“But you’ll come back to me right after, won’t you? I need to see you’re still alive, Aaron. Please. I’ve been through so much already, I can’t take the idea of losing you, too.”
Seeing such a strong woman be so weak made him pull her close to him. “I’ll come back, and I’ll be fine. I promise. You won’t lose me, and I’ll never leave you again. Not now. Not ever. Understand?”
She held him tightly, and he felt her breathing slow as he held her close. She pulled her head away from her chest and said, “Maybe you really should take a bath before you go over there. You do smell kind of harsh.”
Chapter 23
After bathing and shaving, Sheriff Aaron Mackey checked in on young Sandborne. One of the women they had rescued from Darabont’s clutches, Jessica, he thought was her name, was tending to his wounds. Sandborne had two black eyes, the result of a broken nose and busted lip. He seemed to be hovering in and out of consciousness, so Mackey beckoned Jessica into the hallway.
She closed the door behind her as she stepped outside.
“I didn’t want to wake him up,” Mackey said. “How is he?”
“He’s very bad,” she told him. He caught the hint of a Mexican accent as she spoke. “His nose has been broken and his ribs may be broken. We will have to tend to his wounds for a very long time. He sleeps a lot.”
“Just keep on taking care of him and let me know when he wakes up. If I’m not here, tell him I was grateful for the way he protected Mrs. Campbell.”
“He spoke of you many times.” She looked at the floor. “He said he is sorry that he could not do a better job.”
“He did the best job he could against overwhelming odds.” The words he had just spoken struck him immediately. In some ways, he was like Joshua Sandborne had been right before Grant’s men started replacing the sign. Mackey could either fight smart, or fight stupid, as this man had done. Though instead of lying in bed for his mistakes, Mackey had no doubt that Grant or one of his people would put him in his grave.
“Just keep an eye on him for me,” Mackey told her, “and thank you for what you’re doing for him.”
As he walked away, she surprised him by saying, “Will you kill the men who did this?”
The question stopped Mackey dead in his tracks. He turned and answered as honestly as he could. “I hope to. I don’t think it’ll be today or tomorrow, but soon. I’ll do it as soon as I can. You can tell him that. I think he’ll understand.”
She offered a half-hearted smile as she opened the door to Sandborne’s room and quietly shut the door behind her.
Mackey wished he could’ve had a better answer for her, but it was the only one he had at the moment.
* * *
When Mackey stepped downstairs, he found Katherine and Pappy talking in the hotel’s front parlor. Pappy was sporting a fashionable new blue suit with thin pinstripes. It was an outfit that was supposed to make him look sophisticated, but the stripes only accentuated his bulk. Not an ounce of it was fat, and all of it was as much muscle as a man his size could carry.
He had become quite a prosperous man since the Dover Station Company had come to town. Since he had hired Brian Mason as an assistant, Pappy’s store was the only dry goods merchant in town.
The elder Mackey broke off his conversation with Katherine when he saw his son. “Well, if it isn’t the hero of Dover Station himself, all dressed up and ready to make an impression.”
“Grant send you over here as a scout?” Mackey asked. “Maybe gauge my mood before I head over there?”
“Haven’t scouted for anyone since Sherman, by God,” Pappy said. “And that was war. I’d never scout my son for anyone’s benefit except his own.”
“Or yours, depending on how you look at it.” He looked at Katherine and smiled. “I’ll be back right after my meeting, I promise.”
She began to say something, but Pappy cut her off. “No need to hurry off so soon, boy. I’d like to talk to you for a moment before you go up there to talk with Mr. Van Dorn and Mr. Grant. They’re aware of the delay and understand its importance.”
Mackey pulled on his hat and kept walking toward the door. “Then you’d better speak your mind while I’m moving, because I’ve got a couple of things to say to them while I’m at it.”
He stepped out onto the boardwalk and replaced his rifle in his saddle scabbard before climbing on top of Adair. That’s when he realized there was no other horse at the hitching post. His father had walked all the way from his store to the hotel.
