The Lawman

by G. Michael Hopf

  “Why are you taking such an interest in the sheriff?” he asked, spying her glance in the mirror.

  “You put a lot into him being here, and within days he’s gone?”

  He sighed, turned and said, “Since you insist on knowing, here’s what happened yesterday. After finding my silver, I ordered him to arrest Mr. Wilkes, to which his reply was no. I again politely and professionally asked him to take Wilkes in for the robbery of the silver and the murder of eight people, but again the sheriff refused. So if he can’t take orders from his employer, I don’t need his services anymore.”

  “Why didn’t he want to arrest Wilkes?” she asked.

  “On account he said there was no hard evidence he had taken the silver or murdered those people. He kept insisting that he needed to find more evidence.”

  Hearing his answer, Lucy knew exactly why Isaac did what he did.

  “Does that answer your question?” Mortimer asked, walking over to her and taking her hands in his.

  “Has he left town?” she asked.

  “I believe so. He came by and collected his pay and bonus, didn’t say a word to me, then left. Last I saw him, he was riding west out of town towards the pass,” Mortimer replied.

  “He left?” Lucy said, her tone melancholy.

  “You look sad,” Mortimer said.

  “I quite enjoyed having someone here. Our dinner the other night was a joy…”

  “Until he got ill, poor fella. I don’t know what to make of that,” Mortimer said, going to the wardrobe and pulling out his suit coat. He slid it on, adjusted his tie, and continued, “Your father will be arriving tomorrow; best we have the room for him.”

  Lucy was lost in thought.

  “Lucy my dear?” Mortimer asked before snapping his fingers.

  Her head shot up. “Oh, yes, Father; it will be good to spend time with him.”

  “You don’t look well. Have you taken your medicine yet?” he asked.

  “I pray Sheriff Travis safe travels,” she said.

  “I do too, and I’m thankful he was here. I only wish he could have worked out for the long term; but the second he showed me he was incapable of obeying orders, he had to go. I know you understand. We must forever be obedient to those in charge,” he said with a thin smile stretched across his face.

  “Will you be home for dinner?” she asked.

  “Not sure, I’m preparing for some meetings with some businessmen from San Francisco tonight,” Mortimer replied.

  “Who?” she asked, unsure whom he was referring to.

  “Oh, there are these four businessmen in from San Francisco. They were working with Wilkes, but with his situation, we’re now having discussions.”

  “That’s good, dear,” she said, not caring about his business life.

  He gave her a peck on the forehead and left the bedroom. “Have a nice day.”

  “Bye,” she said.

  When the door closed, she lowered her head in despair. She hadn’t lied to Isaac, she did miss him and even loved him, but she could never leave Mortimer, ever. She couldn’t lie to herself that seeing him posed a dilemma, as she had considered running off with Isaac. What stopped her was the reality that Mortimer and her father would never stop looking, that they’d leverage their vast fortunes to bring her back. She might enjoy weeks, maybe even months with Isaac, but it would end, and when she would be dragged back to her life in Bane, it would be even worse than what it was now, and the consequences for Isaac would be harsh.

  This was her life now, and she would just have to accept it.

  SHERIFF’S OFFICE, BANE, NEVADA

  Any plan to retake the silver couldn’t happen if Isaac and Connor didn’t know where it was. Armed with a hope and a prayer, Isaac walked into the sheriff’s office, hoping one of the new deputies would help.

  Isaac opened the door and cast a quick look inside. A swift wind whipped by him, chilling everyone present.

  “Close the door if you’re staying. Hell, just close the darn door,” Jess hollered.

  Isaac walked in and slammed the door. “Morning, gents.”

  “Hi, Sheriff,” Porter said, waving.

  “He’s not the sheriff, stupid,” Jess barked then gave an apologetic look to Isaac. “Sorry, but you ain’t.”

  “I understand, no hard feelings,” Isaac said. “Where’s Sheriff Wallace?”

  “He’s out getting the silver you found secured before it gets shipped out to Carson City,” Porter replied. He leaned over and spit into a spittoon.

