon someone else. Undoubtedly you have an ability with weaponry, but do you have the necessary capabilities as regards command?”
Carter caught Kelley’s emphasis on his final word as Kelley raised his heels and puffed his chest.
“Perhaps I don’t, but by any chance do you know of someone who has experience of command?”
Kelley reacted to Carter’s sarcasm with a cough. Then he turned on his heel and walked to the door, placing his feet to the floor in a slow march. He reached out to cup the rainfall, and then turned and faced into the saloon.
“I do, and here is what we will do.” Kelley snapped around to face Louis. “Louis, our only problem in getting our prisoner into Sheriff Underwood’s care is the possibility that we might run into Bart Merrill’s colleague Spike Talbot – especially if we do that after he has discovered Bart’s body. So what is your estimate of Spike’s arrival time?”
Although Carter gritted his teeth in irritation as Kelley took control without discussion, he had to admit the crisis appeared to have brought out the best in the retired major. He had barked out his words with swift, military command and Louis was all but standing to attention in response.
“If he’s gone downriver to Brown’s Crossing and he stays for the night,” Louis said, “he won’t be back until late in the morning tomorrow.”
Kelley nodded and then paced back and forth before the door as he spoke.
“That’s good. It means we don’t have to act hastily. So we will stay here tonight, let the bad weather blow itself out and then set off at first light tomorrow to resume our journey to Lonesome.”
Most people showed their support by nodding, but the stage driver Vance shook his head.
“The weather’s set in,” he said gloomily. “It might clear by tomorrow, it might not, but either way that landslide isn’t going nowhere. Spike should be able to get past it, but not the stage.”
“Then decide on which alternative route you will take.” Kelley pointed at him as if he was aiming a sword. “That is your task.”
“That just brings up the other issue,” Carter said. “We should split up. Someone has to get the prisoner to Underwood, but there’s no need to risk everyone if a gunslinger is out there.”
“Division of our forces is not a legitimate strategy,” Kelley said with a clipped tone. “That matter is not open to discussion.”
Carter shook his head, but when Annie and Louis murmured their approval of Kelley’s stance, he didn’t raise any objections. Kelley then turned to the prisoner.
“So what did you do for Marshal McKinney to take you to Lonesome?” he said.
The prisoner didn’t react, but then again he wasn’t used to being spoken to. Only a prolonged silence and Kelley’s firm stomp of his feet made him flinch. Kelley repeated his question.
“I could tell you, but I don’t reckon the likes of you will want to listen to me,” the prisoner said, with a sneer.
“You’re right about that. Your duty is to be taken to Lonesome, nothing more. This meeting is over.”
Kelley clicked his heels, gave a curt nod and then beckoned for everyone to disband. With Kelley having outlined their plan of action, for the next few hours they remained quiet, apart from the formalities of serving coffee and finding something to eat in Walter’s side room.
As darkness replaced the gloom of the afternoon and the rain slowed from a torrential downpour, Carter detected a rising in spirits. Later, they busied themselves with settling down. They spread out across the saloon, each person curling up under the blankets Louis had laid out earlier.
Kelley allocated Carter the duty of keeping the first watch along with the duty of guarding the prisoner. So he stood by the door in a position where he could carry out both tasks.
“Are you planning on giving me trouble, or do I have to chain you to the bar?” he asked the prisoner.
“Chain me if you want, as long as you complete on McKinney’s promise,” the prisoner said.
This odd comment bemused Carter, but he avoided reacting to it. Then he grunted to himself as if he’d made a decision. He walked over to the prisoner and sat beside him.
“All right, what did that mean?” he said.
“Are you sure you want to listen to me?” He nodded toward the sleeping major. “That strutting fool wasn’t interested in hearing what I had to say.”
Carter smiled. “You know what to say to get me on your side, so if you want to talk, I’ll listen, and we can start with your name.”
“I’m Maverick Pullman,” the prisoner said without hesitation.
This answer surprised Carter and it took him a few moments to collect his thoughts.
“Is that a relative of Usher Pullman?”
“I’m his brother.”
“So I guess that means Spike Talbot will try to free you tomorrow.”
“That depends on whether he knows I was coming here.”
“He’ll know what crime you’re going to trial to. . . .” Carter nodded as he started to piece together what was probably happening. “A trial you’ll face standing alongside your brother.”
