Deadman's Lament (The Deadman Series Book 1)

by Linell Jeppsen

  Matthew knew from the look on the young deputy’s face that someone had died but the sheriff thought he already knew what had happened…he had seen the dead bodies hanging by the stockyard. He went to a large water pitcher and poured himself a cup before sitting at the table with a painful wince.

  “Okay, let’s hear it,” Matthew said.

  The young man’s face twisted in fear and his mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he could speak. The sheriff glanced over at Roy in consternation-who stared back at him in pity. Matthew suddenly understood that he did not know the whole truth.

  “Sit down and tell me what happened.”

  Bob gulped and pulled out a chair. “Sir, I hate to say it but your Uncle Jon and his wife are both dead.” The young man trembled at the look that came over his sheriff’s face.

  Matthew felt the blood drain from his head and for one breathless moment, he feared he would faint and fall. Unwanted tears filled his eyes even as a terrifying wave of fury filled his heart. Wiping the moisture away from his cheeks, Matthew whispered, “How did this happen?”

  Bob told both lawmen what had taken place two nights earlier.

  “Sheriff, I stayed with Mr. Wilcox and his wife for five days. They were good to me and helped me with my injury. I woulda still been there but for the fact that the Burnsides wanted to go on into Spokane Falls on account of Mrs. Burnside’s daughter is having a baby…”

  Bob poured a drink of water from the pitcher. “Anyway, the Burnsides asked if I could come here and keep an eye out on things—harvest the fruit on those trees out back and feed their chickens while they were gone. Well, I was happy to do it and get out from underfoot at your uncle’s place so I moved my kit over here and the Burnsides took off to Spokane Falls. Later that same night, I was sleeping here on the couch and I thought I heard a ruckus in the chicken coop. I figured a raccoon or a fox was up to no good, so I grabbed my shotgun and went outside to look.”

  His eyes big with the remembered horror, he continued, “That decision saved my life, sir, cuz no sooner did I step into the coop than a bunch of men came bustin’ in the front door of the house! They tore things up some and made a mess but mainly, I think, they were lookin’ for hostages. Lucky for me, I guess, because once I heard ‘em I ducked down inside the roost and waited for them to leave.”

  Bob gazed up at Matthew’s face. “I crept out a little later and hid behind some tall scrub to get an eye on what was happening. I saw everybody being herded out of their houses and led down the street at gunpoint to the livestock barn. Then I saw five men drag your uncle and his wife out the front door of their—I mean—your house, sir.” He gulped and shook his head as though denying the images in his mind’s eye he knew to be true.

  “Oh, sir, it was awful!” he cried. “I don’t rightly know how they got the drop on your uncle the way they did, but four men held him down while the others took turns…” Bob covered his face with shaking hands. “Oh, don’t make me say it, sir!”

  “That’s alright, Bob. I get the picture,” Matthew murmured through frozen, grief-stricken lips.

  “Anyways, after they finished, they killed poor Margie and then our town folk were forced to stay and watch what came next.” Bob gasped. “I think that one of those skunks—I’m pretty sure it was that gawddam Top Hat—was trying to rape your uncle but it took six of those outlaws to subdue him. I think they finally just gave up on that notion ‘cuz it was too much trouble. But it didn’t stop Top Hat from stepping up from behind and cutting your uncle’s throat with that big knife of his!”

  Matthew’s whole body recoiled in horror as Bob went on to describe how the next day he had watched as the gang members left town only to return a few hours later with their friends and neighbors trussed up against their will and thrown in the barn with the other captives.

  As Bob relayed his news as carefully and compassionately as he could, Matthew was lost in his own memories. He recalled waking up from his own kidnapping and seeing his father’s face staring down at him, only this man was dark and much thinner with kindly, green eyes.

  He remembered how hard Jonathon had worked to raise Matthew as his own and the deep but quiet love and respect his uncle had shown him over the years. He recalled his uncle’s fear when he realized that Matthew’s heart was set on destroying the criminal known as Top Hat and, finally, Matthew accepted the fact the he was to blame for his aunt and uncle’s deaths.

