by Tony Masero
“If you say so,” said the judge.
“I do, sir. I’ve seen enough of them.”
“I don’t doubt it but what’s your point?”
Ahlen picked up the gun lying on the tabletop. “This here is the murder weapon the sheriff attested to, am I right?”
“You are.”
“Well, judge. I have to tell you this gun is a Remington New Model Belt Revolver. Fires six shots and they’ve been making them since sometime back in 1863.”
The judge nodded.
“Thing is, judge. This pistol uses .36 caliber bullets, won’t take a .45. There is no way this is the murder weapon. Mister Astley was shot with a totally different firearm, most probably a Colt. Pretty much like the one that the birthday boy Ly Bedstone, sitting over there carries.”
There was a deathly hush in courtroom and then a wave of sound burst from the onlookers. The judge himself was taken aback for a moment until he recovered himself and began to hammer at the table with his gavel.
Ly Bedstone was on his feet and shaking his fist angrily at Ahlen, his words though were lost in the general noise. Tyrone caught his arm and said something in Bedstone’s ear, and then Tyrone turned and walked out, followed by the rest of the gang.
The judge was holding the .45 slug up between thumb and forefinger and scrutinizing it. “Well, sheriff,” he said. “Kinda blows a hole in your prosecution, don’t it? You’d better get those chains off that boy.” He slammed the gavel down even though no one could hear him except those nearest the table.
“Case dismissed. And sheriff, you best find the true owner of this bullet.”
He tossed the slug at Langstrom, who caught it instinctively. Looking at the damning piece of evidence, Langstrom raised his eyes slowly to meet Ahlen’s and Ahlen saw the resentment hidden there.
A few moments later outside the casino doors, Ahlen, Len and Charlie Bob were met with a cheerful crowd of congratulators. Mostly they were folks from before the advent of Ty Fells’ regime, old school mill workers and men who worked the river logs.
There was a great deal of backslapping and loud cries of, “Well done, Ahlen! You told it like it was.”
“Hey, Ahlen Best,” yelped an old catty-man. “Why the hell don’t you run for sheriff? You certainly showed old Langstrom where to go in there.”
“Yeah, that’s right,” echoed the crowd. “Bring this town back to what it was.”
Ahlen smiled, a little taken aback by all the adulation. “Sheriff! Me? Hell, I don’t know about that.”
“Sure,” agreed Len, at his elbow. “That’s a great idea, Ahlen. I can’t think of anyone better.”
“Well,” Ahlen said doubtfully. “I’ll have to think on it. I never considered being a lawman.”
“You’d be the best man for it,” said the old catty-man, nodding wisely. “And we’d all vote for you.”
As they walked back home, Ahlen was silent as he considered the proposal. He found he liked the idea. An opportunity to improve things within the structure of the law. He was well aware that the trouble with Ty and his gang could only get worse and if he had the protection of legal office he was more likely to succeed in defending himself and his family with the law behind him.
“Uncle Ahlen,” said Charlie Bob, interrupting his train of thought.
“Uhuh?”
“I want to thank you for what you did.”
“It’s nothing, Charlie Bob. Any opportunity to poke at Ty Fells and his crew, is all one big bonus for me.”
“Still,” Charlie Bob continued, looking down at his feet as he walked. “I’ve been thoughtless and dumb. If I hadn’t gone off with Tyrone and let them fill me with booze, none of this would have happened. I feel bad about it.”
“Well, son,” said his father. “You learned a lesson. Ahlen had those men to rights. They’re no good and best avoided.”
“I know it now. What’s worse is that I let little Petey wander off alone. That was a bad thing. If anything had happened to him I’d never have forgiven myself.”
“You’re right, it was a bad thing,” agreed Ahlen. “Always best to remember your responsibilities first. No reason you can’t have fun but just keep your priorities straight.”
“Won’t happen again,” Charlie Bob promised.
Len looked across at Ahlen over Charlie Bob’s head and smiled proudly at the boy’s change of heart. Ahlen nodded and winked back in agreement.
