‘Before me and Glaswall were let loose,’ Johnny said, ‘Duquemain came up to us in the exercise yard. He went over how it was you who got us shut away. How he was gonna get his own back, come hell or high water. He made us promise that we would make life hell for you, but not to kill you. He wanted that pleasure for hisself.’
Angus tried to shut out from his ears what he was hearing, but the words seemed to echo inside his head.
‘How long since he escaped?’ he asked.
‘A week ago.’
‘Why are you warning me, Johnny Kypp?’
Kypp spoke slowly, as if it was great strain on him. ‘Because I need your help. Duquemain hates your guts like poison. He also hates mine. He’ll want me dead, almost as much as he does you.’
‘Why does he hate you?’ Angus said. ‘I thought you were his buddy.’
‘He hates me because I broke my promise to him. The only way I harmed you was to trash your vegetable patch. When Glaswall talked about killin’ your horses, I refused to play a part. Glaswall murdered them horses, lovely animals, and I’ve never forgiven him. I’ve had nothin’ to do with the other things that’ve happened to you. That was all Glaswall, and I ain’t seen him since. Now, I hear, he and Duquemain are sayin’ I betrayed them, and they swear I’ll die alongside you.’
‘My God!’ Edmund Clayton exclaimed. His thin face had drained of colour. He was as stunned as Angus.
Angus was striving to make sense of Johnny’s revelations. If they were true, he realized that he had little to hold against the younger Kypp – apart from him having the most ornery father this side of Christendom.
‘So you expect me to help you against Duquemain and Glaswall?’ Angus asked, striving to keep the incredulity out of his voice.
‘I’m askin’ you to be my deputy – fully paid deputy town marshal.’
Angus’s jaw dropped somewhat. ‘That’s crazy!’
‘But true,’ Johnny Kypp confirmed.
Next day, Sunday, was bright and cold. After church, Angus walked up to the cemetery on the edge of town. Moving amid the headstones he soon located Leah’s grave. He placed the dainty pot of cyclamens he had brought at the base of the headstone. Then he knelt on the ground and in his mind communicated with the woman he had loved so dearly, the image of her happy face, her smile, filling his thoughts. He recalled the time before their marriage, when they had wandered through the summer flowers hand in hand and he smiled. He knew Leah would be overjoyed, wherever she was, that little Anna was safe and well.
But he realized that he must do right by his daughter. It was unfair to rely on the good-heartedness of Elizabeth Clayton and her mother for much longer. He owed the family a great deal. They were God-fearing folks of the highest order.
At that moment he heard somebody coming through the cemetery gate behind him. He turned and Elizabeth stood close by, as if conjured from his thoughts by magic into reality. For a second his eyes lingered on her pale face, seeing the gentleness, the soft warmth of nature that was so much part of her. She was reserved and yet she had shown considerable resolution when she had forced Linus Kypp to submit. Within her, Angus knew, she had immense courage for one who was scarcely more than a child.
She stepped forward and placed a small posy of wild heather alongside his cyclamens, then she turned towards him with almost a challenge in her blue eyes.
‘Angus,’ she said, ‘I know it’s been preying on your mind – about Anna I mean.’
‘Ay,’ he nodded. ‘I can’t rely on you and your ma for ever. You’ve been so kind to me, but I have to find somewhere permanent for her. I’ve got a cousin in the East. She has four children of her own. I’ll write to her and ask her if she will bring Anna up. She’s a good soul.’
Elizabeth’s eyes hardened. ‘Oh Angus, you’ll do no such thing. Mother and I have discussed it. We’d love to care for Anna on a permanent basis, and she would be close to you.’
Angus saw it then: the same female possessiveness that he’d seen blazing from Arabella’s eyes when he’d taken his child away from her. He understood now the challenge that Elizabeth had displayed when she’d first approached him. She’d feared that he might refuse her offer.
Uncertain, he gazed at Leah’s grave, in the hope that his wife might offer him some guidance. Then he turned back.
‘I appreciate your kindness, Elizabeth, but I need to think it over,’ he said. ‘Of course I would have to discuss it with your mother. I don’t think it would be fair.’