Maverick chuckled to himself and when that response didn’t please him enough he snorted a prolonged burst of laughter. He wiped his eyes with his bound hands as if he were swiping away tears of mirth.
“That lawman has entrusted me to a gun-toting fool and a pompous retired officer. It’d be easier on everyone if you let me go and let me make my own way to Lonesome.”
“I’m not letting you roam free, trusting you’ll turn up at court.”
“But I would. I’m not standing trial with Usher Pullman. I’m the key witness against him.”
“You’re his brother!” Carter snorted. “You’re a man in chains, a man who’s come from—”
“Leavenworth,” Maverick said, completing the thought. “People go there in chains, not leave. I’ve spent the last year there, except now I’m to be the surprise and key witness against my dear brother.”
“Why?”
Maverick sighed and pondered for several seconds before he replied.
“I used to run the saloon in Lonesome, but this lawman with a death wish hauled me in for shooting up a man. Usher said he’d get me out of the jailhouse, but even though he got rid of the lawman, him and those no-good varmints Bart and Spike let me take the blame for everything.”
“Did you shoot up that man?”
Maverick snorted. “That isn’t important. What is important is I got life.”
“What’ll you get if you speak up against him?”
“Life, but it’ll be with the satisfaction of knowing Usher won’t be on the outside.”
Carter recalled that when Louis had seen Maverick he hadn’t reacted as if he’d seen him before. He resolved to question him later as to whether he’d been in town last year.
“In that case, I know you won’t try to escape,” Carter said, standing up. “If you make a wrong move, I’ll know that story was just a story and I’ll know what I have to do.”
Carter patted his holstered gun and then headed to the door. For the rest of his watch he didn’t speak again with Maverick. He stood in the doorway waiting for the glimpse of a star that might herald the cloud cover breaking.
He fingered the watch in his pocket, forcing himself not to dwell on the death he’d meted out recently. Instead, he thought about what he’d have to do tomorrow, and by the time Kelley relieved him, Carter knew what his first action would be.
“Get someone to wake me and Vance at first light,” he said. “We need to check on that landslide.”
“I allocated Vance the role of planning our future route,” Kelley said.
“I know, but I’ve been around these parts before. I can’t remember the layout of the land that well but if we. . . .” Carter trailed off. Kelley was flexing his jaw suggesting he was merely waiting for him to finish speaking so that he could disagree with him.
“There’s no need for you both to go,” he said, confirming Carter’s suspicion.
“Vance has fixed ideas about the best routes, all taken from the seat of the stage, but we don’t have to use the stage.” Carter sighed as Kelley shook his head. “Stop disagreeing with everything I say. We’ll work best together if you trust me and my judgment.”
“We’ll work best together if you keep me apprised of everything that is relevant to our mission.” Kelley rubbed his jaw as he pondered. “So my decision is you alone will go out at first light. You will find out what you can, return and then you and Vance will provide me with your recommendations. I will then decide whose advice to take.”
Carter inclined his head slightly. “Agreed.”
Kelley snapped his heels together. Then he turned away and took up a position near to the prisoner. Carter shook his head, snorting quietly to himself, and then headed off to sleep. He chose a position between Vance and the blanket behind which Annie was sleeping.
He expected to suffer a sleepless and troubled night, but after the exertions of the last few hours, sleep came easily and he was surprised when, after what felt like only minutes, Annie shook him awake.
“It’ll be first light soon,” she said, and then raised a mug. “I’ve made coffee.”
He sat up, patted his pocket to feel the watch and then checked on the dozing prisoner.
“I didn’t expect you to be on guard,” he said.
“Why not?”
Carter didn’t try to find an appropriate reply and took the offered coffee instead.
“Has there been any trouble?”
“No, and the rain’s stopped.”
“That is good news.” He stood up, stretched the aches from his bones and then drew her aside to the bar. “We have to get away quickly. I’m leaving to—”
“I know,” she said. “The major told me what he’d ordered you to do, and I have my own orders. We’re all to be ready to leave by the time you return.”
“He sure is efficient.”
“He is, so don’t dawdle.” She waggled a reproachful finger and smiled. “Or he’ll put you on report.”
