by Scott Connor
‘I’ve just got back in town,’ he said, when Karl stomped to a halt before him. ‘I’ve only just heard the news.’
‘So you couldn’t even be bothered to be here for his trial,’ Karl said with contempt as the customers watched the developing confrontation with interest.
Lincoln pushed himself away from the bar and moved to walk by the brothers, but Karl stepped to the side to block Lincoln’s way. Then his brothers moved to flank him and make sure Lincoln couldn’t reach the door.
‘Move out of my way,’ Lincoln said, deliberately not meeting Karl’s eye.
‘Or you’ll kill us, is that it? Like you killed our younger brother just because he was in your way.’
‘It wasn’t like that. Murphy heard the evidence and decided against him. My opinion on the matter is irrelevant.’
‘We all know what you thought about Alex.’ Karl jabbed a firm finger at his chest. ‘You ordered the judge to get him dealt with as quickly as he could and you didn’t have the stomach to stay around for the hanging. It all stinks.’
Lincoln had to agree with that, but he shook his head.
‘I can’t order Murphy to do anything.’ He looked down at the finger until Karl removed it and then looked him in the eye. ‘Now stand aside before you say something you’ll regret.’
Karl licked his lips, suggesting everything was going according to his plan of forcing Lincoln into a confrontation.
‘I’m staying here until I’ve said it all – unless you reckon you can make me be quiet.’
Lincoln spread his hands. ‘I’ve got nothing to hide. Speak your mind.’
Karl took a deep breath, his lively grin showing how much he relished giving Lincoln his answer.
‘Deputy Curtis says you’ve got plenty to hide. You ordered him to get the trial over and done with before you got back. With your evidence, the judge found him guilty.’
Lincoln was speechless for several seconds before he could blurt out a response.
‘Curtis told you this?’
‘He sure did.’ Karl snorted a laugh, seemingly pleased to have got a reaction out of Lincoln. ‘And I’ll make sure the whole town knows what you did.’
‘Then tell the town the truth,’ Lincoln said, raising his voice so everyone could hear. ‘I never gave Curtis that order. I told him to wait until I got back before . . . before taking Alex to trial.’
Karl snorted, his sneer probably showing that he took Lincoln’s hesitant delivery as a sign of guilt and not of his trying to find the right words that’d avoid him criticizing the judge.
‘I don’t believe you and neither will anyone else.’
Lincoln took a long pace to stand toe to toe with him.
‘Move,’ he said.
For several seconds Karl met his gaze until with a mocking sneer on his face and an over-exaggerated movement of his legs that added to the mockery he paced to the side. He waited until Lincoln had walked between his two brothers before he spoke again.
‘I’ve moved, but next time . . .’
Lincoln stopped while the two other brothers muttered threats under their breaths, and then set off. As he headed outside, several customers spoke up and demanded to know the full story from the brothers, but Lincoln resisted the temptation to go back in and shout down their lies.
Right now he wanted to hear the full story for himself. With a firm gait he stormed to the sheriff’s office and kicked open the door.
‘Curtis, get up!’ he shouted in a voice that echoed throughout the law office. ‘I’ve just met Karl. He’s got it into his head that Alex is dead because of me.’
Curtis looked up from under his hat and delivered a long yawn. Then he stretched and slowly got off his chair.
‘Oh?’ he said cautiously.
‘Based on your pathetic behavior, I have been prepared to accept that you were stupid enough to not tell Murphy to hold off on the trial, but what I’ve just heard is something else. You told Karl I ordered you to close the investigation and get Alex hanged as soon as possible.’
Curtis shrugged, his downcast eyes registering shame and when he spoke his tone was guarded.
‘What do you want me to do?’
Lincoln backed away to the door, dragged it open, and pointed outside.
‘I’m giving you a choice. Either go to the saloon and tell everybody what really happened, or have me kick you around town until you tell everybody what really happened.’
‘I don’t have to take that from you.’
