by Herb Hughes
“What’s a’matter?” Dokie asked.
“Look.” Avery laid the newspaper out on the work table so that Dokie and Jack could both read at the same time.
“What the hell?” Dokie shouted. “What is this trash? I’ve never seen anyone react any faster than Jack did!”
Jack felt his stomach wad into a knot. It was so far from the truth that it could be no accident. There was something sinister here.
“Surely this is some kind of mistake,” Avery said.
“Mistake, hell,” Dokie said. “Just plain horseshit lies. I tell you, Avery, I was there. Saw it with my own eyes. Jack made a shot no other man could make, a Rhino charging right at him and he knew he wouldn’t get another shot, but he held steady and hit the damned thing right between the eyes. Everybody there said Jack saved a bunch of lives. Even the ranger kid who covered that block said he’d never seen a shot that precise on a charging Rhino. The damn thing fell at our feet.”
Jack didn’t speak. He kept reading the article. What he read had virtually nothing to do with what had happened in the streets the day before. It was fiction, out and out fabrication. Finally, he looked up at Avery and said, “I don’t understand. This isn’t true.”
Avery shrugged his shoulders in dismay.
“Of course it’s not true,” Dokie shouted. “This is the biggest bunch of hog shit I’ve ever seen. I’m going to go straighten that editor out right now!”
Dokie turned to leave, but Jack caught his shoulder.
“Hold on,” he said, softly. Dokie stopped in his tracks. “Let’s think a second. This is so obviously fabricated that it had to be done on purpose.”
“Yeah,” Dokie said. “You’re right about that. That damned editor wrote nothing but lies knowing all the time that he was writing nothing but lies.”
“Trying to straighten him out isn’t going to do any good,” Jack said. “If he did it on purpose, it’s unlikely he would tell you why.”
“You’re right!” Avery said as the realization dawned on his face. “If he did it on purpose, he has some sort of agenda. And he’s not going to recant or do anything of that nature. Or tell any of us why. But what the dickens could it be? Unless… The assistant editor happened to be one of the two people killed. Perhaps the grief of the loss has rendered him, well, biased somehow.” Avery shrugged and held his hands out as if to say he could think of nothing else.
“Even so,” Jack said, “Perhaps a slanted article at worst. Why total fiction? I don’t see why grief could cause someone to write out-and-out lies.”
“I don’t care who was killed,” Dokie said. “Everybody who was there knew better than this shit. All we’ve got to do is get the truth out.”
“But how are you going to do that?” Avery responded. “The Lisbon Daily is the only newspaper left. There are a few small weekly papers, but they’re society and marketing publications. They don’t cover the news.”
The three stood quietly for several moments. Finally, Dokie said, “There’s got to be something we can do.”
There was no answer from the other two.
As the subcommittee read their recommendations, Jack’s mind wandered. The meeting hadn’t opened at all well. One of the council members was a good friend of the dead assistant editor and called for Jack to be put on trial. Jack tried to explain what had happened. No one wanted to listen. They talked over him. But when Jonathan McGurke stood to speak, everybody became deathly quiet. McGurke stated that the newspaper article must have been in error to have tarnished the reputation of such a famous Rhino hunter. He promised to talk to the editor personally.
Jack didn’t like the tone of voice McGurke was using. To him, it sounded sarcastic and patronizing, but it seemed to settle the attendees, and the meeting proceeded. Perhaps he was reading into the tone because of his mistrust of McGurke? He wasn’t sure.
Each of the three recommendations from the subcommittee was met with skepticism, with McGurke leading the way in conjuring up reasons why each proposal would not work. Mayor Davis tried to argue with him, but McGurke was persistent and loud. He had vocal support from the council member who lost his editor friend. Andropov and McGurke got into a brief shouting match more than once, but they were short. After the first flash of anger, Andropov quickly remembered how vulnerable his position was, and how powerful Jonathan McGurke was.
