CHAPTER 4
Mackey decided he had done enough to make sure the Hancock family knew he was in town, so it was finally time for Adair to be tended to. He rode her back to the livery and arranged for Arthur to take good care of her.
“Anyone come around asking about those horses I left with you?” Mackey asked.
“Not yet,” Arthur admitted, “but it’s just past breakfast time for some folks. Might not be anyone come calling until noon, if not later. And when they do, that’ll be bad news for you.”
“That’s what everyone keeps telling me.” Mackey realized he had ignored the grumbling in his stomach for too long. “Any places in town still open for breakfast?”
Arthur looked at him warily. “Plenty of places, but only one where you’re less likely to get yourself shot by a friend of the Hancock family.”
Mackey appreciated the liveryman’s concern for his well-being. And for the agreement of protection they had made. “Sounds like the kind of place I need.”
* * *
As he walked to the Hancock Dining Café and Rooms, Mackey had to remind himself that he was in a strange town without Billy or Sandborne or even Lagrange to watch his back. He was not complaining. He knew his message to the Hancock clan would stick better if he was alone. Claiming he was not afraid of them was one thing. Showing the family he had no fear of them was different.
But times were certainly changing, and Mackey found himself with no choice but to change with them. He had spent most of the past five years since his discharge from the army enforcing the law in Dover Station. Between the ranchers, the miners, the loggers, and the townsfolk, he and Billy Sunday had been kept busy keeping a lid on the busy town.
But that lid had been blown clean off once Mr. Frazer Rice and his railroad had decided to pour a lot of money into expanding Dover Station from a mere stopover to a main stop on the Great Northwestern Railway. And while Mr. Rice had left Silas Van Dorn in town to oversee his investments, Van Dorn had ceded most of his authority to James Grant. Mackey knew Grant as a man of dubious background and reputation, but there was nothing dubious about the power he had amassed in town. Not only did he oversee the daily operations of the Dover Station Company, but he had managed to get himself elected mayor. Mr. Rice objected, of course, but even powerful men have a limited reach, especially from over two thousand miles away. Besides, his shareholders saw Grant as a miracle worker who had hewn a profitable business out of the Montana wilderness.
But Mr. Rice had plenty of power in Washington, which he had used to get Mackey named as the United States Marshal for the Montana Territory. Rice hadn’t done it simply because he was civic-minded, but because the move benefited him personally. It gave him another ally with broad powers across the territory and a powerful friend who could help him corral James Grant’s influence.
With statehood just around the corner, Mackey had no idea how long the post would last. He imagined being properly admitted into the union would change everything, including how he did his job. But for today, he had the full weight of the federal government behind him. On paper, the territorial governor and Judge Forester outranked him, but in reality, all three men were equally beholden to Frazer Rice for their positions.
Mackey decided he’d be glad when he could put all of this political intrigue behind him. He had enjoyed being sheriff of a small, bustling town in the middle of the territory. It was never an easy job nor a safe one, but it was manageable. Now, with a town police force headed up by Walter Underhill and controlled by Grant, he had to look both ways before he put a foot on the boardwalk out of concern about offending someone’s authority. Add the friction between Grant, Van Dorn, and Rice into the mix and it became even more of a mess. Mackey enjoyed the power and privilege of a federal badge pinned to his chest, but not all of the intrigue that went along with it.
Mackey found the café just off Main Street exactly where Arthur had told him it would be. The white tablecloths were a good sign that the place had decent food. The aromas of fresh coffee and bacon were even better signs and made his stomach grumble a bit louder.
A Chinese man who carried himself like the manager eyed Mackey carefully as he walked toward the new customer. The man had a full head of hair gone almost gray and sported a pair of black holders on each arm to keep his shirtsleeves rolled up.
“Can I help you?”
“I’d like some breakfast if you’re still serving.”
The manager seemed to have to think about it, even though Mackey saw a waiter bring out a couple of plates of bacon and eggs to a table. “Yes, we are. Follow me, please.”