‘You do if you want to work as a lawman in this town again. Now get out there and start talking.’
With as much dignity as he could muster Curtis walked past Lincoln and headed outside, but he stopped on the boardwalk and while looking ahead spoke up.
‘You can’t speak to me like that. I don’t work for you.’
‘Accepted.’ Lincoln advanced a pace and delivered a swinging kick to Curtis’s rump that sent him sprawling to his knees. ‘Now get talking.’
Curtis shuffled round to face Lincoln. Then he stood up and waggled a finger at him, his face reddening.
‘I’ll sure tell everyone the truth about you. Don’t you worry. I’ll—’
Curtis didn’t get to finish his threat as Lincoln paced up to him and shoved him off the boardwalk. Curtis stumbled, half-turning as he thrust out a leg to stop himself falling and so letting Lincoln deliver another kick to his rump that sent him ploughing head first into the dirt.
Lincoln stood over him. ‘How far do you want me to kick you before you start talking sense?’
Curtis lay on his chest spitting dirt. Then he got to his feet and faced up to Lincoln.
‘Then do it. Show everyone in town I was right about you.’
‘Obliged for the offer.’ Lincoln rolled his shoulders and drew back his foot ready to kick Curtis again. ‘Everyone knows I don’t like no-good liars.’
Curtis stood his ground and Lincoln thought he was going to let him kick him again, but at the last moment Curtis panicked. He gulped, turned on his heel, and scampered away.
Lincoln hurried after him and delivered another glancing kick at his fleeing form before Curtis hightailed it away from him. Lincoln noted several people were out and watching the altercation, so for their benefit he shouted after him.
‘You’re a liar, Curtis!’
Lincoln watched him, noting that he did head into the saloon. Then he returned to the law office, but found that he still had one interested observer – Mayor Ellison. He was standing beside the door and shaking his head.
‘Two lawmen fighting looks bad, Lincoln,’ he said.
Lincoln beckoned for the mayor to follow him inside.
‘That was one lawman and one no-good varmint, but I had no choice. Curtis has been telling everyone it’s my fault about what happened to Alex.’
Ellison provided a comforting wince, his guarded reaction implying this wasn’t news to him.
‘It was an unfortunate incident, but I’ll reiterate Murphy’s advice. Just move on and forget about Jack.’
‘I will, but what happened to Ben and Wesley is linked and—’
‘That doesn’t excuse you starting a vendetta against Jack or Karl or now Curtis.’ Ellison offered Lincoln a placating smile. ‘Take some advice. Nobody will know what you said to Curtis, but you’ve got a great reputation. Curtis hasn’t got much of a reputation worth speaking of. People will believe you, but only if you avoid squabbling like that.’
‘Point taken,’ Lincoln said with a rueful smile. ‘I’ll avoid Curtis from now on and let the gossip die out.’
‘That might be difficult with Karl being so riled up. Most people might think he has a good reason to be aggrieved, and with Jack still around, take some more advice, Lincoln. You need to avoid trouble, so leave town for a while.’
‘Are you ordering me to stop investigating Ben’s murder?’
‘Even with a man being hanged for doing it, I don’t reckon I could do that, but I can ask you to take my advice. Thore
au still has Lenox’s body and his family could do with getting it back. When you return, everything should have calmed down and you can get back to . . . to tying up any loose ends.’
Lincoln searched Ellison’s blank eyes, wondering if he was trying to tell him something by encouraging him to take Lenox’s body to Black Point. Ellison was sure to know Lenox was in the photograph and to be aware of the possible link between his death and the recent events here.
‘All right,’ Lincoln said. ‘I’ll take the body up to Black Point and stay out of trouble for a while.’
Chapter Ten
With the coffin containing Lenox Devere’s body sitting on the back of the wagon behind him, Lincoln headed out of Independence.
Initially he took the most direct route. He headed around the bluff to go past Sheriff Pringle’s house and then along the river where he’d fished out Lenox’s body a few days ago.