When Mackey eased Adair into the thoroughfare, his father said, “Aren’t you going to wait for me?”
“You want to talk, you’ll have to do it on foot, Pop. And shame on you for walking where you could’ve ridden. Never thought my old man would’ve turned into a city boy in such a short amount of time.”
“Insolent bastard,” Pappy said as he stepped into the frozen mud of the street. “Making your poor father walk while he’s trying to talk some sense into you.”
“You’ve always had plenty of wind for any situation at hand. I can hear you just as well from up here as I can down there or in Katherine’s parlor. You’ve got something to say, might as well say it from there while I make my way up to Van Dorn House.”
“You were practically born on horseback,” Pappy said, “so I suppose it’s only fitting I try to change your life while you’re on a horse, too.”
Mackey smiled. “That’s what Grant tell you to say?”
“It’s what I’ve decided. Grant’s got nothing to do with it. I take it you’ve seen the signs about Grant and Underhill running for mayor and police chief respectively.”
“They’ve been kind of hard to miss.”
“I warned you about that when we talked before you left town,” Pappy reminded him. “I told you change was coming, and it looks like it’s here. That’s what I want to talk to you about. I want to talk to you about the future.”
“And I’ll bet you see men like Grant and Underhill as the future in town, is that it?”
“I see them building on the foundation me and other men who built this place out of the wilderness laid down for them,” Pappy said. “I see no good reason to fight them merely out of a contempt for change. And I see no reason why you should fight them, either.”
Mackey wanted to tell him about the three men who had died during the train robberies Grant had sponsored, but decided against it. As the biggest gossip in the territory, Pappy read all the papers and already knew about the deaths. Since none of the stories had implicated Grant, he’d never believe the man had anything to do with it. And Mackey was in no mood to take the time to convince his father of anything.
“If you can’t beat them, join them,” Mackey said. “You’re turning over a new leaf, Pop. You never used to be so obliging.”
His father walked closer to Adair and whispered up at his son. “Remember that big building going up across the street from the jailhouse? They’re calling it the Municipal Building. They’re saying it’ll be a proper town hall with a records department, a court, and a headquarters for the new police force they’re looking to start. No sense in fighting a battle that’s already over, boy. A battle from which we can profit.”
“You mean you can profit,” Mackey said. “Not me.”
“That’s what I’ve come to talk to you about. There’s no reason why you can’t have a piece of this, too. A larger police force means less work for you and Billy. Means there probably won’t be a need for a sheriff after next week. Why, I hear Grant and Underhill already have thirty men ready to sign on once the election is over.”
“Billy and I were elected, Pop. Same as Grant probably will be if he runs next week. He can’t throw us out of office just because he’s of a mind to.”
“He can and he will,” Pappy argued, “and I say good riddance. You two have spent enough of your lives trying to make this place peaceful. You defended us from Darabont. You’re a hero. Time to cash in on it and let other people take the risks f
or a change. That’s why I’m asking you and Billy to resign your posts and come work for me. Fifty-fifty, right down the line.”
Mackey closed his eyes and let the cold air wash over him to calm him down. He had been offered many a bribe before, but never by his own father. “How can it be fifty-fifty if there’s three of us?”
“Well, fifty percent for me, and you and Billy come to your own arrangement. Why, the people will line up to shake the hand of the man who saved Dover Station from the heathen hands of Darabont and his men. I’m already making more money than I can spend as it is. With the two of you there at my side, we could be three times bigger than we already are this time next year.”
“You’re already bigger due to Mason selling out to you when he joined up with Grant,” Mackey said. “Where do you expect this extra growth to come from?”
“From the town, of course. People need things we have. Always will. We’re the only store in town, and Mr. Grant gave me his personal assurance that it’ll stay that way, too.”
“If you can get me to sign on with you, of course,” Mackey added.
“He never mentioned that.”
