Chapter Thirty-Two

‘It’s gettin’ dark. We’ve done the horses, so I think we’ll pack up for the night. Everyone else seems to have done so,’ Joe told Greg, as he finished filling the water trough outside the livery stable. ‘Then I’ll get off home. You can take tomorrow afternoon and evening off—you’ve earned some time to yourself. I reckon I’ll—’

A scream shattered the silence of the evening. It was followed by loud, angry shouting and the sound of a number of people moving around at the bottom of town.

‘What’s goin’ on?’ Greg exclaimed, turning to Joe, alarm on his face.

‘No idea, but it ain’t gonna be good.’ Joe threw the can to the ground and ran into the stable, closely followed by Greg. ‘Somethin’s happenin’ in Chinatown. Pull the doors closed, Greg, and latch them. I’m gonna see what’s goin’ on. I’ll go out through the side door. Lock it after me, and don’t open any of the doors till I get back.’ He lifted his Winchester from the hook by the side door. ‘You hear me now?’

Greg nodded vigorously. ‘Yes, boss.’

‘Good lad.’ Joe tugged open the door, ran out into Second Street and headed down the centre of Main Street towards the tong, his rifle hanging from his hand.

Ahead of him, he saw that there were a number of white miners milling around in front of the tong, shouting angrily as they jostled each other. Swerving slightly, he headed directly for them. As he neared the group, he saw they were crowding around someone on the ground, and seemed to be kicking that person.

He looked swiftly at both sides of the street – not a single Chinaman could be seen, but he could feel their eyes on him.

He heard one of the crowd shout something extra loudly. There was a jeer of enthusiastic support from the others, followed by more forceful kicking.

Joe tightened his grip on the butt of his rifle.

‘Get me some rope, and I’ll hang him!’ a voice shouted from the heart of the mob. A voice Joe knew well.

Shock winded him.

For a second, his steps faltered, then he rushed headlong towards the group.

‘Sam!’ he yelled. ‘Don’t do it!’

Sam spun round and faced him. Pushing through the mob, he came towards Joe, his eyes wild with hate.

‘Why, if it isn’t my yeller-lovin’ brother,’ he shouted mockingly, and he grinned back over his shoulder at the men behind him. ‘You’re just in time, Joe, to see what we’re gonna do to the people stealin’ the food from our mouths. Startin’ with the priest. We’re gonna string him up, and show the rest of the cheatin’ Chinee what’ll happen if they don’t get outa Carter right now.’ Turning his back on Joe, he faced the crowd. ‘We’re takin’ our town back, aren’t we, boys?’

‘And about time, too,’ someone shouted to a chorus of agreement.

‘Now where’s that rope?’ Sam yelled, holding out his hand.

One of the breaker boys rushed forward with a length of rope ‘Here, Sam.’

Sam took it and tugged at it as if to test its strength. ‘That’ll do,’ he said. ‘You all stand aside.’

He moved to the sidewalk nearest to him, raised his arm and swung the rope up over the cross beam at the end of the wooden awning. Catching the end of the rope, he quickly looped it and secured the loop with several wrapping turns. Then he tightened the knot, stood back and let the noose hang down.

‘I reckon that’ll do,’ he said, satisfaction in his voice, turning back to the miners. ‘Now bring me that stinkin’ priest.’

The men started dragging the priest towards Sam.

Joe took a step forward. Trying not show the nervousness he felt in the face of an angry crowd that looked out of control and set on having blood, he raised his rifle and levelled it at the group. ‘I wouldn’t go any further if I were you,’ he said steadily, ‘Or that’ll be the last thing you do today or any day. My advice is that you let him go real fast, and don’t make any sudden movements. Right now, my gun finger’s mighty twitchy.’

‘You dry up, you son of a bitch,’ growled one of the miners, pushing forward. ‘Like Sam said, we’re takin’ our town back. If you don’t like it, you can leave with the Chinee. Come on, lads; let’s finish this.’

