by Duane Boehm
Gideon blamed himself for the murder, having underestimated the resolve of the cowboys. The crime made for a poor start to his career as a sheriff and he sat lost in thought about it until he heard Mary sobbing. Looking up, he saw her standing in the corner with her hands pressed to her face and her shoulders quivering. He tended to think of Mary as near his own age, but at her vulnerable moments, he became aware of how young she really was – probably no older than twenty–seven.
He walked over to her and wrapped her in his arms. “Mary, I am so sorry. I know that you were close to him,” he said.
“Some people might have looked down on him for running a whorehouse, but he was good to me,” Mary said between sobs.
“It looks like the money is gone. Does he hide it down here somewhere?” Gideon gently asked her.
“No, he takes it up to his room with him when he is done for the night,” Mary said.
“The killer must have taken it then. Why don’t we get you upstairs and I will take care of getting this cleaned up,” Gideon said.
“I think I need to lie down. I’m feeling kind of dizzy,” she said as Gideon guided her towards the stairs.
After getting Mary to bed, Gideon was turning to leave when she said, “Gideon, I know this sounds terrible, but what’s going to happen to me now? I don’t have anywhere to go.”
Not knowing what to say, Gideon responded, “I promise you that I will find the person that did this.”
He walked back down the stairs and surveyed the scene again, fighting off the hopelessness that was trying to settle into his bones. Gideon had seen so much cruelty in this world, even been guilty of it, and he was tired of the meanness. Mr. Vander had been a likeable man, treating everybody well, and certainly didn’t deserve his fate.
Gideon walked to the cabinetmaker shop, giving the proprietor orders to pick up the body, and stressing that he wanted the remains cleaned up properly for burial. The cabinetmaker reminded Gideon that he would need to find some burial clothes and Gideon promised that he would look into it, hoping to talk Doc into doing it.
Fearing that the trail crew would be headed out that morning, Gideon walked quickly to the doctor’s office. “Doc, the son of a bitches killed Mr. Vander last night. I’m going to ride out and find them. Can you do me a favor and go over to Vander’s room and pick out some clothes to bury him in? Mary found him and she’s beside herself, but I imagine that she would know where a key to his room is if you need it and she can help in picking out something,” he said.
The news hit Doc Abram like a mule kick to the chest and he sat down in his chair, tapping his fingers on his desk. “I thought that there might be trouble, but I sure never thought that they would kill him. That old German was a good man. We talked all the time and I learned a lot about Germany from him. That’ll be the end to the only decent drinking establishment in town,” Doc said.
“I know it, Doc. I want to go find them before they get gone. I’ll talk to you when I get back,” Gideon said before heading to the stable to get his horse.
Gideon rode out east of town and found the Dutch Lady camp at the spot where most trail crews stayed when they passed through the area. Three men were sitting around a fire drinking coffee when he rode up. The oldest of the men walked over to greet Gideon as he climbed down from Buck.
“Good morning, Sheriff. I’m Casper Holmes, the trail boss. What brings you out here? Did my men tear up the town?” he said.
“You could say that. The saloon owner that took a club to two of your men a couple of years ago was murdered last night,” Gideon said.
“Sheriff, I admit that I have some rough men, but I don’t think any of them are murders,” Casper said.
“I need to talk to them anyway,” Gideon said.
“Most of them are over there under those trees sleeping off last night. I’ll walk over there with you if you don’t mind?” the trail boss said.
“Suit yourself,” Gideon said as he started walking.
“You’re new around here, aren’t you?” Casper asked as they walked.
“I’m the new sheriff, but I grew up here. My name is Gideon Johann. Sheriff Fuller retired,” Gideon said.
“I see. I wasn’t the trail boss when that other stuff happened. I try to keep the boys in line,” Casper said.
“It doesn’t look like you were too successful at it. That must be Runt,” Gideon said, pointing to the sleeping man with a crooked arm. “Which one is Tyler?”
The trail boss pointed to the man sleeping beside Runt. Gideon drew his Colt and kicked the boot of each man hard enough to cause both of them to sit up in surprise.