Given the place was empty except for the one occupied table, he didn’t know why he needed to follow the manager anywhere, but he did. He understood what the man was up to when he stopped at the table in farthest corner of the dining room. “I thought you might enjoy your privacy back here, Marshal.”
“Sounds like you’ve heard of me.” Mackey pulled off his duster and laid it on the back of the chair before taking the seat facing the door. “That didn’t take long, did it?”
“Hancock is a small town,” the manager said as he handed him a menu. “And if you’ll take some friendly advice, it’s a town you’ll leave as soon as you’re able.”
“Let me guess. You’re a Hancock, too.” He looked the Chinese man over. “You don’t look like a Hancock.”
“Me?” The Chinese man bristled. “I hate the bastards. Just don’t want to see a good man gunned down on account of vermin like Henry Hancock. His family run this town, Marshal, and if I know you’re here, they probably know it, too. Most likely, they’ve got people riding down from their ranch right now to see their brother’s body with their own eyes. They’ll see to it that you’re on the next table to him, too, if you’re not careful.”
“That’s what everyone keeps telling me.” He checked the clock above the front door. It wasn’t even nine in the morning yet, but a world of trouble was already headed straight for him. But he had asked for it, so he had no complaints. “Guess that’s why you didn’t sit me at the table by the window.”
“It’s a nice window,” the manager said, “and I would not like to see it damaged. Or to see you shot without having a chance to at least defend yourself.”
Mackey extended his hand to him. “Name’s Aaron.”
The manager shook his hand. “And mine is Norman Fong. My father was Chinese and my mother was Mexican, in case you’re wondering.”
He wasn’t. “I’m was wondering more about the kind of breakfast you folks serve here than about who your father was.”
“Eggs fresh this morning, as much bacon as will fit on your plate, and the best coffee in town limits.”
“Sold.” Mackey handed him back the menu. “Let’s start with the coffee and make the eggs fried. If a bit of the bacon fat winds up mixed in, all the better.”
Without bothering to write it down, Norman began to head for the kitchen before Mackey stopped him. “You said some of the Hancock family was on their way into town. Any of them I should watch out for in particular?”
Norman looked at the table at the opposite end of the room. The two burly men Mackey pegged for miners were too busy quietly tucking into their breakfast to pay attention to anyone else. Still, Norman kept his voice low when he said, “All of them are dangerous in their own way. They’re as nasty as they are plentiful. I wouldn’t go so far as to call them feral, but they’re not far from it. Their women are every bit as dangerous as the men. Mad Nellie’s the one to watch for. She will cut your throat sooner than her menfolk, and do a better job of it, too.”
Mackey had heard about her. “Sounds lovely.”
“And there are a lot of them, too,” Norman went on. “I’ve been here over two years and I still don’t know who all of them are. And that doesn’t even count the cousins. They’ve got different names, so you don’t always know who you’re talking to.”
Norman stole another glance at the door, then nodded at the Peacemaker handle poking out above the table. “Might be a good idea to keep that handy, Aaron. Trouble’s liable to come at you in any direction and in any form.”
It sounded like good advice to Mackey. “Any back door to this place?”
“No,” Norman said. “Just the front. And watching that will be plenty.”
Mackey had been a lawman for too long to not be suspicious. “Why are you being so helpful to me?”
“Because if there’s one thing the Hancock family like less than blacks or Mexicans,” Norman said, “it’s the Chinese. And a half-blood like me doesn’t rate too highly in their book.”
Mackey let the waiter go put his order in with the kitchen before drawing the Colt and placing it on the table.
Norman returned with a mug of coffee. “Just be careful. We serve it plenty hot around here.”
Both men looked up when the front door of the café flew open and a tall, rangy man of about twenty stormed into the dining room.
Mackey figured he was a good inch or two taller than himself and wider, too. Not fat like the sheriff but lean the way years of ranch work tended to shape a man. Despite the long face and droopy eyes, he still bore a certain facial resemblance to Sheriff Warren Hancock and Henry Hancock that told him he must be a relative.
