“What’s odd about it?” Isaac asked.
“On account I’ve been told I have a hard head all my life,” Connor said, managing to find a joke even after the intense gunfight.
Isaac looked around and spotted who he thought was Travis. “Let me go check on Travis.” He jumped up and rushed over to find Travis lying facedown. Grabbing his shoulder, he turned him onto his back. Like he had with Connor, he check for a pulse but couldn’t feel one. Travis’ face appeared dark, unrecognizable. He looked closer and recoiled when he saw that he had a hole where his nose used to be. “He’s dead.”
“Huh?” Connor said, still lying on his back.
“Travis is dead, shot in the face,” Isaac said, sighing.
“Who do you suppose they were?”
“I’m not sure, but we need to get moving.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Connor said, sitting up and grunting in pain as he reached over his shoulder and touched the back of his head.
Isaac got his horse and walked it over to Travis. “Help me get him on the back of the horse.”
“Why?” Connor asked.
“’Cause we’re not going to leave him lying on this trail. We’re going to take him to town and give him a decent Christian burial,” Isaac declared.
Connor shuffled over and took Travis’ legs.
Isaac grabbed Travis underneath his armpits and said, “Up.”
The two men lifted him up and set him on the back of Isaac’s horse.
“Where’s his horse?” Connor asked, looking around.
“There, I think,” Isaac said, pointing to a dark mass farther down the trail.
Connor walked to it and said, “Now settle down.” He rubbed the horse’s neck and mumbled something unintelligible in its ear.
With Travis secured to his horse, Isaac looked around on the ground for weapons. He picked one up and saw it was Travis’ Remington. He shoved it in his waistband and continued looking. He found a Colt, which must have been Connor’s, and took the weapon off the man he’d killed on the trail.
“Let’s get moving,” Connor called out.
Isaac shoved the other pistols into a saddlebag, mounted his horse and said, “Lead the way.”
“I was hoping you’d take charge,” Connor replied.
CHAPTER FIVE
OCTOBER 29, 1869
TRIPLE B HOTEL, BANE, NEVADA
Marcus was awoken by the sound of banging on his door. He shoved the sleeping prostitute off him and swung his legs out of the bed. Reaching over, he turned up the kerosene lantern. Light filled the small bedroom.
More banging at the door.
“Who is it?” he called out.
“It’s Phillip,” a man replied, his voice sounding frenzied.
The prostitute touched Marcus’ back and purred, “Where are you going?”
Ignoring her, he stood up, slipped on his long underwear, and grabbed his Colt Dragoon from the nightstand. He sauntered to the door and unlocked it. Swinging it open, he said, “What is it?”
“The sheriff, we gunned him down along with another man,” Phillip said.
“Why are you telling me this? Where’s Cornelius?” Marcus asked, referring to the man he had put in charge of the ambush.
Removing his sweat-stained hat, Phillip said, “Cornelius didn’t make it. He was killed.”
“Did you dispose of his body?” Marcus asked.
Looking at the floor, Phillip nervously answered, “No, but…”
“Why not? We can’t have the bodies of any man that can be connected to me or Mr. Wilkes lying out on the road.”
“Well, you see, we couldn’t on account that other riders came up and chased us off,” Phillip lied, hoping that his exaggerated story would be enough to convince Marcus of why they had failed to fulfill their obligation.
“Who’s the handsome friend?” the prostitute cooed from the bed.
Hearing the woman, Phillip stuck his head in the room and raised his brow in excitement. “Sorry to disturb you, ma’am.”
Angry, Marcus shoved him across the hallway and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. “Are you sure you killed the new sheriff?”
“Yes, we’re sure?”
“How? Did you get a confirmation?” Marcus asked.
“Um, you see, Cornelius went down after we shot them to confirm, but those riders appeared and killed Cornelius as well as John W.”
“John’s dead too?”
“Yes,” Phillip answered, swallowing hard.