“But I’ll bet he implied it clear enough,” Mackey said. He wanted to give Adair her head, to let her run and take them away from the town. From the shouting and the banging and the sawing that never stopped from sunrise to sunset every single day, including Sunday. Away from the intrigue that had settled over the town. Away from the greed and the dishonesty. Dover Station had never been an Eden, but it had never been like this until the company came to town. Until Van Dorn’s incompetence handed the town to Grant.
But Mackey knew he could not ride off or run away. He had no intention of doing it, either. He had too much to stay for right here in town. Too much to fight for.
And three dead men to avenge. Men he had never known, but who deserved justice anyway.
“Mason might’ve sold out to you, Pop, but I won’t. I hate to turn you down, but I’ve got no choice.”
Adair bucked when his father reached up and grabbed her bit, pulling her to a halt. “Damn you, boy, I’m not talking about selling out. I’m talking about cashing in. Life’s about choices, and you’ve got a choice to make now. Your Mr. Rice left Van Dorn in charge of this place when he went back to New York. Van Dorn has Grant running things for him. There’s nothing any of us can do about that, and quite frankly, I have no complaints. You’re over thirty, son. It’s time to play the cards you’ve got instead of waiting for the hand you want. And you happen to be holding a damned fine hand, if you ask me. Let Underhill and his boys deal with the drunks and the drovers and the bar fights. Let him get shot at and run down bandits. You’ve done your time and served honorably. Hell, with the reputation you’ve got after Darabont, you could run for mayor yourself one day soon if you had a mind. After that, maybe even governor.”
Pappy surprised Mackey by leaning forward and grabbing his son’s hand. Hard. “It’s time to do what’s right, not what you want. Be smart enough to know when to cash in your winnings, boy. You’re an educated man, Aaron. Use it, don’t waste it. I’m asking you to enjoy life instead. Mary wouldn’t let you do it, but Katherine would.”
The mere thought of the wife who had abandoned him made him sit taller in the saddle and glare down at his father. Had Billy been there, he probably would have said Mackey had “lit the West Point candle.”
“Let go of my horse, Pop. Let go of her, or I’ll put the heel to her sides and drag you through the mud.”
Even Brendan Mackey took pause when his son got that look. He let go of the animal. “Aaron, listen to me.”
“I have been listening to you all the way since the hotel and all I’ve gotten for my trouble is annoyance. Mary left because she wanted me to be something I wasn’t, just like you want me to be now. I’m still the sheriff of this town, and I’ve got a duty to uphold. That’s exactly what I’m going to do, too, until the law says otherwise. Until then, I’ve got a meeting to attend. You wouldn’t want me to keep your masters waiting, now would you?”
Mackey didn’t drive his heels into Adair’s sides. He just let up on the bit, and the horse took off on her own steam. She was a natural runner and a sensitive animal, too. She always seemed to know when her rider wanted to go fast, and she ran fast now, up the hill, where he pulled her toward the cold shadow of the Van Dorn House.
Mackey didn’t dismount right away. Instead, he took in the view of Dover Station and saw how much it had changed in the past five months since he had been on this spot. It had been just the bare bones of a house then. Now it was a cold monstrosity of gingerbread ornamentation and steep eaves.
But there was no finer view of the town from any other perspective. And as he looked out over the changing landscape, he saw a sight that made him gasp. He looked at Katie’s Place, the new Campbell House, and saw Mrs. Katherine Campbell standing in the middle of the thoroughfare in front of her hotel.
It was the first time she had stepped off her own property since Mackey had brought her back.
And despite the great distance between them, he could see her standing alone, shielding her eyes against the sun to see him.
Mackey stood high in the saddle and waved.
His heart warmed when she waved back.
He climbed down from the saddle and tied Adair to the hitching post. Katherine’s strength had restored him. And nothing Van Dorn or Grant could do or say could stop him.
