by Walton Young
‘If you were to do that, Curly, no one would see you. Where would the drama be? I want the whole damn world – at least Cheyenne – to hear your pronouncement. Trust me, Curly. After this is all over, you’ll find yourself a leading citizen of Wyoming. Men will shake your hand. Men will slap you on the back. Men will point you out to their sons. Years from now a monument will be erected in your honor. Of course, by then you’ll be dead.’
‘I still think you’re crazy.’
Lansing motioned to Schultz, who went to a mahogany sideboard and brought back a small cowhide bag pulled tight at the top with rawhide and handed it to Curly. The sack was heavy.
‘Gold coins,’ Lansing said. ‘I know how much you like gold. What’s in that sack says I’m not as crazy as you think and you’re going to do what I’m telling you to do.’
Curly stood and held the bag firmly, as if at any moment Lansing would decide to take it back. He started for the door but stopped.
‘Lansing, how did you know the sheriff would ride out to see Swearingen?’
‘I just figured he would. And you did what you were instructed to do.’
‘This web that you’re weaving – you must really have it in for Swearingen.’
‘Curly, my motivations are not any of your affair.’
‘What’d he do, anyway – become too friendly with your wife?’
Curly smiled a smile that quickly vanished. Lansing suddenly was only inches from his face. The skin was pulled tight across his face, so tight Curly thought he was confronting a skeleton.
‘Get out, Curly. You don’t want to make me angry, do you?’
Curly went to the back door and opened it slowly. He expected Rayburn to be waiting for him. He might ask a question or two and then there would be a gunshot. He pulled his pistol and stepped into the alley.
‘If you’re out here, Rayburn, show yourself.’
No answer came. Curly sought the darkness of another alley, a safe place where he would count his money.
Schultz and Palmer lifted their derbies from the hall tree.
‘What’s the hurry, gentlemen?’ Lansing asked. ‘Don’t leave town. Stay and see the show.’
‘I’d rather not,’ Palmer said.
Palmer and Schultz went out of the front door and looked up and down the street. In the distance the shadow of Curly Pike stumbled into the darkness.
‘Pike doesn’t know how right he is,’ Palmer said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Back in New York Lansing put together a deal to move into the garment district. He had a lot of money at stake. He heard Swearingen was doing the same thing. Lansing met with John Tisdale, tried to get him to reveal all of Swearingen’s strategy, but Tisdale wouldn’t do it. Lansing offered him a lot of money, even offered him a job. Still, Tisdale wouldn’t budge. Lansing doesn’t like being told no. While he was trying to get information from Tisdale, Swearingen was getting information from Lansing’s wife.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Oh, yes, I’m serious. Swearingen has told me about it. He was quite pleased with himself. He cornered the market, and Lansing was left out in the cold. Have you ever seen Lansing’s boy?’
‘No.’
‘Well, he doesn’t much look like Lansing. He doesn’t have Lansing’s gaunt face. He looks like somebody else.’
‘Do you think Tisdale knew what Swearingen was doing?’
‘I don’t know. Probably not. But Lansing believed he did.’
‘Why didn’t he divorce her? New York society would have understood.’
‘He would have felt humiliated,’ Palmer said. ‘Besides, her family’s money is older than his. He needs her to open certain doors he cannot open. But at least he can get through them. Swearingen will never be able to.’
‘Lansing has come a long way to get revenge. I wonder why he needs us.’
‘He doesn’t, not really. It’s all smoke. He wants to give the impression of a united front to deal with the homesteaders, a united front that includes Swearingen. No one will suspect what he is really doing.’
‘Swearingen is smart. He’ll figure it out.’
‘By then, it will be too late.’
‘Pike is right about something else,’ Schultz said.
‘Yeah?’
‘Lansing is crazy. After he deals with Swearingen, if he decides he wants our land, what sort of web will he spin for us?’
‘I don’t know about you, but I’m going back to New York.’
‘Do you think you’ll be safe in New York?’