Mackey had been expecting some kind of confrontation by one of the family. In fact, he had been counting on it. He had just hoped it would happen after his breakfast.
Norman approached the man with nothing more than a scowl. “Just who the hell do you think you are, busting in here like this?”
The man pulled a pistol and aimed it at Norman’s head. “I’m Al Brenner, you half-breed son of a bitch, and I’m here for the man who killed my kin. Someone said they saw him walk in here. Now, you either point him out or you’ll be shaking hands with my poor uncle Henry in a minute.”
From his seat at the back table, Mackey said, “There was nothing poor about Henry Hancock. And since you’re looking for the man who killed your uncle, I’m the one. Might as well leave everyone else out of it.”
Brenner lowered his gun as he looked over at Mackey.
The two miners having breakfast threw some greenbacks on the table as they abandoned their meals and ran outside. They had to force their way through the crowd that had gathered at the café entrance to watch what was happening.
Mackey didn’t blame the miners for running. They weren’t wearing guns, and this wasn’t their fight. He just hoped Norman didn’t try to be a hero. That pencil he was holding wouldn’t do much against Al Brenner’s pistol.
“Best head inside, Norman.” Mackey had laid his hand flat on the table beside his Peacemaker. “Give me and Mr. Brenner here some privacy.”
Norman looked at the mob of people who had pressed their dirty faces against his clean window. “Yeah, privacy.”
He went into the kitchen as Al Brenner turned to face Mackey. His pistol remained at his side. “You the bastard that murdered Henry?”
Mackey drank his coffee with his left hand. “I’m the federal marshal who attempted to bring him in on a warrant a judge swore out for his arrest about a year ago. Henry and his bunch made the decision to start shooting instead of coming along peaceful. They got what they had coming to them.”
Brenner’s right arm trembled, but he kept his pistol low. “I’d call that murder.”
“Only a fool would call five-on-one odds murder. I’d call it survival.” Mackey patted his pocket without taking his eyes off Brenner. “And the warrant I’ve got right here says it’s legal. I had a right to bring him in, and that’s exactly what I did.”
“You brought his body into town,” Brenner yelled, “not my uncle. I’ll bet you were too yellow to even give him a chance to surrender.”
“Men like your uncle don’t surrender.” Mackey shrugged to goad the boy into doing something stupid. Another dead Hancock boy might be enough to drive his point home. “Straight up or over the saddle makes no difference to me, Brenner, so long as the body matches the name to satisfy the warrant.”
“To satisfy the warrant?” Al Brenner’s droopy eyes narrowed. “You can talk about ending a man’s life like it was some kind of chore on a list someplace. What kind of man are you?”
“I’m a lawman.” Mackey kept an eye on Brenner’s right shoulder. He knew if the cowboy began to raise his gun, the first sign of movement would come from there. “In fact, I’m a federal law man, to put a finer point on it, and a hungry one at that. Now, either do what you came in here to do or get the hell out of here before my food comes out. Killing people once I start eating upsets my stomach, and I’ve got no intention of missing another meal on account of another Hancock man.”
The big cowboy’s shoulders shifted as he began to raise his pistol, but Mackey had grabbed his Peacemaker and leveled it before Brenner had raised the pistol above his gun belt.
The young man froze.
Mackey remained perfectly still as he kept the gun aimed at Brenner’s chest. “Drop it. Right now.”
He didn’t take his eyes off Brenner when a woman dressed in rags stormed through the crowd that had gathered in the café doorway and yanked Brenner’s gun arm down.
The woman was round and half his size, if that. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Avenging Uncle Henry,” Brenner said.
“How did you plan on going about doing that?” the small woman yelled up at him. “By getting yourself killed?”
He glowered over her and stared at Mackey. “Who says I’m the one who’d get killed?”
She slapped him in the face, breaking his stare. “I’m saying it, and it’s a good thing I came in when I did. This ain’t the way I wanted it done, Al. Now all you’ve done is make things worse.” She grabbed him by the sleeve and shoved him toward the door. “Now get out of here before I step aside and let him do what he was fixing to do to you.”
