Stepping inside the hotel, Matthew saw a caged-off area with a telegraph machine and a portly woman inside. He walked up and cleared his throat. She looked at him and he saw that her large, watery blue eyes were wide with fear.
“I would like to send a telegraph, please,” he said.
She pulled a piece of paper toward herself and held her quill in readiness. Her fat cheeks quivered with anxiety and Matthew knew that something was very wrong. Standing up straight, he turned around just as Roy murmured, “Boss…”
Two men were walking up behind them. They both wore stars on their coats and one of them held a cocked and loaded pistol in his right hand. “Put your hands in the air!” one of them barked. “You are under arrest for the rape and murder of one Prudence Owens!”
Matthew and Roy glanced at one another in shock, knowing that things had just become much more complicated.
~
Later that afternoon, as Matthew and Roy sat together in one cell, Gertie Mumford entered the jailhouse with a large shallow bowl of food in her arms.
“I brung the sheriff and his deputy some supper,” she announced.
The Gold Bar deputy, a handsome kid who seemed confused by the whole affair, said, “Mrs. Mumford. You know that food ain’t allowed in here or regular civilians neither on account of the bad sorts we get.”
Gertie rolled her eyes and said, “These two men aren’t bad sorts, Davey. This whole arrest has been a mistake, you’ll see. Meanwhile, they need to eat something. So let me pass!”
She marched past the deputy and approached their cell. Shoving a bowl filled with stew and bread under the metal bars, she asked, “Boys, I’m operating under the assumption that these allegations against you are a bunch of bull?”
Matthew felt the heat of false accusation warm his face. He nodded and said, “Yes, Ma’am. We arrested her parents for malicious mischief and murder in Wenatchee but, when we left, the girl was safe and awaiting the circuit judge’s arrival. If that girl was raped and murdered, I aim to find out who actually did the deed, if it’s the last thing I ever do.”
Gertie stood in front of them and her shoulders sagged in frustration. “I thought so, Sheriff. No man takes such good care of a stray Indian girl only to rape and murder another.” Glancing over her shoulder at the deputy who stood by the front door looking like he didn’t know which way to turn, Gertie stepped up close to the bars and whispered, “What can I do to help?”
Matthew smiled. “Here’s money,” he said, reaching into his money-belt and withdrawing some bills. “Please send a telegraph to Spokane informing my wife and my deputies what has happened. Tell my wife, Iris, that I need her to board a train to come and fetch Sarah back home to her tribe.” He glanced up at the deputy who was walking toward them with alarm in his eyes.
“Hey, Mrs. Mumford,” the young man cautioned. “Don’t get too close to those prisoners. They’re dangerous men!”
Gertie turned around and said, “Foo!”
Turning back, she added, “Davey-boy is getting a mite nervous, Sheriff, so I really should be on my way. Anything else I can do?”
Matthew eyed Davey and said, “Just tell Iris to contact the Washington State Governor, Elisha Ferry, about what has happened, okay?”
Gertie’s eyes got big and so did the deputy’s. Then, the old woman grinned and said, “I sure will, Sheriff. Now eat up that dinner. I’ll be back in the morning to fetch the bowl.
Chapter 17
It’s A Trick!
Matthew and Roy had stayed up late talking and making plans but now they lay quietly, trying to get a little shut-eye before morning. Matthew, however, was too keyed up to rest. He was worried that he would never be able to find Iris’s niece. They’d had a good start but there were too many obstacles—being six hours or so behind the wagon didn’t help, and neither did finding and taking care of Sarah.
This latest development was the real deal-breaker though. Matthew knew that Donnelly had set this game in play. The man was covering his ass, plain and simple, and would stop at nothing—even the rape and murder of a defenseless girl—to sell his kidnapped victims to the highest bidder for a profit.
Matthew also realized that Winslow must be on the take and he swore vengeance against the man’s crooked hide. Only a lawman could swear a warrant out on another officer and most sworn sheriffs hesitated to do so, at least not without solid proof. This was the work of a desperate man.
He almost grinned. Well, he thought with a certain amount of pleasure, it was a bad move. Especially since the Washington State governor had once been a close, personal friend of his deceased uncle, Jonathon Wilcox.
