The Lawman

by G. Michael Hopf

  “Great, right this way, Sheriff,” Edwin said, pointing towards the Victorian-style house on the hill above them.

  “Don’t you want to go finish your shave?” Isaac asked.

  Edwin wiped his face with a handkerchief and replied, “He hadn’t begun to shave when I spotted you. I’ll come back later. I know Mr. Corrigan is anxious to meet you.”

  With a broad smile, Isaac said, “Well, I’m anxious to meet him too.”

  Edwin nodded and marched off.

  Connor smacked Isaac in the shoulder and said, “Why, hello there, Sheriff.”

  “This goes nowhere,” Isaac said, jabbing his index finger into Connor’s burly chest.

  “As the Lord is my witness, your secret lives and dies with me,” Connor said, a twinkle in his eye. Leaning in close, he said, “Good on ya for doing it. I promise you, you’ll never regret starting new.”

  “We shall see…we shall see,” Isaac said before walking away.

  Watching him go, Connor hollered out, “I’ll be seeing you around…Sheriff.”

  WILKES’ OFFICE, BANE, NEVADA

  Taking an ashtray into his grip, Quincy hurled it at the wall. It disintegrated into countless shards and chunks of glass upon hitting the wall.

  Casually looking at the fragments of glass, Marcus couldn’t help feeling that he hated his job and, more importantly, hated his boss, Quincy Wilkes.

  “You told me you shot the sheriff,” Quincy said.

  “I didn’t, I said—”

  Charging over with fists clenched in anger, Quincy said, “I specifically told you to get the job done. I expected you to do it; this is why I pay you.”

  “I sent out a qualified team, but it appears they didn’t do the job asked,” Marcus said.

  “It appears…it appears? No, Marcus, they didn’t. You first tell me the sheriff had been killed, but his body was missing. Now you’re standing here telling me he’s arrived in town and is currently at Corrigan’s house. You’ve utterly failed me. I couldn’t be more disappointed.”

  “Would you like me to finish the job?” Marcus asked.

  “No, I have another idea, but if you ever let me down again, there will be hell to pay,” Quincy said, marching back to his desk. Glancing at the glass fragments, he barked, “Get someone in here to clean this up.”

  “Will there be anything else?” Marcus asked.

  Staring out the window, Quincy said, “Yes, I want a meeting set up with the new sheriff.”

  “How would you like me to handle that?” Marcus asked, seeking clarification.

  “Get word to him that I’m having a reception in his honor at my house tomorrow night, say at six o’clock,” Quincy replied.

  “Anything else?”

  “No, leave me,” Quincy said, waving him off.

  Marcus clenched his jaws tight, turned and strutted towards the door.

  “And, Marcus,” Quincy called out.

  Marcus stopped but didn’t turn around.

  “Don’t let me down this time,” Quincy said.

  “I’ll make sure the sheriff is at your house tomorrow for the reception,” Marcus said and exited the office. After closing the door, he growled under his breath. His hatred for Quincy was growing. It took every ounce of discipline he had to not kill him, but doing so would foil his well-laid-out plans. Seeing a maid in the corner of his eyes, he turned and said, “Mr. Wilkes needs you to go clean up a mess in his office.”

  She nodded and headed for the office door.

  Marcus once more looked at Quincy’s office door. A scowl stretched across his face. He put on his wide-brimmed black hat and headed out the door.

  CORRIGAN RESIDENCE, BANE, NEVADA

  Isaac followed Edwin into Mortimer’s house and stood nervously in the foyer. His mind was spinning with what he was now trying to get away with. He knew the risk but needed to see her. He just prayed that the second she laid eyes on him, she wouldn’t expose him.

  Edwin spun around and said, “Wait here. I’ll go inform Mr. Corrigan you’re here.” Edwin disappeared into an adjacent room.

  Isaac looked around the small foyer. His eyes stopped upon seeing a familiar porcelain angel sitting in the center of an ornate doily. He walked over and picked it up. Looking at it closely, his mind went back to when he’d first seen the statue in her house in New York. He wondered what it was doing here. Had she liked it so much that she’d packed and hauled it all this way?

