Dark Territory

by Terrence McCauley

  “You’ll just make Grant a martyr,” Mackey reminded him, “and you have your investments to think about. All removing Grant would do is hurt a lot of people.”

  “Then I’ll head to Washington, talk to the president. God knows I’ve given that ungrateful son of a bitch enough money over the years. I’ll have him send in the army and maintain order!”

  Mackey had been afraid that was the direction Rice would go. When all else failed, the wealthy called in the army to do their fighting for them. “Do you have the current layout of the town in your records, sir?”

  “I have it right here.” Rice took a set of plans from the credenza behind his desk and unrolled them. “Every building that’s scheduled to be built is right here.”

  Mackey had to stand to get a better look at the map. It was not every day that a man saw his hometown reduced to the edges of a paper.

  He did not like what he saw. “I’ve only seen a partial rendering of this. And I’m afraid Grant has taken it upon himself to change this some.”

  Rice’s eyes narrowed. “How?”

  “The angle of the buildings on the edge of town is different. He’s built them in the shape of a wedge, with narrower streets than what’s shown here. The buildings don’t have any windows and no alleyways to speak of, either.”

  Rice took a closer look at the plans. “That’s not what we agreed upon. Why, he’s changed everything.”

  “And practically built himself a fortress,” Mackey told him. “The buildings create narrow pinch points into the town that could easily repel the army with just a few rifles at key locations. Front Street is wide open, but Grant’s people could turn that into a shooting gallery. The army could take the town eventually, but not without destroying a lot of property and killing a lot of innocents. I can’t think of a general who’d order it, even in the territories.”

  Deflated, Rice sank back into his chair and pushed himself away from his desk and the offending plan of Dover Station.

  “Well I can’t allow him to stay unchecked, and I can’t get rid of him. I can’t fire him, and I can’t arrest him. What the hell am I supposed to do? Just let this son of a bitch get away with bilking me? With attacking my railroad and killing three people? Do you have any idea what will happen to me if word of this gets out?”

  Mackey lowered himself into his seat. He made it a point to look away while the man calmed down. He could not sell him on what he knew had to be done. Rice had to come to the conclusion himself.

  After a few puffs on his cigar, Rice looked at him through the smoke. “You have a plan, don’t you?”

  “Not a plan, but it’s the only way I can think of that comes close to addressing this.”

  Rice said, “I’m a man of many skills, Aaron, but divining the intentions of others is not one of them. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I need you to contact Washington,” Mackey said, “but for a different reason.”

  Chapter 22

  Mackey and Billy began to gather up their things when the conductor announced they were approaching Dover Station.

  Billy had been worried about Aaron since he’d returned from his meeting with Rice days ago. He had barely said a word morning, noon, or night. He stared out the window mostly, whether it was light enough to see anything or not.

  Now that they were close to home, Billy decided to chance a discussion. “You’ve been quiet.”

  Mackey pulled on his coat. “Never been known as a conversationalist, Billy. You know that better than anyone.”

  “Also know you get quieter when you get nervous. And since I’ve never known you to be this quiet, you’re probably nervous as hell about something. Can’t say as I blame you. I’m nervous right along with you. We’re headed into a dangerous situation, Aaron. Just wish you were a little more talkative so I’d know what exactly to be nervous about, given that we’re spoiled for choice in the concerns department.”

  It was the first hint of a smile Billy had been able to get out of the man in a week. “Talking about it won’t make it better.”

  “But talking will help us be better organized. Grant’s sure as hell organized, so we’ll need to be, too. Hell, Aaron. We’re not wading into a saloon to break up a fight or gunning down men robbing a bank. We need to talk about what we’re going to do, and we might as well do it in here where the walls don’t have ears.”

  Aaron finally looked away from that damned window. “Guess I’ve been brooding. Everything we do hinges on how well Mr. Rice’s correspondence with Washington goes. Everything hinges on that. Even then, it might not be enough, but it’s more than what we have now.”