  Bob stammered in dismay at the subtle but fearful change that came over the sheriff’s face as Matthew’s heart turned to stone.

  Chapter 30

  “Life is but a Dream”

  The three men stayed up late talking about the preceding day’s events, the outlaws and the almost magical reappearance of Matthew’s wolf. Bandit had been staying with Jon and Margaret when the outlaws overcame the couple but had somehow managed to escape without injury.

  That Bandit was an escape artist, Matthew had no doubt. Still, it was remarkable since Bob thought that over eight men had busted into the house, guns roaring. Reaching down to scratch the animal between his ears, Matthew knew it was nothing short of a miracle that his pet panted happily by his side.

  They also made plans. Matthew knew something about the large barn where the prisoners were held captive; Davey O’Donnell and his brother Joseph had made a sort of sinkhole outside of the back. Normally, the barn and livestock pens were sparsely populated but this was not a big town and most through-traffic flowed westerly into the larger Spokane Falls area. Occasionally, however, the stalls and pens would be filled to overflowing along with the natural by-products of their guests. That is when the two brothers opened a small hatch at the rear of the barn and shoveled manure into the cesspool.

  Unfortunately, when the temperatures were high or there was a weather inversion, the stink in the hole rose into the air, filling the town with toxic fumes. Over the years, numerous complaints had landed on the sheriff’s desk saying things like deal with those damn Irish stinkers or we will!

  Finally, just last year, Matthew had convinced the stable owners to stop polluting the town’s air supply by commissioning a poop wagon to stop by once a week, collect the manure and drive by the local farms and ranches to drop off free fertilizer for their gardens.

  The cesspool had been covered over with dirt and was just starting to settle into the ground again but Matthew still knew where the little hatch was. Unfortunately, he would have to wade through shit to get to it.

  The men grew still as, once again, they heard the sounds of footsteps on the road. Matthew crept to the window and peered outside. All three of them crouched down with their hands on their guns and waited in tense silence as the outlaws paused in front of the house and then turned around and proceeded back the way they came.

  A few minutes later, after finalizing their plans, Matthew lay down on a pallet on the floor. He was exhausted and the pain in his ribs and lower back made a very long and sad day seem even more taxing. Hearing the two deputies do the same, Matthew closed his eyes and fell into a dream-filled slumber.

  In the dream, he was fourteen years old and sitting at the kitchen table with his Uncle Jon and grandfather, Peter. They had found a little chalkboard and were trying to teach the bored and ailing Matthew about history and literature. He was fidgeting anxiously, and kept peeking out the windows at the buttery yellow sunshine and the blue skies that were still out of reach to him in his convalescence.

  Jon had promised that Matthew would be allowed outdoors just as soon as his strength returned but the boy despaired of that day ever coming again. Peter, whose love of the classics sometimes tested his son’s patience as much as Matthew’s, was droning on about one of Shakespeare’s plays, the tragic romance of Romeo and Juliet.

  Jon had grinned as Matthew was literally nodding off and said, “Father, it looks like your pupil is asleep.”

  Peter stared at the boy for a moment before closing the leather tome.

  “Well,” he murmured. “Shakes
peare is not everyone’s cup of tea.”

  Matthew had awoken with a startled snort and said, “I’m sorry, Grandfather! I didn’t mean to doze off.”

  Peter gazed at him fondly and replied, “That’s alright, my boy. I think you might like what your uncle has planned next. Did your papa ever tell you about the Trojan horse?”

  Wracking his brains, Matthew finally shook his head. “I thought I’d heard about every kind of horse but I guess I missed that one.”

  Peter grinned and said, “Well, this is a different kind of horse alright.” Getting to his feet, Peter added, “I am going to see if there are any more of those tarts in the pantry.” Then he walked out the door into the hallway while Jon sat in the vacant chair and proceeded to teach history—and the art of war—to his foster son.

  Matthew woke up five hours later with a smile on his face. Checking the pocket watch that hung from a fob made out of a long-dead Negro’s long hair, he nodded in satisfaction; it was one o’clock in the morning. Getting to his feet, he shook both of the deputies awake and whispered, “It’s time to get going.”