Unable to control his anger, Marcus cocked his Dragoon and shoved it under Phillip’s jaw. “I should blow your brains out.”
“Don’t do that, please,” Phillip begged.
“I sent you all out there to do a simple job. Now turn around and go back out there. Take more men with you and confirm you killed the sheriff.”
“Yes, sir,” Phillip said and hurried off.
Marcus cursed under his breath. He went back into his room and slammed the door.
“Since you’re awake, why don’t you come over here,” the prostitute said.
Marcus walked over to the bedside and set his pistol down. He took the woman forcefully by the jaw and squeezed. “Don’t ever talk to any of my men, do you understand?”
Wide-eyed with fear, she cried out, “Yes.”
He let go of her by shoving her into the pillows. He took his trousers, which dangled from the footboard, and put them on.
“Are you leaving?” she asked.
“I am and so are you. Get your clothes on,” he barked.
She hopped out of bed, grabbed what few clothes she had, and rushed out of the room.
Marcus tried to think how he’d explain to Quincy if the sheriff hadn’t been killed. He personally guaranteed it would be done, and that meant he should have been there to ensure it happened. Now he’d have to tell him that he’d delegated the responsibility, which he knew would be met with spiteful anger.
For him there was nothing worse than being on the receiving end when Quincy went on a tirade.
When he finished getting dressed, he holstered his pistol, grabbed his hat, and exited the room. Before he’d subject himself to ridicule from a man the likes of Quincy, he’d at least head out with Phillip and the other men to confirm the sheriff’s death and, if need be, correct the error.
TWO MILES NORTHWEST OF BANE, NEVADA
“How are we going to explain this?” Connor asked.
“Explain what? We were ambushed by bandits, it’s simple,” Isaac replied.
“Two former convicts bringing in the body of the new sheriff, that doesn’t sound good,” Connor said.
“No one knows who we are or where we’ve come from,” Isaac said, though he began to grow concerned.
“Think about it, Isaac; don’t be daft. They might look at us. In the absence of suspects and no witnesses, they might choose to hang us for his killing,” Connor said sincerely.
Isaac pulled back on the reins until his horse stopped. He looked at Connor and asked, “Do you really think they’d arrest us?”
“Tell me, how did you end up in prison? And don’t give me a song and dance,” Connor asked.
Isaac sighed and said, “I told you before, I’m not discussing this.”
“You seem to me like a man who was falsely imprisoned, don’t ask me how I know, but you come across as very angry about your incarceration.”
“And how would you even pretend to know such a thing?”
“On account that you’re a righteous arse.”
“Maybe I’m not proud of that period of my life,” Isaac said.
“Think about it and stop pretending with me. If we ride into town with the new sheriff slung over a horse, we’ll be the first two they suspect.”
“What sort of suspects take the man they murdered to town to report it?” Isaac asked, challenging Connor’s theory.
Tapping his temple, Connor replied, “Two former convicts would, hoping that their story would be beli
eved.”
“Are you drunk?” Isaac asked.
“No, but I don’t trust a single person, including you,” Connor said.
“Then what are you proposing we do?” Isaac asked.
“We dump his body down that ravine, no body, no questions. By the time anyone finds it, if they ever do, we’ll be long cemented into the fabric of the town.”
Isaac grunted his displeasure with Connor but began to think about the possibilities of being once more wrongfully accused of a crime he hadn’t committed. And if they were suspects, someone could find out he was an escaped convict. This one would result in his hanging from a rope instead of serving time.
“You’re thinking I’m right, aren’t you?” Connor asked.
“I’m thinking you’re crazy,” Isaac said.
“But right,” Connor shot back.
“You might be right, but dumping his body isn’t right. If we go into town without him, we bury him and say a few words,” Isaac said.
“Bury him? He’s dead. He doesn’t care if he’s buried or food for critters. Why waste the time? And I’m sore as hell,” Connor complained.
“We either bury him or take him into town,” Isaac declared.