Despair spread across the girl’s face. ‘Please, Angus. It’s not just for your sake, not just for Anna’s sake. We love her. We’d be heartbroken if we had to give her up, really heartbroken.’
He reached across and took her arm and they walked through the cemetery gate. She seemed so small alongside him.
‘I’ll let you know tomorrow,’ he said.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Angus felt that one difficult decision per day was quite sufficient. Today he must sort matters out with Johnny Kypp. The mere proximity of the man aroused hostility and suspicion inside him. But circumstances beyond his control had placed him in the craziest of situations. A stark choice had to be made. He must either trust Kypp – or kill him!
When he stepped into the marshal’s office, he found Kypp sitting at the desk, thumbing through some papers, the marshal’s badge pinned to his vest. His pistol was unholstered on the desk before him, and now he looked up, his eyes widening to take in Angus as he loomed over him.
‘You offered me the job of deputy,’ Angus said. ‘I want to hear your version of events before I say yes or no.’
Kypp pursed his lips, eyeing him coldly.
‘I don’t care about how you got involved with the bank robbery,’ Angus went on. ‘You paid the penalty. That’s in the past. It’s what happened after you came out of prison, I want to know about, and why my wife was murdered!’ He choked on the last words. They sounded so stark.
Kypp said, ‘You’d better sit down, Angus Troon. Ain’t no point in standing there like a thunder-cloud.’
Angus lowered himself on to a chair. He was reluctant to lower his guard when near this man, but he must give him his chance to speak. Maybe, just maybe, he had misjudged him. At any rate, there was a lot of explaining to do.
Kypp took a deep breath as if bracing himself for what he had to say. He rested his hands on the desk before him, inches from his gun.
‘Like I told you,’ he began, ‘I got mixed up with the wrong crowd. Robbin’ the bank was bad. I should never have got involved, but I sure paid the penalty, and I have no intention of gettin’ put back behind bars.’
He paused, seeming to compose his thoughts. This was a new side of Johnny Kypp, but Angus was still suspicious.
‘I can tell you,’ Kypp went on, ‘Duquemain’s as mean as sin. They don’t come no meaner. He made me and Glaswall swear to make your life hell, until he could get at you himself. And now he’s on the loose, so you’d better keep your wits about you, Angus Troon. And so had I, ’cos he sure hates me for goin’ back on my word. All I did was trash your vegetables, after that I didn’t have any truck with what Glaswall had in mind, killin’ them horses and all. The whole thing sickened me.’
‘My wife’s dead!’ Angus exploded. ‘My life has been ruined!’
‘I never had anythin’ to do with that. I agree, it’s terrible, should never have happened. I never dreamed Glaswall would go that far.’
Angus felt his emotions boiling. ‘So it was Glaswall who did that to Leah.’
Kypp nodded solemnly. ‘I used to think he had some humanity in his soul, but I was wrong. Trouble is, Arabella was broody and desperate. The old man couldn’t give her what she wanted – a kid of her own. So Glaswall promised he’d get her a baby – and she was happy enough, until you turned up.’
Angus raised an accusing finger towards Kypp. ‘But you knew that what was goin’ on was the blackest of sins.’
‘Not until after it happened, and that’s God
’s truth. If I’d known, I’d have found some way of stoppin’ Glaswall.’
‘How come your old man got himself such a young wife?’ Angus asked.
‘Oh … Arabella. She married Dad for his money, I guess. He’s got quite a bit salted away. I won’t tell you how he came by it. But she got more than she bargained for – not just money.’
Angus nodded, not knowing whether to believe this man or not.
Kypp raised his hands, palms towards Angus as if in a sign of peace. ‘Look, you and I’ve gotta trust each other. Duquemain and Glaswall want us both dead, and I can tell you, it’s either us or them. They’re gonna show up in these parts mighty soon, that’s for sure. I’ve got this injured shoulder which don’t help none. But I reckon that together we’ll stand a better chance. Take on the job of deputy, Angus Troon.’
Conflicting thoughts battled in Angus’s brain. ‘How do I know I can trust you?’ he asked.