“You know what?” he said. “I’ve been thinking. I reckon I will stand for sheriff.”
“That’s great!” grinned Len. “Best thing for the whole island.”
“You might not be smiling so much if I do get in,” said Ahlen, looking straight ahead to the house where the rest of the family stood waiting.
“Why not?”
“Because the first thing I’ll do, will be to pin a deputy’s star on your shirt.”
“Gee! Dad!” said Charlie Bob in awe. “I never, ever saw you as a lawman.”
“Me neither,” said Len dolefully, the color draining from his face at the prospect.
Chapter Nine
Early on the next morning after his success on Election Day, Ahlen made all of his friends deputies.
There was hardly space for them all in the small jailhouse as they crowded in together.
“I reckon there’s more room in them cells back there,” observed Len, as he pressed up shoulder to shoulder with Loup.
“Come on, Len,” complained Loup. “I don’t hardly take up any room at all.”
“It ain’t you,” said Len, waggling a thumb at Ahlen and Jodie. “It’s those two giants over there we have to contend with.”
“Well, I don’t reckon we’ll be in here much anyway,” said Ahlen. “I want to have a presence on the streets. Keep some of the brawling and drunkenness down.”
“Did you see the look on Deed’s face when the results came in?” asked Loup, with a grin.
“Yes, he took it badly,” agreed a frowning Pres. “I reckon we may have trouble there.”
“There’ll be trouble enough once Ty starts getting down to it,” warned Ahlen. “We were just real lucky the judge agreed to stay over and keep an eye on the voting, otherwise I guess that Ty would have sown it up in his favor one way or the other.”
“You’re right there, he’d either have bought up the votes or had his boys waving guns under people’s noses,” agreed Jodie. “So now we’re here, where do we make a start, Ahlen?”
“Well,” said Ahlen, resting his behind on the edge of the office desk and folding his arms. “Like I say, we patrol the streets. At all hours, so it’ll be in shifts. Also, I want to get a handle on this rustling racket too, maybe put a stop to it.”
“You do that and Ty’ll come down hard. That’s a big part of his income,” observed Pres, in his usual pragmatic way.
“I know it, but it’s the main reason we’ve have so many low types in town.”
“We bust that and we’ll have a war on,” said Len softly. “You realize it, don’t you?”
“Yes, I know it, but then, so what? We have a war on already. No one said this would be easy. And for that reason I want a watch kept on our families. That means someone will be on horseback patrolling outside the town. Loup, you’re the whistle punk, I reckon that’ll be your job. You give us fair warning if anything bad is going down on the homesteads.”
Loup nodded, “Okay.”
“Len,” said Ahlen. “I want you to be here. A kind of central control. You’ll walk the town with Pres. One on, one off. Both of you have cool heads and that’s what we’ll need, dealing with the regular townsfolk.”
“And me?” asked Jodie.
“You’re coming with me to check out this stone bridge they’ve built. I’ll need someone who can slide through the woods like a shadow, and you’re the one.”
“As you say, Ahlen.”
Ahlen leaned back and opened a drawer in the desk and took out a small canvas sack. Opening the neck he spilled tin stars onto
the desktop.
“Take one up,” he said. “Wear it at all times and a sidearm too. No one goes unarmed from now on.”
Suddenly, the street door swung back and Ty Fells stood alone in the opening, the sun casting his shadow into the room.
“Oh, my!” he said. “A gathering alright. Sorry boys, I didn’t mean to intrude. Kinda cramped in here though, you have room for one more?”
“Barely,” said Loup, elbowing Len aside.
“I just stopped by,” said Ty, with a wide smile. “To congratulate the new sheriff. That and offer any help I can. Say the word, Ahlen and I’ll do what I can to assist.”
“Ty,” said Ahlen coolly. “We won’t be needing your help. But seeing as you’re here you saved me a trip. I was going to drop by and let you have it official.”
“What’s that?” asked Ty with a bemused look.