‘I’ll take my chances there.’
Chapter Ten
Sunlight was two hours away from sliding across the window sills, and Swearingen shifted his large body in the chair. He was stiff. Rising to his feet seemed impossible, but a horse was coming up the drive. Ezra, Marcus, and Owen appeared to be asleep. He did not understand how anyone could sleep with the moans and screams from upstairs. Peter sat with his face in his hands.
Swearingen fixed his large hands on the arms of the chair and struggled to his feet. Peter looked up. His eyes were red.
‘I’ve got to get some fresh air,’ the big man said. ‘Do you want to come?’
‘No. I’ll stay here.’
Swearingen walked into the hall and out of the front door. One of the ranch hands kept a dog, and the dog started barking. Someone shouted for it to shut up and it did. The rider headed to the barn.
‘Rayburn is keeping long hours,’ Swearingen said.
The foreman came out of the barn and walked toward the house. In the blackness of the night he was barely visible.
‘Out for a little ride?’ Swearingen asked.
‘I rode into town. I like to find out if there’s any news worth knowing.’
‘Is there?’
‘Yeah, you might say there is.’
‘Are you going to keep me guessing?’
‘The worthy members of the town council had a little meeting in the sheriff’s office. It had to be an awfully important meeting because the newspaper lady was there. I can’t tell you what they said. For some reason they didn’t invite me. I found out – later – that Sheriff Harrison is dead. Have you heard? I can tell you one thing – the sheriff’s untimely demise apparently hit the councilmen pretty hard.’
‘I would expect that. Yeah, I heard about Harrison awhile ago. Rayburn, I wanted you to talk to Harrison. I didn’t want you to kill him.’
‘Why is it every time somebody gets killed I get blamed?’
‘I can’t imagine.’
‘Anyway, Zeke Stuart is wearing the sheriff’s badge. That should make everyone sleep well.’
‘He’s not the only one wearing a badge. He has help.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Two deputies are inside the house right now,’ Swearingen said. ‘That fellow McPherson and his companion, Chesterfield.’
‘You’re telling me they’re deputies?’
‘You look concerned, Rayburn. I’m not paying you to get scared.’
‘I’m well aware of what you’re paying me for, and, I have to say, you’re getting your damn money’s worth. You got any complaints?’
‘I have no complaints.’
Swearingen turned, but Rayburn ran up the steps and grabbed his arm.
‘You haven’t heard all my news,’ Rayburn said. ‘I saw Andrew.’
‘Where? What’s he doing? Was he with Rose again?’
‘He rode into town. But not to see Rose. Just as pretty as you please, he rode right up to the sheriff’s office. Curly Pike was with him. It seems your son has turned himself in. At least he’s making himself comfortable in a cell.’
Swearingen felt weak. He could not believe what Rayburn had just said. Surely Ginevra had not advised their son to go to jail, he thought. She had confused him. He wasn’t thinking straight.
‘He turned himself in? For what? Why would he do such a thing?’
‘I talked with Curly. He says your s
on’s taking the blame for the lynching of that farm boy. I don’t think he liked seeing that farm boy who rustled some of your cattle swinging at the end of a rope. Andrew doesn’t have the stomach for that sort of thing. I want you to understand something, Swearingen.’
‘Just what is it you want me to understand?’
‘Andrew had better not do any talking. To make this country profitable for men like you, certain steps, as we know, have to be taken. They’re not always pleasant. And they’re not always within the strictest confines of the law. But they’re steps that have to be taken. That means no one needs to do any talking to the law. Can I make myself any clearer?’
‘Rayburn, I don’t like your tone. You do what I’m paying you to do, and you won’t have anything to worry about. My son is not doing any talking, as you put it. Something crazy has gotten into his head, and he needs our help. We have to get him out. No son of mine is going to stay in jail. After this damn baby gets born, we’re riding into town to get him out. Pick some men we can trust. Just a few. I don’t want to stir up any more trouble than is necessary. But I want these men to be able to handle a gun.’
