CHAPTER 33

Cyrus ran up the middle of the street. Long before he reached the Spur & Saddle, he was gasping. When had he gotten so out of shape? He didn’t work as hard as he used to on the ranch or in his mining days. Now he mostly sat around his office all day. Suddenly the run from the Nugget to Bitsy Shepard’s place was too much for him. He slowed down near the telegraph office and pressed one hand to his chest. No sense bringing on heart failure.

Parnell Oxley dashed past him. The young ranch hand had burst into the Nugget with news that the mayor had been gunned down outside the Spur & Saddle. Ted Hire, the Nugget’s bartender, followed Oxley. Twenty or more men crowded around the front entrance of Bitsy Shepard’s saloon. Cyrus shoved aside two at the fringe.

“Let me through.” He halted, staring at the tableau on the steps. It was true. Charles Walker lay sprawled as though he’d fallen on the steps in midstride. Augie Moore hovered over him, and on the other side, Gert Dooley sat on the bottom step with the sheriff beside her. Cyrus glared at Ethan. “What happened here?”

Ethan stood and pushed his hat back. “Mr. Fennel. We’re about to move the mayor inside where we can tend him.”

Cyrus pushed past another man and went to his knees by his friend’s head. “Charles, can you hear me?” Walker moaned, and relief coursed through him. Cyrus wasn’t prepared to lose the one man he called a true friend.

The mayor’s eyes flickered open. “Wh … what happened?”

The sheriff leaned in close and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Someone shot you in the belly, Mr. Walker. We’re going to take you into the Spur & Saddle. Miss Shepard’s getting a room ready. Then we’ll see if Annie Harper will come look at you.” Annie not only served as a midwife, but in the absence of a doctor, she was known as the person best at sewing up knife cuts and setting bones.

Mayor Walker lifted one hand and grasped the front of Ethan’s vest. “No! Don’t take me in there. Orissa will have cats. Take me to my own house. It’s not far.”

“He’s right,” Cyrus said. He wasn’t sure Orissa would stoop to entering the saloon on a Saturday night, even to see her gravely injured husband.

Ethan looked questioningly at Augie.

“I can lug him that far,” Augie said. “He don’t weigh more’n a magpie.”

Bitsy appeared in the doorway, and the men parted for her. “We got the room all ready, Sheriff. Did someone go for Annie? And what about Mrs. Walker?”

Ethan said, “Change of plans, Miss Shepard. The mayor’s talking, and he wants to go home. Sorry we put you out.”

Bitsy waved her hand. “That makes no nevermind. Did you send one of the fellas to tell his wife?”

“Yes, ma’am. And then on to the Harpers’.”

Augie slid his meaty arms beneath the mayor’s slight form. The lamplight gleamed off his bald head. “Hold on, Mr. Mayor. I’m going to pick you up now.”

“Let me help you,” Cyrus said.

Augie shook his head. “The best way to help me is to run ahead and make sure his missus knows we’re bringing him over there.”

As the brawny man rose with the mayor in his arms, a wail reached them from the east side of the street.

“Not my Charles! Oh why? Why?” Orissa Walker, a black crow crying doom, swooped toward them.

Cyrus saw his duty and reached her in the middle of the street before any of the others moved.

“Orissa, calm yourself.” He reached for her arm. “Is he dead? Tell me.”

“No, my dear. Far from it. Now, be quick and get his bed ready. They’re bringing him home, and Annie will be here soon to help you care for him.”

“Oh me!” She put both hands to her face and sobbed. “What shall we do? Is it bad?”

“I don’t know.” Cyrus swallowed hard, but the ache in his chest had worsened. “I think perhaps a prayer would not be amiss.” He took her hand and drew it through the crook of his arm. Augie walked toward them with his burden. Ethan and Gert came behind him. “Miss Dooley,” Cyrus called, “would you kindly inform my daughter of the reason for my delay?”

Gert stopped walking. “I can do that.”

Cyrus nodded and turned back to Orissa. “Come,” he said gently. “Let’s get things ready.”

“You need to tell me everything you saw,” Ethan said to Gert. “I’ll send someone else to tell Isabel.”

“Send Bitsy so she won’t be frightened.” Gert shivered. She reached to fasten the top button of her jacket. “You need to go after the man who did it.”

“Did you see where he went?”

She lifted her hand toward the north end of the street. “He jumped on a horse and galloped off toward Mountain Road.”

Ethan dashed up the steps to the Spur & Saddle and spoke to Bitsy. She ducked back inside, and he turned at the top of the steps, in the light. “Gentlemen, prepare to ride out with me. We need a posse to go after the man who did this. If you’re sober and you have a horse and a weapon, prepare to leave from the livery stable in ten minutes.”