“New town order,” said Ahlen. “From now on, all houses of entertainment close sharp at eleven o’clock at night. And no guns in town, so tell those men of yours to hang up their hardware. I catch any of them carrying and they’ll be joining us in here in one of those cells. Understood?”
“Seems a little harsh,” frowned Ty. “Man’s got a right to carry a weapon surely?”
“Not in the town precincts. Not now, not ever.”
“Hmm, that will not be popular.”
“I didn’t take this job on to curry favor. I intend to see that some decency returns to this town.”
“Well,” said Ty disarmingly. “You’re the boss.”
Ahlen shook his head. “No, Ty, I’m not the boss. I just represent the law.”
“Surely though, you operate under the auspices of the town council?”
“We don’t have a town council,” piped Loup.
“Well, we do now,” said Ty, smiling pleasantly again. “I’ve got together some of the town businessmen and we’re forming up a council of representatives. No offence, fellows, but we can’t let even the law ride roughshod over people’s civil liberties, now can we?”
“You’ll do what you will, Ty,” said Ahlen patiently. “But you’d better understand one thing. I’m out to get you, whatever you try.”
“Well,” said Ty, raising his eyebrows in mock surprise. “That’s putting it plain enough.” His smile dropped then and a hard look entered his features. “Guess I have to reciprocate. So here’s my warning to you. Any of you touch me or anything of mine and you’ll have a parcel of trouble on your hands, believe me. You’ve been away too long, Ahlen. This town don’t belong to you and no tin star’s going to make it so.”
With that, he turned on his heel abruptly and left, slamming the door behind him.
“Ooo-oh!” joked Loup. “Scary!”
“A declaration of war, if ever I heard one,” said Pres, scratching his bald head vigorously.
“Anybody wants out, now’s the time,” Ahlen looked seriously at each of them, one after the other. “It’s going to be win or bust and we have to be ready to go the whole way. So, now’s the moment to get out if you ain’t up for it.”
“Don’t say that,” said Jodie. “You should know we’re all here for you.”
A loud chorus of agreement from the rest of the men echoed Jodie’s declaration.
“Then,” said Ahlen, with finality. “Let’s get to it.”
**********
Ahlen and Jodie rode across to the northern side of the island the same afternoon.
It was pretty much a deserted area, most of the homesteads being built on a west to east axis out from the town and main steamboat dock. On this side of the island the undergrowth grew thicker as a result and was more densely wooded but a wide trail had been gouged out of the woodland by hundreds of hoofed feet and this marked the two rider’s route plainly.
“You know,” said Ahlen. “I’ve been wondering why there’s been no cattle in the town corrals of late. They’ve been empty since I got back and this trail looks like it’s had heavy traffic in the past.”
“Spring tide,” said Jodie, his careful eyes never leaving the forested trail on either side of them. “The water’s been running too high coming down the Long Bend River. Snow melt and a lot of rain earlier this year. It’s dropped its level now though, now that summer’s here.”
“The water covers the bridge?”
Jodie nodded. “Water’s too deep to cross over during winter and spring but by now it’s fine. They couldn’t build the stone bridge above water level; it would have acted as a dam. Either flooded the whole island or washed the bridge away. So, its just a tad underwater allowing the high waters to flow over it.”
“Why stone though, what’s wrong with a wooden one?”
“When the cattle come over they bring them in their thousands, week after week. That’s too much weight and vibration for a normal wooden bridge.”
“You reckon they’ll be bringing them over soon then?”
“Ty’s probably spent the last month getting his boys over in Canada rustling up as many as they can ready for one big drive down. They’ll be coming.”
They were silent for a while and for the first time in a long while Ahlen relaxed. It was pleasant to be out in the woods again and he breathed the fresh air deeply feeling the strain of the past weeks dropping from his shoulders with a slow sense of relief. He flexed his hands and was pleased to find that although the scar tissue on the surface was taught his fingers moved more easily now.
“They back with you?” asked Jodie, noticing his finger movements.
“Sure,” answered Ahlen. “Almost good as new.”