  “I need to see him; it’s very important, critical really. Tell me where he is, and I’ll just go to him,” Isaac asked.

  Jess cocked his head and said, “Whatever you got, we can relay it to the sheriff.”

  “It’s sort of personal,” Isaac said.

  “Oh, c’mon, Jess, don’t be so hard on Sheriff Travis. He done good when he was here,” Porter said.

  “He done got fired in record time. No, if he wants Sheriff Wallace, he can give us the message or he can wait.”

  Porter and Jess began to bicker back and forth.

  “Never mind, I’ll come back later. I just know he’ll be disappointed he didn’t know about it before then,” Isaac said as he turned around to leave.

  “He’s over at shaft number two. That’s where we’re storing the silver until we ship it out the day after tomorrow,” Porter barked.

  “You’re a damn idiot, Porter, you know that, a real simpleminded fool,” Jess hollered.

  Isaac tipped his hat and said, “Thank you and I promise I won’t do anything, Jess. If I had wanted to do anything, I wouldn’t have turned in the silver in the first place.”

  “Whatever, you damn Johnny Reb,” Jess growled.

  Isaac shook his head and exited, having obtained the information he was looking for. Now the next thing he needed to do was scout out shaft number two.

  ***

  Connor was waiting for Isaac on the corner. Upon seeing him exit the sheriff’s office, he whistled.

  Isaac came over and said, “Shaft number two.”

  “I know where that is,” Connor said.

  “The question is, how many people are guarding it?”

  Stopping Isaac, Connor asked, “How prepared are you to get this silver? Are you willing to kill anyone?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “You should have told me that before you asked me again to get rich with ya. I don’t know how we can steal heavily guarded silver without firing a shot,” Connor said.

  “There’s always more than one way to do something,” Isaac said.

  “I can’t wait to hear this plan.” Connor laughed.

  “Diversion, my friend, cause a big huge diversion,” Isaac said with a broad smile.

  “And what sort of diversion were you thinking?”

  “I’ll give you a hint, it starts with the letter B,” Isaac said.

  “Breasts!” Connor joked.

  Isaac laughed out loud and said, “Hmm, that’s an interesting idea.”

  “Oh, dear heavenly Father, please, oh, please make this plan involve breasts,” Connor joked, clasping his hands together as he craned his head towards the sky.

  “I said that was an interesting idea, but I was thinking of a diversion that goes…boom!”

  “Explosives, I like that too,” Connor said. “It’s too bad that Wallace didn’t let me stay on. Many of these details could be worked out.”

  “It makes sense, with Wilkes out of the way, there’s no need for such a large number of deputies, and it was well known you were my hire.”

  Stopping in the street, Connor again looked to the sky and said, “I pray to Thee, please let us get this silver. If you grant me this prayer, Lord, I’ll be a righteous son of God until I take my last breath.”

  “Do you always mock God?” Isaac asked.

  “I’m not mocking God at all. I’m serious as I can be. If I get that silver, I’ll change, I swear it. I’ll be a different man,” Connor said.

>   “Don’t you see how silly it is praying that we’ll be successful violating one of his commandments?” Isaac said.

  “Oh no, I don’t believe the Lord finds this silly, and I do believe in my heart that taking from these rich bastards is a Godly thing,” Connor said.

  Shaking his head in disbelief, Isaac said, “Enough talk. Let’s go find where we can get some explosives.”

  “That’s easy.”

  Furrowing his brow, Isaac asked, “It is?”

  “They just keep it in a barn near the shafts. No one guards or watches over it. We can just sneak in their tonight and get a crate.”

  “TNT?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well then, we just need to figure out what we’re going to blow up tomorrow night,” Isaac said.

  CHAPTER TEN

  NOVEMBER 3, 1869

  CORRIGAN RESIDENCE, BANE, NEVADA

  Mortimer kept pacing back and forth in the parlor, stopping every minute to look out the front window.

  “Would you please stop doing that,” Lucy said, growing agitated by his clear anxiety.