  After returning from his meeting with Rice, Mackey had told him what the man had in store. He did not believe it would have much of an effect, but it could not hurt, either. “I see Lagrange is still on board the train. You going to use him in town?”

  “I’ve asked him to move through town and find out how many gunmen Grant’s got on his side. He could come in handy if we need an ace up our sleeve.”

  Billy understood that way of thinking. “The way Macum had Swain on the train in case anything went wrong.”

  “Something like that, I guess.”

  Both men braced themselves as the train began to slow down as it approached Dover Station.

  Billy watched Mackey look out the window again as the train passed the remains of the land that had once been the JT Ranch in the distance. Black dots moved across the land the way ants moved toward the scraps on a picnic blanket. Only they weren’t ants or black dots. They were cattle and horses and riders and farmers tending to chores on another cold Montana morning. They were part of the future of Dover Station, whatever that future might be.

  Aaron surprised Billy by saying, “I don’t know if we’re right anymore, Billy. I don’t know if Grant is the problem, and I’m beginning to wonder if we are.”

  Billy had known his friend to get melancholy before, and the only cure for it was to get him talking until he found his way through it. “What do you mean?”

  “That’s what I mean.” Mackey pointed out the window. “So much change. There was a time when we knew everyone, good and bad. Now, every time I go to sleep, I wake up and the whole damned town seems to have gotten a little bit bigger every single day. Every train, wagon, and stagecoach brings in more people who change it all just a little more.

  “Buildings going up and coming down. Workmen, tramps, whores, and all the rest. It’s not ours anymore, Billy. It’s not home. It’s different now, and that’s neither good nor bad. It’s just the way it is. They like what Van Dorn and Grant are doing, and I can’t say as I blame them. I’m just trying to make sure I dislike the men for the right reasons.”

  The train jerked again as the engine began to slow down even more as they got closer to the station. Billy wished his friend had spoken up yesterday so he would have had the time to talk him out of this nonsense. He was in a dangerous mindset, given how close they were to home.

  Billy spoke fast. “People like to follow, Aaron. Makes life easier that way. Men like Silas Van Dorn and James Grant like to lead and make money off it in the process. Never yet met a man who was good all the way through. Never yet met a man who was bad all the way through, neither. Grant might’ve done a lot of good in this town, but he’s still responsible for the deaths of three innocent people.”

  “I can’t prove that,” Mackey said, “and Swain’s affidavit isn’t going to convince anyone.”

  “Maybe not,” Billy allowed, “but you have it, and that could be enough. Men like Van Dorn and Grant have money, and money gives them sway. That’s the way it is, and that’s the way it’s always going to be. If it’s not money, it’ll be something else, but it’ll always be about a small group of men telling a larger group of men what to do because most people think following is easier.”

  The train hitched as the brakes began to kick in. The new stockyards at the south end of the station rolled by, and Billy knew he was out of time.

/>   But he got a little help by way of a canvas banner stretched across Front Street. It read:

  VOTE FOR THE FUTURE

  JIM GRANT for Mayor

  WALTER UNDERHILL for Chief of Police

  Mackey looked away from the window and sank back in his seat. “Looks like the rumors before we left were right. Grant’s made his intentions official. A new era for Dover Station has begun.”

  Billy knew they only had a few minutes before the train pulled into the station, so he talked even faster. “This isn’t about change or the past, Aaron. This is about something a lot more permanent than that. It’s about the law. The law remains no matter what, just like the land lasts through snow and drought and fire. Seasons change, but the land remains. Same thing with the law. Grant could get himself elected governor, and it wouldn’t change the fact that he broke the law when his men killed three people. And one way or the other, the law’s going to hold him accountable.”

  He pointed out at the grand new station building that had just slid into view. “If it doesn’t, then none of all the new buildings or fancy streetlights in the world mean a goddamned thing.”

  Mackey stood up after the train came to a halt. “You always know exactly what to say, don’t you, Billy?”