Joe heard the priest cry out in pain as the miners resumed pulling him along the dusty ground.

He raised his rifle higher, and cocked the hammer.

The men dragging the priest stopped where they were. They edged slightly back and glanced at Sam.

‘He’s all talk. He won’t do a thing,’ jeered Sam, moving forward. ‘Come on, then. We’re gonna teach them heathens a lesson they won’t forget.’

Several of the men looked anxiously towards Joe, and then at each other. One or two dropped their hold on the priest and stepped back into the crowd. But the rest firmed their hold on him and began again to pull him to Sam.

The priest cried out again in agony. He was close enough now for Joe to see that he was covered in blood.

He raised his rifle a fraction.

‘I advise you men to listen to Joe if you wanna see the day out,’ a voice drawled from behind him.

A wave of relief shot through Joe.

He glanced quickly over his shoulder and saw Marshal McGregor standing in front of the alley running between one of the Chinese laundries and Chinaman Doc’s herb shop. The Marshal’s rifle was aimed squarely at the crowd.

Thank God his was no longer the only gun, he thought, and he turned back to face the angry miners.

In a burst of rowdy defiance, three or four miners pushed the priest the remaining short distance to Sam’s feet, and left him there, bruised and bleeding. Throwing a triumphant glance at Joe, Sam started to reach down to the priest.

Joe and the Marshal fired above the heads of the mob at exactly the same moment.

As the rifle fire sprayed into the air, Sam let go of the priest and straightened up. The other miners hastily moved back.

‘Now you’ve shown us how easily fine upstandin’ people can be transformed into a mob of wild beasts,’ the Marshal said, walking towards them, his gun still trained on them, ‘I reckon you should go back to your homes and become those fine upstandin’ people again. I’m gonna take the priest back into the tong, and then I’m gonna go up to the saloon and have me a drink. Any of you who wanna join me for one before you go home are welcome. But this ain’t what we do here,’ he added, indicating the hanging noose with the barrel of his rifle. ‘Leastways, not on my watch.’

Their heads down and with an air of embarrassment, the crowd started moving in small groups up Main Street and past Second Street to the saloon that lay just beyond the livery stable and blacksmiths.

Joe heard one of the men shout out to Sam as he passed him, his voice bitter; ‘You wanna keep that little brother of yours in check, Sam.’

Joe saw the rage on his brother’s face.

‘I’ll help you get him inside,’ Joe said, turning to Marshal McGregor. ‘He looks hurt real bad.’

The Marshal shook his head. ‘I reckon I can manage him myself. I’ll send someone for Chinaman Doc – though I’m guessin’ he’s already seen what’s gone on – then I’ll cut the rope down. I suggest you take that brother of yours back to his house.’ He glanced towards Sam, who was standing alone on the emptying street, his face white with anger and humiliation. ‘The priest’s got a lot to thank you for,’ the Marshal said, looking back at Joe. ‘That was a brave thing you did, standin’ up to the mob like that. One gun wouldn’t’ve got you far if they’d turned on you.’

Joe nodded. ‘Don’t I know it?’

Slinging the rifle over his shoulder, the Marshal walked down to the priest who lay without moving in the dust.

Sam watched motionless as the Marshal helped the priest to his feet, and half-carried, half-dragged him towards the tong. When the tong doors had closed behind them, he turned away and walked across to Joe.

Joe eyed him warily.

‘You think you’ve won, don’t you?’ Sam sneered, his face inches from Joe’s, hostility and hatred burning in the depths of his eyes. ‘Well, you haven’t. Yeah, this time maybe, but this won’t be the last time. Oh, no. You made me look a fool today, goin’ against me like that in front of the men I work with, and you my brother, too, and I’m not gonna forget that. Not ever.’

Pushing past Joe, he made his way up Main Street.

When he reached Second Street, he turned to go along it, paused and looked back down at Joe, who was standing watching him. ‘Not ever, Joe,’ he yelled down the street. ‘You can count on that.’