As he came down the steps toward her, the men dispersed, and Bitsy and Vashti hurried out of the saloon, spreading shawls about their shoulders. They headed together down the boardwalk toward the Fennel House.

Ethan reached Gert’s side. “Walk with me as far as your house, Trudy. Tell me on the way what you saw.”

“He was all dressed in black. I was standing there, behind the steps.” She swiveled and pointed to the spot beyond the hitching rail where a half dozen men were preparing to mount. “The mayor reached the steps, and this man came out of the alley yonder. I couldn’t see him well—just that someone else was coming. Then he fired a gun, and the mayor fell.” She stopped walking in front of the telegraph office. Her throat burned as she recalled the moment. “He was right about here when he did it. I don’t think he saw me. He started walking toward the mayor, and I jumped up. I was afraid he’d shoot Mr. Walker again.”

“Oh, Trudy.” Ethan slid his arm around her and pulled her close for a moment. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

She leaned away from him. “I’m the law, Ethan, same as you. I wasn’t going to let him do worse than he’d done. I suppose if I’d stayed put I might have seen him more clearly, but then the mayor would be dead for sure.”

“I expect so.”

“That’s when he threw the penny. I think now he was maybe just coming closer to leave it by Mr. Walker’s body, but at the time …”

“Hey! Where’s my horse?”

They both whirled toward the hitching rail. Ralph Storrey stormed down the boardwalk toward them. “Sheriff, someone’s up and stolen my horse.”

“When I yelled at him, he threw the penny then grabbed the nearest horse and galloped off,” Gert said to Ethan. “It was Mr. Storrey’s paint. He rode that way, at least as far as the smithy. After that, I don’t know.”

They all turned and stared northward. Several horsemen already trotted toward the livery stable.

“I’ll ask Griffin if he saw anyone ride by,” Ethan said.

“I’ll ask Bane to loan me another mount,” Storrey said. “If I lose that horse—” He stomped off down the street.

Gert took a deep breath, certain her next request was doomed. “Ethan, I want to go with you.”

“No.” He kept his arm around her, pushing toward home.

“I’m a deputy. And I saw him do it.”

“No.”

Bitsy, Vashti, and Isabel ran up the boardwalk toward them.

“Sheriff, is the mayor going to live?” Isabel grabbed Ethan’s arm and clung to it.

He cleared his throat. “Well, Miss Fennel, I don’t know. He’s over at his own house, and your father’s with him. You might want to go see if there’s anything you can do. I’m raising a posse to go after the man who did it.”

“We’ll see her safely to the Walkers’ house,” Bitsy said. “Is the shooting club riding with the posse?” She looked eagerly to Gert.

Gert gazed at Ethan. “Please?”

“I can’t let you ladies come. But you can do a lot of good here. Help Mrs. Harper with the mayor. The men riding with me can leave their women and children there so they won’t be alone while we’re gone. Gather the ladies in, won’t you, Trudy?”

Gert felt her face flush. The whole town would know before morning that the sheriff had a nickname for her.

“Yes, we’ll do it.”

Bitsy, Vashti, and Isabel left them to hurry across the street and south to the Walkers’ house.

“Now tell me quick,” he said to Gert. “What did he look like besides dark clothes?”

She squinted her eyes almost shut, picturing the penny man in the shadows. “He wasn’t as tall as you, nor as fat as Oscar Runnels.” She looked up into Ethan’s eyes and nodded. “He was young. At least he moved fast. I’m sorry I can’t tell you who he was.”

Ethan squeezed her hand as they reached the path to her house. “You’ve done fine.”

Hiram came from the back of the house.

“Gert, is that you? What’s going on? I heard a lot of commotion.”

“The mayor’s been shot.”

“You want to join the posse?” Ethan asked. “I’ll fill you in when you get to the livery with your horse and gun.”

Hiram turned on his heel and bolted for his corral behind the house.

Parnell Oxley ran toward them diagonally across the street.

“You coming, Sheriff? Griff Bane says someone rode past the livery hell-for-leather on a paint horse.”

“I’m right behind you.” Ethan touched Gert’s sleeve for a moment. “Don’t stay here alone. Get over to Walkers’. If you go out to bring other women in, go by twos and threes.” He hesitated a moment then pulled her to him.

His lips met hers, and fire shot through her. This was all wrong. He couldn’t kiss her and then rush off to hunt down the killer. He might not return, and—

“Be safe, Trudy.” He turned and ran after Parnell for the livery.