‘I’ve never broken a man out of jail who wants to be in jail.’
Swearingen went into the house and slammed the door. Suddenly, silently, a figure emerged from the shadows at the end of the porch. From the corner of his eye Rayburn saw and jumped back and stumbled down the steps and fell. He stood and the man hovered above him.
‘You’re nervous,’ Ezra said. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not going to kill you here. It’s not the time. It’s not the place. But I will kill you.’
‘To hell you will. A dog that turns tail and runs ain’t going to kill nobody.’
‘You killed John Tisdale. You killed Sheriff Harrison.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t kill either one of them.’
‘You were responsible for Jesse’s murder.’
‘Ford took care of that. I didn’t have anything to do with it. McPherson, go back to where you ran to. This ain’t no place for you.’
‘You tried to have me killed. You hired men to do it. You didn’t have the guts to do it yourself.’
‘You’re crazy. I didn’t try to have you killed. If I had tried, believe me – you wouldn’t be standing here now.’
Owen came onto the porch and stretched his arms and yawned.
‘Ezra, they’ve made some breakfast for us. Come on inside. Besides, there’s a bad smell out here.’
‘Watch your tongue, old man,’ Rayburn said.
‘We’re officers of the law,’ Owen said, and he pulled his coat back to show the badge. ‘You’re the one who’d better watch what you say. You threaten us, bud, and you’ll be on your way to the calaboose.’
Rayburn backed away into the darkness. The red tip of a cigarette flew into the air and landed in the dirt.
‘Ezra, the biscuits are getting cold.’
‘He killed John Tisdale. He killed Harrison. I’m convinced of it.’
‘You know it, and I know it, and probably the whole town knows it. But knowing it and proving it aren’t quite the same.’
‘I don’t have to prove it. When the time comes, I’m going to kill him. I made a mistake, Owen. I let him live. Before I left Missouri, I should have killed him. But it’s not too late. At least I’ve given him something to think about.’
‘Wait till after breakfast before you do any more killing. They’ve got eggs and ham in there. I know all about your reputation. You don’t like to do any killing on an empty stomach.’
‘Owen, I wanted to leave all the killing behind me. You do believe that, don’t you? I’m trying to make myself believe it, but it’s hard. And now I find Rayburn, a snake if there ever was one.’
‘Folks in Missouri used to tell me you were born with a six-shooter in your hand.’
‘I guess they were right. When I went to Jekyll Island, when I lived beside the ocean, I found a peace I had never known before. The salt in the ocean breeze seemed to cleanse me of the violence. There was joy waking up in the morning, something I hadn’t experienced in a long time. I wish I could have stayed there, but I couldn’t let Luke come out here by himself. He’s hotheaded sometimes. I was afraid he might end up like his brother. And as soon as I came back here, I had to kill those train robbers. And now there’s going to be more killing. I can’t escape it.’
Owen lay a hand on his shoulder.
‘Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think. You know, we can ride into town and put these badges down on the sheriff’s desk and catch the Union Pacific for points East.’
‘I can’t do that.’
‘I can slap handcuffs on the young Doctor Tisdale and charge him with being a threat to the peace and escort him back to Jekyll Island.’
‘I don’t think you can charge him with anything. Besides, I think he’s in love with that young woman who’s helping him right now.’
‘It must be wonderful to be young and to be in love.’
‘It is.’
‘Well, you may still be in love with that woman upstairs who just happens to be married to the wealthiest rancher in Wyoming, but you’re not young. Put the past behind you and move on.’
‘When I move on, the past is right behind me.’
‘Well, keep it behind you.’
‘Swearingen and Rayburn were talking about Andrew Swearingen, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.’
‘Where is that boy?’
‘Hopefully a long way from here. Owen, why didn’t you tell me about your eyes?’
‘What’s to tell?’
‘You can’t see too well.’
‘I can see well enough.’
‘How long have they been bothering you?’
