CHAPTER 14
The Ruby was one of the newer saloons that had opened up in Dover Station in the past month or so. Most of them had good food and catered to a higher-end crowd Grant had hoped to attract to town. But Mackey knew that no matter how fancy Dover might get, there would always be room for a place like the Ruby.
The fancy carvings of Indians in headdress carved into the porch posts out front spoke of the owner’s original intentions for the Ruby to be a respectable place. But bars, just like people, tended to find their own level, and the tonier crowd had never quite gravitated to the place as the owners had intended. So, when the owner ran out of money, he sold out to the first buyer and took the next train out of town to Helena.
Mackey couldn’t decipher the song the drunks inside were singing as he swung down from Adair and handed the reins up to Billy. “I’ll just be a minute.”
But the deputy didn’t take the reins. “There’s no way I’m letting you walk in there alone.”
“They’re not throwing your name around in there,” Mackey said. “They’re throwing mine. That makes it personal, not federal business.”
“Since when has that mattered to us?”
“Since we became federals.” He smiled at his worried friend. “I won’t be long. We’ll be having that stew at Katie’s place within the hour.”
Billy reluctantly took Adair’s reins.
* * *
Mackey pushed through the batwing doors and wasn’t surprised to find one of Underhill’s constables in the lookout chair. He sat high over the customers with a Winchester across his lap. He sat up a little straighter when he saw Mackey walk through the door, but otherwise didn’t move. He simply nodded at the marshal, and Mackey nodded back. He had no idea whether or not the man should be on patrol. He didn’t care, either. It was none of his business.
A trickle of murmurs slowly spread among the men at the gambling tables and those standing at the bar. It was a mixed crowd of cowboys and laborers from the Dover Station Company’s buildings and even a few miners who must have come to town on their day off. A few painted doves flitted between the tables looking for potential customers.
They all came to a gradual stop and looked at the federal lawman dressed in black standing in the middle of the saloon.
“My name is Aaron Mackey.” He made a point of looking at each face as he spoke. Some of them looked familiar, but most of them were part of the newer breed that had moved into town in the past year. “I’ve been told that someone in here has been threatening to kill me. Heard it was a member of the Hancock family.” He held out his hands from his sides. “Well, here I am.”
A glass shattered at the bar, and a large, broad man pushed his was forward and stood before Mackey. He had the same long face and dead eyes most of the Hancock men had.
This one looked like he might be in his twenties and any muscle on him had come from working a field. He wasn’t a cowboy, and he wasn’t wearing a gun, at least none that Mackey could see. The big man was obviously a farmer, not a cowpuncher. In Mackey’s experience, the solitary labor of a farmer often meant they were less likely to just bluster and more likely to back up their threats when they felt driven to it.
Mackey subtly shifted his stance so his left foot pointed at the man. It was easier for him to draw and fire the Peacemaker holstered on his belly that way.
The man said, “My last name might be Brenner, but I’m a Hancock, by God and by blood.” The big farmer may have been drunk earlier, but appeared to be sober now.
“You gunned down poor Hank like he was nothing more than a wild animal and we’re not going to let you get away with it, you murdering bastard.”
A few at the bar murmured their assent, but no one stepped forward to join him.
“I didn’t murder anyone,” Mackey told him. “A federal judge in Helena issued a warrant for his arrest for armed robbery, thievery, and murder. I went after him because a judge told me to, not because I wanted to or because his last name was Hancock. Everything I did was legal.”
“What’s legal ain’t always right.” Brenner pointed at the star on Mackey’s lapel. “And that star don’t make you God.”
“But it makes me a lawman and a federal one at that. I had paper on Henry Hancock. Even announced myself and gave him and his bunch the chance to surrender. They fired at me instead. I gave him more of a choice than he gave me.”
“You snuck up on him in the middle of the night and ambushed him while he was sleeping.”
“Sleeping.” Mackey grinned. “That’s a good one. There were five of them and one of me. Henry was drunk, but awake and able to defend himself. So were the others. I gave him a choice.”
Brenner’s florid face grew redder. “And he’s dead, and you’re here.”
Mackey felt something in the mood of the place change. “Looks like he chose wrong.”
Mackey looked out over the crowd that was less anxious to meet his eye now that he’d had his say. “I’m not the sheriff of Dover Station anymore. I’m the United States Marshal for the Montana Territory. When I have paper on a man, it’s my duty to bring him in. Straight up or over the saddle, makes no difference to me.”
Brenner lowered his head and glowered at him. “Why do I think you prefer to bring ’em in dead?”
“My job is to bring them in, one way or the other. No matter what their last name is.”
Brenner charged him like a bull and surprisingly fast for a man of his size.
But Mackey sidestepped the charge, tripping Brenner as he went past and giving him a good shoving in the bargain. His momentum sent him crashing through the empty tables and chairs behind him.
Mackey kicked away the debris and placed his boot on the back of Brenner’s neck, pinning the big man to the barroom floor. The customers gasped when Mackey drew his Peacemaker and aimed it down at the prone man’s head. The sound of the hammer being pulled back snapped through the saloon like a lightning strike.
Brenner quit squirming and went completely still.
Mackey said, “You’re not in a position to do much talking now, are you?”
“No, sir,” Brenner mumbled as clearly as he could with Mackey’s weight pressing him on the floor.
“And seeing as how you just attacked me in a saloon full of witnesses, I’d be within my rights to arrest you. Maybe put you down like the mad-dog killer you say I am. I could do that, couldn’t I, Brenner?”
“Don’t,” Brenner mumbled.
“Guess you’re seeing things clearer from down there, aren’t you, Brenner?”
Brenner nodded the best he could under Mackey’s boot. “Yes, sir.”
“If I let you up, I won’t have any more trouble from you. Of any kind, right?”
Mackey turned when he heard the familiar hammer of Billy’s Sharps rifle being pulled back. He saw his deputy aiming the rifle up at the constable in the lookout chair.
“You touch that rifle again,” Billy said, “and I’ll blow you right out of that seat.”
The constable slowly lifted his hands. “I was just covering the marshal, damn it.”
Mackey turned his attention back to Brenner under his boot. “That means no more running your mouth, no more threats, and no more accusations. I’m not even asking for an apology. I just want it over.” He put enough pressure on the man’s neck to make him cry out in pain. “Is it over?”
“Yeah,” Brenner groaned. “But I don’t speak for my family.”
“Didn’t expect you to.” Mackey took his boot off Brenner’s neck and stepped away as the big man rolled over onto his back.
He looked up at the barrel of Mackey’s Peacemaker as the marshal rode the hammer down easy before holstering the weapon, then extended his hand down to Brenner. “Let me help you up.”
Brenner took his hand and Mackey helped the big man to his feet.
But the marshal kept hold of his hand and squeezed. “This better be the end of it. Because the next time I put you on the floor, you won’t be getting up.”
He forced a smile for the benefit of the crowd and patted the big man on the back, sending him toward the bar.
Mackey glared up at the Underhill man in the lookout chair who had clasped his hands behind his neck, nowhere near the rifle on his lap.
Mackey backed up through the batwing doors while Billy covered him with the Sharps.
“Thanks,” Mackey said as he took Adair’s reins and swung up into the saddle.
Billy slipped his rifle into the scabbard on his saddle and climbed aboard his roan. “Figured you’d need me.”
“Always have.” Mackey climbed into the saddle and gave Adair a bit of a kick to move her quickly away from the Ruby. “Always will.”