Sundown Comes Twice

by Art Isberg

  ‘Once United States deputy marshals go after him, they’ll run him down no matter how long it takes, or how far he goes. Wherever they put their boots down, they are the law and they’ll find him sooner or later, you can count on that. And one other thing. Tomorrow morning I’ll sign papers to buy your property, and bring my rail line through it. You’ll be a man of considerable means after I do so. You might want to begin to think about what you’ll be doing next, especially now with Lacey. She’s a beautiful young woman, and someone I can also see is a very special person. I’d say you’re a lucky man to have her obvious affections, as you do. Together, you two should be able to do anything you want in life. I envy you for it.’

  Judd didn’t answer. He only smiled and nodded. There was nothing he could add to that.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Two days later the supply train from back east reached the railhead with much needed new material. F.W. wrote a long and detailed letter to be delivered to his attorney’s back in Ohio, along with Toomey’s ledgers. His instructions were to set the wheels of justice in motion to find Cyrus Toomey, and bring him to trial on charges of document fraud, embezzlement of public funds, and conspiracy to commit the murder of Randall Miller. He also specifically requested that United States deputy marshals be sent west to track the ex-mayor down, as there was no other law available that far west except in a few widely scattered towns that had their own sheriff, none of whom would ever leave their post to track down anyone. It would take the long arm and money of the federal government to take on this task.

  On a quiet Sunday morning before another day of work began, Moses, bible in hand, married Judd and Lacy in Thurston’s private car, F.W. marking the event by opening several bottles of champagne from his personal stock. The railroad magnate had invited half a dozen of his foremen to attend, plus the engineers and firemen from both locomotives. At the end of the ceremony, everyone came out on to the flatbed car, to the applause and shouts of the Asian rail gangs, while both engines loudly blew their steam whistles. Later that afternoon Judd informed Thurston that he, Lacey and Moses would be leaving the following day for Red Bluffs. Judd wanted to see his ranch property for the last time, and to make one final ride into town.

  ‘You’re welcome to stay here and ride into town in style!’ Thurston half kidded, half meant it. ‘It will only take a few more weeks before I’m there.’

  ‘We appreciate the offer, but I want to go back and maybe see if Toomey is still around,’ Judd countered.

  ‘If he is, you leave that six-gun of yours in its holster. Let the marshals take care of him. You’ve had enough gunplay to last a lifetime. Besides, you’re a married man now, and you have someone else to think about instead of just yourself.’

  The following morning Thurston stood on the flatbed ready to blow his whistle to start the work gang. He hesitated a few minutes, watching Moses’ wagon with Lacey as passenger and Judd riding alongside, all waving goodbye. The rail king smiled as the trio grew smaller and smaller as they rode away, until they were only dots enveloped by tall prairie grass on the horizon. Then they were gone. He wondered if he’d ever see the cross-draw cowboy again. A small smile parted his lips, as he turned back to his men in their black-buttoned suits and pants, their long, braided hair wound round their box hats, looking up at him, waiting for orders.

  ‘All right, you men. Let’s get to it. I want to hear those spike mauls ring like a bell, and see more steel rails shining in the sun out ahead of me!’ The locomotive blew three blasts on its loud steam whistle as the rail gangs turned to start a new day’s labour.

  This time the return journey to Red Bluffs wasn’t made at the brutal pace day and night as Judd’s previous rides. Moses’ wagon served as home when the sun went down, and cooking fires danced to new life. The three of them, bound together by unlikely circumstance, took their time. Two full weeks passed before Moses pulled his wagon to a stop at the burned-out remains of what was once Judd and Randall’s cabin, late one afternoon.

  Judd eased down out of the saddle. Taking in a deep breath, he surveyed everything around him as old memories came rushing back. The blackened, burned out timbers of what once was the cabin, stood like ghostly fingers pointing to the sky. All this had been his and Randall’s dream, to some day make this land into a working ranch. Now those dreams were as dead as the ashes blowing in the sundown wind. Lacey quickly came to his side. Wrapping both arms around him, she studied the look on his face.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she whispered. ‘You lost everything here, but we can make a new start someplace else, Judd. I swear we will. We’ve both survived everything else. We can this, too. I won’t let it stop us, not ever.’