“Those wristbands of Len help?”
“Yep, they make a big difference. It was good of him.”
“He’s come a long way,” said Jodie. “Your sister’s death hit him hard. He kind of woke up after that. Quit the drinking and straightened out.”
Ahlen nodded, “He seems to making a go of it with Charlie Bob too.”
“How’re you with the gun?” Jodie asked, indicating the army Navy Colt and flap holster Ahlen had strapped to his waist.
“Not too bad,” said Ahlen. “I’ve been practicing. Can still place one where I want it.”
Jodie nodded. “That’s good,” he said. “Reckon you’ll be needing it pretty soon.”
They finally reached the end of the trail and broke through the forest cover to stand on the far banks of the island. Through the clear flow below him, Ahlen could see the broad path made up of compacted fist-sized pale stones lying under an inch or two of lake water. It ran across in a wide path, each side bolstered by a wall of heavy tree trunks embedded in the lake’s bed and standing next to each other in soldierly fashion across the whole gap. He urged his pony down the slope and with Jodie behind, splashed out onto the stone built pathway.
“Must have taken some effort?” Ahlen observed.
“Ty had a lot of help. Plenty of drifters after the war eager for his cash.” said Jodie from behind.
“What’s on the other side?” Ahlen squinted across the thousand-yard gap but could see little in the shadowed overhang of dense foliage rising above them.
“Remember that old log flume they built here years ago, must have been way back before our day?”
Ahlen recalled the ‘v’ shaped trough fashioned from heavy planking that had run down from the heights above. The old lumberjacks would slide logs down it’s path to reach the water, which was easier than hauling it through the woods. But subsequently the run had fallen into disuse when the forests above had been cropped out.
“It still there?” he asked.
“No, but they used the pathway it made through. Built a corduroy road out of logs and earth. They run the beef over that.”
“Can’t be easy, getting a herd down there.”
“Earning money’s never easy,” observed Jodie, philosophically. “Even if it’s crooked.”
“I’ve been meaning to get in touch with the Mounties, see if they can do anything from their side.”
Jodie shook his hea
d, “Waste of time. They’ve got one man over there to handle an area the size of our whole state. It’s very easy to avoid him if you’ve got enough folk with their eyes open.”
Ahlen urged his pony up the opposite bank and could then see the corduroy road, a log reinforced path that dipped and rolled upwards into the gloom of the forest.
“Hold on!” said Jodie quietly and Ahlen pulled up obediently.
“What is it?”
“People,” said Jodie. “I smell damped down wood smoke. Somebody’s camping out here.”
Jodie dismounted and passed the reins to Ahlen. Then without a word the Indian slipped off the trail and into the cover of the trees.
Ahlen knew to trust Jodie’s Indian nose implicitly even though all he could smell was the run of the water and the greenery around him.
The voice, when it came, startled him.
“I got you covered, mister! Get down off that horse.”
Ahlen did not know where the harsh order came from, for he could see nothing amongst the leaves and thick undergrowth.
“Who are you?” he asked. “I’m Ahlen Best, sheriff over at Mistake Island.”
“I don’t give a good goddamn who you are, make a wrong move and we’ll blast you. Now do like I say and get down.”
Slowly, Ahlen dismounted. He had noticed the use of ‘we’ when the man spoke, so he guessed there were more than one gun trained on him at the moment.
“What you boys doing out here?” he called, raising his hands.
“I’ll ask the questions,” said the man, pushing his way through the bushes and out onto the road above where Ahlen stood. He was an elderly, bareheaded and grizzle-chinned man, dressed in fringed buckskin like an old time mountain man. He wore a gun belt and pistol with an Indian tomahawk stuck crosswise into the belt. The Winchester he carried was more modern though and it was pointed directly at Ahlen’s mid-section.
“Where’s that Indian you had with you?” asked the man.
“He’s just off taking a leak,” Ahlen lied. “Be back directly.”
“That so?” said the mountain man. “Josh!” he called and a voice answered from behind Ahlen.
