by John Hansen
“Mind if I sit down?” asked Edgar.
The deputy frowned but nodded towards the empty chair in front of Edgar. “Have a seat.”
Edgar pulled the chair out from the table and sat down. The portly deputy, not knowing who Edgar was, looked on, somewhat puzzled at the cold reception his partner was giving him.
“What are you doing here?” asked the smaller deputy in a low and agitated voice that had a ring of incredulity to it.
Edgar didn’t like the deputy and he couldn’t help being somewhat obnoxious. “So you do remember who I am?”
“Course I do. You and your partner are workin’ that claim out on Moonshine Creek.” The deputy paused, and then added in a voice loud enough so that if anyone across the room cared they could hear: “Too bad about the original owner of that claim gettin’ himself bushwhacked. We been workin’ that case but so far ain’t nothin’ turned up. But you never know, just takes that one missin’ piece of the puzzle and somebody will be meetin’ their maker.”
Edgar watched the deputy’s expression as he spoke. He was arrogant and smug; it was like he was immune from any kind of retribution from the citizens of Bear Creek or any higher authority, but Edgar, on the other hand, could be going to “meet his maker” should that one critical piece of information turn up. Edgar realized there was little he could do, not if he wanted the deputy U.S. marshal off his back. He was no match for this guy; it would take the sheriff and his deputies to get rid of him. It was the only way that he would be able to spend any of the gold that he had hidden outside of town or, for that matter, work the claim anymore. And so, for the time being he was going to have to tolerate the deputy’s veiled threats.
The arrogant deputy looked Edgar hard in the eyes and repeated his earlier question in a whispered voice: “What the hell you doin’ here? Hollis won’t be happy.”
“Leroy’s dead,” replied Edgar in a low voice.
A look of surprise, then concern, came over the smaller deputy’s face. “So how’d he get that way?” he asked irreverently.
Edgar looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was listening before speaking. The bigger deputy, the portly one, seemed oblivious to Edgar’s announcement but nonetheless leaned forward to hear better, almost as if he were listening to a dirty joke being told in a hushed voice. “We had a deputy U.S. marshal visit us yesterday afternoon. He accused Leroy of being the one that killed the guy whose claim we’re workin’. Said this guy was his friend.”
At first the smaller deputy seemed perplexed, even confused as Hollis had confided in him that the marshal appeared to be camped somewhere in Chokecherry Canyon and that he was going out there to take care of him. But now Edgar was saying that this lawman was well south of there on Moonshine Creek. Something wasn’t adding up. “What’d this guy look like?” asked the deputy.
Edgar got a pondering look in his eyes. “He was a young guy, kinda big. I’d say over six foot. He had dark hair and was clean shaven except for a moustache.” Edgar paused, and then he exclaimed: “He had a southern accent. Maybe like he was from Texas or some such place.”
Both deputies’ faces instantly lit up. Their expressions were so telling that Edgar immediately asked rhetorically: “You guys know this guy?”
“Yeah,” replied the smaller deputy. “He’s the one that killed the big Swede over at the Gold Strike here a few days back. And then he skedaddled outa town with that young whore that was workin’ there.”
“Well, I don’t know nuthin ‘bout any whore,” said Edgar. “This fellar was by himself.”
“So how is it that Leroy gets killed and you’re able to get clean away?” asked the smaller deputy in a suspicious tone.
“Well, we was workin’ our sluice box and not expectin’ any trouble, ya know, when the next thing we know this lawman is standin’ there with his gun pointed at us. He says we was workin’ his friend’s claim and he wants all of our gold. Said if we didn’t give it to him he’d kill one of us and then see if the other one would be more talkative. We thought he was bluffin’, bein’ a lawman and all, but he wasn’t. He shot poor ole Leroy right twixt the eyes. He went down in a heap and I mean just right now. He didn’t so much as twitch. But I’ll tell you what, watching your best friend get it like that can change your attitude right quick. So fellars, long story short is I had to give him all of our gold or end up like Leroy.”