‘You can,’ Kypp said emphatically. ‘I give you my word. Let’s shake on it.’
With some effort, because his shoulder pained him, he extended his injured right hand. ‘You take the job of deputy. Let’s shake on it.’
Angus gazed at the hand of the man he had hated for so long, the hand that hung there like a leaf waiting to fall. Kypp had formed the very core of his hatred for months. It wasn’t easy to adjust his mind, yet if the story he’d told was true, what he was suggesting made sense. Angus gazed into Kypp’s brooding eyes, trying to find something that would prove the man was being honest. He found nothing but, tentatively, he reached out, their hands touched and then grasped each other in a shake.
‘We’ll go across and see the mayor,’ Kypp said, ‘and get you sworn in as paid deputy town marshal.’
Johnny Kypp seemed to have his office well organized. He worked out a roster for duties in which he and Angus took turns. These included hours at manning the desk, patrols around town, keeping an eye on the saloon and generally scouting for trouble. There was also the young, part-time deputy Dave Sangster. The last time Angus had seen him was when he had been crawling out from beneath Squirrel-Tooth Sally.
With things running pretty quiet in town, the demands of the job were not great. Angus found himself with alternate days free, and spent as much time as he could with baby Anna, who was pink and beautiful and gurgling with happiness. He made her a wooden rocking-horse and her laughter was a joy to hear.
He didn’t see much of Johnny Kypp, except when they handed over duties. He wondered if he was spending his spare time at the family homestead. Kypp’s right arm had stiffened from the wound he’d taken, and he took to wearing his gun on the left side and practising with his left hand. Neither man was over-talkative by nature, and Angus was content to keep it that way. He had the feeling that events would unfurl very soon.
Old suspicions lingered with him, along with the knowledge that Duquemain and Glaswall were at large and dangerous. Angus would welcome the appearance of both men, particularly Glaswall. Each passing day strengthened his belief in what Johnny Kypp had told him, strengthened his hatred for the man who had brought about the death of his beloved wife. And he would know no peace until Glaswall had paid for his dreadful sin.
One night he dreamed that he had suddenly met Glaswall and Duquemain face to face in the street. And he emptied his gun into them and enjoyed a moment of nigh orgasmic exaltation as the two men sprawled at his feet, bleeding and dying. The dream was so strong, so vivid, that he experienced great disappointment when he awoke to reality.
On Saturday morning, a number of reward posters arrived on the morning stage and were delivered to the office. The Kansas Territorial Legislature had offered a reward of $5000 for the capture, dead or alive, of Duquemain. Angus ensured that the posters were displayed around town.
Then, the following afternoon, events took a surprising turn. Elizabeth rushed to the office through the snow, nigh slipping over in her haste. She handed Angus a letter.
‘Ivan Polanski delivered this,’ she panted. ‘He asked me to give it to you.’
Angus felt puzzled. Polanski and his family were Russian immigrants and they ran a farm a half-mile east from Troon’s Ferry, now renamed Kruger’s Ferry. He tore open the letter, not recognizing the scrawled handwriting on the note.
Angus Troon
I have important news for you. I’m staying with the Polanski family. I have run away from the Kypps. Terrible things have happened. I must see you. You are in great danger. Come to the Polanski place tomorrow evening. I will tell you everything. Burn this immediately. If Johnny sees it, I am dead!
Your friend
Arabella Kypp
‘What is it?’ Elizabeth asked.
Angus had implicit trust in the girl. He passed her the note to read. He produced matches from his pocket and tore one off from the block. When Elizabeth returned the paper, he set light to it and burned it to ashes.
‘You won’t go, will you?’ Elizabeth said anxiously. ‘It’s probably a trap.’
Angus pondered for a moment, then shook his heart. ‘It might be,’ he conceded. ‘On the other hand, it might not. There’s only one way to find out.’
‘Oh God, Angus,’ she gasped, her grey eyes full of concern. ‘You’ll have to be so careful.’