Al took a few steps back from the short, roundish woman wearing a man’s work pants and shirt. “But, Aunt Nell, I—”
She held her ground and pointed for the door. “Get back home like I told you and wait for me there.”
Nell scowled at the faces peering into the café at her and wagged a dirty crooked finger at them. “And I don’t want none of you idiots fillin’ his head with any nonsense about comin’ back in here with his cousins, understand? I want that boy home where he belongs.”
Mackey knew this had to be Mad Nellie Hancock, the matriarch and leader of the entire Hancock tribe. According to Mr. Rice’s people, Nellie ran the entire family, including all the cousins and in-laws. Though she was a Hancock only by marriage, she had spent the better part of the last twenty years defending the corrupt legacy of the family she had joined as if it was her own birthright rather than that of her children. The file Mr. Rice had sent him offered little information on her children’s names or which Hancock was their father, not that it mattered. Mackey pegged the woman to be only thirty, which meant her children were probably too young to be a problem just yet, though the file also said the family had a reputation for spawning early.
Now that her nephew was gone, Mad Nellie turned her attention to the marshal. “Mind pointing that thing elsewhere?” She held up her hands, showing she was unarmed. “I’m not packing, Marshal.” She winked. “You can pat me down if you want.”
“No thanks.” He slowly laid the Peacemaker back on the table, but did not dare holster it. Only a fool would put away their weapon when facing Mad Nellie.
She offered a yellow-toothed grin as she began to slowly amble over to his table. Mackey watched every move. She might not be armed, but from what he had heard of her, she was even more dangerous with her bare hands. She dressed like a man because she had been doing men’s work out on her family’s ranch since her husband was hanged for armed robbery and murder in Helena more than ten years before.
Mad Nellie gestured to the chair where Mackey had put his duster. “Mind if I have a seat?”
He nodded toward a chair at another table. “Over there is close enough for both of us.”
She pulled out a chair from the table next to Mackey and sat down. She pointed at him with a filthy hand that hadn’t been washed in days, maybe longer. “I know all about you, Aaron Mackey. What’s more, I know who sent you and why they done it, too.”
“I know you, too, Nell.” Mackey kept his hand close to his pistol, but not on it. “Who you’re working for and why.”
“Of course you do,” she said. “Everyone who calls themselves anyone in this part of the territory knows about me and mine. Hell, I hear they know about the Hancock clan clear down to Texas. Maybe even Mexico.”
“I’m not talking about that,” Mackey said. “I’m talking about places a lot closer than that. I’m talking about Dover Station, and you know it.”
“Dover Station.” Nell’s dull blue eyes grew even duller. “To hear people talk, the place was nearer to heaven on earth than the fly speck of a town it is.”
“It’s got a railroad station,” Mackey said, “which is more than can be said about Hancock.” He kept his gun hand still as he leaned forward. “Which is why you and your family have thrown your lot in with James Grant, isn’t it? He promised you he’d run the railroad up here to Hancock if you and your family agreed to work for him, didn’t he?”
He could tell by her reaction that she had not expected him to know so much. She tried to cover her surprise, but did a poor job of it. “Where’d you go and get a damned fool notion like that?”
Since Mr. Rice owned the telegraph office, it was not hard for him to read telegrams that had been sent between Nell and James Grant. But there was no point in telling her that. “Who cares where I heard it? The only question is whether or not it’s true.”
The flesh under her jaw wagged as she jerked her chin up at him. “And what if it is?”
“Then the bad times for the Hancock family are only beginning.”
Mad Nell sat back in her chair and drummed her filthy fingers on Norman’s white tablecloth. He watched her closely in case she decided to take a swing at him or lunge for his throat. “I could be forgiven for taking that as a threat, Marshal.”
“You a God-fearing woman, Nell?”
She stopped drumming her fingers. “Indeed, I am.”
“Then take what I said as prophecy. Stick with Grant and things go from bad to worse for the Hancock clan.”