Connor grumbled then said, “You Yankees, so damn righteous.”
***
Finding a spot high above the trail, Connor and Isaac dug a shallow grave with their bare hands. They laid Travis’ body in it and paused.
Isaac looked at him and said, “I didn’t get to know you, but you were a good man.”
Removing his hat, Connor said, “May the good Lord bless you and keep you. And when you find the pearly gates, tell Saint Peter I’ll be seeing him in forty or so years.”
Isaac shook his head, dismayed by Connor’s prayer.
The sun crested the horizon. Its rays began to warm their faces.
Looking at Travis, Isaac spotted his badge. A thought came to him. He bent down and removed it.
“Keepsake?” Connor asked.
Isaac reached into his jacket pocket, found his wallet, and took it out.
“How about you split what he has with me?” Connor said.
“I don’t want his money, I want his papers,” Isaac said.
Connor got on his knees and began to pat Travis’ pockets.
“What are you doing?” Isaac asked.
“Seeing if he has anything else of value,” Connor said.
“So you’re going to rob him?”
“What do you call what you’re doing?” Connor shot back.
“I was going to…I don’t know; I was thinking I could send this back to his family in Texas maybe,” Isaac said.
Shaking his head vigorously, Connor laughed. “And to think, I was the one who hit my head.”
“He didn’t say he didn’t have family,” Isaac countered.
“And who will be sending this letter?” Connor asked.
“It will be anonymous,” Isaac said.
“With a postmark from Bane, it could get people looking; maybe even bring some of those Pinkertons sniffing about,” Connor said. “Jackpot!” Connor exclaimed when he found a pocket watch.
“Are all Scotsman like you?” Isaac asked.
“Do you mean handsome and dashing?” Connor joked.
Turning around, Isaac went to gather some stones to cover the body.
“You know, if I were you, I wouldn’t send his papers and badge to his family, if they even exist,” Connor said.
Hauling a large stone back, Isaac asked, “I suppose you’d try to sell it?”
“What’s the one thing we ex-convicts want more than anything else?” Connor asked.
“I know I want you to shut up and help me,” Isaac said, setting the stone down on Travis’ body.
“To be someone new,” Connor said.
Isaac stopped and looked at Connor. “Are you saying I should take his identity?”
“You’ve come all this way with hopes to sweep this lass off her feet. This woman isn’t going to fall into your arms. Who are you fooling? She’s in Bane because years ago you were convicted of a crime, and let me say this before you interrupt me, it doesn’t matter if you were wrongfully jailed, the reality is you were. She’ll never be yours again, but if you ever…ever want the chance at love again and to find a woman—a respectful woman—you can’t be Isaac the ex-convict. You should be Sheriff Ethan Travis, the lawman. Because that’s a man people look up to, that’s a man a woman can fall in love with.”
CORRIGAN RESIDENCE, BANE, NEVADA
Lucy opened her eyes and stared at the bottle of laudanum. Deep down she reviled the person she’d become. Never would she have ever imagined herself becoming addicted to such a substance. She’d heard about people falling victim to it, but would never have seen herself as one of those weak-willed individuals. Yet here she was, longingly ogling the dark brown bottle, its contents providing her the ability to even manage the trifling and meaningless life she was trudging through daily.
Like every morning, she rose slowly, swung her legs out of the bed, and took the bottle. She administered herself her dose then sat until she could feel it providing her relief.
From the bed she walked to her vanity and sat down. As she brushed her hair, she contemplated what she’d do today. Should she take a walk in town or maybe read? Mortimer had purchased her a set of books, which she hadn’t opened yet; maybe today was a good day to start a new book.
A tap on the door tore her away from her trivial thoughts. “Yes.”
“Ma’am, it’s Phyllis. May I have a word with you?”
“Come in,” Lucy said.
The door opened and in came Phyllis. She was an older woman, late fifties, with thick silver hair pulled back into a tight bun. “Ma’am, I was hoping to get some direction from you concerning supper tonight.”
