CHAPTER 20
Over the next week, Mackey saw more members of the Hancock clan on the streets of Dover Station.
Neither he nor Billy had seen any of them ride in during the day, so they figured they must have ridden in after nightfall. He may not have known when they got there, but their presence was unmistakable.
They had taken to wearing black armbands to mark the mourning of the death of Henry Hancock. None dared called it murder around Mackey or Billy, but that’s the reason they gave when neither lawman was close enough to hear it.
Underhill was sitting on the jailhouse bench next to Billy, sipping coffee, when a group of five of them rode past. Each of the riders was wearing their armbands with the pride of a new sergeant who had just ironed the chevrons on his sleeve.
Mackey stopped rocking in his chair when they rounded the corner on to Front Street. His rifle was in the rack inside the jailhouse, but the handle of his Peacemaker was within easy reach on his belt.
The pack of five riders slowed to a halt in front of the jailhouse. A bearded man who looked like the eldest of the youngsters called out to Underhill. “Kind of surprised at you, Commissioner. I’d have thought you’d keep better company.”
Underhill set his mug on the bench and slowly stood up. His rifle was at his side. “I look like I give a damn about what you think, boy?”
“Not especially,” the Hancock man admitted, “but that could change in the blink of an eye.” He grinned at Mackey and Billy. “Just ask your two friends here. They went from being just a couple of town lawmen one minute to being federals the next.”
The rider next to him leaned over his horse and spat a stream of tobacco juice into the thoroughfare. “Never had much use for federals, have we, Danny?”
“No,” the one called Danny answered. “I can’t say we ever have, especially after how they treated poor Hank.”
Mackey lifted his head just enough so the flat brim of his hat allowed him to see Danny Hancock. “I went after Hank because I had a warrant signed by Judge Forester for his arrest. I shot Hank because he refused to come along peacefully. Shot his friends, too, for the same reason.”
“Ambushed them while they were sleeping, the way I heard it,” said another Hancock man. “Gunned them down like they was nothing but dogs.”
But Mackey kept his eyes on Danny. He was the leader. If trouble came, it would start with him. “I had paper on him. I gave him the chance to surrender. He didn’t. Straight up or over the saddle. Makes no difference to me. You’d do well to remember that.” He tilted his head as he looked at Danny. “You got paper on you, son?”
“Kind of wish I did at the moment,” Danny said, “so I could do what Hank never had the chance to do. Take you on in a straight-up fight.”
Billy spoke before Mackey did. “Don’t need any paper on you for that, Danny. You could do that right now if you’ve got enough sand to try.”
Danny Hancock’s horse fussed and tossed its head up.
All three lawmen drew on the Hancock family. Mackey’s Peacemaker had cleared leather first, but not by much.
The riders flinched and galloped off toward River Street. None of them made a move toward their guns.
Mackey was the last to holster his weapon. “Guess they didn’t have enough sand after all.”
“Quick to ride off, though,” Underhill said as he sat back down next to Billy. “More and more of them seem to ride into town every day. All of them blood kin, too. Normally, I’d write it off as a lie, but they all look alike. One just as nasty as the next. And now that they’re getting numbers behind them, they’re awfully cocky, too. That’s a bad combination.”
“Yes, it is,” Billy said.
“And every time I think there’s no more to come in,” Underhill went on, “another five more ride in. How many of them could be living in that godforsaken town anyway?”
“Heard their grandparents had fifteen kids,” Billy said. “Twenty if you count the ones that died.”
Mackey had always been impressed by Billy’s knack for finding out and remembering bits of information like that.
“Twenty kids,” Underhill repeated as he crossed his legs. “Damn.”
“They causing any trouble in town?” Mackey asked the commissioner.
“Some,” Underhill said, “but nothing I can put them in jail for.”
“You could put Danny Hancock in jail for spitting in the street like he just did,” Billy reminded him. “That is, if you want to.”
“I couldn’t hold him long enough for a judge to see him. And in case you two haven’t noticed, Mayor Grant isn’t in any hurry to be inviting judges into Dover Station.”
“Arresting them would send a message,” Mackey said. “Remind them there are rules, even in a town they’ve been told they own.”
Underhill glared at him. “No one owns this town, Mackey. The Montana Territory is still part of the United States of America. We’ve got laws here, and I’m paid to enforce them.”
“Billy and I’ll back you up whenever you decide to do that.” He looked at Underhill until the commissioner looked away.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Not many of my men want to cross the Hancock clan.” Underhill picked up his mug and looked down into it as if seeking answers. “They outnumber us now, and even before they did, no one wanted to go up against them. Didn’t seem to be much of an appetite for it.”
“From the mayor, you mean,” Billy said.
“It doesn’t matter who from, Aaron,” Underhill said. “Just matters that it’s happening. In my town.” He set the mug back on the bench and looked out over Front Street. “Hell, maybe I’m just fooling myself. This ain’t my town and never will be. It’s yours, no matter what badge either of us wears. There was a time not too long ago when two men could control it, but not anymore. Maybe it’s Grant’s town now.”