Matthew held no doubt that, as soon as Governor Ferry heard about what had happened, he and Roy would be free to pursue their objectives. But he worried that, by then, it would be too little, too late as he had heard about the flesh-market auctions that took place all over the country.
It had started early in the century when pioneers first stared heading west. White girls were beautifully exotic and, to many Indians and Mexicans, as easy to pick as apples off the tree. The girls were often swept away forever, either to serve as slaves or sexual bondservants to whoever was able to pay the highest price.
Then, many a Middle Eastern sheik and even some Far Eastern princes started sending agents to the new world to procure the finest female flesh for their assorted temples and harems. Countless thousands of young women had met their fate at the hands of unscrupulous dealers over the last six or seven decades. It wasn’t until the Pinkerton agency grew in strength and stamina, and telegraph machines opened communication from coast to coast, that open abductions finally tapered off.
Which wasn’t to say that flesh trading was over…far from it. Matthew grimaced in the darkness, trying not to let his imagination get the better of him. Amelia was only seventeen years old. She might be smart and, according to Iris, full of beans. But she was ill-equipped to deal with the men who sought to buy her services.
He sat up on his cot and stared over at the young deputy, Davey Humphries. The boy was asleep with his head down on the desk. He was green, Matthew acknowledged with a sigh, but nobody’s fool. Although he was drooling like a baby on the sheriff’s desk blotter, the keys to the jail cells were clutched tightly in his hand.
Damnit! he swore. Both he and Roy knew they would eventually get out of this mess, but it would probably take days…days they did not have to spare.
Suddenly he heard a light clatter by the cell’s window. Looking up at the ceiling where the barred window let in air and some meager sunlight during the daytime hours, Matthew watched as a small rock sailed through the enclosure. Standing, he walked to the opening and whispered, “Who’s there?”
“It’s Abner, boss. I need to tell you something.”
Looking over his shoulder at the still-sleeping Davey, Matthew stepped up on Roy’s cot.
“Hold on a minute, Abner,” he said and bent down to shake Roy awake. The deputy’s eyes opened in alarm and then focused on Matthew’s face.
“Shhh!” he whispered with his index finger on his lips for emphasis.
Roy nodded and scooted over to the foot of the cot so Matthew could get as close to the window opening as possible.
“What is it, Abner?”
“Sir, because of his speech problems, Dicky wanted me to tell you what he found out a little while ago.” There was a slight pause as Abner tried to get the message right. “Sir, according to Dicky, this arrest…this whole thing is a trick.”
Matthew felt a thrill of alarm. Being arrested was one thing, especially since he knew the warrants would soon be rendered useless. Being set up for assassination was another thing entirely. “How is this a trick, Abner? Did Dicky say?”
“Yes. He said the three men who reported your so-called crimes to the sheriff here in town are Donnelly’s men and they’re not lawmen at all. Sir, you and Roy need to get out of there right now! Dicky and I fear an ambush!”
Matthew bit his lip in
frustration. They had no guns, no knives, no way to get out of the spot they were in. Then he heard something outside the window that made his lips turn up in a smile. A soft nicker and Abner’s voice crooning, “Come on, Baby. That’s a good girl!”
Matthew couldn’t see out the window but he could hear as the 6’8” Abner walked his giant Percheron to the outside wall and slowly climbed onto the mare’s back. “Stand still…that’s my good girl!”
Suddenly, two pistols appeared on the other side of the bars. They were clutched in Abner’s big none-too-steady hand and Matthew quickly seized the weapons and handed them to Roy.
“Abner, you’re a genius,” Matthew whispered.
“What do you want us to do now, boss?” the young man asked.
“Head back to the house and be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. Make sure you’re both armed, Abner. It might get a little exciting around here.”
“What about Sarah, sir?”
“Leave her where she is. I’m sure Gertie will take good care of her until Iris gets here.”
“Okay. Good luck!”
Matthew heard the clop of the draft horse’s hooves moving away. Then he looked Roy in the eye and said, “You ready to break out of here?”
“Yup,” Roy responded, staring out at the snoozing deputy. “How should we do this?”