The meeting drug on for an hour and a half. For lack of a more coordinated plan, they decided to let Jack roam the streets near the town center, the most concentrated commercial district, until someone came up with a better idea. With that settled, the meeting was adjourned. Those who had been so friendly to Jack a few days earlier now made a hasty retreat, avoiding eye contact as they left.
“That was fun,” Jack said flatly when he found Dokie waiting outside. The two walked along the sidewalk in silence for a couple of blocks.
“So I guess they’d all read the paper, eh?”
“Yeah. One of the council members wanted me arrested.”
“What? That’s ludicrous. You told them the truth, didn’t you?”
“I tried. Damned few of them were listening, and fewer believed me. For what it’s worth, McGurke said he would talk with the newspaper editor.”
“Everybody listens to that asshole because he’s got money. Maybe it’ll help.”
“Maybe. What’s that?”
“What?”
“That noise. Listen.”
Dokie listened intently and picked up a faint sound in the distance.
“Man, you’ve got good ears,” Dokie said. “That’s the alarm. Another Rhino attack, but it’s a long way from here. Outskirts of town, most likely. It’s coming from the northeast.”
“Let’s get back to the horses.” Jack turned and started to run.
“You’re wasting your time,” Dokie said as he chased Jack. “It’s too far away. By the time we get there, it’ll all be over. And the paper would blame you for the dead people.”
Jack slowed and turned around, but he was still half running backward. “But I can’t stand here and do nothing. This is why they brought me here.”
“Okay, okay. Let’s go.”
They arrived at the Rhino scene on a dead run, their horses beginning to labor heavily, but, as expected, they were too late. The bodies, wrapped in dark cloth to hide the hideous amounts of blood and gore, were being loaded on a wagon. It was a typical Rhino attack, lots of deaths and damage. The only injuries, other than psychological, were from people falling while running away.
There were fourteen dead, one of whom was a ranger, a young man who couldn’t have been more than sixteen. It was all Jack could do to keep from crying as he looked down into the teenager’s face. The kid had died with horror permanently etched on his features.
Three rangers had answered the alarm, and all fired a first volley, but the youngest had been ripped apart before he could finish reloading. The other two finally brought the Rhino down with their second shots. It had taken five volleys to kill the beast even though it was not a particularly large animal.
Jack was almost numb as they watched the last wagon leave for the morgue. He looked around at the damage. One of the storefronts was so badly destroyed there was no way to tell what kind of store it was. Another had the second-floor balcony lying on the sidewalk in front of the first floor as the Rhino had easily taken down the thick timber supports, tumbling them like so many toothpicks.
“Come on, Jack,” Dokie said. “It’s getting late. We need to head back to our part of town. The horses need to be rubbed down.”
Jack followed Dokie without talking. It was a long, slow ride back. By the time Jack arrived at the hotel, the first hints of sunset were beginning to creep into the sky.
“Of course I believe you,” Sheffie said as she hugged him. “I don’t understand why the newspaper would do such a thing. But I’ll say something to Jonathan tonight. He should have some influence.”
“He said he would help. At the meeting today.”
“It won’t hurt to mention it again. I wish you would come with me tonight.”
“I’ve had enough of meetings and receptions and dinner parties. I’m tired, Sheffie, and I don’t want to see another council member right now. I want to rest, go to bed early.”
“Okay, dear. I understand. Don’t wait up for me. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
Dressed in a beautiful aqua evening gown they had purchased their first afternoon in Lisbon, Sheffie left for her waiting carriage. Jack slumped down on the sofa. Some time later, he wasn’t sure how long, he was awakened by a knock on the door. It was Dokie.
“Got restless,” the little man said. “You hungry?”
“Not really.”
“Come on. You’ve got to eat. I know a little place a couple of blocks from here. Some food and a couple of beers would do you good.”
“Wouldn’t mind a beer.”
“Just what the doctor ordered.”
There wasn’t much to the place, but they brewed their own beer. And they knew what they were doing. It was exceptional. Plus they kept the kegs in the cellar, so it was cool.