  “That was my mother’s,” Lucy said from the top of the stairs.

  Isaac froze. His back was to her, so she clearly couldn’t see it was him.

  Lucy descended the stairs, her hand gliding down the banister. “She died just before I moved to Bane. She loved that angel, said it kept watch on all who entered the house.”

  Isaac remained still, keeping his back to her.

  Lucy reached the ground floor and said, “You must be Sheriff Travis. My husband mentioned you were coming to stay with us until you found accommodations in town.”

  Apprehension gripped Isaac; he now regretted coming and more importantly the fact that he’d assumed the identity of a dead lawman.

  Lucy stepped closer to Isaac. “Is everything alright, Sheriff?” she asked, curious as to why he hadn’t turned to engage her in conversation.

  Isaac placed the statue back on the table, cleared his throat, and turned to face Lucy.

  When her eyes cast upon Isaac’s face, her first reaction was confusion. Her mind was trying to comprehend how Isaac could be standing in front of her when it was supposed to be Travis.

  Stepping up to her quickly, Isaac whispered, “It’s me. Please don’t say a word, please. Let me first explain, and if…if that explanation falls short, you may do what you wish.”

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, taking a step back from him.

  “Please, Lucy, let me first explain why I’m here and why…”

  “And why you’re pretending to be Sheriff Travis?” she asked.

  “It’s a long story, but please give me the time to detail it all to you. I know you’ll understand all of it,” he said.

  Her face turned ashen followed by a weakness in her knees. “I need to sit down.”

  He rushed to her side and wrapped an arm around her waist to prevent her from collapsing. “Come, sit down here.” He took her to a small chair next to the table in the foyer. “Can I get you a glass of water?”

  “No, I just need to rest here a bit,” she replied. She took several deep breaths then lifted her head to look at Isaac. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to see you,” he answered.

  “You can’t be. I mean, you’re supposed to be in prison. Did they let you out? Wait, are you now a sheriff?” she said, the tempo of the questions coming rapidly. She was confused to the point of questioning her own sanity. “Is it really you?” She reached out and touched his face.

  “It’s me,” he said.

  “Isaac, you’re not supposed to be here. You can’t be here,” she said.

  Footfalls came from the other room.

  Isaac stepped away from her so as not to seem as if something inappropriate was occurring.

  Lucy got to her feet and walked carefully to the foot of the stairs. She grasped the banister to steady herself.

  Mortimer appeared, a broad smile across his face, with Edwin following. Sticking his hand out, Mortimer said, “Sheriff Travis, so good to finally make your acquaintance.”

  Edwin stood behind Mortimer, his hands and arms crossed pensively in front of him.

  Isaac took Mortimer’s hand and shook. “Nice to meet you as well.”

  “How was your trip from Pennsylvania? I pray it was uneventful,” Mortimer asked.

  Isaac took a second to think about how he’d answer then proceeded. “It was a pleasant trip.”

  “Through our correspondence and from your reputation, I was sure you’d be…a bigger man, you know, taller, more robust in stature.”

  Looking down at himself
, Isaac said, “I’m sorry if my appearance disappoints.”

  “On the contrary. It’s just that in our mind’s eye we get a picture; then when we see the real thing, it can seem distorted.”

  “I can assure you I’m Sheriff Ethan Travis,” Isaac said as he gave a quick glance to Lucy.

  Lucy returned his glance with her own.

  Mortimer followed his glance and saw Lucy. “My dear, I apologize, I didn’t see you standing there.” He motioned towards her and said, “Sheriff, this is my lovely wife, Lucy.”

  “We met before,” Isaac said.

  “Oh?” Mortimer asked.

  “Yes, I came down the stairs and we chatted for a minute or two just before you came into the room,” Lucy clarified.