‘We’re both getting old, Ezra. Things like this happen. Come on. Food’s getting cold.’
Owen turned and went into the hall. Ezra remained on the porch. His hand rested on the Colt at his side.
Eloise Endicott sat at her desk in the newspaper office and scribbled notes on a piece of paper. She had her lead story for the next edition. Cattle baron’s son turns himself in. It should make for interesting reading, she thought. Swearingen would not be happy.
She thought about the other cattle barons. They might not be as wealthy as Swearingen. Their spreads might not be as large as his. Still, they were a force to be reckoned with. If they sensed any kind of weakness in Swearingen, they, like a pack of wolves, would attack. She knew it, and so did Swearingen. He had sought to establish a kingdom in Wyoming, and she sensed that it was slowly disintegrating. On the one hand, Swearingen would have to defend himself against the other ranchers. On the other hand, he would have to deal with the homesteaders who refused to be intimidated.
‘One thing’s for sure,’ she said. ‘There’ll be plenty to write about.’
She needed to interview Andrew. Perhaps Zeke Stuart would not permit an interview. Because he was new on the job, he would be concerned about protocol, but she would try. She needed to find out why Andrew wanted to seek a jail cell instead of the safety of his father’s money.
Footsteps came down the sidewalk. She opened a desk drawer and gripped the pistol that lay there. The door opened and Lawrence Byrd walked in. She shut the drawer.
‘Why isn’t my only reporter getting some rest?’ she asked.
‘Couldn’t sleep.’
He removed his derby and sat in the chair in front of her desk.
‘The town is quiet tonight,’ he said. ‘It’s been quiet many times before, I guess, but tonight it’s different. There’s something about it that’s disquieting.’
‘You do like a play on words.’
‘Well, it is unsettling.’
She was fond of Byrd. He had a youthful energy, a determination that shone in the pursuit of a story. A younger version of Marcus Stokesbury, she thought. Tonight, though, he did not seem himself. The energy was not there.
‘What’s troubling you?’ she a
sked.
‘When you walk past the gentlemen’s club, especially at night, do you ever get the feeling someone is watching you? Do you ever get the feeling someone is paying attention to everything that occurs on the streets of Cheyenne?’
‘You have a vivid imagination.’
‘I guess. Earlier tonight I saw Curly Pike, that ranch hand from Swearingen’s. He was heading into the Two Rivers. I don’t think he saw me. I thought it was a bit strange that he would be in town so late. Then I ran into his foreman, Rayburn. I mean I literally ran into him on the sidewalk. He was in a hurry. We nearly knocked each other down. I apologized for not watching where I was going. He said nothing. Eloise, you should have seen his face. It was all drawn up in anger. I thought for a moment he was going to pull his pistol on me. And then he brushed past me. But the look on his face – well, when I went to the boarding house and lay down, I couldn’t sleep. I kept seeing his face. Something’s going to happen. I don’t know exactly what, but it’s not going to be good.’
Soon Swearingen will know that his younger son is in jail, she thought. She would like to observe him when he received the news. He’s like a volcano, she thought, and is about to explode.
‘Andrew Swearingen is in jail,’ she said.
‘In jail? What did he do?’
‘Apparently he had something to do with a lynching.’
‘The Darton boy.’
‘Yes, I suppose so. The strange thing is he wants to take all the blame.’
‘That is strange. I guess a guilty conscience got the best of him. Judge Henry is not in town. He won’t be back for at least two weeks.’
‘A lot can happen in two weeks,’ she said.
‘A lot can happen before sunrise.’
Chapter Eleven
Marcus walked slowly about the room. He carried a cup of coffee from the breakfast one of Swearingen’s servants had prepared. The moans and screams from upstairs came more quickly. Peter once again paced from his chair to the hearth, so Marcus sat down. Two men pacing would be a little too much, he decided. He figured the labor would not last much longer. By no means did he consider himself an expert on such matters, but it was just a feeling he had.