“Whatever you want to make,” Lucy said, running the stiff bristles of the brush through her thick brown hair.
“Since we’re having a special guest, I thought I should ask you, ma’am,” Phyllis said.
Stunned to hear about a special guest, Lucy turned towards Phyllis and asked, “Is it my father?”
“No, ma’am, it’s not your father; my understanding is he’s arriving on November 3. I’m referring to the new sheriff. I received word that he would be staying in the downstairs room for a few days, maybe more.”
“The new sheriff, hmm, why didn’t Mortimer tell me?” Lucy asked herself out loud.
“What do you recommend I make?”
“How about making a beef roast with fingerling potatoes,” Lucy said, finding it exciting that a guest would be staying at the house. Having someone new would break up the monotony.
“Very well, ma’am, I’ll head to the butcher and get the meat. Will you be needing me the next couple of hours?”
“No, you may go and, Phyllis, make sure we have wine and sherry,” Lucy said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Phyllis said, closing the door as she left.
Lucy pivoted back until she could see herself fully in the mirror of her vanity. “A guest. I wonder what the sheriff is like?”
BANE, NEVADA
Isaac and Connor slowed their horses to a trot when they entered the main street of town.
Isaac scanned the face of each woman that passed by him, hoping to see Lucy. However, if he happened to see her, he wasn’t sure if he’d cry out for her. What would she say to him? Would she want to see him? The entire ride to town since burying Travis, he’d pondered what Connor had told him to do. He never acknowledged that he’d do what was suggested, but it did sound tempting.
Just being in Bane and meeting with Lucy was a huge gamble for him. He didn’t know what she was like or if she even still liked him. What if she hated him for being imprisoned? What if in a fit of anger she reported him? The risk was there, but he was willing to take it so he could see her one more time.
Seeing the two men entering town, Edwin jumped up from the barber’s chair, shaving cream still lathered on his fa
ce, and ran out the door. “Sheriff Travis, is that you?”
Hearing the name, Isaac looked at Connor and asked, “What should we do?”
“Act casual, not get jumpy. Have you decided what you’re going to do?” Connor asked.
“I don’t know. Should we ride over to the man?” Isaac asked.
“Sheriff Travis, is that you?” Edwin asked again, stepping down from the wooden walkway and into the street.
Going with his gut, Isaac turned his horse towards Edwin. “Who are you?”
Edwin approached and replied, “I’m Edwin Sayer. I work for Mr. Corrigan. He’s been expecting you.”
“I’m…” Isaac said dismounting his horse.
“Well, isn’t that nice, Sheriff. You have a welcoming party. I, on the other hand, don’t,” Connor said, interrupting Isaac and trotting up next to him.
Isaac cut Connor a sharp look and said, “I’m—”
Once more interrupting Isaac, Connor stuck out his hand to Edwin and said, “My name is Connor McCarthy. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Same. Are you friends, or were you just traveling with the sheriff?” Edwin asked Connor.
Growing agitated that he couldn’t get a word out, Isaac spoke louder. “I’m—”
Facing Isaac, Edwin said, “Sheriff, if you’ll allow me, I can escort you to Mr. Corrigan’s house. You’ll be staying there along with his lovely wife, Lucy.”
Isaac froze upon hearing Lucy’s name.
“Mr. Corrigan made the arrangements. I hope you’ll be satisfied with that. He wants to get to know you and explain everything that’s been happening here in town. He desperately wants to chart a course with you on how best to address everything,” Edwin explained after noticing the peculiar look on Isaac’s face.
“I’m to stay at Mr. Corrigan’s house with him and his wife?” Isaac asked.
“Yes, sir,” Edwin said. “Again, I hope that is satisfactory to you.”
Seeing an opportunity to be close to Lucy, Isaac stuck out his hand and said, “It’s a pleasure meeting you, Edwin, and I’d be honored to stay with Mr. Corrigan and his wife.”
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