  “No, sir. I just have a knack for knowing what you need to hear and when you need to hear it.”

  He picked up his bag from the couch on the other side of the car. “How many times you practice that speech, anyway?”

  “The truth doesn’t need to be practiced, just said.” Billy was glad that whatever cloud had covered his friend had passed. He saw another banner for the Grant/Underhill election draped across the front of the station building, glad to be able to change the subject. “Sorry to see Walter’s name up there. I’ve actually grown to like the man. Can’t believe he’s fallen for any of Grant’s nonsense.”

  “What was that you just said about money influencing everything?” Mackey asked. “Being a lawman again is what brought Walter to town in the first place. Stands to reason he’d want to be the new chief of police under Grant.”

  Billy slung his bag onto his shoulder. “Wonder what that’ll mean for us and the sheriff’s office.”

  Mackey opened the train car door and stepped out on to the station platform. “Guess we’re about to find out.”

  * * *

  After getting their horses from the stable car, Billy rode to the jailhouse while Mackey rode Adair to Katie’s Place. He had only been gone two weeks, but the amount of construction between the station and the hotel amazed him. Every street had a canvas banner bearing Grant’s and Underhill’s names across it. The wooden skeletons of no fewer than eight buildings had been erected since he left. Several buildings that had been half-built before he left had been completely finished.

  He imagined Grant’s campaign for mayor had spurred the crews to work around the clock. More completed buildings would make him look even better. It would show the good people of Dover Station what he could do when he put his mind to it. Each of the buildings was three stories tall, probably built to get rid of Tent City once and for all. No sense in risking ill will with the voters by having them pass an eyesore like Tent City on their way to the voting place.

  Amid the din of the hammering and the sawing that echoed throughout the town, Mackey caught a glimpse of Van Dorn House.

  Mackey pulled Adair to a halt when he saw a new sign above Katie’s Place that read “The Campbell House” in large letters carved into the wood.

  It wasn’t the sign that bothered him. It was the three men, all sporting pistols on their hips, lounging in chairs on the porch.

  Mackey drew his Winchester from the saddle boot and aimed it at them. “You on the porch. Throw up your hands and do it slow.”

  None of the men threw up their hands. None of them moved, either. The one on the far left only smiled. “Welcome back, sheriff. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  Mackey shifted his aim to him. “You deaf, boy?”

  “We’ve got permission from Mr. Underhill to wear these guns. He sent us to fetch you over to see Mr. Van Dorn and Mr. Grant. They’re anxious to see you.”

  The one in the middle added, “After you’ve had a chance to clean up, of course. We understand you’ve been busy during your trip. Mr. Van Dorn likes his guests to be clean when they come to visit.”

  Mackey fired, putting a round into the porch board between the man’s feet. “Guess you men are hard of hearing. I gave you an order. Either you follow it or you get shot.”

  The man on the left said, “And I told you we got permission to carry these guns from Mr. Underhill.”

  “And it’s not his permission to give,” Mackey said. “Either you leave your gun belts on the porch, or I leave you on the porch. What’s it going to be?”

  The man on the far right had not spoken yet. He looked older than his partners, and Mackey took him to be the leader. “Do what he wants, boys. Might as well humor the son of a bitch for the time being. Won’t make much difference in a week anyway.”

  Mackey ignored the comment as he watched the men unbuckle their gun belts before they stood up. Each of them held the belts by the buckle and slowly laid them back on the chairs.

  Mackey kept the rifle trained on them as they moved away from their guns. The older of the three said, “Mr. Van Dorn still wants to see you as soon as possible, sheriff. I suggest you don’t keep him waiting. He’s not a patient man.”

  “You can tell him I got the message and I’ll be along. You boys can pick up your guns at the jailhouse later on tonight.”

  Two of the men stepped off the boardwalk and headed toward Van Dorn House. The leader stayed behind a second longer. “That’s the last time you’ll disarm me, Mackey. Understand? Next time you try to take my gun, it’ll end different.”