  Roy and Bob rose and donned their gun belts. Although they had already checked, they counted their bullets again and tested the blades of their knives. Bandit sat watching, his golden eyes gleaming in the shadows as Matthew opened a jar of peaches and cut slices of bread from one of Mrs. Burnside’s loaves.

  The men finished their breakfast and Matthew said, “Are you ready?”

  Both Roy and Bob nodded mutely and the sheriff said, “I won’t hold it against either one of you if you would rather hightail it into Spokane Falls. We could use the extra help and this will be a dangerous day.”

  Both men stared back at him with offended eyes and Matthew smiled. “Okay, follow me.”

  Checking one last time to make sure the guards were nowhere near, they stepped out into the night. All three lawmen bent low and moved through town toward the barn. As they drew nearer to the large structure, they could see tall flames lick up from a bonfire in front of it.

  Pressing themselves into a low crouch, Matthew and his deputies approached the cesspool. They were in the shadows, but two of the outlaws who were on guard duty seemed to be wide-awake and well into their cups. The sounds of rough laughter rose into the air and Matthew knew this must be done quickly or all his well-laid plans would be for naught.

  Stepping down into the cesspool, Matthew held his breath. With any luck, he wouldn’t break the earthen crust and fall through to the old shit below. Gingerly making his way across the dirt and weeds, he almost made it to the back of the barn when his boot broke the mud and he sank almost to his hips into the sewage.

  Swearing to himself, he slogged through the offal and made it to a natural incline in the pool floor closer to the barn. His boots scrambled for purchase, then clinging to the shit-covered ground and the bottom of the barn walls, he pursed his lips and started to whistle a soft tune.

  Many years ago, Matthew had gone to Spokane Falls with his uncle and grandfather to hear the renowned opera singer, Jenny Lind, also known as the Swedish Nightingale. She had sung many songs but the one he remembered best was from Der Frieschutz. As the hair on the back of his neck had risen in awe at the woman’s beautiful soprano voice, he recalled glancing to his left and seeing the look of wonder on Iris Imes’s face as she sat four chairs down from him next to her husband. She had caught his eye and smiled.

  Now he hoped she also remembered that song well for those were the notes he whistled into the wallboards of the barn. His deputies were stationed on either side of him and ready to open fire on the bandits if they came around the back to relieve themselves or to investigate. So far, so good, Matthew thought as he heard the men out front singing their own unmelodic and bawdy tunes.

  He whistled again and suddenly heard a whispered shuffle on the other side of the barn wall. There was a light knocking noise and Matthew grinned when he heard Iris’s sleepy whisper, “Mattie, is that you?”

  “Yes, it’s me,” he answered. “Iris, you need to do something for me. This piece of wall in front of you is a hatch. Davey and Joseph nailed it shut a while back but someone in there should be able to pry it open. Can you do that for me?”

  “You bet I can,” came her grim reply. “I’ll do it myself if I have to.”

  Matthew heard more startled voices beyond the wall and soon he saw a knife slide out from a cut in the wood about twelve inches from his nose. Leaning backwards, he almost fell into the cesspool but managed to catch his balance in time. Glancing over at Roy, Matthew saw the deputy roll his eyes in nervous amusement.

  Then he saw a couple of knives and a crowbar make an appearance. In almost complete silence, the small wooden door fell away onto the ground. Matthew picked it up and laid it close to the hole in the barn wall.

  Matthew’s boots and pant legs were slick with sewer muck and he knew he must stink to high heaven but that did not stop Iris from grinning at him happily and leaning out the little door to plant a kiss on his mouth.

  “Finally, you’re back,” she said. “It’s about time!”

  Matthew saw Iris’s two children and most of the town’s citizens staring at him with bleak and weary faces.

  He smiled at the townsfolk he had come to love and whispered, “Let me in there…we have work to do.”

