by Duane Boehm
“Nonsense. If I were you and knew I’d be birthing a child of Gideon Johann, well I’d cry to,” Finnie said as Abby and Sarah let out giggles, enjoying a laugh at Gideon’s expense.
“He means well,” Abby said to everyone’s amusement.
“You have that glow of an expectant mother and I must say that you have done wonders for Gideon’s disposition. It’s such an improvement that I have to look at him twice some days to make sure it is really him,” Finnie said.
Gideon stared at Finnie as if he were looking at him for the first time and decided that the Irish rogue could charm a rattlesnake out of its rattle. He wasn’t sure if the behavior of Abby or Finnie was the more shocking of the two. Deciding that the next few months were going to be challenging, he looked at Sarah, hoping to find some comfort, but found her grinning at him mischievously.
Winnie, just back from school, came bursting through the front door and stopped abruptly upon seeing her mother’s red eyes and the crowd of people in her house. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
“No. No, everything is fine. Winnie, this here is Mr. Finnie. He is Gideon’s friend from the war. He’s having supper with us tonight,” Abby said.
“You’re as pretty as your mother. Nice to meet you,” Finnie said.
“Oh my goodness, I love your voice. Pleased to meet you,” Winnie replied.
Sarah stood. “I need to get home. Benjamin will be home too and it will be dinnertime before you know it. I’ve been inviting Zack to eat with us most nights. He’s been so down since Joann wrote him that I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor boy. When I look at his pitiful face, I’d like to get ahold of your other daughter.”
“Me too,” Gideon remarked before Sarah said her goodbyes.
For the next few hours, Finnie regaled Abby and Winnie with stories of Ireland and the amusing times spent with Gideon in the war. He had Winnie convinced that back in Ireland, he had slain dragons and knew leprechauns. By the time they finished supper, Winnie was enthralled with him and Abby had giggled so much that Gideon wondered if his wife might be ready to trade him in for the Irishman. The war had provided scant opportunity for interaction with women and Finnie’s ease and charm around them was something Gideon would have never guessed.
After the meal, Finnie said, “I have enjoyed your fine cooking and company, but I believe I best take my leave before night falls. I’m not familiar enough with the lay of the land to navigate the dark.”
“Why don’t you stay the night? We can ride to town together in the morning,” Gideon said.
“A good guest always knows to leave at the highpoint and not wear out his welcome. I’m much obliged for your hospitality, but I best be on my way,” Finnie said as he arose from the table.
Gideon walked outside with Finnie, retrieving his whiskey from the saddlebag and handing it to his friend. Finnie took a long pull from the bottle before wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
“That’s a fine woman that you have there. You were a damn fool to wait so many years to come back here,” Finnie said.
“I don’t think you’re in any position to give advice on how to live one’s life,” Gideon replied.
Finnie let out a chuckle and climbed up on his horse. “You have a point there. Thank you for this evening. I really enjoyed myself. I’ll see you in the morning,” he said before riding away.
Gideon walked Buck to the barn and brushed him down after unsaddling him. As he worked, he kept thinking about Finnie and his surprising ease with women. During the war, Finnie had bragged that his accent could melt the heart of the hardest–hearted woman, but his friends had all accepted the boast as the usual exaggerations that go on around the campfire. Gideon decided that it wasn’t only the accent, but his unexpected charm. The thought made him chuckle as he put the horse in his stall and poured oats into the feeder before heading back to the cabin. Abby was lighting the lanterns as he entered.
“Your friend is quite the character. He was nothing like I expected,” Abby said.
“He surprised me too,” Gideon said.
“Gideon, I’m sorry I made a spectacle of myself, but now that I’m pregnant, I can’t help but to worry about it. I know that many women have babies into their forties, but most of them have produced a whole herd of kids along the way. Do you realize that I will have three children that are each spaced nine years apart? That’s a long time between babies. What if it is different this time?” she said as she dropped into a chair in the main room.
