by Peter Corris
Perry deliberated whether to wait for Lincoln near the house or to go looking for him. He was calm but tense, and he doubted he'd be able to endure a long wait. Better, he decided, to take the initiative and exploit the element of surprise. He began to move from building to building on the unburnt side of the town, working his way carefully, examining the houses and stores before entering them and looking intently across from each to the other side of the street for signs of movement among the collapsed, blackened structures. Perhaps Lincoln was over there to salvage something or to be sure that the fire was no longer a threat.
It was a slow process and Perry was quiet and deliberate in everything he did. The saloon made him pause. It was one of the few double-storeyed buildings on that side and he thought to go up to the top level to get a bird's-eye view. Another possible trap. He took his time before entering the bar and the first thing he saw was the demolished piano with the axe lying nearby. Perry shook his head and advanced up the stairs, keeping his back pressed against the stained, lifting wallpaper. Several of the stairs creaked under his weight but there was no sound from above. He gained the second floor, looked through the five rooms and found nothing except dust, furniture too decrepit to be worth taking away and empty bottles.
A balcony ran along the front of the building, accessible from one of the bedrooms. Perry forced open a stiff door and stepped out. Keeping well back in the shadows, he checked that the structure would bear his weight. It sagged, but held. He had a good view of the area he had passed through but looked it over carefully again. Nothing. He moved to the end of the balcony and looked in the opposite direction. He could see nothing to interest him on his side of the street but he caught a movement on the other side, among the smoking ruins up near the crossroad. Perry squinted through the smoke and made out the figure of a man, standing still, knee-deep in smouldering ash.
Perry left the saloon and ran across the road to a gutted store. Many of the buildings still had uprights standing and these, and chimneys and semi-collapsed awnings, provided some cover. He moved quickly towards the crossroad, pausing from time to time to look at the man ahead who stood with his head bowed. When Perry was only fifty yards away the man began to poke in the rubble with the stock of his rifle. Perry took advantage of the noise to approach silently to a distance of less than ten feet. His pistol was in his hand. Perry saw the black glove on the left hand and had no doubt he had found his man. Lincoln muttered something.
'Put the rifle down, Lincoln,' Perry said. 'And turn around very slowly. Do just as I say, or I swear I'll shoot you where you stand.'
41
The rifle seemed to fall lazily away from Lincoln's hands as he went into a crouch and turned; the gloved hand moved away from his side, giving him balance, as the right hand dropped towards the holstered pistol. Then the Colt was free and rising. Perry heard the click of the cocking action as he brought his own gun up and fired. The bullet took Lincoln squarely in the chest, throwing him back. He flailed with the left hand and fought to level his pistol. Perry shot him again, this time through the right shoulder. Lincoln squeezed off one shot as he fell on his back into the mess of burnt burlap sacks and broken jugs. His Colt fell free and Perry instinctively kicked it away.
It was then that Perry realised Lincoln's movements had been lightning fast. But his own had been faster and his concentration so intense that his opponent's moves had appeared to slow down. He bent over Lincoln, whose hat had come off so that he was staring up into the sun. Perry's shadow fell across the haggard, stubbled face and Lincoln blinked as if in gratitude.
'I had my gun out,' Perry said. 'You were a fool to try it.'
'I beat plenty of men had their guns out.' Lincoln coughed and blood trickled from his mouth. 'Knew you was coming for me, Perry. Just couldn't seem to keep my mind on the job of stopping you.'
'How did you know?'
'Bracken wrote me. Good ol' Dan'l Bracken. You broke him down all right. Poor bastard's going to have to work for his living. Guess that's not going to be my problem.'
'I'm sorry. I didn't want to shoot you. I just wanted the gold, or the money.'
Lincoln coughed again. 'Well, you got it.'
Lincoln wore a flannel shirt, poorly buttoned over a sweat-stained undershirt. A calico money belt was fastened around his waist above his gunbelt. A bloodstain was spreading across his chest. Perry fished out his still-damp handkerchief and wiped Lincoln's face. 'The money's not for me. If it matters to you.'
Lincoln's eyes were fluttering and his breath was coming in shallow gasps. 'Fanshawe?'
'A portion,' Perry said. 'Remember the dark people with the German pastor? You paid them a visit once and found out about the cave. Most of it's for them.'
'Pretty gal. Susan, Sally …'
'Sarah. Yes.'
Lincoln's eyes had closed but a blood-gorged blue vein throbbed in his forehead and his lips were moving. Perry bent closer to catch the choked, whispered words.