  Chapter 31

  A Subterfuge

  Iris backed away and two sets of strong, masculine hands reached through the small hole in the wall and seized Matthew by the shoulders. He heard muffled grunts as he was hauled into the chute and, although the pain was spectacular, he managed to squirm the rest of the way into the barn. Then Davey O’Donnell and Dish, the blacksmith, turned back to the hole and hauled his deputies in as well.

  The captives crowded around Matthew, whispering words of thanks. They tried to grab his hand in welcome but still looked over their shoulders toward the front of the barn in fear.

  “It’s good to be back, people, but we have a lot of work to do before we’re out of this fix,” he said softly. “Let’s go behind that stall there so if one of those bastards comes looking, they won’t see us.”

  Nodding in understanding, the men, women and children crouched and sat behind the high wooden walls of one of the larger stalls. Matthew, Roy and Bob stood in front of them and emptied their persons of all the guns and knives they carried. The men who had been taken prisoner looked excited and hopeful for the first time as they saw the gleaming, loaded weapons placed before them on the straw-covered ground.

  “Go ahead and get one for each of you, okay?” Matthew watched as his neighbors armed themselves with grim resolution. A couple of women also grabbed guns and knives. At first, Matthew thought he should stop them and then reconsidered. He knew for certain that both of these women were crack shots and, in light of what he was about to ask of them now, he wanted women who were able to handle themselves in a fight.

  After all the guns and knives he and his deputies had smuggled into the barn were confiscated, he asked the people to sit down again and listen to his plan. At first, there was some protest but not too much. These people knew they were in a tight fix and at least Matthew’s idea would help keep most of the women and children safe in the hours to come.

  Twenty minutes later, most of the women, children and oldsters were sneaking away out of the poop chute into the darkness. Iris was hesitant over being asked to go but special emphasis was put on her children’s welfare, her own fighting abilities, her horses that were still at home on her ranch, and the large barn that would serve as a hostel for the escaped refugees.

  Matthew took one of her arms as she prepared to wriggle through the chute. Pulling her away from the others, he looked into her eyes and said, “Iris, I …” Suddenly, he was at a loss for words. He had carried bitterness and retribution in his heart for so long he barely knew how to express his love for her.

  Iris stared up at him and smiled. Placing her hand on his cheek, she whispered, “Oh Mattie, I know. I love you,
too.” Then, despite the eyes that watched them and heedless of society’s censure, she stood on her toes and placed her lips on his.

  Matthew was acutely aware they were being observed but he did not care. He wrapped his long arms around Iris’s body and kissed her back with all the passion and promise his future could allow. There was a good possibility that he wouldn’t survive the upcoming conflict and he wanted this brave and lovely woman to know what was in his heart if he was killed.

  As their kiss lingered and the heat between them grew, Iris rejoiced. She had loved her husband but she was ready for this young man to take his place in her heart. Tears welled up in her eyes, though, for she was no fool. Matthew was taking a huge risk with his own life in order to save her and the rest of the people in town. Knowing this might be the last time she saw him alive, she clung to him a moment longer and then stepped away.

  “Well,” she said. “I better go and join the others.”

  Matthew stared at her and said, “Stay safe, Iris. And if any one of those crooks comes after you, shoot to kill!”

  She nodded. “Oh, believe me, I will.” She searched his face one last time, gathered up her skirts, and slithered out of the chute to join the others running away in the night.

  “Are you sure about this, Boss?” Bob asked as he prepared to follow Iris.

  “Yes, Bob. I need your help keeping the others safe. Remember first light and no closer than 400 yards.”

  “Got it, sir,” Bob said and stuck out his hand to shake. “Good luck, Sheriff.”

  Matthew shook the young man’s hand and wished him good luck as well. Then Bob slid out the chute and went his own way while the others headed to the safety of Iris Imes’s barn. Matthew felt certain that Top Hat meant no harm to the prisoners until the outlaw spotted the sheriff.

  Turning back to those who had stayed behind, he smiled in satisfaction. They were now a total of eight armed and very pissed-off men. Subduing and murdering a bunch of unarmed and defenseless citizens was one thing; trying that with people who were enraged and loaded for bear was quite another. Still, according to Dish, Top Hat’s gang included at least a dozen murderous savages who were all good with a gun.