Gideon sat down in the chair beside her. “All this worrying won’t change a thing. The only thing that you can control is taking care of yourself. Finnie is not the only person that is showing me a different side. Where is my girl that goes through life meeting any challenge at hand? You’re still the girl that held off a gunman that came to kill you and Joann. No matter what, we’ll be fine. Let’s just be happy that we have been blessed with this baby and take it as it comes. I think you are worrying for nothing,” he said.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she smiled at Gideon. “You’re right. Getting a second chance with you and having this baby are blessings. I’m looking at it all wrong. I love you,” she said before climbing onto his lap.
“Yeah, you better do that now while you have the chance. You might not fit here much longer,” Gideon said.
Abby pinched his nose and said, “There’s lots of things around here that might not fit much longer if you keep that up.”
Chapter 7
The morning after Finnie’s introduction to Abby, Gideon walked into the jailhouse to the sound of a whiskey bottle sent rolling across the floor from opening the door. Finnie snored loudly on the cot that Gideon used when he stayed overnight. An arm and leg hung to the floor. The room reeked with the smell of whiskey and farts. Gideon puffed up his cheeks, blowing the air out slowly as he rubbed the scar on his cheek. He had feared that Finnie would go on a bender, but wasn’t expecting it after the success of the previous night. Propping the door open and raising the window for some fresh air, he set about making some coffee.
“Wake up, Finnie,” Gideon called out and kicked the cot leg,
Finnie let out a moan. “Sweet Jesus, let me sleep it off.”
“Get up. This isn’t a hotel,” Gideon said, kicking the leg harder.
Finnie sat up, bending over and holding his head in his hands. “Kicking this thing doesn’t help my head. It hurts enough without your help.”
Gideon handed him a cup of coffee. “Here, drink this. You have to get yourself square and get to work. Mary will not tolerate you showing up late or missing work.”
“Mary, Mary. I should have let that constable lock me in jail. It would be better than this. I have you to thank,” Finnie said.
“Yeah, locked up with no alcohol at all would’ve worked out just fine. You would’ve shaken yourself to death. I don’t want to hear it. You were so happy last night. What brought this on?” Gideon said.
Finnie took a sip of coffee, ran his hand through his hair, and looked up at Gideon. “I know that you had your burden that you carried around for years, and don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that you’ve found happiness, but you’re not the only one that dreamed of a pretty wife and a family. I was a Catholic, you know. I always thought I’d have a passel of kids. Riding back from your place last night, well the lonesomeness set in like a lost ghost. So I took comfort in my mistress the bottle.”
Walking around his desk, Gideon rolled his chair over in front of Finnie and sat down. “Finnie, look at me. You’re even a little younger than I am and there’s still time to turn your life around. Just look at mine. A year ago, I wouldn’t have thought that the life I have was possible. I was lying in the woods dying and I didn’t care. I was ready for it. But with the help of friends and faith, all of us are capable of changing. And I will be here for you and so will Mary and Abby, but if you don’t stop drinking, you’re never going to live to see forty. You still can find someone. Heck, as charming as you were la
st night, it might be my wife,” he said and gave Finnie a slap on the knee.
Finnie smiled for the first time that morning before taking a couple of big gulps from his coffee. “You’re a good friend, Gideon. I know that you mean well whether I ever come to appreciate it or not. I better get cracking. I fear Mary will serve me my balls on a platter if I show up late,” he said.
“Be good, Finnie,” Gideon said as the Irishman headed out the door.
Gideon waited until mid–morning before strolling over to the Lucky Horse. He hoped that in interviewing all its employees again, one of them might slip and provide some useful information. Cal and Leo were behind the bar preparing for the day’s first customers while the two whores sat at a table playing rummy. The two men were no more friendly or helpful than in Gideon’s previous dealings with them. As he walked over and sat down with the whores, he watched them glancing nervously at Cal. The two women would not even speak to him, but sat there as if they were mutes. Disgusted, Gideon walked out of the saloon more convinced than ever that they all knew a lot more than they were telling and that nothing would force them to talk.