  “I see, well, I’m sure you’d like to get cleaned up,” Mortimer said, turning to Edwin. “Show our distinguished guest to his room.”

  “Yes, sir,” Edwin said.

  “When you’re done, would you care to join me in the parlor for a drink before supper? How does five thirty sound? I’d like to go over the situation we’ve been dealing with in town and see what you’d like to get started with first.”

  “Sounds good,” Isaac said. “Thank you.”

  “Sir, when I’m done showing the sheriff to his room, I’d like a word with you concerning the smelting operation and the other business from yesterday we were discussing,” Edwin said.

  “Just meet me in my office,” Mortimer replied.

  “I can escort the good sheriff to his room so you two can discuss business,” Lucy blurted out.

  All eyes turned towards her.

  “Are you sure?” Mortimer asked.

  “It would be my honor,” Lucy said.

  “Then please do, my dear,” Mortimer said. He turned and said, “Come with me, Edwin.”

  Mortimer and Edwin disappeared into the room next to them.

  Isaac stepped up and said, “Are you feeling well?”

  “I will be fine. Now follow me,” Lucy said. She briskly walked down the hall and turned right into a room near the end of the hallway.

  Isaac followed her into the room and closed the door.

  Spinning around, Lucy asked, “Why are you here?”

  “I needed to see you.”

  “You were sentenced to twenty years. How is it you’re here?” she asked.

  Not wanting to lie, he replied, “I was given an opportunity, so I took it. I immediately came west to find you.”

  “You escaped?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, Isaac, why did you come here, why?”

  “I needed to know,” he said.

  “Know what?” she asked, her heart racing.

  “Why didn’t you ever come to visit me?”

  Lucy lowered her head and stared at the floor. Nervous, she chewed on her lower lip with her teeth.

  “I deserve to know,” he said.

  She lifted her head and narrowed her eyes. “I owe you nothing. You were convicted of a crime and sent away. I was supposed to be your wife, and you betrayed me. You owe me an apology, if anything.”

  “An apology? I didn’t do anything. I was set up by your father,” Isaac fired back.

  She started to pace the room.

  “Just tell me that he prevented you from coming to see me,” Isaac pleaded.

  “I wanted to see you, but Father was insistent that I not go…”

  “I knew it,” he blared.

  “But,” she said then paused.

  After waiting for her to continue, he asked, “Is there more?”

  “I soon came to realize that maybe you had done something, that maybe I didn’t really know you.”

  “We were to be married!” Isaac grunted.

  “At first I didn’t think you were capable, but shortly afterwards I had other feelings.”

  “How is that possible? How can you doubt me, doubt my character?” Isaac asked, his face showing how her words were painful to hear.

  “On account that I remember hearing you preach about the poor not having access to coal, but the rich did,” she replied, her mind racing back to one of his diatribes concerning wealth inequality.

  “You think I organized that robbery?” Isaac asked, shocked.

  “I admit that…yes, yes, I did think that maybe you could have,” Lucy admitted.

  Distraught by her confession, Isaac tore himself away and walked to a large window. He stared out towards the west and the valley beyond.

  “You can’t be here. You need to leave,” she said.

  Her words stung him again.

  “If someone finds out that you escaped and that you’re an imposter, they’ll hang you,” she said.

  “Stop pretending you care.”

  “I do care; truth be told, I never stopped caring. I just…I just couldn’t convince my father to let me come visit you. Even though I had those doubts, I still cared, I still thought of you,” she said, her tone softer. “I still think of you.”

  He turned around and looked into her green eyes. “Those four long years I spent in prison, there wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think of you. I suspected your father kept you away, but to hear you say now that you could imagine me committing such an act is hurtful. I never did anything wrong except want to marry you.”

  “You think that was wrong?” she asked, tears forming in her eyes.

  “Our love wasn’t wrong, that’s not what I’m trying to say. It was your father, that’s what was wrong. I didn’t think he’d stoop to the level he did to stop it. I misjudged him,” Isaac said, taking a step closer to her.