He recalled when another person had murmured a similar warning to him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
He left in the morning of next day. As he rode a great owl swooped so low that Angus felt the stir of air from the slow beat of its silent wings. He was hunched in his buckskin coat. It was bitterly cold, the wind gusting snow in his face, and Judas slipped more than once. He wondered whether he was being lured into a trap. Were Duquemain and Glaswall awaiting him at the Polanski farm? He figured that giving himself plenty of time before his evening appointment would allow him to keep watch on the farm during the afternoon to see if anything aroused his suspicions. If either of the outlaws showed himself, he would shoot at him, and with the prospect of bullets flying, he had been insistent that Elizabeth should remain behind. She’d already risked so much for him.
He turned off the trail a half-mile before it reached the ferry. He struck east, and well before noon he was hidden up in the aspens overlooking the Polanski farm, where smoke rose from a chimney. There was an orderliness about it that was typical of the Russian immigrants, with neat fences and well organized barns for storing wheat.
He watched the place through his eye-glass during the long, icy hours of the afternoon. He saw both Ivan Polanski and his wife Olga step out, well wrapped up, to use the outhouse. Ivan worked for an hour or so in the barn, then went back to the house. As the light faded lights showed from the windows. If Arabella was down there, or any of the outlaws, they were keeping well hidden. The thought occurred to Angus that Arabella might be so bitter about his removing Anna that she herself might be planning some vengeance. On any account, he knew that he must be vigilant.
Now, with night deepening, he decided it was time for action. He tethered Judas back in the aspens and descended until he reached the open slope. Beneath him light from the farmhouse glowed through the curtained windows. He paused to check that his gun was ready, then he cupped his hands to his mouth and unleashed a loud ‘Hi there!’
There was no response, so he repeated the call.
This time he heard the rattle of bolts being drawn back on the main door, and it opened to allow light to spew across the porch. In the doorway a bulky figure was silhouetted – Ivan Polanski.
‘Who is there?’ the farmer called in his thick Russian accent.
Angus felt disinclined to shout his name into the night.
‘You left a note,’ he shouted. ‘I’ve come to see Arabella Kypp.’
The man visibly relaxed. ‘Welcome,’ he called. ‘Come in.’
Angus paced forward, well aware that his shadowy figure would be an easy target against the snowy background of the slope. His eyes darting around him, his nerves on edge and his hand resting on the butt of his gun, he
made the descent. He was ready to plunge to the side at the first hint of danger, but none came, and a moment later he found himself stepping up on to the porch.
The Russian faced him, his hand extended in greeting.
‘Come along inside, my friend,’ he said. ‘It is too cold out here. Arabella is waiting. She has had a terrible ordeal.’
Angus shook the man’s hand, feeling he was sincere. He entered the main room of the house, where a big fire blazed in a stone fireplace and the fresh-cut logs filled the air with crackle. Angus was surprised by the numerous icons of sacred personages and egg-shaped, lacquered miniatures that adorned the walls, and the dozens of clay figurines in a glass-fronted cabinet. But he had little inclination to admire them.
The two women were seated at the table, turning to look at him.
‘Meet my wife, Olga,’ Polanski said, indicating the woman in a loose-fitting dress. ‘I think you already know Arabella. She has taken shelter with us.’
Angus nodded a greeting to Olga, then his attention swung to Arabella and he grunted with shock. The left side of her face was black and swollen with bruises, and there was an ugly cut which only just missed her eye.
‘What’s happened?’ he gasped.
‘I run away from the Kypps,’ Arabella cried. ‘I never want see them again. My husband … he do this.’
She pointed a trembling finger at the brutal marks on her face.
‘He say I nag him; he say he cannot stand my tongue any more. But I never nagged. I only say what is right.’ She paused to take in a shuddering breath. ‘But Johnny is worst. He knock me down, rip me naked and… .’
‘Johnny?’ Angus said.
‘Sí … It was him. He rape me!’ Her lips were quivering, her eyes spilling with tears. ‘And my husband, he stand and watch and … he laugh!’
Angus gasped.
‘And you know what Johnny say?’ the Mexican girl went on. ‘He say: that hoity-toity Troon woman enjoy it. Why shouldn’t you!’
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