With his spirit sagging with each step towards the jail, Gideon began to doubt that he would solve the murder or even know from where Minnie had come. The idea that someone so close to his own daughter’s age was murdered so callously in his town, not only haunted him, but also galled him to no end. He wondered if the underside of Last Stand thought that he was incompetent enough that they could do as they saw fit. Diverting his course, he walked into Doc Abram’s office.
The doctor looked up from scrubbing his patient table. “Good morning.”
“Doc, I don’t think I’m going to solve Minnie’s murder. Nobody is talking and I don’t have anything else to go on,” Gideon said as a way of a greeting.
“You know, I always say that the only true secret a man possesses is the one that he is keeping to himself. I suspect that others know who the murderer is, and it may not be this week, and it may not even be this year, but somebody will eventually let it slip,” Doc said and dried his hands on a towel.
“I hope you’re right,” Gideon said, rubbing his scar. “I don’t consider myself a prideful man, but I can’t help not to take it personal when somebody thinks he can get away with murder in my town. Doc, you have your finger on the pulse of Last Stand as much as anyone does. Do you believe that the outlaw–minded around here think that they can get away with murder under my watch?”
Doc shuffled over to his desk, sitting down and pulling off his spectacles. “The last few years of Sheriff Fuller’s watch, things began to slide around here. He was just plain getting too old for the job. As soon as you took over, the shenanigans came to a stop. People respect you and some fear you too. This murder was a crime of passion. There was no thought to it. It was on impulse. Now quit doubting yourself or I’m going to put my foot up your ass. You’re doing a fine job,” he said.
Gideon grinned at him. “Your bedside manner has gone to hell in your old age, but thank you.”
“I wish that is all that had gone to hell,” Doc muttered as Gideon left.
Walking across the street towards the jail, Gideon saw Finnie waving him down from up the street.
“What is it?” Gideon asked as Finnie neared him.
“Mary says that you need to come to the saloon. That’s all I know,” Finnie said.
“You’re looking better than you did this morning,” Gideon said as he followed Finnie towards the Last Chance.
“I had to beg and plead for a drink this morning to knock off the ills of last night. I caught holy hell the whole time I was drinking it too, but the whiskey did help. Mary started making faces before I had set two steps into the place. For one so young and pretty, she can be a mean one,” Finnie said.
Gideon chuckled. “Have her tell you sometime about how that chunk of wood got blown out of the bar.”
“I doubt I want to know,” Finnie said as they entered the saloon.
Mary was bartending and walked over to the end of the bar to meet Gideon. “I don’t know if you know him or not, but that cowboy sitting at the table over there is Cass Walker. He works for the Kaiser ranch and they sent him to town to get some things. He was at the Lucky Horse that night and just learned about the murder when I told him. You need to talk to him,” she said, nodding her head.
“I’ve seen him around, but never talked to him. I guess I better go introduce myself,” Gideon said.
“He’s a good one. You can believe what he tells you,” she said.
Gideon walked over to the table where the cowboy sat drinking a beer. “Hi, I’m Sheriff Johann. I don’t think we’ve ever met,” Gideon said and offered his hand. Cass shook it and Gideon sat down without invitation. “I understand that you were at the Lucky Horse the night that Minnie was murdered. What can you tell me about it?”
“I was out in the alley taking a piss when that little banker fellow came out the back and he had a white handkerchief against his neck. Of course, the light wasn’t good, so that I couldn’t see much, but it surprised me. I’ve never seen him in either saloon before,” Cass said.
“You mean Mr. Druthers?” Gideon said in surprise.
“Yeah, I think that’s his name. The little, bald, thin–lipped man that runs the bank,” Cass said.