  He looked down into her eyes, trying to force a smile, caressing the back of her neck. ‘I thought on the ride back here that I’d be sort of coming back home. But now that we’re here, it doesn’t seem much like it any more, I’m not sure why. Maybe because I’ve sold this place and Randall is no longer here to enjoy it, too. I want to stay just a few days while I ride into town, and see if Toomey is still around.’

  ‘Please, don’t do that. Don’t tempt yourself into doing something that could only bring more trouble. Let the law take care of it, like Farris said it would. It’s not worth taking a chance like that. Not now. Not after all this.’

  Moses came up alongside them while looking around the property. ‘Nice piece of ground, for sure, Judd. You and your brother made a good pick, buying it. I’m sure there’s more like it around Red Bluffs where you and Lacey can settle down and have a passal of kids.’

  Lacey blushed, as Judd turned to the tall preacher. ‘I might not want to settle anywhere around here, after all that’s happened. I used to think I’d come back here and start all over again. Now I’m not that certain any more. It might be better for me and Lacey to head out someplace else. And what about you, Moses, what are your plans now?’

  ‘Me? Oh, I’m taking this wagon of mine and heading back to my place across the desert. I miss it. I guess I never realized how much until I got away from it for so long. I’ve got my Indians to keep teaching the Good Book to, and any wandering souls I happen to run into. You know how that can happen, don’t you?’ He raised an eyebrow, in jest.

  ‘Yes, I do.’ Judd could not help but smile, before changing the subject. ‘I’ll have to go into town and buy Lacey a horse and saddle. After we leave here and we part company, she’ll need it wherever we end up going. I’ll have to get a packer, too.’

  ‘I think that’s a fine idea. I’ll enjoy your company for at least a few days longer, before we have to say good bye.’

  Lacey grabbed Judd’s arm squeezing it. ‘If you insist on going into town, would you please leave your six-gun here with me? I don’t want you to take a chance on using it.’ She stared hard into his eyes, pleading with him to say yes, without saying another word.

  ‘It’s too late to go in now. I’ll ride in tomorrow early. I’m not going to feel comfortable without it, but I’ll try, just for you!’

  The following morning Judd rode down Main Street in Red Bluffs, to the pointed stares and whispers of men and woman on the street who feared he was back. But he looked straight ahead without so much as a glance at any of them, finally turning off into a narrower back street, where Cyrus Toomey’s house stood. The sight of it, as he reined to a stop, brought back an emotional wave of vengeful feelings. He fought to keep it down, until he saw a paper taped to the front window. Easing out of the saddle, he pushed the wrought-iron gate open and walked up to read the message: ‘For sale’ it said in big, bold letters. Then under it in smaller writing he read the inked single word, ‘Sold’. Cupping his hand against the window, Judd tried peering through the dirty glass pane. The furniture was covered with sheets, and dust covered everything that wasn’t. He stepped back. Toomey was gone for sure, out on the run – but where?

  At the livery stable Judd bought a pretty bay mare for Lacey, plus a saddle and bridle, and an older, sturdy packhor
se. The owner eyed him with fear and suspicion throughout the entire transaction, until Miller handed him the sixty dollars. ‘Some folks around here said if you ever came back, there’d be hell to pay, and more killing. Are they right?’

  ‘You see a six-gun on my hip?’ Miller countered.

  ‘No, can’t say I do.’

  ‘Then I’d say that some “folks” have got it all wrong, haven’t they?’

  ‘I reckon they might’ve.’

  ‘How long has Toomey’s house been up for sale?’

  ‘Oh, I’d say for about a month. His daughter Rachel put it up until she finally sold it and left town.’

  ‘Left town for where?’

  ‘She told friends she was going back east to live. I think with relatives. Someone said she stopped at the cemetery before she left on the stage, poor girl. I guess there wasn’t much left for her here in Red Bluffs, after what her father did.’