She began drumming her fingers again. “We Hancocks ain’t used to being threatened, Marshal. We’re better at striking out first and thinking about it later.”
“Same as me,” Mackey said. “Because if you agree to do James Grant’s dirty work for him, you and your family better have plenty of shovels ready. You’re going to need them.”
She nodded to herself as she kept drumming a pointless tune on the tabletop. “I guess you bringin’ Henry into town like you done would be your way of makin’ a point?”
Mackey was glad she wasn’t as dense as he feared. “Just enforcing a warrant is all. His name’s on the paper, just like a lot of other names.”
Nellie kept nodding. “Maybe bringin’ him here like that was your way of tryin’ to rile us up into doing somethin’ stupid. Like makin’ you grab that pistol you’ve got right there on the table and laying me out.”
“That’s a lot of maybes, Nell. But everything I’ve told you about working for Grant is a fact.”
Her chins waggled as she shook the head that was as round as the rest of her. “I’m not stupid enough to go up against a man like you. Henry was, and like you said, got what was comin’ to him. Had been comin’ to him for a long time, I’d imagine, just like my Joshua had it comin’ to him ten years ago. Left me with five children to raise on a ranch that ain’t worth a damn and a farm where only crabgrass grows.”
“Sounds to me like you’re trying to justify something.”
She stopped drumming her fingers. “Not to the likes of you, Mackey. See, I might not place much stock in that hero nonsense they peddle about you, but I believe it’s near enough to the truth to call for what you might call discretion on my part.”
She pointed a grimy finger at the star pinned to the lapel of his duster on the back of the chair. “See, I know how you got that fancy piece of jewelry. And I know who got it for you, too.”
“Sure, you do. The story was in all the papers, from what I understand,” Mackey said. “I’d suppose word even reached as far as a jerkwater town like Hancock.”
Still, Mad Nellie wouldn’t be baited. “I never had the time to waste learnin’ how to read and never missed it, either. I get my information in other ways. By word of mouth. And that’s why I know you may have gotten that fancy star from the president back in Washington, but the man who got it for you is Mr. Frazer Rice himself.”
Mackey was quickly beginning to realize that Mad Nellie wasn’t so crazy after all. “Mr. Rice made the recommendation, but it was the president’s decision.”
“Men like Rice tell presidents what decisions to make,” Nellie said. “Men like Rice make towns like Dover Station. Can break ’em, too, all with the stroke of a pen.”
She leaned closer to Mackey, but Mackey didn’t budge. “Towns like Hancock. See, I know why, out of all them warrants you must have in that pocket of yours, that you went after poor old Henry first. On account of Rice sendin’ you here to do it. To deliver a message to me in the form of the corpse of one of my relations.”
Mackey saw no reason to admit it so quickly. “You’ve got a nasty way of looking at the world, Nell. But maybe you’re on to something where Mr. Rice is involved.”
“I’ll just bet I am.”
“And I’ll bet you’ve heard about Rice and Grant not always seeing things the same way. I’ll bet you’ve also heard that Mr. Rice doesn’t like some of Grant’s plans for the town. Plans that include some Hancock men to help him run more saloons, whorehouses, and maybe an opium den or two when he opens that new sawmill of his in a couple of months.”
She smiled, “Can’t say I know anything about any of that, Marshal. But let’s just say James Grant was planning on doing all of those things. You think it’s smart to go up against him the way you’re doin’ it? By making an enemy of him and the Hancock clan at the same time? I’ve heard tell that you’re a smart man, Marshal. Goin’ against us ain’t the way of a smart man.”
“Neither is going against Mr. Rice,” Mackey countered. “Or me.”
She sat forward and pointed a grimy finger at him. “Except there’s a difference between what you’re doin’ and what I’m doin’. I’m protectin’ me and mine the same as any other woman in her right mind would do.” Nellie sat back. “I’m admittin’ that I know that you’re tryin’ to goad me and mine into choosin’ between a man who ain’t never done anythin’ for my family and one who has no reason to lie to us.”