“What in the gosh darn hell is going on?” Tyler asked.
Gideon pointed his gun at them. “I’m the sheriff of Last Stand. Where were you two last night?” he asked.
Tyler rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve before speaking. “The five of us went to that saloon, Lucky Horse or something like that,” he said as he and Runt rose to their feet.
“What else did you do?” Gideon asked.
“Just got drunk like usual. That’s it,” Tyler said.
“How did you come by that blood on your sleeve?” Gideon asked.
Tyler looked at his sleeve as if he were trying to remember or think up a lie. “I went out in the alley and it was dark as hell and I was pissing away on some drunk’s leg that was sleeping out there. He got a bit riled up and we came to blows. See my hand,” he said, showing the abrasions on the knuckles of his right hand.
“You didn’t tell me you got in a fight,” Runt said.
“It didn’t come up,” Tyler said and gave Runt a menacing look.
“What about you? Were you with him all last night?” Gideon said, looking towards Runt.
“Like he said, we were at the Lucky Horse. We all took a turn upstairs with the whores,” Runt said, his false teeth clacking as he talked.
“What is this about?” Tyler asked.
“I’ll ask the questions and not you. Let me see your knife,” Gideon said to Tyler.
Tyler reached into his pocket, pulling out a folding knife, and handed it to Gideon. “I cleaned a rabbit yesterday. That’s why it’s bloody. You can ask anybody about it,” he said.
“I can vouch that he brought a rabbit into camp,” Casper said.
“Are you not in the habit of washing your knife?” Gideon asked.
“Sure, when I think about it. I guess it slipped my mind,” Tyler said.
The other men were sitting up now, listening closely to the conversation. “Can anybody here say that they knew where Tyler was at all times last night?” Gideon asked.
The men looked at each other before shaking their heads. Gideon slipped the knife into his pocket and stepped towards Tyler. With his revolver only inches from the cowboy, he reached over and removed Tyler’s gun from its holster.
“What’s your last name, Tyler?” Gideon asked.
“Biggs. Can’t you tell me what is going on?” Tyler said.
“Tyler Biggs, you are under arrest for the murder of the saloon owner Claus Vander,” Gideon said.
“Wait a cotton picking minute, I didn’t kill nobody. I stayed out of that other place. Do you think I would be here sleeping under a tree if I murdered somebody?” Tyler said.
“Sheriff, you can’t arrest a man for having some blood on him,” the trail boss said.
“I have a dead man with a slit throat and I have a cowboy with a reason to do it and blood on him and his knife and a weak alibi. I would say that is a pretty good reason to arrest him. I will see if his story about the fight in the alley checks out, but for right now, I’m putting him in jail. Mr. Holmes, would you kindly have Tyler’s horse saddled up? You can keep his rifle here,” Gideon said.
“Casper, you aren’t going to let him take me are you? I swear I didn’t kill that damn old German. I never set foot over there. Check my saddlebags, I don’t got no money,” Tyler said.
“How did
you know he was robbed then?” Gideon asked.
“I didn’t, but if I was going to kill a saloon owner, I’d sure as hell rob him too,” Tyler said.
“Tyler, Mr. Johann is the law. I have to let him take you,” Casper said.
Gideon took Tyler Biggs back to town and locked him in the jail. He had to endure Biggs proclaiming his innocence all the way back until he finally threatened to hit the cowboy over the head if he did not shut up.
The Lucky Horse was open for business by the time that Gideon returned to town. The establishment was considered the one–bit saloon in town and catered to the rougher cowboy crowd. On previous visits, Gideon had never received a particularly warm welcome from the saloon owner, Cal Simpson, and tried to avoid entering the business whenever possible. He walked through the doors of the musky place, finding Cal behind the bar drying glasses.
“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” Cal asked.
“I understand that the trail hands from the Dutch Lady were in here last night,” Gideon said.
“I couldn’t tell you. I don’t make my patrons sign a register when they enter. I believe it’s a free country and they can come and go as they see fit,” Cal said.