  “I’m sorry, I’m just very nervous. Your father makes me very, very nervous,” Mortimer said.

  She laughed and said, “You’re nervous about making your presentation, not about seeing him. Let’s be clear.”

  She was right, Mortimer had never displayed this sort of anxiety before, so it had to be stemming from the proposal he was going to offer Everett.

  Everett’s reputation preceded him. Anywhere he went in New York, people knew his name and gave him respect. He was a likeable enough man, but it was a well-known fact that if you ever crossed him or provided inadequate service, you’d hear about it. If one ever sought to challenge him, then Everett would fight until he was sure you were crushed. Isaac knew that behavior better than anyone.

  Seeing the coach making its way up the steep drive, Mortimer cried out, “He’s here, he’s here.”

  Again, Lucy laughed. “You’re more excited to see my father than I am.”

  “Oh shush,” he said to Lucy. He raced out of the parlor and to the front door. “Phyllis, make sure you have a pot boiled for tea. I’m sure he’ll want some.”

  “I will have it, sir,” she called out from the kitchen.

  Checking his reflection in the mirror to ensure he looked presentable, Mortimer practiced saying hello.

  “Mortimer, please stop. You look silly,” Lucy said, walking up to him.

  “I need this to work,” Mortimer said to her, the stress written all over his face.

  She turned him so he faced her. Patting him tenderly on his chest, she said, “My father appreciates and respects power and confidence. How you’re acting now will not help you. Be strong, respectful and clear in your delivery. Let the mining operation sell itself. You’ll be fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “I know my father. He likes you; believe me when I say if he didn’t, we wouldn’t be married,” Lucy said.

  The sound of the coach stopping sounded from out front.

  “He’s here,” Mortimer said. Taking her hand, he opened the door and stepped out into the chilly late morning air.

  The coach door opened and out came Everett. He was bundled up with a thick wool blanket wrapped over his shoulders. He glanced up at Mortimer and Lucy and said, “I thought the desert was supposed to be hot.”

  “How do you do, Everett? So good to see you,” Mortimer said, racing down the stairs, arm extended.

  Everett took his hand and shook it. “Nice to see you, Mortimer.” He spun around and looked down on the town. “So this is Bane?”

  Stepping up alongside him, Mortimer said, “That’s it, that’s my town.”

  “Your town, hmm,” Everett mused.

  “When do you think you’ll—” Mortimer said before being interrupted.

  “Hello, Father!” Lucy cried out.

  Everett turned and waved. “Lucy, you look well.” He walked up the steps and embraced her. “It appears Mortimer is not feeding you well enough; you’re skin and bones.”

  “Well, she’s been ill much of the time since we’ve been in Bane,” Mortimer said defensively.

  Everett ignored Mortimer and continued, “Is he taking care of you?”

  “He is,” she answered.

  “Come inside,” Mortimer said, walking past them and opening the door.

  Everett and Lucy stepped over the threshold and entered the house.

  Removing the blanket and his overcoat, Everett stretched and sniffed loudly. “What’s that I smell?”

  “That would be your favorite, Father,” Lucy said.

  “Roast pork, and are you serving it with macaroni?” he asked, his eyes wide with excitement.

  “Macaroni with parmesan cheese, Father, just how you like it,” Lucy said happily. It made her feel good knowing he was content.

  “When is supper served?”

  “Four o’clock,” Mortimer said.

  “That’s a bit early for me, but I’m so hungry, that will be sufficient,” Everett said.

  “Would you care to get washed up?” Mortimer asked.

  “Yes, that would do, that would do nicely,” he answered.

  Lucy showed him the back bedroom, the same one Isaac had used during the time he’d spent there.

  Returning to the parlor, Mortimer asked her the second she walked in, “Is he in a good mood? He seems to be.”

  “He seems himself, but happier,” Lucy answered.

  “Oh, you don’t know how that makes me feel,” he said, hugging her firmly.

  “Oooh, you seem pleased as well.” Lucy chuckled.