He trundled the wagon over hard ground and finally over rock, ensuring he left no tracks. Then he took an abrupt turn towards the bluff and drove the wagon into a gully.
When he’d stowed the wagon out of sight from the river, he jumped down and hurried to the mouth of the gully to look out and await developments.
An hour passed without anyone passing between the bluff and the river. Although Lincoln was a patient man, he was beginning to think he might have been acting in a paranoid manner when three riders headed along beside the river.
They were taking the route he would have taken if he hadn’t have headed to the gully. When they were closer he confirmed they were the Humboldt brothers.
They passed without giving any sign that they’d worked out where he’d gone and carried on riding. Whatever their reason had been for following him, Lincoln still waited for another hour before he took the wagon out of the gully.
When he set off, he traveled downriver, at first going in the opposite direction to Black Point, before fording the river some fifteen miles lower down and doubling back.
The journey to Black Point would normally take less than a day, but with Lincoln taking a circuitous route it took him two days. That time passed without incident and without him seeing the Humboldt brothers again.
The extra traveling time let him ponder. Each night he took out the faded photograph and stared at it as if it might yield up a clue as to who was behind the recent spate of killings.
The description of the picture Curtis had given him helped him to make out a blurred outline of someone at the back of the picture, which he presumed was the hanging man. Despite finding no further clues in it, he was in a hopeful frame of mind when he approached Black Point.
He came across sporadic homesteaders and asked each person he met if they knew of Lenox.
Everybody answered in the same way. They looked at the coffin and asked if Lenox was in it and on receiving confirmation that he was they didn’t show any sadness. Several went so far as to smile and say it was about time.
One man summed up the general feeling.
‘Was he murdered?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ Lincoln said. ‘I’m here to investigate it.’
‘Then you’ve got yourself a tough task. I know dozens of people who could have done it without losing a minute’s sleep afterwards.’
‘Do you know of anyone who’d worry less than most?’
At this point the man saw that Lincoln was serious about conducting an inquiry and he quieted, limiting himself to giving Lincoln directions to Lenox’s widow, Sarah.
From the information Lincoln pieced together from each person he spoke to, Lenox had been a violent and drunken man who had been especially rough in dealing with his wife. So when Lincoln arrived at the trading post that she was now running on her own, he expected her to be a downtrodden and defeated woman.
Instead, the woman who came out and hailed him did so with a cheery wave, as she probably did to all travelers. Even the years of hard-living she must have endured at Lenox’s hands hadn’t destroyed her beauty nor her huge and open smile.
From his high position Lincoln couldn’t help but look down her low-bodice dress.
She gave him what sounded like her standard sales spiel about the wares she had available, all done in a cheerful manner, until Lincoln’s somber expression and a glance at the coffin curtailed her pleasantries.
‘Are you taking that coffin far?’ she asked, narrowing her blue eyes.
‘I’m not taking it any further,’ Lincoln said. He paused to let his comment register. ‘I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.’
She took a longer look at the coffin. ‘That bad news had better not be that Lenox isn’t in that coffin because I couldn’t cope with hearing that.’
‘It is him.’
She closed her eyes and placed a hand to her chest, breathing deeply. Lincoln thought that despite her comment she might still be masking her shock, but when she opened her eyes they were lively and twinkling and when she came over to the wagon she even gave a short skip.
‘How did he die?’
‘I found him in the river near Independence with a bullet in his chest.’
‘I suppose that was a fitting end. It’s been a long time coming.’
‘I gather that you’re not sad this happened,’ Lincoln said, letting his low tone register some irritation. ‘But a man has still been murdered and—’
‘A man!’ she screeched, her contented mood ending in a moment. ‘That sure doesn’t describe Lenox. He was an animal in a man’s skin and I’ll sleep easier every night knowing I don’t ever have to suffer having his dirty hands all over me again.’
She leaned over the back of the wagon and spat on the coffin.
‘That aside, I need to find out everything I can about him and see if I can work out what happened.’