“And he just let you go?” asked the smaller deputy disbelievingly.
“Not exactly,” replied Edgar. “We was standin’ right next to the crik. The gold was in saddlebags and when I went to hand it to him I just swung the bags hard and hit his gun hand. Knocked his pistol into the water. I took off runnin’ and was goin’ faster’n greased lightning until I tripped over our fire ring at camp. But I thrashed around for ‘bout as long as it takes a lizard to eat ah ant and I was off again. Lucky for me my horse was grazing right near camp. I grabbed my bridle but didn’t dare take time to put it on. I just hopped on bareback and took off. Didn’t bridle my horse until I got on down the trail a ways.”
“You’re a lucky man,” said the smaller deputy. “That guy took care of the Swede pretty handy-like.”
“Well, what you fellars aim to do about him?” asked Edgar. “Me and Leroy gave the sheriff some hard-earned gold to—”
“Shut up, you fool,” interrupted the smaller deputy. Nodding his head towards the back door, he said: “Let’s go outside.”
And with that the three men pushed their chairs back and got up; as they did, Mabel, the owner and only waitress, approached with coffeepot in hand. She’d overheard enough of their hushed conversation to know that they were talking about the young Texan that had been there a few days earlier. She liked him in spite of the apparent general consensus floating around town that he’d killed the big Swede in an argument over a whore. Neither the sheriff nor his deputies had attempted to clarify the rumors being circulated by the Swede’s friends. Their version had the young Texan goading the Swede into a fight by taking up with his girl. And now, here was a miner claiming that the Texan had killed his partner in cold blood. The Texan’s reputation in Bear Creek would be going downhill in a hurry when word of this got around. “You boys ain’t had but barely one cup a coffee this morning,” said Mabel in a jovial tone. “You gonna be able to make it through the day on that?”
The portly deputy smiled weakly at Mabel. “Guess it’ll have to do,” he said. “We got business to tend to.”
Mabel looked on as the deputies dug in their pockets for money to pay for their breakfast. She was tempted to banter with the miner who had charcoal on his face, hands, and much of his clothing, but as her eyes briefly encountered those of the smaller deputy it was clear that this would not be welcome. And so she said nothing as she collected the coins placed on the table by the deputies and watched them file out the back door in silence.
The deputies and Edgar walked a short distance away from the restaurant to an area near a big ponderosa pine tree and almost within spitting distance of the privy whose door was open. The smaller deputy glared at Edgar. “Don’t ever make mention of our agreement in public again,” he said sternly. “It could go real bad for you if you do.”
“Sorry,” said Edgar meekly. “Guess I wasn’t thinking.” He paused. “It’s just that I gotta get this guy off ah-me.”
“Hollis is gone takin’ care of some business right now,” said the smaller deputy. “Not sure when he’ll be back, but I reckon in the next day or so. When he does get back we’ll see what he wants to do. In the meantime, you best lay low.”
Edgar was taken aback a bit by the deputy’s admonition. “Me, lay low?” he blurted. “This Texan is the one that killed Leroy and took our gold.”
A sinister smile came over the smaller deputy’s face. “Yeah, well he’s the one with the deputy marshal’s badge. And if we want to get right down to it—not to be splittin’ hairs, mind ya—but Leroy did bushwhack the Texan’s partner.” The deputy paused and then said emphatically: �
��So, not knowing what cards this guy might be holding, I think it’d be best if you weren’t paradin’ around Bear Creek until the sheriff gets back and we decide what we’re gonna do.”
Edgar had an uneasy feeling about doing this. It was like the sheriff and his deputies wanted to wait and see how much heat the Texan could bring on them before deciding if they were going to help him or not. He was stuck—he had no choice but to do things their way; nonetheless he said: “A couple days back I’m pretty sure me an’ Leroy saw this fellar over at old Lester Scoville’s claim. It was ‘bout dusk, but there was a horse there that looked like the one he was ridin’ yesterday.”
