by A. T. Butler
She buried her face in her hands, elbows leaning on the table. Jacob was shocked. This woman sitting before him had shown such strength and poise; he never would have guessed she was suffering so much.
“Joseph had promised Daly he could have me,” she whispered into her hands. “I didn’t want to agree to it. I threw things and hit Joseph until I had no more strength in me, but it didn’t do any good. He just took all of it, because he knew there was no other option. If I didn’t go along with the plan, Daly could take the hotel from us. It wasn’t until after that awful night that I learned what Joseph had traded me for.”
“What?” Jacob asked quietly.
She looked up at him with a wry smile, her eyes rimmed red. “A month’s extension. Not in exchange for the money that was owed, or even a portion of the money. No, all Joseph deemed my virtue to be worth was a few extra weeks to come up with the money.”
She released a sad, choking laugh.
“Joseph died before that month was even up. I guess he had been hiding his own consumption diagnosis for awhile.” She shook her head, amazed. “He’s lucky he did, or I might have killed him myself. His life insurance paid off Daly, and I’ve made my choices in the months since. I take in the girls who have been in my situation, and I help them take care of themselves when no one else will. But that devil won’t ever let me forget what he held over us. Over me. He’s constantly needling me, offering to pay more for ‘another go.’ ”
“Abby . . .” Jacob risked it again: he cautiously reached across the table to take her hand, and this time she didn’t withdraw. Angry tears sprung from her eyes. Tears he wished he could brush away. “We will get Floyd Daly. I promise you that. At the very least, he will be behind bars. And I will do everything in my power to make sure you are compensated for what he has cheated you out of, if such a thing can be compensated.”
She nodded, but before she could respond, the door banged open and a dirt-covered miner burst into the saloon.
“He’s done it,” the man gasped out, leaning against the doorframe. “Daly. He’s attacked.”
Chapter Ten
Santos was on the man in a second. Jacob rushed to his side, almost upsetting a chair on his way. He looked back at Abby, but she waved him on. In the moment of crisis, her tough, invulnerable exterior had returned.
“Who has he attacked? What’s going on?” Santos demanded.
The miner caught his breath. “Daly snapped. I don’t know why. I didn’t see it. They sent me here to get you.”
“All right. We’re going.”
Jacob ran out the door of the hotel and down the street to the next block, where their horses were just getting brushed down in the livery. He shouted out commands, saddling as he went, and was able to get their horses out and ready in record time. He leapt onto Yellow and led Santos’s horse back to the hotel.
In the few minutes he had been gone, the marshal had managed to dig more details out of the messenger from the mining company.
“Seems there was an explosion down in the mine and while everyone was looking that way, Daly used the distraction to take control of the mining office.”
“That bastard,” Jacob said.
“We’ll get him,” Santos assured him. “Abby!” The hotel proprietress was in the doorway, watching them get ready to leave. “Send word to Sheriff Alway, will you? Tell him I want him on the scene.”
“You think he’ll go?”
“I trust you can make the situation clear to him,” he said with a smile.
She nodded, and that was the last thing they saw before they galloped down the road back toward the mine. Moving this fast, their approach took less time than earlier in the morning. The scene at the mine was still chaos, with injured men being carried out of the mineshaft and another crowd of armed men gathering around the office.
“Where is he?” Jacob demanded as they approached.
Two of the workers came forward to take charge of their horses while three others gathered around, all talking at once and relaying the events of the last hour.
“No one saw him go in,” the first one said.
“We still don’t know how the explosion happened,” said the second.
“It was Daly,” the third replied. Jacob recognized him as the man who had given him directions in the mine earlier. “I done told you Daly’s rotten—he set the blast!”
“Okay, fellas, calm down,” Santos said in his low, soothing tone. “What matters most is we make sure everyone is safe now. Where is Daly?”
All three men pointed to the office building. Now that they were closer, Jacob noticed that both of the front windows looked to have big wooden boards behind them. There was no clear line of sight into the office.
“Those look like the bookshelves, pushed in front of the window,” Santos said. “He’s barricaded himself in there. We’ll have to figure out how to draw him out.”
“We don’t know yet what kind of weapons the man has,” Jacob said. “Maybe we can find Humphries. He must have known the man.”
The sound of horses drew Jacob’s attention. Coming down the road, leading a group of half a dozen others, came Abby Courtland. She looked determined. When they got close enough, Jacob noticed that she had another horse tied to her own and was guiding it along with her.
Riding the ponying horse was Sheriff Alway.
Jacob almost laughed at the pained expression on the man’s face, but shook his head instead. The man was supposed to be the law in this town. He was the one should be bringing justice to Jasper, Arizona.
Also following Abby were Gentle Jack, Mr. Devlin, and five other townspeople she had somehow managed to gather for the event. Whatever Santos needed to defuse this situation, they had plenty of help on their side.
“Let me talk to Mr. Farnsworth,” Santos said. “I need to find out what all is in that office that could be used as a weapon.”
Jacob’s mind went to those desk drawers he never got to check.