Carter laughed, noting for not the first time on this journey how much he enjoyed her all too infrequent smiles. He gulped several mouthfuls of coffee, bade her goodbye and headed outside, leaving her to rouse the others.
He collected one of Bart’s horses from the stable. As he trotted down the main drag, the people were already moving around in the saloon and making their way to the bar to collect the coffee she’d made.
Not wanting to delay their departure for a moment longer than was necessary, he sped up and sloshed through the mud up to High Point. By the time he reached the hanging man, the first slither of lightness was on the horizon.
Yesterday Vance had stopped the stage beside the body. At that point the blocked trail had been visible in the poor light, so Carter judged that he should meet the blockage within a hundred yards.
He covered that distance with the trail still being rutted and muddy and showing no sign of the problem that had made Vance seek refuge in Ferry Town. He’d covered another hundred yards before he started to worry and another hundred before he was sure.
With sudden dread making his heart hammer, he drew his horse to a halt on a rise. The ever-increasing light level revealed the snaking trail beside the river stretching ahead for at least another mile. Along its whole length there was no landslide.
––––––––
Buckley Sharpe awoke with a start with his head pressed up against the crate they’d fished out the river yesterday. Max Parker was still asleep and holding the crate tightly as if it might run away.
He and Max had been traveling upriver for several months, hunting, fishing, trading in pelts as they did during the summer months. Their unexpected discovery yesterday had convinced them that they’d been right to come farther north than ever before.
It had been long into the night before they’d finished examining the contents of the crate, after which it’d been too late to move on. Most of Buckley’s initial elation had worn off before they’d reached the bottom.
Although they’d found several intriguing valuables such as watches and rings on the top of the crate, deeper down there were letters, journals and other items that were of no value, except perhaps to whoever had owned them. This latter thought had been on Buckley’s mind when he’d drifted off to sleep and had ensured he didn’t have a restful night.
Accordingly, with the coming of daylight, Buckley slipped several of those written documents out of the crate, being careful not to wake Max. The papers had now dried out so he paged through them, but they contained few clues as to who had owned them and it wasn’t even obvious to him what he was reading. Names, places, dates featured heavily along with lengthy statements that made Buckley’s eyes glaze.
“Find anything interesting?” Max asked, snapping Buckley out of his torpor.
Buckley turned to Max. “Nope. I’ve still got no idea what they are.”
“We know everything we need to know without reading.” Max crawled over to the pile they’d made of the valuables. “These don’t have any confusing writing on them.”
He hefted a handful of rings and grinned, his smile suggesting he was calculating the amount of gold and silver he was holding.
“Some of them do.” Buckley joined him and picked up a silver watch. He read the inscription on the back. “To Samuel, from Frank Doyle.”
“What are you getting at?”
“I mean these things once belonged to someone. When we found them they were just valuables without an owner, but now I’ve seen names, taking them somehow seems just plain wrong.”
Irritation flashed in Max’s eyes before he provided a weak attempt at a comforting smile.
“We don’t know these people. They are just that – names.”
“If we read through these journals, perhaps we might put people and places to those names.”
“Then I propose we don’t do that.”
Buckley sighed, Max’s comment finally helping him to make a decision.
“I know what you’re saying and I’m mighty tempted to do just that myself, but I don’t reckon we can.”
Max’s shoulders slumped. “I guess we can’t, but we don’t know where this stuff came from. We can’t spend forever trying to return it all to its rightful owners, can we?”
“You’re right, but we can at least try. We can head to Ferry Town and perhaps even Lonesome. Then we can ask around and see if anyone knows of the people I’ve read about in these journals.”
“And if we don’t find out anything after we’ve done that?”
Buckley smiled. “Then I guess it’ll be our lucky day because we’ll both know we tried and that we have no choice but to accept this stuff is ours to keep.”
This comment made Max laugh for the first time today.
“All right, we’ll do it your way and try to find the owners so you get no complaints from your conscience.”
In a happier frame of mind Buckley helped Max reload the crate, but he couldn’t help but notice the slow way Max fingered the watch and other valuables before he replaced them. When the crate was full, Buckley even started to rummage through it to make sure Max had replaced everything they’d removed, but when Max muttered under his breath he decided to trust him and slammed shut the lid.
“So, do we go to Ferry Town or Lonesome?” he said.