He thought for a moment. “I really don’t think that kid is in on this. Maybe his sheriff is innocent, too. I can’t know for sure but I don’t want Davey to get hurt, so follow my lead.”
Matthew sat down on his bunk, hiding his pistol behind his back, and Roy followed suit. Then, affecting a terrified and pain-filled voice he called out, “Deputy! Wake up, please! I’m sick!”
Matthew huddled on the side of the cot with his thin blanket pulled up over his shoulders like a shawl. He shivered dramatically and pulled a long, sick face.
Davey startled awake, stood up, and moved in their direction. “What’s the matter with you?”
Matthew groaned in reply and Roy said, “Maybe it was something he ate.”
Davey frowned down at the prisoner and wondered what to do. Clearing his throat, he said, “You want me to fetch the doc?”
Matthew shook his head. “Nah, just bring me a bucket. Think I’m going to throw up.”
Davey nodded and walked a few feet away to fetch a slop pail. When he turned back around, he saw Matthew and Roy standing upright, pointing pistols at his belly. Realizing he’d been duped, he dropped the bucket and held his hands in the air.
“Don’t shoot!” he pleaded. “I got a wife and two little’uns!”
“Son, we don’t want to hurt you,” Matthew said, softly. “We just need you to let us out of here. There’s been a terrible mistake and I think that men are coming—soon—to kill us. I don’t doubt for a minute they will kill you, too, if you get in their way.”
Davey looked undecided for a moment until the two lawmen cocked their pistols. The sound echoed in the hallway and the young man blanched. Then he stepped up to the lock and inserted the key.
When the door swung open, Matthew said, “Head on over to that chair, Davey. I’m going to tie you in.”
Fear made him chatty. “Do you have to, Sheriff? What if I need to piss? Hey, how did you get those pistols? I know for a fact that I took your firearms myself. It was that giant that rides with you, wasn’t it?”
Matthew nodded his head at Roy who immediately walked over to the desk and opened the bottom drawer. Pulling out their own gun belts and pistols, he slung them over his shoulder. Then he turned the lantern low and twitched the front window curtains closed.
As Matthew tied Davey’s wrists together, he said, “Listen up, Deputy. My men and I were falsely accused. We are searching for a bunch of missing girls and need to hurry out of here. But you need to tell your boss that the men who leveled charges at us are NOT lawmen at all. Sheriff Winslow of Wenatchee is in cahoots with their boss, though, so you need to be careful!”
“But…” Davey stopped talking and his eyes got big when a volley of gunfire erupted in the street. They heard a wretched screech and angry shouting. Matthew and Roy ducked and moved swiftly to the window. Peering outside, they saw three shadowy figures walking up the boardwalk on the opposite side of the road.
They also saw Baby, Abner’s draft horse, on the ground thrashing her legs and squealing in agony. It was hard to see through the darkness with only a few storefront lanterns lighting the hour but Roy hissed in anger, “Goddammit, Matthew! That’s Abner underneath his horse. He’s stuck and he looks injured!”
Turning around, Matthew ran to where Davey sat agog and dragged the man, chair and all, to the back. Taking a deep breath, he tried the door and it opened into an alley.
“Come on!” he cried and the two men took the deputy out and sat him on the stoop. Then Matthew threw a blanket over the kid so he blended into the night.
He whispered, “Davey, this is a showdown. It has nothing to do with you but, if you shout out, I think they will shut you up forever. Got me?”
Matthew saw the boy’s head bob up and down in agreement. “Good, you stay as quiet as a mouse and, when this is all over, you tell your boss what I said. Okay?” Another nod and the two lawmen ran away into the night.
Donnelly’s crew stepped up on the boardwalk in front of the jailhouse. They opened the door with their pistols cocked and ready to fire but stopped in confusion when they saw the empty cells plus the local deputy was nowhere to be seen.
Frustrated, they glared at one another with displeasure. Their orders were clear: Find and do away with the Spokane County sheriff’s posse. The Gold Bar sheriff, Troy Duncan, was now dead and so was his wife. Deputy Davey Humphries should have been easy pickings, too, but he was gone as were the men they were ordered to kill.