“Mr. Vander was murdered last night and I’m going to get to the bottom of it and I need some answers,” Gideon said.
“So I heard. It’s the talk of the town. That penny–pinching old German probably shortchanged a customer. He probably had it coming. What’s the matter? Are you all sad that one of your own kind got murdered? Are you afraid you might be next?” Cal said.
Gideon rubbed his scar, fighting back with every fiber of his being not to yank the surly saloon owner across the bar and pummeling him. “What’s your problem with me?” he said.
“I just don’t like you. Like Hank Sligo used to say after you showed back up around here before you killed him – ‘You would think that Jesus Christ himself had returned’,” Cal said.
“You know I heard a nasty rumor that your whores have French pox. I’m going to have to shut your place down until Doc Abram can examine your girls and see if it’s true. It’s going to be a shame now that you are the only saloon left in town to miss out on all that extra business until we can get things cleared up,” Gideon said.
“That’s a damn lie. My girls are clean. Hell, I get all the pokes I want from them and I sure don’t want that shit,” Cal said.
“Either answer my questions or I’m running everybody out of here right this minute. Do you understand? Now were they in here last night?” Gideon snarled out at him.
“Yeah, they were in here and the two that Vander beat the hell out of were running their mouths that they were going to teach him a lesson,” Cal said.
“Did either of them disappear for a while?” Gideon asked.
“I can’t honestly tell you. They were upstairs for a while and in and out, but I wasn’t paying enough attention to know for how long,” Cal said.
“Do you know anything about the one that limps having a fight in the alley with someone that was sleeping out there?” Gideon questioned.
“First I’ve heard of it. I don’t know why in the hell anybody would sleep out there,” the saloon owner said.
“Okay, I’m going to have a look out back. Now wouldn’t it have been a lot easier just to answer my questions in the first place and saved us all the unpleasantries,” Gideon said before walking off towards the alley.
The alley reeked of piss and garbage and a rat brazenly pillaged the trash, paying Gideon no mind. Gideon had never been back there before, finding it nothing like the alley behind the Last Chance. He looked around, but the place was such a mess that it was impossible to determine if there had been a fight, but Cal was right, he couldn’t imagine anybody sleeping back there.
Gideon walked over to the Last Chance, finding Mary and Delta, the other saloon girl, siting at the bar drinking beers. The women’s eyes were red from crying and they looked up at him with numb expressions on their faces.
“I found him. Tyler Biggs murdered Mr. Vander. He had blood on his shirt and knife,” Gideon said.
“That’s the one that played rough with me and started this whole mess,” Mary said.
“I don’t know where the money went. It wasn’t on him and I’m guessing that he hid it somewhere,” Gideon said.
“It doesn’t matter anyhow. It won’t bring Mr. Vander back. The cabinetmaker is going to bring Mr. Vander back over here tomorrow and we’re going to have a wake before they bury him. I’d appreciate it if you would get out the word,” Mary said.
“I’ll do my best to tell folks. I’m going to go now and leave you girls be,” Gideon said.
Chapter 10
Gideon dreaded going to the wake. Occasionally he still dreamed about his mother’s death and funeral. He had only been seventeen and her loss had been devastating. It had in essence ended his boyhood and there were still days when her loss could make him melancholy. Visions of his mother lying in her casket were seared into his brain like a cattle brand. He headed out of the jail early, needing to check on Ted McClean beforehand in hopes that he could move him to the jail.
As he was crossing the street, Gideon heard a voice hailing him. Turning around, he saw the lawyer, Billy Todd, walking towards him.
“Sheriff, I was just coming by your office to see you. I was hoping that you could come by my office after Mr. Vander’s burial today to be a witness to the reading of his will. It doesn’t have to be the sheriff, but I like it to be. It has more gravitas to it if it is ever challenged in court,” Billy said.
“So he had a will. I wasn’t expecting that. I’ll be happy to be there,” Gideon said.
“Thank you, Sheriff. I’ll see you then,” Billy said before walking away.