  “Ending will be the same.” Mackey urged Adair forward. “Me standing over you with a rifle, just like I am now.”

  The leader held up his hands as he slowly backed away. “Enjoy yourself, Mackey. While you can, anyways.”

  Mackey kept the men covered until they were well up the hill to Van Dorn House. Buggies and wagons had to move around Adair as horse and rider refused to move for anyone.

  Mackey lowered his rifle and climbed down from the saddle. He kept the Winchester with him as he tied Adair to the hitching post in front of the hotel and gathered up the three gun belts with his free hand.

  He walked inside the hotel and was surprised when Katherine almost tackled him. She threw her arms around his waist with such strength, he had to fight to keep his balance.

  “Thank God,” she whispered. “Thank God you’re back alive.”

  As he ushered her into the parlor, she had to walk sideways as she refused to let him go.

  He set the rifle and gun belts on one of the tables in the parlor. None of the customers who lounged as they read papers and drank coffee seemed to be bothered by the display of affection. “What the hell happened?”

  “Everything.” Her voice quavered, but she did not cry. She told him about Grant’s proposition to buy the hotel and her refusal. “Now I know why he was in such a hurry,” she added at the end. “The next day, those banners started appearing all over town about him running for mayor and Underhill running for chief of police. I don’t know why buying this place was so damned important to him, but it seemed to be.”

  Mackey had no idea, either. And he didn’t care. “Did he hurt you?”

  “No,” she admitted. “He didn’t threaten me in any way. He left me alone until today, when I woke up to hammering and sawing just after sunup. When I came downstairs, three men had Josh Sandborne at gunpoint while they took down the old sign and put up that new sign. ‘Courtesy of Mr. Grant,’ they told me, the bastards.”

  “Where’s Sandborne now?”

  “Resting in his room,” she said. “The girls are tending to him now. He tried to fight them off and they beat him something awful. Doc Ridley says he’ll live, but he’ll be a lon
g time healing.”

  Mackey felt the blood begin to rush to his head, the way it always did when anger settled over him. “Was Underhill part of this?”

  “No, he wasn’t,” Katherine said, “and neither was Grant, but the men definitely worked for him. Said they did anyway.”

  Katherine must have felt a change in his touch, because she pulled away from him and took his face in her hands. “I need you to stop right now, Aaron. I need you to stop being angry and listen to me. I know how you get when you lose your temper, but you can’t do that because that’s what Grant wants. He’s hoping you’ll lose your temper and do something foolish. Something he’ll be justified to kill you for, and he’ll get away with it, too. The people are elated he’s running for mayor. Even your father has been giving speeches for him. And he has more than just moral support, Aaron. He has gunmen, too.”

  Mackey had figured as much. “How many?”

  “I’ve seen him with no fewer than ten at any one time, but I think it might be as many as thirty.” She held his face tighter and shook it. “I only told you what happened because those men refused to leave the porch. I don’t want you barging into Van Dorn’s office and causing trouble. They’ll shoot you dead, Aaron. You and Billy if either of you give them the slightest reason.”

  “They tell you that?”

  “They didn’t need to tell me,” she said. “I’ve seen it. I know how men like that operate. You can’t beat them by fighting them, Aaron. You can only beat them by outthinking them. That means you can’t let them goad you into a fight you can’t win.”

  She pulled his face closer to her and looked deeply into his eyes. “I’ve waited so long for you, Aaron Mackey, I won’t lose you to them. Not over this. If they want the town, let them have it. You are more important than their greed and selfishness. Your life is more important than anything, and we can overcome anything as long as you and I are together.”

  He reached up and gently took her hands from his face, kissing her hands as he did so. “I’m not angry, and I won’t do anything stupid, I promise. I’ve just got to get ready for my meeting with Mr. Van Dorn. Got some news of my own I need to give him.”