CHAPTER 31
Mackey had hoped Pappy wouldn’t be holding court in front of his store, but he was. And Pappy noticed his son across the street with his Winchester and the three policemen walking toward him.
He interrupted his conversation and came to the edge of the boardwalk. “What are you up to, boy?”
“Nothing, Pappy. Best get back to your guests.”
“I know that walk,” Pappy persisted. “And I know where you’re headed. Wait for me!”
But Mackey didn’t wait for him. Neither did the others. If anything, Mackey picked up the pace to put as much distance between him and his father as possible. His father was the bravest man he had ever known, and maybe the most fearless. But he had a way of getting under a man’s skin that could make a bad situation worse, and Mackey didn’t want Grant’s arrest to turn into a shoot-out if he could avoid it. He had no qualms about killing the man if he had to, but he did not want to risk turning him into a martyr.
He also knew Grant’s death would look like a lawless coup orchestrated by a lawman known to hate him.
He needed this to look as official as possible.
And he didn’t need Pappy’s mouth turning it into a bloodbath.
He rounded the corner in front of The Campbell Arms and walked up the hill. He didn’t look to see if Katherine was on the porch.
He noticed Edison had about ten policemen with him now. None of them were Hancock men. His mind told him the men were capable of betraying him, but his instinct told him these men had no intention of serving under Hancock rule.
They had tolerated Underhill because he knew how to treat them.
Edison would want that loyalty for himself.
Mackey saw that all the drapes of the former Van Dorn House had been opened, and every window was up. Light poured into the dour structure that was only about a year old but already looked ancient.
He spotted a wagon with a fancy oak bed in front of the former Van Dorn House. Two movers were in the process of carrying down an old headboard from the house when one of them spotted Mackey and the ten men behind him. The movers quickly set the headboard against the wagon and ran down the hill.
Two policemen who were standing guard on either side of the door began to bring up their rifles when they saw Mackey approaching. He was glad they stepped aside when Edison motioned for them to stand down.
The front door was open, and Mackey had no intention of waiting for Grant to come outside. Every second that passed risked this turning into a shooting match.
He paused just long enough to let Edison catch up to him. “Might be best if you and your boys surround the house while I go in. Don’t shoot anyone unless you have to. We’re here to make an arrest, not a martyr. Understand me, Chief?”
“I understand just fine,” Edison said. “Just make sure you don’t go and kill the son of a bitch yourself. Kinda hard to prove that competency thing you mentioned if he’s dead, ain’t it?”
Mackey began walking up the steps to the house when James Grant appeared in the doorway. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, and it was the first time Mackey could remember seeing him without a fancy vest and tie. He looked like less of a dandy and more like the hired hand he really was.
Mayor Grant looked over the crowd of men gathered in front of his house like Caesar reviewing his adoring public.
“What an odd procession,” he said to Edison. “I see you’ve finally managed to bring him in. Good work, boys. I’m sure Chief Brenner will be pleased.” He looked at the man to the right of his doorway. “Take his pistol and rifle and run him over to the jail. I’ll be there as soon as my new bed is in place.”
But the officer did not move.
No one did, except Mackey as he slowly walked up the stairs. “They didn’t bring me to you, James. They came with me to bring you in for conspiracy to commit murder.”
Grant laughed. “And just who did I supposedly conspire to kill? And who with?”
The police men began to fan out in a circle around the house as Mackey reached the top step and stood only inches from Grant. “For conspiring with the Hancock family to murder Silas Van Dorn, Robert Lagrange, Deputy Billy Sunday. And me.”
Grant looked up at Mackey. “I sure hope you can prove that nonsense, Marshal. Because Chief Brenner isn’t going to be happy about this.”
“Brenner’s got nothing to say about it,” Edison said. “He’s in jail. And he already confessed to everything the marshal here just said.”
Grant looked around Mackey at Edison.
Mackey had no idea why Edison had lied about that last part, but it might be enough to push Grant over the edge.
“That’s right.” Edison smiled. “Me and two of my deputies heard Al say he was in them woods shootin’ at the marshal here under your orders. Best come along peaceful like before there’s trouble.”
Grant sneered up at Mackey. His hands balled into fists. The rage began radiating from him. “You’re not taking me anywhere, you son of a bitch.”
“Sure I am.” He set his rifle against the banister. He was too close to use it now. “Straight up or over the saddle. Makes no difference to me.”
Grant turned and bolted back inside as a gunshot rang out from inside the house. Mackey realized he must have another gunman in there with him, possibly one of the Hancock boys.
He snatched his Winchester from the railing and dove to the left of the doorway. More shots rang out as Mackey called to Edison. “Stay outside and have your men surround the house.”
The two guards were crouched on either side of the door. He asked them, “Any idea about who’s in there with him?”
Both men said no. The man next to him said, “He never lets us in the house. Most of his private visitors come in the back. Got no idea who’s in there or how many there might be.”