  Judd left the livery stable and rode back down the street, leading his pack horse, watched by more people, wondering if he was back to stay. No one dared call out and ask. Not with his reputation. What they could not know was that Judd Miller was done with Red Bluffs, and everyone in it. Everyone he’d fought against was either dead or gone, and now there was nothing left to keep him there. When he passed the last building on the street, he didn’t look back. Even some of the hate and vengeance seemed to drift away as the town faded away behind him.

  Time would prove that F.W. Thurston was right about the United States deputy marshals. A pair of star men were sent out after Toomey, stopping first in Red Bluffs to see what they could learn by interviewing as many people as possible, and going over his old bank records. From there they rode to Canyon City, after the stage clerk told them about the ticket Toomey had bought, and his question about how much further the stage line went. Four months and two hundred miles later, the determined trackers found Cyrus Toomey living in a run-down hotel in the small town of Humbug.

  They made their move early on Sunday morning, even before the sun was up. Obtaining the room key from the hotel clerk, they drew long-barrelled pistols, quietly keyed the lock, and slowly pushed open the door. The soft glow of light from the hall lamp barely lit the darkened room, but it was enough to see Toomey still asleep in bed. The marshals stepped inside and up to the bed.

  ‘Cyrus Toomey, wake up!’ one marshal ordered, lowering his pistol in the ex-mayor’s face.

  Toomey sat straight up in bed, his bleary eyes opening in fear as he tried to understand what was happening to him. He tried to talk, but was still too confused to get a word out.

  ‘We’re federal marshals and have a warrant for your arrest, on multiple charges. Get up and get yourself dressed!’

  Toomey’s trial in federal court in Kansas Territory, two months later, ended in a guilty verdict on all three counts. He was sentenced to twenty years at hard labour, but never served out that time. He died in his prison cell only three short years later. The prison doctor wrote on the death certificate that the cause of death was ‘consumption’, but Toomey was really a broken man who had seen the good life that he’d schemed and had men kill for, vanish into a cold, dank, six-by-seven foot stone-walled cell. His body wasn’t claimed by anyone. He was buried in the paupers’ graveyard at the back of the prison, in a field of weeds, stones, and weather-worn wooden markers. The money he was found with on his arrest was claimed by the marshals’ service to pay for their long ride tracking him down.

  Moses, Judd and Lacey parted company at the edge of the desert that the tall preacher would have to cross. ‘You two take care of yourselves. You know I’ll miss both of you a whole lot. And Lacey, get a bible and keep this cowboy on the straight and narrow. I won’t be around to do it any more.’ He smiled, locking hands with Judd, while she squeezed his shoulder. ‘If you two ever get the urge to travel, come see an old preacher living in a cave, some time. I’ve always got room for company.’ He waved good bye, flapping the reins down on his mule, as the wagon began rattling away.

  The pair watched him go, waving, before turning towards the mountains along the horizon. Judd had said he wanted to go west, and go west they did, riding for over another month until they topped a timbered ridge one day and saw a small, beautiful valley below, bisected by two rushing streams that came together in a foaming, splashing V. Judd knew instantly that it was exactly the kind of ground he’d hoped to find. A log house slowly went up next to tall timber, and the horses were turned loose each evening, to amble away on their hobbles, feeding on the tall meadow grass. In time the spot was named Miller’s Crossing by the few other riders who wandered through after them. But with a strong-willed woman like Lacey Miller at his side, Judd was done with wondering what trouble lay beyond the rainbow: he’d finally found a home where a fast, cross-draw six-gun wasn’t needed any more to stay alive. Sundown would not come twice on him as it had for all the other men he’d faced in blazing showdowns. All that sundown meant now, was the end of another new day – and a new life, a life he’d once thought he’d never be able to live.

  When he walked out of his cabin each morning, the big .45 calibre six-gun was snug in its holster and cartridge belt, hung on a wooden peg next to the door. The days of killing were over. And the time had finally come to put away the anger, too.