Gideon walked into the doctor’s office, finding Doc working on McClean. There was a fetid stench in the air similar to the awful smell that had emitted from Hank Sligo as he lay dying.
“What’s the matter, Doc?” Gideon asked.
“Gangrene has set in. He’s not getting enough blood to his scrotum,” Doc said.
“What are you going to have to do?” Gideon asked.
Doc Abram walked over to Gideon and led him outside. “I’m going to have to castrate him, but I doubt it will do any good. He already has dark streaks running up his abdomen. If I were you, I would bring his brother over here to see him one last time before I start,” he said.
“Okay, if that’s what you think is best,” Gideon said.
Doc rubbed his chin and looked at Gideon before speaking. “And Gideon, one more thing. I delivered you, doctored you twice now when I thought that you would die, and I would like to think that we are friends, but if you ever do what you did to this man or Hank Sligo again, I will be through with you,” Doc said.
Gideon looked down at his feet, ashamed not so much for his actions but for disappointing his friend. “I know. It won’t happen again. My job is to bring outlaws to justice, not exact revenge. I promise,” he said.
“Good. You are better than that,” the doctor said.
Gideon retrieved Tom McClean from his cell, telling the prisoner that his brother was probably going to die and that he would be given a chance to tell him goodbye. Ted McClean was running a high fever and barely able to speak, but the two brothers had a quiet conversation before Doc interrupted them to get started on the operation.
As Gideon was walking the prisoner back to jail, Tom said, “You shot off my brother’s balls, didn’t you?”
“More or less,” Gideon said.
“That’s a cruel thing to do to somebody,” Tom said.
“So is killing a shotgun rider in cold blood or trying to rape a young maiden. I’d say it is just a hazard of your trade,” Gideon said.
Tom never said anything else on the walk and entered his cell in silence. From his cell, Tyler Biggs drowned out that quiet with declarations of his innocence, seeming to believe that repetition proved a man’s alibi. He had already run Zack out of his cel
l earlier that morning. The young man decided that strolling through town was preferable to listening to Biggs.
Gideon turned towards Tyler and said, “I shot the balls off this man’s brother because he tried to rape my daughter and I’m going to cut your flapping tongue out for trying to rape my ears. Now shut the hell up.”
Gideon left the cell area, closing its door on the way out, and sat down at his desk to wait for Doc and Abby. The recent crime spree was taking its toll on him and he wondered if by taking the job, he had somehow put it all in motion. Trouble had seemed to follow him his whole adult life and now he had taken a job that invited it.
He had been sitting there a good fifty minutes when the door of the sheriff’s office opened and the retired Sheriff Fuller walked into the office. “Hello, Gideon. I heard about Mr. Vander and wanted to come pay my respects and thought I would drop by and see how things are going. That old German was a good fellow,” Sheriff Fuller said.
“You’re just the man that I wanted to see. I was just sitting here thinking about all the crime that has taken place since my return. I was wondering what you make of it?” Gideon said.
Sheriff Fuller sat down in a chair, stretching his legs and crossing them. “Gideon, I was sheriff here for a long time and I can tell you that these things run in cycles. I had years where I basically sat in that chair you’re in there and did nothing for my keep and there were years where I thought the whole place was going to hell in a hand basket. There’s more people coming all the time too. The more people, the more crime. It just works that way,” he said.
“Thank you, Sheriff. I needed to hear that. I was feeling a bit overwhelmed about it all,” Gideon said as Abby and Doc Abram walked in together.
A pang of love coursed through Gideon as he looked at Abby standing there in a Sunday dress. She had been a pretty girl in her day, but she was a beautiful woman now and it still seemed an impossible dream that after so many years that she was with him again. He considered himself a very fortunate man.
The four of them walked down to the Last Chance. Ethan and Sarah were waiting for them there. Gideon had ridden out to Ethan’s place the night before to tell him of the murder and while not exactly inviting Ethan to the wake, he had made a point of telling him about it. Ethan had not been in the saloon since he had become a preacher back before Mr. Vander had owned it, but the saloon owner would come to Ethan’s service on Christmas and Easter, always leaving a generous contribution.