Another shot rang out and smacked into the right side of the doorframe. The guard jerked his head back and said, “I think there’s only one in there with him. Maybe two at most. People have been in and out of there all day, moving and such.”
Another couple of rounds hit the back of the door, which caused it to begin to swing closed.
Mackey stuck out the barrel of his Winchester to stop it from shutting.
“You boys do this kind of thing before?”
The man behind him admitted, “From the other side of the door.”
Mackey had known most of Grant’s policemen had been criminals, but this was no time for grudges. “If you follow me in, follow my lead. If you’d rather stay outside, that’s fine, too.”
He didn’t wait for the men to answer before pushing the door all the way in with the barrel of his rifle. More shots rang out, peppering the floor and the right side of the door.
That meant the shooter was to his left behind the staircase.
As the door swung open, Mackey crouched in the doorway, brought up the rifle to his shoulder, and snapped off a shot to the left. The bullet sailed into the hallway without hitting anyone.
Mackey remained where he was and didn’t move a muscle. Whoever was hiding in the hallway was obviously waiting for them to rush inside, guns blazing.
When the rush didn’t come, the shooter stole a quick look around the corner to see where they were. He revealed just enough of his head for just long enough to give Mackey a target.
He fired once. The gunman fell back and dropped dead in the hallway. Mackey could see half of his head was gone.
Another shot rang out from the study, striking the wood frame high above his head. Mackey darted to the right side of the hall and crept along the wall toward the study where Grant must be hiding. He had been in the room several times before and knew the layout. There was a side door where he could duck out into the hallway and into the kitchen.
He pointed to the one officer who had followed him inside, pointed to his eyes, then at the hallway. The man seemed to understand and aimed his Winchester in that direction.
Mackey flinched when the sound of rifle fire echoed from outside, shattering the windows of the study and smacking into the plaster ceiling.
Mackey yelled back to the guard still in the doorway. “Cease firing, damn it!”
The guard yelled to the men and the shooting stopped.
Grant laughed from somewhere within the oak-paneled room. “What’s the matter, Mackey? Afraid one of them will get me before—”
Mackey realized the voice wasn’t coming from behind the heavy oak desk, but from the couch just inside the room. He switched the rifle to his left hand and brought it up to his shoulder as he rounded the corner of the doorway.
Grant was crouched between the heavy sofa and the wall. Mackey fired before the mayor could raise his pistol. The bullet punched through the upholstery and through Grant’s left shoulder.
The impact with the wall caused him to drop the pistol as he slumped to the ground. Mackey inched into the room, switching his rifle back to his right hand and sweeping the area behind the desk, but there was no one there.
He yelled out into the hallway. “Check the rest of the house.”
He switched his aim to James Grant, who was crumpled awkwardly between the heavy sofa and the wall. The Colt he’d been holding was inches from his outstretched hand.
Mackey kicked the pistol away from his grasp. “It’s over.”
“How’d you shoot me?” the mayor gasped. “You didn’t even clear the doorway to shoot.”
“Shifted to my left hand,” Mackey said. “Pappy taught me how to shoot with both hands as soon as I could hold a rifle.”
“Pappy,” Grant sputtered. “That old bastard is more trouble than he’s worth.” He looked up into the barrel of Mackey’s rifle. “Finish it, then.”
“Already did.”
He set the Winchester on the couch and pulled one of the heavy cords holding back the curtains from the window.
“Is that it?” Grant panted. “You’re going to strangle me now?”
Mackey grabbed him by the collar and pulled him out from behind the couch. He put his knee across the screaming man’s right arm, pinning it to the ground while he tied the heavy cord around his left shoulder, forming a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. He could tell by the loose way the shoulder moved that Grant would probably lose the arm if he lived. He tied the knot hard enough to make Grant cry out in pain. “That should stop the bleeding until Doc Ridley gets here.”
The house filled with policemen, and Edison stepped into the study and looked down at Grant bleeding on an expensive carpet. “That’s a sight I never thought I’d see.”
Mackey knew there wasn’t much time. “Send one of your men to fetch Doc Ridley. I want him in Helena alive.”
Edison told three of his men to fan out and find the doctor. “Anything else, Marshal?”
“I don’t trust the Hancocks to stay out of this,” Mackey said. “I want guards around this place until the doc is finished with him and we can get him behind bars. Might be a good idea to get one of your deputies to grab some shackles from the jail and keep him secured to the bed while the doc is operating.”
Edison looked at one of his men and told him to do what Mackey commanded. When the officer left, he said, “Sounds like a lot of foolishness to me. Grant’s not going anywhere with his arm hanging off like that.”
“I don’t want anyone taking him if—”
Mackey looked up when he heard more gunfire and screams echoing through the open windows.
Edison rushed to the window and looked outside. “Looks like that noise is coming from the Municipal Building.”
“Or the jailhouse,” Mackey said.
Grant laughed until he coughed. “Sounds like you boys have got more to worry about than just me.”
Mackey knocked him out with a short right-hand punch to the temple.