“You can’t,” the miner said. “Farnsworth is in there. Humphries, too. Daly has taken them hostage.”
Santos looked stricken. They already knew Daly was a man who would sacrifice other people for his own gain. Looked like their warning to Farnsworth had come to pass.
“Hostage?” Jacob asked. “What is he demanding?”
The miner shook his head. “Money. Lots of money.”
“Damn,” Santos cursed under his breath.
“I’ve got an idea,” Jacob said. “You just keep his focus on you.”
Santos seemed to catch on quick. “If we can keep him talking, he won’t have time to shoot anyone.”
“I’m going to find another way in,” Jacob said.
The marshal nodded and turned his full body to the office building.
“Come out of there, Daly!” Santos yelled. “This won’t end well for you!”
Chapter Eleven
Jacob left Santos shouting at the Rockville Mining Company office and ducked around the corner of the building, where he’d spotted Daly at their first visit to the office. One benefit of Daly having pushed the bookshelves up against the front windows was he wouldn’t be able to see where Jacob had gone.
The bounty hunter wondered what the outlaw was doing in there. Robbing Farnsworth? Robbing the entire company? Jacob had noticed the safe in the corner of Farnsworth’s office. It was possible it held the pay for the hundreds of men who worked there. A nice haul for a man like Daly.
He stood close to the building and heard a low thrum of talking from inside. The walls were thin—just a handful of pine boards nailed to the frame. He couldn’t hear what was said, but there was little enough between Jacob and the men on the other side of the wall that he knew when they were speaking and even where they were standing.
There must be some way he could use that knowledge to his advantage.
Jacob stayed close to the wall, listening, stepping gently so they couldn’t hear him too. If Daly was smart, he’d be worried about the fact that he had no line of v
ision out of the office. But from all the stories Jacob hard heard so far that day, it sounded more like Daly was impulsive than careful. It could have been anything that led him to break his calm facade today rather than any other day.
As he made his way around the back of the office, Jacob realized this was nearest to where Daly must be standing. His voice was noticeably higher than either Farnsworth’s or Humphries’s, and that voice was louder through the thin wall in the back.
As he watched, the wall itself bowed out a little toward him. He paused, stepping back and watching. His best guess was that Daly, or one of the others, must be leaning against the wall there. The office had been thrown up in a hurry and didn’t have the structural strength to hold a grown man’s weight. After a minute, Daly must have stood up again because the wall went straight. Jacob crept up to take a closer look.
The corner, where the end of the plank connected to the frame, was ever so slightly coming loose. Not more than a quarter of an inch, but the nails were not holding. If Daly were to lean on the wall again, the board and maybe even the entire wall would come apart.
This was the in Jacob had been waiting for.
He pulled his Bowie knife out of his boot and carefully inserted the sharp point into the gap by the nail. He would have to go slowly and quietly, so as to not draw Daly’s attention. The outlaw would be holding at least one weapon, maybe more, and if Daly thought there was a possible threat on the other side of this wall, he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot.
The bounty hunter maneuvered his knife deeper into the gap. He had chosen a spot between the two nails and would soon have the knife far enough in the gap to leverage and widen it.
Just before he was about to tilt his knife up and pry off the board, the weight again fell against the wall. Jacob jumped back and around the corner, letting go of his knife. With Daly’s weight again against the wall, the nails fell out even more, pushing the gap in the wall to half an inch.
Jacob could see light through the gap. It was wide enough that he could see the color of the shirt Daly was wearing. Which meant, if the outlaw thought to look, he would be able to see Jacob outside. Jacob held his breath, waiting for him to walk away again.
“That marshal is stupid.” The voice Jacob heard didn’t sound like Farnsworth or Humphries. He heard the thud of something hit the floor near where he stood, maybe the butt of a rifle or shotgun. “He thinks he can just talk me into giving myself up?”
Jacob was incensed. Not only was this outlaw a bully, thief, and manipulator, but he had the gall to insult the law as well. He would take great pleasure in bringing this man down.
Daly stood up again and his footsteps on the wooden floorboards told Jacob when he was six feet and then ten feet away. He hurriedly picked up his knife from the ground and again set to work prying the board free of its frame.
He left the board where it was and pulled out the nails on the end closest to him. It balanced precariously, sitting on top of the plank below it. Jacob pulled the board away from the frame to peek inside.
What he saw infuriated him.
Directly across the room from Jacob, Farnsworth and Humphries sat in two small chairs. Daly hadn’t even bothered to tie them up, so sure was he that his gun would keep them in line. But, seeing as neither of the other men had weapons or any means of defense, it seemed to have been a pretty good gamble.
Farnsworth caught his glance and widened his eyes. Jacob shook his head, silently pleading with the other man to be quiet. He seemed to know what was needed and called to Daly, drawing attention to himself.
“How else are you gonna get the money you asked for, then, if you don’t go out there?”
“I dunno,” the outlaw said sullenly. “They’ll bring it in here.”
“You sure that’s all you want, Daly? Just money to get out of town? Seems a bit amateur for a man like you.”