“Was the whore with’im?” asked the smaller deputy.
It wasn’t anything that just jumped out at him, but Edgar sensed that the deputy had more than a casual interest in the whore. “Didn’t see her,” he said, “but we was pretty far up on the ridge and it was gettin’ close to dark.”
The deputy considered this for a moment and then adjusted his hat in a thoughtful manner. “That’s good to know. I’ll keep it in mind.”
“I’ll be in touch,” said Edgar.
“See that you do,” said the deputy. And with that the two deputies walked back inside to have another cup of coffee while Edgar was expected to make himself scarce.
Chapter Fourteen
It was about midmorning when Josh started down the ridge above Lester’s cabin. It was sunny and the wind was dead calm. Here and there, yellow butterflies glided from plant to plant in search of nectar. The hobbled mules were downstream from the cabin a hundred or so yards, grazing on a small patch of bluegrass that they had somehow overlooked earlier in the summer. There was no one at the cabin, not even Rufus, but then that stood to reason as Lester never went anywhere without Rufus. Josh reined Thunder in near the cabin and got down. He was tired. The preceding twenty-four hours had been taxing. He didn’t like having to kill a man. It never set well with him, and the events would continually play over and over in his mind. It was like a tug-of-war with a demon that one minute talked rationally saying that he had no choice and that he was justified in killing the men that he had, but then it turned on him saying that he took satisfaction in killing. It was the second demon that Josh feared the most. He’d known men in the army that had lost to it, or at least he suspected they had, as they spent a good deal of their pay on whiskey.
There could be but one other logical place for Lester and Sarah to be, and that was the sluice box down in the creek. Josh had taken only a few steps in that direction when he was met by Rufus, who was beside himself with excitement to see Josh. “Oh, what a good dog you are, Rufus,” said Josh in a voice that one might use to praise a child. Rufus responded by jumping and rearing, placing his paws on Josh’s chest.
“Well, lookie what the cat drug in.” Josh looked up to see Lester approaching with Sarah close behind. “We’s beginnin’ to wunder ‘bout ya,” added Lester.
Trying his best to be nonchalant Josh replied: “I ran outa daylight ‘fore I could get off that Moonshine Creek trail, so I decided to throw my bedroll out rather than push Thunder through that rock pile in the moonlight.”
“That was probably a good call,” said Lester. “Bet you’re hungry.”
“I am,” replied Josh.
And then still not wanting to be the one to breech that awkward avoidance of what was on all their minds, Sarah interjected: “I could make you some hotcakes and eggs.”
The fate of Seth’s killer hung in the air before them like the stench of burning hair and hide of a calf being branded. It couldn’t be ignored, and so Josh said matter-of-factly: “I settled the score with Seth’s killer.” There, he’d put it out in the open. It was there for Lester or Sarah to do with as they pleased. For a long moment there was no response, and then Lester said: “Ya did what ya had to do, Josh.”
“I suppose,” replied Josh. “This guy didn’t give me much choice. He wasn’t having any part of being arrested.”
“Well, fellars like that gotta know,” said Lester, “that if they take somebody’s life for no good reason then they might just have to give up theirs. It’s like the good book says: ‘an eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth.’”
“I reckon so,” said Josh somewhat forlornly. “But I think I just opened up a can of worms.”
Lester turned his head to the side and spit a stream of tobacco juice and then wiped at his moustache with the back of his hand. “How’s that?” he asked.
“There was two of these guys,” replied Josh. “One of’em got away. I really didn’t give him much chase ‘cause I figured I’d got Seth’s killer and I figured I’d get the marshal involved in trying to recover the gold these two took from Seth’s claim.”
Lester shook his head and whistled softly. “That’s a pretty tall order.”
“I reckon it is,” said Josh, “but it don’t seem right to me that these two hombres should profit from stealing Seth’s claim.”