  “I am, dear, I am,” Mortimer said. He went to the liquor cart, opened the brandy decanter, and poured himself a glass. “Care for a brandy?”

  “Yes, I’ll have one, thank you,” she said.

  Heavy footfalls sounded in the hallway.

  “Here he comes. Do you think he’ll want brandy or tea?” Mortimer asked.

  Everett appeared in the doorway, his face flushed red. He held up a piece of paper and growled, “What is the meaning of this?”

  Looking bewildered, Mortimer asked, “Meaning of what?”

  “I’m talking to you, daughter. What is this?” Everett asked, waving the paper in her direction.

  Knowing full well what he had in his hand, she answered, “I told him he needed to leave, but he wouldn’t. He’s gone now though.”

  “I’m confused. Are we talking about Sheriff Travis?” Mortimer asked.

  “Your wife’s former beau was here in your house and you didn’t know?” Everett asked Mortimer, his nostrils flared with anger.

  Confused, Mortimer said, “Former beau, um, there must be some misunderstanding. The last person to stay in that room was Sheriff Ethan Travis.”

  Everett marched over to Mortimer and handed him the note. “Read it.”

  “Mortimer, it’s not what you think. Nothing happened. I told him to leave, I told him,” Lucy said, her tone displaying the sadness in her heart.

  Mortimer read the note, his eyes growing wider as they passed over more and more words. When he was done, he lowered the note slowly and looked at her; his eyes showing the pain he was feeling. “Lucy, who’s Isaac?”

  “He was her former beau. The son of a bitch tried to marry her, but he was convicted of robbery and conspiracy and sent to prison. He’s supposed to still be there, but apparently he’s not,” Everett explained.

  “Was this Isaac here at the house? When?” Mortimer asked.

  Fanning herself, Lucy quickly took a seat on the couch, feeling faint. “Let me explain.”

  “Don’t explain this away! Was this man in our house?” Mortimer roared.

  “Yes, yes, he was,” she answered.

  “We need to organize a search party immediately. He’s an escaped convict; he’s a very dangerous man,” Everett said.

  “When, when was he here?” Mortimer asked.

  “He was here for three nights,” Lucy repl
ied.

  “I don’t understand. How is that possible? Sheriff Travis was here? Was he hiding in the house somewhere?” Mortimer asked, still not putting two and two together.

  “Does it matter, Mortimer? Get your police on this immediately,” Everett barked.

  “Everett, please give me a moment with my wife!” Mortimer shouted.

  Not one to allow anyone to raise their voice to him, Everett forgave Mortimer this time due to the circumstances. He backed away and went to stand near the fireplace.

  “Lucy, I need you to be very clear and tell me everything right this very second,” Mortimer said, sitting down next to her.

  “Isaac arrived on October 29 and left the house on November 1. He spent three nights here,” Lucy answered.

  “That doesn’t make sense. Where was he hiding?” Mortimer asked.

  “In the back room, he stayed in the back bedroom,” Lucy said.

  “How is that even possible? Sheriff Travis was staying in that room,” Mortimer said.

  “Mortimer, don’t you see, Isaac is Sheriff Travis,” she confessed.

  Mortimer’s face turned ashen and his eyes bulged. “I-I don’t, how is, when…” he stuttered. Mortimer’s thoughts were jumbled, and he was finding it hard to concentrate.

  “Isaac Grant, my former fiancé—” Lucy said before being interrupted by Everett.

  “He was never your fiancé because you were never officially engaged,” Everett blurted out.

  “You’re telling me the man who said he was Sheriff Travis was your old fiancé? The man who was arrested and put in prison four years ago?” Mortimer asked.

  “Yes,” Lucy said.

  “You’re telling me I had a convict, your old fiancé, under my roof, eating my food, drinking my—”

  “Yes, I don’t know how he knew to assume that man’s identity or if there ever really was a Sheriff Travis; but that man who was here for three nights was not Sheriff Travis, he was most definitely Isaac Grant,” Lucy confirmed.

  Mortimer jumped to his feet and raced for the door.