‘I can’t see why anyone would waste their time over him.’ Then, with a roll of her shoulders and a long sigh she got her feelings under control. She offered him her pleasant smile again. ‘I can see you’re a good man. I’ll tell you everything I can.’
Lincoln nodded and jumped down from the wagon.
‘You can start by telling me when you last saw him.’
She bit her lip and fiddled with her sleeves while taking a more somber look at the coffin.
‘I will answer your questions but I’d prefer not to talk about him right now. I guess I am a bit shocked, after all.’
Lincoln accepted her answer with a grunt.
‘And as I could do with some help in burying him,’ she continued, gesturing at the post, ‘perhaps you’d like to enjoy some food and rest. If there’s one thing I’m renowned for it’s my hospitality.’
There was something odd in the way she said ‘hospitality’, and the way she smiled at him and then fluffed her hair made Lincoln think that despite the closeness of her husband’s body, she was flirting with him.
Three hours later, with his belly full and the third tankard of rough ale dulling his senses, he was sure.
He sat at a table in a room at the back of the trading post with her sitting opposite him and leaning forward so he had a good view of her half-exposed bosom while she continually smiled at him.
‘Tell me what happened between you and Lenox.’ he said, not for the first time, as she refilled his tankard.
‘Lenox is a long story,’ she said, her eyes glazed, her breathing heavy, and her words slurred by the liquor. ‘None of it is a nice subject for a pleasant evening. Talk to me about something else. I always enjoy the company of a lawman.’
Lincoln rubbed his jaw. ‘Have you ever met Sheriff Ben Pringle?’
She winced and slumped back in her chair. ‘I have . . . met him, several times.’
Lincoln caught her hesitation. ‘Did he ever come out here to see you?’
‘Now you’re being as inquisitive as Ben was.’ She slapped his arm playfully, but then firmed her jaw and frowned. When she spoke again her tone was serious. ‘Perhaps you’re right. I should tell you about the man who killed Lenox.’
&n
bsp; Lincoln noted how she had changed the subject, but if she was going to distract him from talking about Ben by revealing this piece of information, he didn’t mind.
‘His name?’ He waited for her to answer, but she remained silent and guessing the reason for her sudden reticence he continued. ‘Just tell me your story. It’ll be hard to prove anything when all I’m likely to get is your word on what happened.’
‘I will tell you about him, but not his name. I don’t want you to go after him.’ She snuffled. ‘He doesn’t deserve that.’
‘I may have to find and question him, but I promise you I’ll be fair.’
‘You’re a good man, just like the man who killed Lenox.’ She stared at her hands for several moments. ‘Every month Lenox used to go away. I don’t know where he went but I didn’t care. It let me earn a living and I didn’t miss his drunken rages. But a woman living on her own can get awful lonely, if you know what I mean.’
‘I do.’
‘This man arrived and stayed with me.’
Lincoln waited a respectful length of time before he ventured the obvious question.
‘Was this man Ben Pringle?’
‘No.’ She offered a smile. ‘Not this time anyhow, but this man had received a letter from Ben, and he knew we were friends. He was nervous about seeing him, but I told him Ben often came to see me and so he decided to wait for him here. While he waited we got real friendly and he was nice to me.’
She sighed, her eyes twinkling, perhaps as she recalled a pleasant memory.
‘I reckon I know what you’re trying to tell me. You and this man had a relationship, Lenox came back earlier than you expected, there was trouble.’
‘That sums up what happened. The man ran away and Lenox chased after him.’ She pointed eastwards. ‘They went towards the river. I expected Lenox to come back and take out his anger on me, but he never returned.’
‘Did this man strike you as someone who would kill?’
‘He was a gentle man, but the hideous mood Lenox was in when he left meant he would either kill or be killed. I’m just glad it was be killed. I sent word down to Ben that I needed help, but he never replied.’ She looked away, tears welling. ‘I heard later that he didn’t respond because he’d been killed.’