Chapter 24
The inside of the Van Dorn House was even colder than Mackey remembered. With every shade pulled down and every drape drawn, the entire house was devoid of any natural light from the outside world. Oil lamps cast flickering shadows along the oak-paneled walls and bookcases of the study. The air was heavy and stale.
If Mackey hadn’t known differently, he would have thought the house had been ancient before the town of Dover Station ever existed. In truth, the house was less than six months old. Mackey couldn’t understand how such a new building could become so dingy so quickly.
He imagined the solitary nature of the builder and occupant may have had something to do with it.
Since neither Mr. Van Dorn nor Mr. Grant had looked up from their ledger since the butler had shown him into the study, much less offered him a seat, Mackey noticed the bookshelves lining the walls of the study were already filled with tomes whose titles he could not make out due to the lack of light. He was tempted to take a closer look, but refused to give either Van Dorn or Grant the satisfaction of his curiosity.
Instead, he chose to stand quietly beside an uncomfortable chair while the two men huddled over one of the many ledgers piled atop the cluttered desk.
Mackey imagined this scene had been staged for his benefit; the two men who controlled the fate of his town making the sheriff wait as they tried to fit him in to their busy schedule. But Mackey had stood at attention waiting for colonels and generals while lead and arrows flew and men died. Standing in a dank study was nothing in comparison.
The time did give Mackey a chance to finally get his first good look at Silas Van Dorn in months. Mr. Rice’s investment partner was thin to the point of being scrawny, with sharp features, and thick spectacles perched on the bridge of his narrow nose. His pale skin seemed to glow in the candlelight.
Upon his first trip to Dover Station six months before, Mr. Rice had mentioned Van Dorn was forty, though he looked even older than Pappy. His stringy gray hair and woolly muttonchops may have been in fashion in New York, but they made him look out of place in Montana.
The ornate wooden desk was a wilderness of books and papers. Mackey couldn’t understand how either of them could make sense of such a mess. But he bet James Grant knew where every paper was and the purpose it served, even if Silas Van Dorn did not. The man from New York did not strike Mackey as the type who troubled himself with such details. If he did, he would not have allowed Grant to assume so much control of his company.
Mackey watched Grant standing behind his employer, poi
nting down at a column in the ledger. Grant had changed his appearance in the two weeks Mackey was away on Mr. Rice’s errand. His dark brown hair was cut closer and his moustache neatly trimmed and waxed to a subtle curl at the ends. His dark suit had been tailored to accentuate his broad shoulders, and his brocade vest gave him a leaner look. He looked more like an executive than the laborer he had been. He looked more like a candidate than a cowhand.
But Mackey noticed the hand he used to point at the numbers was thick and calloused. Grant’s hands that had seen years of hard work other than counting money.
Mackey smiled to himself. Grant could spend as much as he wanted on fancy clothes and hair wax, but he would never change what he was. And he knew men like Van Dorn would only let him go for so long before they reminded him of that. He wasn’t one of them. He would always be a hired hand, whether it was here as his assistant or in the new Municipal Building as mayor.
He watched Van Dorn and Grant whisper as they appeared to reach some accord on the figures they were reviewing. Van Dorn closed the thick book and set it aside with the reverence an altar server might have for the Bible. Mr. Grant scooped it up and placed it in the bookshelf to the left of the desk.
Mr. Van Dorn looked at the sheriff over the rim of the spectacles. “Ah, Sheriff McKay. Forgive us for keeping you waiting. My assistant and I were so taken by our business that we have forgotten our manners.”
“Last name’s Mackey, not McKay.”
Van Dorn took the correction well. “Again, I apologize. My East Coast inflections make me pronounce words in a unique way. Well, at least unique in this part of the world. No offense intended.” He gestured toward a chair on the other side of the desk. “Do please sit down and make yourself comfortable.”
Mackey reluctantly took a seat. The seat was intentionally deep, forcing him to sit tall. He did not like the idea of looking up at Van Dorn. He liked the idea of Grant looking down at him even less.
Dark Territory Page 20