“Shut up, old man. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know there are some people in this town you have pissed off mightily. They’re probably all out there right now.” Farnsworth pointed at the door. “How’re you planning on getting through that crowd.”
Throughout this conversation, Jacob pried off the board as quickly and quietly as possible. Farnsworth did a good job of not looking at him over Daly’s shoulder, and of keeping his voice raised to disguise any sounds Jacob might be making. Directing his attention to the front of the office was good thinking on his part.
Humphries kept looking at Jacob, but fortunately Daly wasn’t paying any attention to him.
“They’ll be through that front door any minute,” Farnsworth said. “You’d better have a plan.”
“They’ll not take me,” Daly said. He lifted his shotgun up halfheartedly as he backed up toward the corner where Jacob peered in. “I’ll see any man come through that door and blast his head off.”
“So you think you’re going to shoot your way out?” Farnsworth said.
“You got a better idea?” Daly shot back. He slowly moved to lean back against the wall again, near Jacob’s corner.
The bounty hunter saw his chance.
Jacob held his breath and pushed his revolver through the gap in the boards.
Chapter Twelve
“Stop right there,” Jacob said in a menacing tone.
His revolver was jabbed into the ribs of Floyd Daly.
The outlaw tried to turn his head to see who had stopped him.
“What the—”
“I said stop,” Jacob commanded.
With his right hand holding his revolver steady, Jacob used his left hand to rip off more of the planks creating the back wall of the office. Farnsworth groaned at the destruction, but didn’t protest. In just a few seconds, Jacob had created a gap big enough for him to step through without removing his gun from Daly’s side.
This was the first time Jacob had gotten a good look at the man, but even from behind it was clearly Floyd Daly. He matched the description from the wanted poster perfectly—long dirty blond hair, scraggily dirty blond beard, and only a couple inches taller than five feet.
“This is what we’re going to do,” Jacob said. “I’m going to count to three. You’re going to put your shotgun on the desk with the barrel pointed away from the other men. If you move before I say three, you’re dead. If you try to shoot that gun, you’re dead. If you dare set the shotgun down in any place or any manner other than what I have specifically told you to do, you’re dead. Let me hear you say you understand.”
There was a tense moment of almost guttural growling from Daly before Jacob heard him say, “I understand.”
“All right, then. One . . . two . . . three.”
Jacob moved forward with the outlaw the few inches he needed to lean to set the gun down, his revolver never leaving the other man’s side.
“Okay, then. Do you have any other weapons I need to know about?”
“No.”
“He’s lying,” Farnsworth said, almost sounding bored by it. “Of course he does.”
“Where?” Jacob demanded.
“Meddling whoremonger—” Daly began.
“Where is it?”
Daly shut his mouth, then said, “I have a derringer tucked into the back of my pants.”
Even before he finished the sentence, Jacob had fished the small gun out. “Anything else?”
“A Bowie knife in my right boot,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Well, what do you know?” said Jacob. “So do I.”
He tucked the derringer into his jacket pocket and stooped to pull the knife out of Daly’s boot.
“Are we done?” Jacob asked. “I’m sure you can guess what will happen if I find you’ve been holding anything back.”
“We’re done,” Daly said petulantly.
“Wonderful. Mr. Humphries,” Jacob said to the trembling young man. “Would you please go outside and inform the U.S. Marshal that Floyd Daly has been apprehended?”
He nodded vigorously an
d all but ran to the front door of the office.
“How are you feeling, Mr. Farnsworth?”
The older man had moved from the chair and was seated against the far wall of the office, arms crossed over his chest. “You certain you have that weasel under control?”
“Yes, sir. There’s no reason to be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid,” he boomed. Farnsworth crossed the room in two strides and began rifling through the outlaw’s pockets.
“Hey!” Daly protested.
“I’m taking back what’s rightfully mine.”
“Can we wait on that, do you think, Mr. Farnsworth?” Jacob asked. “Seems there are a lot of people in this town owed money—and apologies—from this man.”
Farnsworth didn’t pause in his search. “I’m sure there are. And I’m sure there’d be fewer victims in Jasper if I had listened to Sheriff Alway the first time. I aim to make sure each and every one of them are paid what they are owed. But that starts with stripping this devil of every penny he has on him.”
Jacob shook his head. He’d have to let the marshal sort this out.
At that thought, the door opened and several men filed in, Humphries leading Santos and Alway into the office.
“Sheriff, can you see to this criminal, please?” Santos asked calmly.
“We’ll take him back to Tucson tomorrow?” Jacob asked.
The marshal nodded. “He can wait. I’d rather make the trip in one piece. I trust Mrs. Courtland still has a room for us at her establishment.”
“I’m hankering for more of that stew,” Jacob said, grinning.
As they passed the filthy and muttering outlaw over to the custody of the quivering sheriff, Jacob kept both weapons up, ready in case Daly tried to make a run for it in the confusion.
Farnsworth seized the sheriff by the shoulder. “Alway! You had better keep that man locked up until these men can take him to Tucson. If I hear even the breath of a rumor that he’s been freed or lost, I will see to it that you never work in this town again.”