“Grant’s got no reason to do anything for you, either,” Mackey said. “Not after you give him what he wants.”
“Except what I’m offerin’ ain’t a onetime deal,” she told him. “Not even close. It’s more permanent than that.”
This was what Mackey had come to Hancock to find out. Lagrange had learned the Hancock family was working with Grant, but he hadn’t been able to discover how deep their dealings went. “How permanent?”
But Nellie was not as mad as she seemed. “No way, lawman. You’ll find out when the time comes. I know why you brought Henry’s body here. You came lookin’ for a fight and figured we’d be dumb enough to give you one. Then you’d have every right to come back here with a whole passel of deputies to arrest us for tryin’ to kill you. Bet you’d manage to kill a few of us in the bargain.”
She smiled. “It’d be a good plan, too, if you was dealin’ with a Hancock man. They’ve been known to charge at whatever’s in their path like a wild boar and to hell with the consequences. Well, I ain’t that stupid, see, but that don’t mean I’m weak. I might not be a Hancock by birth, but I’ve become one by sweat and the blood that runs through my children’s veins. I’m the only one in the whole family that’s got any sense, and I’m not fool enough to let you wipe us out legally just to make some old man in New York City happy.”
Mackey had heard enough. “You keep telling me you’re not stupid. How about showing me how smart you really are?”
“Smart enough to know there are a hell of a lot more of us than there are of you,” Nellie said. “And just because I’m smart enough to keep you from goadin’ me and mine into a fight doesn’t mean we won’t cut you down the first chance we get.”
“You’ll try,” Mackey said, “on James Grant’s orders, of course.”
“Grant plays his game and we play ours,” Nellie said. “And you’re missin’ my point, lawman. I’ve got no more allegiance to Grant than I do to Rice. But since Rice ain’t offerin’ anything after years of our beggin’, I’ve decided to back a different horse.”
Mackey slowly shook his head. “Mr. Rice knows you want a rail spur up here, but he’s never lied to you about building it. There’s no money in it. Not for him and not for you. None of Grant’s lies to the contrary are going to make a damned bit of difference.”
Nellie’s face softened to the point where he knew she understood that. “So what’s your fancy man putting on the table to allow me and mine to enjoy some of Dover Station’s prosperity?”
“You back out of your agreement with Grant,” Mackey said, “you get to live. All of you. It’ll prove you’re serious about law and order, and Mr. Rice will be impressed. After a while, maybe he’ll consider some options. Maybe buying out your ranches well above any fair price you ask or maybe some other arrangement when the time is right.”
“And what if we keep on working with James Grant?”
“Then Mr. Rice will be disappointed.” He made sure Nellie was looking at him when he said, “And so will you.”
Mad Nellie pushed the chair back as she stood to leave. “Then you might as well head on back to Dover Station and wire your boss and tell him his offer ain’t good enough. Tell him the Hancock clan ain’t scared of him, you, or anyone else who crosses us. Tell him we’ve chosen our side and the only way to change our mind is to build that spur from Dover to Hancock. Rice does that, we won’t need Grant anymore. Until he does, we don’t need Rice for anything.” She turned and walked toward the door. “If he gives you another message for me, be sure to ride back up here and let me know. But it’d better have gold, Marshal, and lots of it.”
Mackey saw his chance to goad her into a public fight in town slipping away, so he gave it one last try. “The next message will involve lead, Nellie. And more of it than you’ll be able to count.”
She laughed as she pushed her way through the crowd that still gathered at the café entrance. A good number of the crowd thinned out behind her, and Mackey wondered if they were all relatives. He had no idea how large the family was. No one did, except that there were a lot of them. More than most men would try to take on by himself.
But Aaron Mackey was not most men.
He saw Norman appear at the kitchen door, holding the plate containing his breakfast. He beckoned him to come forward.
“I said I’d be damned if I allowed my breakfast to be ruined by a Hancock.” The plate of food was so large he gladly holstered his Peacemaker to make room for it on the table. “And that’s one promise I aim to keep right now.”