“I can’t figure this newspaper thing,” Dokie said. “I don’t buy the bit about being emotionally distraught because of the assistant editor. Hell, it wasn’t an emotional piece. It was out and out lies that were carefully and maliciously crafted to make you look bad. Worse than bad. Doesn’t make sense. Why would anyone smear you on purpose? Is there some sort of Friends Of The Rhinos organization?”
“Maybe it was an honest mistake,” Jack offered. “Everything happens so quickly in a Rhino attack. Maybe somebody thought they saw something they didn’t, or they saw it differently from how it was, then the newspaper got wind of the story and embellished it.”
“You’ve been hugging too many desert rocks at night. That ain’t the way the world works. Well, maybe it does sometimes, but not in this case. That article wasn’t embellishment. It was pure bullshit fiction. And that first article about the guy in Wilsey saving your life, it was unflattering, whether it was accurate or not.”
“It had some half-truths and a few less than half-truths. It made me look bad, for sure, but it wasn’t all lies like this one.”
“They decided to speed up their campaign for some reason and went for all-out fiction. Since the Lisbon Daily is the only newspaper around, nobody can call them on it. We’ve got to face it. Somebody’s got something to gain by making you look bad: money, power, women, something. Or all of the above. That’s the way it works. Especially in a big city like Lisbon.”
“But what could that editor possibly get out of smearing me?” Jack asked.
“Damned if I know. You know something? Now that I think about it, it may not be him. Maybe he’s a puppet, and somebody else is pulling the strings, someone with real power. I’ve got some friends who might be able to help.”
“Not among the rangers,” Jack said.
Dokie laughed out loud and Jack, in spite of himself, joined in. Then Dokie said, “No. These friends are better than rangers. They don’t need search warrants. When they’re looking for something, they don’t get too disturbed by over-zealous legalities. I’m going to find out who’s behind this smear campaign at the newspaper if it’s the last thing I do.”
Chapter 30
Greg Bonner was escorted in silence by Lowell Johnston. Bonner did not try to engage the black man in conversation as they walked past the intricately carved woodwork adorning the hallway. Bonner knew that Lowell was second in command in McGurke’s kingdom, and second was pretty damned high, but it was still second. Greg Bonner only dealt with the top man. Besides, he didn’t like Lowell, and he was sure Lowell felt the same about him.
Lowell stopped and reached for a crystal doorknob, turned it, then opened the door to the library. On the far side of the expansive room, a neat, impeccably dressed man with a confident smile and graying hair, each strand in perfect order, sat at a desk that seemed as big as Bonner’s hotel room.
“Good morning, Mr. Bonner,” Jonathan McGurke said with a condescending smile. He stood and extended his hand toward a guest chair but did not offer a handshake. “Please, have a seat.” Then he turned to the black man and said, “Thank you, Lowell. You may leave us alone.”
Lowell nodded then silently turned and left, closing the door behind him.
“Good morning, Mr. McGurke,” Greg said as he sat down.
“My associates,” Jonathan McGurke said, “Tell me you completed your last assignment successfully.”
“Sure. I always do,” Bonner boasted.
“And we are always fascinated by your success.” McGurke grinned broadly and let the statement hang in the air a moment. The smile gave way to a businesslike expression as he continued, “Your fee has been transferred to your account. You may draw on it as you wish.”
“Thanks. I need to get back to hunting. Wheat got another Rhino, a big one, while I was kicking that homeowner’s ass for you.”
“Hmmm. Pity, eh?”
“Wheat’s cheating. He ain’t man enough to beat me fair and square.”
“Cheating?”
“He’s got a laser. Friend of mine told me about it.”
“Do you have any proof of that?” McGurke asked.
“No, but I’m as sure as can be. My friend’s seen him use it. Hell, he only carries one homebuilt, but somehow he never misses. He’s killed every damned Rhino he’s ever seen. Never gets hurt, not even a scratch. He couldn’t do that with a single homebuilt. He ain’t good enough.”