Sarah had hoped that by Josh confronting the men on Seth’s claim that all of this violence would be over, and perhaps unrealistically that she and Josh could move on to a new life. It was apparent to her now that all of this was at best on hold, and so she said: “So what do you aim to do?” She paused and then knowingly she added: “Seems to me you’ve done about all that should be expected of a friend.”
Josh gave Sarah a hard look. “I guess it all boils down to what you figure your life is worth? Or maybe what you figure a friend would do for you if the tables were turned.”
Sarah regretted immediately saying what she had. She felt selfish, and truth be told, maybe she was. She had a chance, if things came together between her and Josh, to escape her misery as a prostitute, and now because of Josh’s loyalty to his dead friend all of that might be lost. But she realized that it would probably be futile to question Josh on this issue, and it might even work against her if they were ever to have any kind of relationship beyond just being friends. And so she said: “I’m sorry, Josh. I didn’t mean any disrespect to Seth or the friendship that you two had.” She paused and then admitted reluctantly: “I’ve never had a friendship that strong, so I guess it’s difficult for me to understand what you’re doing.”
Josh could see in Sarah’s eyes the concern that she had for him. In some respects it was flattering, but it only fueled the conflict within him. While it was true he felt a sense of obligation to Seth, he nonetheless wished at times that he could just ride out of the Bear Creek country and not look back. It had treated him harshly; his conscience was now burdened with having killed two more men in his life. Their lifeless faces showed up far too often in his mind’s image. It was during these moments that he had to tell himself that some men brought on their own early deaths. It helped a little, but it by no means took away the images. “There is a clear line, or at least I’ve always thought so, between right and wrong,” said Josh to Sarah. “I’ve always tried to be on the right side of that line. Sometimes that ain’t easy to do ‘cause there can be a hefty price that comes with doin’ the right thing. It would sure enough be simple to walk away from all this but knowin’ how I am, it’d eat at me.” Josh paused and laughed softly in a false gesture: “I guess I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.”
In their brief time together, Sarah had come to know that Josh was a man of principles. She respected him for it even though adhering to those principles might jeopardize everything she had hoped for. “So what’s next?” she asked in a supportive tone.
Josh looked at Sarah and smiled purposefully, as if to convey friendliness. “Well, after I have me some of them hotcakes that ya’ll said you’d make, I’ll be headin’ out for Boise.”
“Boise,” exclaimed Lester before Sarah could respond.
But then Sarah quickly added: “Why Boise?”
“That’s where the marshal is headed to,” replied Josh. “I aim to meet up with him and let ‘im know where things stand here. This lawman stuff is totally new to me. I don’t want to overstep my
bounds, especially if I have to confront the sheriff. It’d be nice if the marshal was in attendance at that shindig.”
Aside from her concern for Josh’s safety, Sarah immediately wondered what was to become of her while he was in Boise. It didn’t sound like she was invited to go along, which meant she was at the mercy of Lester’s hospitality. She suspected that this wouldn’t be a problem, but nonetheless, it bothered her that her well-being always seemed to be tied to the generosity of a man. At least with Lester she could earn her keep by carrying buckets of gravel to run through the sluice box. It was the first thing she had done in quite some time that allowed her to feel good about herself.
“How long ya reckon you’ll be gone?” asked Lester.
“Well sir, I ain’t sure,” said Josh. “I’m hopin’ not more an’ four or five days but ya never know.”
“Take what time ya need,” said Lester. “We’ll have the coffee on when ya get back.”
Although Lester had just implied it, Josh didn’t want to be so presumptive as to assume that Sarah could just stay on there, and so he said: “Lester, ya’ll have treated me and Sarah like kinfolks and, well sir, I really hate askin’ but—”
Lester interrupted Josh. “Sarah’s more an’ welcome,” he said in a sincere tone. “She’s been a big help in sluicin’. In fact, point of the matter is, I’d probably take offense if she wasn’t stayin’.”
“Much obliged,” said Josh.