Swearing, the outlaws stepped back outside. It was too late and too dark to find the missing prisoners but they could kill the giant man pinned underneath his horse and move on to kill the Wenatchee deputy-turned-traitor, Dicky McNulty.
Stepping down onto the muddy street, they froze when they heard the words, “Don’t move or I’ll shoot you where you stand!”
Frozen in place, Donnelly’s henchmen understood that the Spokane County sheriff had somehow gotten the drop on them.
Chapter 18
A Bloody Mess
Donnelly’s men were at a distinct disadvantage. Roy stood behind them in the dark and Matthew faced them with both pistols clutched in his hands. And unbeknownst to the outlaws, Dicky had run out of Gertie’s house and hidden behind Abner’s horse. Baby had trembled and moaned, jerking as her blood spilled into the dirt. She had been shot several times but now, mercifully, the big mare lay dead on top of her owner.
Feeling remorseful about using Abner’s horse as a hide, Dicky inched his rifle up and over the animal’s belly until the barrel site was set dead center on one of Donnelly’s crew…a particularly cruel specimen who had often ridiculed Dicky’s stutter. He closed one eye and hoped he wouldn’t need to shoot. Although he had often imagined getting even with his tormentors, Dicky had never shot a man before.
Meanwhile, Abner lay stock-still. His left leg was numb now but he had no doubt that it had been broken in the fall. He’d heard two distinct cracks as Baby keeled over, pinning him on the road under her weight. Unwanted tears filled his eyes, both from the agony of his injury and the loss of his loyal mare. He didn’t have time to waste on emotions, though, as his boss held the three bogus officers in his sights. Unfortunately, one of those men already had his gun out and was aiming it at Abner’s head.
“I’m gonna plug that boy of yours, less you drop your guns!” he shouted.
“Don’t think so.” Matthew pulled the trigger and watched as the man’s pistol flew out of his hand onto the road.
The man screeched and jumped up and down, shouting, “Aw, shitfire! My hand! He shot my hand!”
His companions opened fire. But it was too dark for them to take good aim, a fact for which Matt
hew was profoundly grateful. Fortunately, the lantern light on the front of the hotel illuminated his attackers enough to give him a clear line of sight. He lifted his pistol, aimed and fired. One of the taller men, the one who seemed to be the boss of this outfit, clutched at his left shoulder with a cry of pain.
Matthew felt a line of fire scorch across his left thigh. Goddammit! he cursed and stumbled, ducking behind a water trough. He wasn’t sure who had shot him but it didn’t matter at this point.
He heard the staccato percussion of pistol shots and then an enormous bellow of rifle fire that seemed to serve as an exclamation point to the night’s proceedings. Except for a shuffle of feet and assorted gasps of shock from the townsfolk who had awoken to the ruckus and come outside to investigate, silence reigned.
Struggling to his feet, Matthew peered over the trough and saw Roy and Dicky standing over Donnelly’s men. Two of them looked to be dead and the other one was huddled in the mud rocking back and forth and cradling the shattered mess that used to be his gun hand. He groaned with shock and pain, muttering, “Look at my hand…my poor hand is shot to shit!”
Roy walked up to Matthew. His grim look of resolve was replaced with alarm when he saw the dark, bloody stain on Matthew’s leg. “You’re hit. Why didn’t you say something?”
“It’s nothing, Roy. Just a graze.” Looking around at the prone bodies, he said, “Well, this is a bloody mess.”
Roy nodded in agreement, then added, “Better thank Dicky when you get the chance, Matthew. I got off a good shot and killed one man but the skunk you wounded had you in his sights. I think he woulda got you in the back but Dicky laid him low with the rifle.”
Matthew stared across the street at the young deputy. He was kneeling over Abner now and something he said made the bigger man grin with delight despite his injury and the dead horse pinning him to the ground.
He was about to call out to Dicky when a man came running up the street, shouting, “The sheriff! The sheriff and his wife are both dead!”
Shouts of astonishment and outrage filled the air as the people in town took in what had just happened. More than one angry set of eyes landed on Matthew and his deputies in accusation.
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