' … fresh grave … my Pa. Put me there … Wesley Shelby Lincoln … eighteen forty … ' His head lolled to one side and blood gushed from his mouth. The vein blanched, subsided and was still.
Perry unbuckled the money belt and slung it over his shoulder. He put Lincoln's hat over his face, collected his rifle and pistol and laid them beside him. Not far from the body he found a bottle of tequila sitting on a blackened building stump. He uncorked it and took a long drink. A breeze stirred and dislodged Lincoln's hat. Perry replaced it and looked at the gloved hand that seemed to have feebly clawed at the ground before Lincoln died.
'I get the feeling you weren't such a bad man,' he said. 'Just a damn unlucky one.'
The pale empty sky darkened and clouds rolled in from the south as Perry walked back, caught Lincoln's horse and harnessed it to the buggy. He drove to the church, loaded the body and headed for the town cemetery. The clouds were thick overhead and rain was falling in fat drops when Perry reached the grave of Lincoln's parents. He found the spade and began to dig, breaking through the hard earth and matted grass with difficulty. The rain was falling heavily by the time he'd finished digging. He put Lincoln in the hole along with his weapons and threw the now muddy earth in on top of him. He could find nothing to make a marker so he simply drove the shovel in to the depth of its blade at the end of the grave.
'Came a long way for such a short meeting,' Perry said. 'Rest in peace.'
The heavy rain had overflowed the bucket by the pump and Perry filled his canteens. He searched through the house Lincoln had lived in for food but found only tequila, laudanum, tobacco and a small quantity of flapjack flour. He took the flour and left the rest. After stripping naked and washing himself under a spout of water pouring out from the roof of the house, he dried off, dressed, made coffee and waited for the rain to stop. Then he caught the mule, tied it to the back of the buggy and set off on the trail that led to the Rio Grande river and Mexico. The first stage of a very long trip south.
Epilogue
Major Pierce Kite had a successful career as a showman, teaming up with William 'Buffalo Bill' Cody at one time, later managing a circus and remaining involved in prize-fighting throughout his life. He always maintained that he never saw a better shot than John Perry, with the possible exception of Annie Oakley, or a better fighter, with the possible exception of Jack Dempsey.
Daniel Bracken continued to work as a lawyer in Melbourne but gambling losses, ill-health and drunkenness caused a steady decline in his performance and prospects. He was forced to withdraw his funds from the firm of Gladehill & Browne and thereafter made a precarious living as a suburban solicitor. He made several approaches to publishers with outlines he had written of the story of a gold robbery and its aftermath but the promised book remained unwritten at the time of his death in 1886.
Margaret Fanshawe died in childbirth in Melbourne and her infant son survived her by only a few hours. Henry Fanshawe, who had attended his wife through her difficult confinement, never returned to the Mount Perfect
district. He sold his station and removed himself and his children to Tasmania where he enjoyed moderate success as a sheep farmer. He never discussed his life in the colony of Victoria and for years after his departure destroyed any mail that arrived addressed to him at Fanlock.
John Perry's telegram, sent from Chihuahua, Mexico, to Pastor Johannes Blenkiron, advising him of his success in gaining more money for the Jardwa, was received by the clergyman in Wilding on the eve of his departure from the district. An influenza epidemic had swept through the Aborigines of the Hertzberg Mission, killing all but Sarah Braun and two families, including several young children. Adolph Kinnear, weakened by tuberculosis, succumbed quickly to the disease. Arrangements had been made with the colonial government to remove the survivors to the Corranderk Mission, close to Melbourne, a prospect they viewed with terror.
Encouraged by Perry's message, Blenkiron, with the funds Perry had already provided, bought a farm on the outskirts of Warrnambool and settled his small flock there. A letter from Sarah Braun was awaiting Perry when he docked in Melbourne in December. He travelled immediately to Warrnambool and he and Sarah were married by the pastor. Perry gave half of the money he had found in Lincoln's possession to Blenkiron and wrote to Fanshawe advising him of the funds available. He never received a reply and eventually handed the remainder to Blenkiron.
Perry and Sarah worked for a year, helping to establish the farm. The rider, Bobby Kinnear, visited and Perry made a gift to him of Jamaica. During that time, Sarah received notice that a trunk and other items addressed to her from Fort Stockton in Texas, had been forwarded to the Warrnambool railway station. The consignment from Major Kite included $800 in gold U.S.-minted coins.
Perry and his wife sailed from Melbourne in January 1874 aboard the steamer Titus. Their plan was to visit every continent and as many as possible of the islands in the whole wide world.