“Ummm. So he’s killed another Rhino, you believe with a laser, and you’ve fallen further behind in your horn collection. That’s a shame. I suppose you feel you need to keep pace, but I may need you soon. I want you in Lisbon, ready and available for the next few days. Why don’t you enjoy the city while you’re here? Get out. Get around. Meet people. Have some fun. Our nightlife is much more exciting than sleeping on the ground in the wilderness. Don’t you think?”
“Bought me a woman last night,” Bonner said. “That’s all I need out of this city.”
McGurke ignored the comment and continued, “Your instructions stand as you were informed upon your arrival. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT kill a Rhino while you are here. If you see one, get out of the way and let it do its damage. If you are forced to kill one to protect yourself, get away before anyone realizes who you are. Do NOT stop and take the horn. We do not want to bring attention to the fact that you are in town, and, more importantly for my purposes, the more Rhino damage, the better. While Wheat is in Lisbon, of course.”
“Why? What the hell do you want more Rhino damage for? Aren’t you worried about your businesses?”
“Mr. Bonner, my motives are inconsequential to you. Do as I say.”
“Yeah, okay. But that’s all the more reason for me to leave. I wouldn’t be here to kill a Rhino. Besides, I need to get back to hunting. And the hotel bill you’re paying…”
“Mr. Bonner!” Jonathan McGurke shouted, holding up his hand, palm out. Even Greg Bonner shut up immediately. McGurke waved his hand in an arc to indicate the study, a room larger than most people’s houses. Greg Bonner glanced at the intricate, hand-carved woodwork and exquisite furniture, the gold globe on the desk and the hand-woven rugs in various places around the office.
“Please,” McGurke continued, his voice normal again. “Do I look like a man who would have a problem paying for a six dollar a night hotel room?”
“Uh, no,” Bonner answered. “But I hate sitting around. I want Jack Wheat. Why don’t I go ahead and take him out? What’s he to you?”
“All in good time, Mr. Bonner. All in good time. All you think about is that silly record, and Jack Wheat stands in your way. Linear thinking. Too emotional. You would never make a good businessman.”
Jonathan McGurke leaned back in his chair and continued, “He is here in Lisbon busily making a fool of himself. Well, with a little help from me, of course.” Then he tightened his expression and swung
his hand around, pointing at Bonner’s face. “You are not to bother him… Yet. Indeed, make sure he doesn’t even see you. He’s a nuisance all right, but frankly, I’m having quite a good time making a fool of him. When I’m through having my fun, and getting what I set out to get, you can have your fun. In the meantime, please do make yourself at home in Lisbon. This city is large enough for you to have fun while avoiding Wheat.
“Oh. One more thing,” McGurke added. “I would also prefer you did not come to my residence during your stay. No need being too conspicuous. I’ll have one of my men contact you when necessary. Do enjoy your stay, sir.” McGurke pulled a rope to his right, and Lowell Johnston opened the door immediately, ready to escort Bonner out. McGurke lowered his head back to his paperwork without further acknowledgment of the huge Rhino hunter.
Chapter 31
Toadstool stopped and hee-hawed. Mac, jarred from another slumber, looked up to see a town well off to their left. “I’ll be damned, Toadstool. We made it!” He yahooed then turned Toadstool toward the town and rode in silence for a while, studying the buildings he could see.
“I think we made it,” he said as he pulled the mule to a halt. “This looks like Borderton… Sort of. I don’t rightly remember too well because I ain’t been here in years, but it looks like Borderton from here. Kinda. But then, maybe it don’t, neither. I can see the tops of the mountains way off to the right over here. Is that the way it’s supposed to be? I don’t remember, but I don’t think so. I’m thinking they should be off to the left, if we came from the direction we should have come from, not way off to the right. But those mountain peaks in the distance are sure enough on the right. Yep. This here arm is definitely my right one. I remember. This could be bad, Toadstool. We might be a long, long way from Borderton. Let’s get over there and get a closer look.”