Gideon leaned back in the chair, blowing out a puff of air, and absently rubbing his scar. The news couldn’t have been much more surprising. A running joke around town was that the only thing that Druthers needed for happiness was to fondle money. The banker kept to himself, making no friends and showing no interest in women. “Thank you for your help. If this turns out to be something, you’ll have to testify at a trail. I’ll get word to you if need be. Thanks, again.”
“Whatever you need, Sheriff. Sorry I couldn’t have been some help sooner,” Cass said as Gideon stood.
Mary still stood at the end of the bar as Gideon walked back.
“Can you believe it?” she said.
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t have guessed it. It should be easy enough to find out if he is scratched,” he said.
“I think the idea of him having interest in women in more shocking than him being capable of murder. I hate doing business with him,” Mary said.
“I’m going to go see him now and I’ll let you know what I find. I don’t know what I would do without you,” Gideon said.
Mary grinned at him. “That’s the way I like it. Keeps you beholden to me,” she teased.
“That I am. And speaking of favors, do you think Finnie is hopeless?” Gideon said.
“That was bound to happen. I’ve never seen a drunk not slip a time or two before it took. Time will tell, but I think he’s worth the effort,” Mary said.
“Me too. I’m going to go look our banker up now. Talk to you later,” he said and left.
Upon entering the bank, Gideon only saw the bank teller, Mr. Fredrick. Mr. Druthers office was empty and there were no customers.
“Where’s Mr. Druthers?” Gideon asked.
“I guess he went home for lunch. He never tells me anything – just leaves and expects me to be here when he gets back,” Mr. Fredrick said.
“Has there been anything unusual about him the last few days?” Gideon inquired.
The teller thought a moment before answering. “Don’t say I said so, but he’s a strange bird anyway. He has been more fidgety than usual the last couple of days – pacing about the office and such. And he started wearing this silk kerchief around his neck like he’s English royalty or something. Claims that Doc removed a boil from his neck, though I’d never noticed one.”
“Thank you, you’ve been very helpful,” Gideon said and turned to leave.
“Should I tell him that you wish to see him?” Fredrick asked.
“I’ll find him. If he doesn’t return, I suggest that you take charge of the bank,” Gideon said to the puzzlement of the teller.
Gideon walked to the home of the banker and knocked o
n the door. He could hear someone scurrying about before Druthers called out in his monotone delivery, “I’m not feeling well and won’t be receiving visitors today.”
“Mr. Druthers, this is Sheriff Johann and I need to see you,” Gideon said.
“Sheriff, I’m ill. You will have to come back another day,” Druthers said.
“You can either open the door or I will kick the damn thing in. Now open it,” Gideon hollered.
Druthers opened the door just enough to peer out and Gideon popped it with the palms of both of his hand, smacking the banker in the head and sending him reeling backwards.
“What is the meaning of this treatment?” Mr. Druthers yelled, cupping his hand on his forehead.
“Take that kerchief off your neck,” Gideon demanded.
“I will not. You have no right to barge in here and start ordering me around,” Druthers protested.
Gideon gripped the kerchief so swiftly that Druthers never had a chance to defend himself. The banker began screaming, “It’s knotted. You’ll strangle me before it gives way.”
“Take it off or I will cut it off and your throat might get in between my blade and the kerchief,” Gideon said.
The banker began unknotting the kerchief as quickly as his shaking fingers would work. Gideon pulled Druthers’ collar out of the way, revealing three claw marks on his neck. Two of the scratches were deep and nasty looking.
“You’re under arrest for the murder of Minnie Ware,” Gideon said, grabbing Druthers by the arm and marching him towards the door.
“Sheriff, you don’t want any part of arresting me. This here is way bigger than me. I got friends that will get me the best lawyers that can be had and get me off. I’m telling you that you want no part of this. You’ll be the one that’s sorry if you do,” Druthers said.
Gideon shoved the banker so hard that he tumbled into the yard. “I suggest that you get up, keep your mouth shut, and march to the jail or I will kick you there like a can,” Gideon commanded.