Neither Billy nor Mackey could argue with that.
Underhill inclined his head toward River Street. “Tent City has given way to River Street, but it’s still the same cesspool it ever was. Guess that’s why a chunk of the Hancock family has moved in there.”
Underhill looked right and nodded in that direction. “Got a whole bunch of new saloons opening up each week, one worse than the next. They make the old Tin Horn over there look like Buckingham Palace. A few respectable enough businesses are opening up on the far side of town near the Record building, but not enough to keep the bad element down.”
“Won’t be able to keep the bad element down with the men you have,” Mackey said. “Or the mayor you have, either. He’s bringing them in here to cement his control on the town as soon as Van Dorn leaves.”
“You don’t know that for certain. And just because your rich friend back in New York says it don’t make it so.” But the fire quickly went out of Underhill. “But I suspect you might be right.”
Billy added more salt to the big man’s open wound. “Grant will control the town’s politics, the town’s business interests, and the town’s vices. He’ll pay a man a wage for working in one of his offices or his mills, and his whorehouses and saloons will get most of it back. Even if he has to cut the Hancocks in for a share, it’ll be worth it to him in the long run. And when he gets sick of them being around, he’ll probably be powerful enough by then to bring the army in to flush them out.”
Underhill squirmed like a kid getting his first haircut. “I don’t like hearing the man run down like that, Billy. He’s done a lot of good for this town.” He gestured toward the Municipal Building across the street. “Even you have to admit that’s a beautiful building. So are all of the others that he’s put up. Finer than anything they have in Helena, I’d wager. That’ll count once statehood comes.”
“Fine buildings don’t make fine towns,” Mackey said. “People do. And right now, you’re stuck in the middle between a crooked mayor and the thugs he’s brought in to run the place when Van Dorn gets on that train back east tomorrow.”
Underhill brought his big fist down on the bench. “And what about Mr. Rice? He’s sitting back east making money off all of this. Van Dorn and Grant work for him. Why the hell isn’t he sending someone out here who can run his company without Grant?”
Mackey knew why. Billy did, too. But they didn’t dare share anything with Underhill. Mr. Rice knew James Grant was a corrupt, murderous thug. He couldn’t prove it any more than Mackey could, but he knew it just the same. And, for better or worse, the Dover Station Company was making money. Quite a bit of it. Rice may be a powerful man, but even he had people to answer to. Investors, mostly, and investors didn’t care how they earned returns on their money as long as they earned it.
Mr. Rice didn’t go after James Grant, because Mr. Rice wasn’t entirely sure he could beat him. There wasn’t enough evidence to arrest him for anything and having him killed could threaten the success of the Dover Station Company. And with Silas Van Dorn going back to New York, Rice’s weak grip on the company he had founded would be gone.
“Mr. Rice is a complicated man with complicated interests,” Mackey said. “He’s all the way back in New York City and we’re way the hell out here. He might own the railroad, but owning it and having a say over how it’s run are completely different things. We can get Grant if we want to, but we’re going to have to be smart about it and we’re going to have to do it publicly and legally. That’s the only way to stop him once and for all.”
He looked at Billy for a sign of encouragement, but his old friend did nothing. He knew his deputy had good reasons for distrusting Underhill. Good reasons. His instincts had always been solid, and Mackey had never gone wrong by following them.
But taking down James Grant would mean taking risks the marshal had never taken before. He decided to take one now.
Mackey decided it was time to finally put the question to Underhill. “Would you be up for that, Walter? For taking Grant down if we found a way to do it legally?”
Underhill drained the rest of his coffee and looked down into the mug again. “I took an oath to uphold the law, and no one’s above the law. If he can be brought before a judge, then I’m all for it. I’ll lose more than half my officers if I do it, but I won’t care. Their loyalty is to Grant, not me.”
“Might not be as clear cut as that,” Billy said. “Might have to bend the law a bit in this case.”
“Then you can count me out.” Underhill stood up to stretch and brought his coffee mug back into the jailhouse. “I’ll help you take him down if it’s legal or if you’ve got a paper with a judge’s signature on it, but I won’t abide anything else. Not even from either of you.”
Underhill ducked his head as he walked out of the jailhouse the way he always did, even though he didn’t have to do so. “Good day, gentlemen, and thanks for the coffee.”
Mackey and Billy watched the town of Dover Station’s commissioner of police touch the brim of his hat to some ladies passing in a carriage as he headed back to the Municipal Building. The ladies giggled and waved at the tall, handsome lawman with the broad shoulders and long, curly blond hair.
He had come a long way from being the disgraced drunk who had ridden into town the year before.
“Don’t worry,” Billy said. “I’ll kill him when the time comes.”
Mackey quietly cursed his deputy for practically reading his mind once again. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
He lifted his face to catch a slight breeze. “Never been hopeful men, you and me.”
Mackey sipped his coffee and prayed his deputy was wrong.