  She wiped the forming tears from her eyes and said, “You need to leave. Please go.”

  “Come with me,” Isaac pleaded, stepping forward and taking her hands.

  She didn’t resist his touch.

  “We can leave now, saddle up some horses and ride, just you and me. Lucy, we can finally be together,” he said.

  She didn’t say a word.

  “Please come with me,” Isaac urged.

  Pulling her hands away from his, she said, “I can’t. I’m married now. What sort of life would I…we have? You’re an escaped convict, and I’d be an adulterous wife. Where would we go?”

  “We could go anywhere. Board a ship in San Francisco and go to South America, maybe the Orient or even Australia.”

  “We don’t have anything, no money, no status,” she said.

  “We can make it. I just want you above all else.”

  Hearing Mortimer call out further in the house, she hastily stepped away from Isaac and rushed to the door. Before turning the knob, she looked over her shoulder and said, “Leave while you can. Please, before someone finds out you’re not who you say you are.”

  “I won’t leave Bane unless you’re with me,” Isaac said.

  “I can’t, I won’t go with you. My life is now with Mortimer. He’s a good man, a good husband. This is my fate now,” she said, turning the knob. She opened the door fully and left.

  Isaac opened his mouth to rebut her last comment, but the door closed before he could form his words. Lucy stood in the hallway just outside the bedroom. She again wiped tears from her eyes.

  “Lucy, where are you?” Mortimer cried out from the parlor.

  She stepped to a mirror in the hall and glanced at her reflection. She fixed her hair and smoothed out her dress.

  “Lucy?” Mortimer again called out.

  “I’ll be right there,” she replied loudly.

  “Hurry, please,” he said.

  Taking a deep breath and exhaling, she said, “Stop thinking about it. There’s no future with Isaac, it’s over.”

  The bedroom door cracked open and Isaac peered out.

  Catching him looking at her in the reflection in the mirror, Lucy turned and sped off down the hallway.

  Isaac opened the door further and watched until she went into the parlor. “I’m not leaving, Lucy Mae…not without you.”

  ***

  Mortimer bro
ught Edwin into his office. “Take a seat.”

  Edwin did as he was told. “Sir, we’re beginning to rebuild the barn.”

  “Let’s skip that. Tell me who this source is,” Mortimer said, sitting on the edge of his desk and looking down with firm eyes on Edwin.

  Clenching his hands and chewing on his lower lip, Edwin stuttered, “Sir, um, I don’t feel comfortable disclosing that just yet.”

  “Edwin, we discussed who you worked for yesterday.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I expect you to tell me who this mystery person is, and do it now,” Mortimer said sternly.

  “Sir, can I just reveal who he works for and keep it at that?”

  “Let’s begin there,” Mortimer said.

  “He works for Mr. Wilkes. He doesn’t like the man and wishes to help you, but he requested he remain anonymous for fear of reprisal.”

  “Can he confirm if Wilkes is behind the silver robbery?”

  “He’s not confirmed that, sir. So it appears it was someone else,” Edwin said.

  Mortimer looked away and thought. It was good that he was receiving information from inside Wilkes’ operation, but he wondered if it was true or not.

  “I’ve got a couple of men doing some due diligence on the parcel of land. I’m attempting to get a separate opinion on its viability. I thought it best versus just taking my source’s word for it.”

  “Good, do that. Better to know. And who owns it?”

  “Oh, yes, I forgot. It’s owned by a man named Wilfred Scott. He resides in Placerville, California.”

  “Find out who he is if you can,” Mortimer ordered.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You can go,” Mortimer said.

  “Do you want to discuss the barn?”

  “No, and, Edwin, I expect you to tell me who this source is at a later date when you feel it can be revealed without jeopardizing him,” Mortimer said.

  Hopping up quickly, Edwin replied, “Yes, sir.” He rushed to the door and left.

  ***

  Isaac cleaned up and changed his clothes. It felt good to take a bath, it not only washed away the days of dust and sweat, but it soothed his achy muscles.