by John Hansen
Holchek nodded his head. “They damn sure can.” He paused and took a drag off his cigarette and then began talking as he exhaled the smoke. “Rudy didn’t used to drink the way he did. It wasn’t until he got so beat down by folks that he took to drinkin’.”
Josh had been listening to Holchek as he fashioned himself a toothpick out of a bluegrass stem. It worked for some of his teeth but not all. “Sounds like your brother was basically a good man, Jim,” said Josh.
Anger came to Holchek’s eyes. “He was, he was an honest man until that crooked damned Hollis tempted him with some easy money.”
“Ya’ll talkin’ ‘bout Sheriff Hollis over at Bear Creek?” asked Josh.
“Yes sir, I am,” replied Holchek defiantly. “The sonovabitch led Rudy astray. Got to ‘im after he’d been drinkin’. Paid him to spy on old man Stevenson.”
“Well, from what I been hearin’ ‘bout Hollis that don’t surprise me none,” said Josh. And then he asked: “Was this just a one-time deal or do ya know?”
Holchek paused as if he was reluctant to speak, but then he said in a subdued tone: “I’m ashamed to admit it, Deputy, but no, it wasn’t.” Holchek sighed. “Not that it means much now, but Rudy said after this time he was done with Hollis.”
The sadness and frustration in Jim Holchek’s voice was obvious to Josh, but there was little in the way of consolation that he could say to him. The circumstances were what they were, and there was little solace that could be derived from them. Rudy had fallen in with a bad man for money, a feeling of importance, self-esteem—who knows, but it most likely had something to do with acceptance for who he was. It was a gamble that clearly hadn’t worked. “Ya know, Jim,” began Josh, “it appears to me that Hollis might have double-crossed your brother.”
“I know,” replied Holchek. “Why kill Rudy unless you don’t want him ever tellin’ anybody about the sheriff’s part in this?”
“That coulda been it,” said Josh. “But, tell me, Jim, did Rudy ever say anything about a marshal from over at Boise workin’ with Stevenson?”
Jim nodded his head. “Yeah, he did. About all he said, though, was that old man Stevenson was meetin’ this marshal out in Chokecherry Canyon, and it appeared to him that he was giving this guy bags of gold. But he said that as far as he knew Stevenson still had the same amount of gold in camp. He said Stevenson always kept his cards pretty close to his chest when it came to matters of gold or money, so he wasn’t sure what these meetings with this marshal was all about.”
Josh briefly considered telling Jim about the fool’s gold but then thought better of it. Playing along, he said: “Yes sir, that is a bit peculiar.” Josh paused for a moment as if thinking. “Did Rudy ever say if Hollis said anything about wanting to kill the marshal?”
Jim was fairly quick to shake his head. “No, he never said anything ‘bout that.”
Josh was surprised by Jim’s response. Up until now he was fairly confident that he had discovered the mystery letter writer. He could see no reason why Jim would lie about Hollis killing the marshal. “Well sir, the marshal’s overdue down to Boise. That’s why I’m up here is to see if I can find ‘im.”
“What about the guys that killed my brother and the rest of ‘em over yonder,” said Jim, nodding towards the graves. “Ya lookin’ for their killers?”
“Already located a couple of ‘em down in Idaho City,” said Josh. “Brothers named Menagher. One of ‘em skeedaddled, and the other one I reckon by now is planted in the cemetery down there.”
“Menaghers,” said Jim thoughtfully. “I’ve heard of those guys before. A fellar pointed ‘em out to me in a saloon in Bear Creek one time. They was sittin’ at a table with a big guy named Kregg and a mean-lookin’ half-breed. I don’t remember what his name was but I was advised to steer clear of the whole lot of ‘em. Rudy was no match for men like that. He wouldn’t have stood a chance, especially if he wasn’t expectin’ to be killed.”
“I suspect you’re right,” said Josh. “Men like that are unpredictable. They’re just plain evil. Sounds like the marshal could have run into a real hornet’s nest if he came across that bunch.”
“Well, hopefully, if he tangled with them same guys that killed Rudy he fared a little better,” said Jim pragmatically. “But ya never know, he could be worm food somewhere.”
“Well sir, I’m hopin’ to find out one way or another here pretty soon,” replied Josh.
“I wish ya luck,” said Jim. “But I’m movin’ on. Gonna see if I can’t find a more regular line a work. I’ve had enough of scratchin’ the dirt lookin’ for that big payday, and at the same time lookin’ over my shoulder to see if somebody is plottin’ to take it from me if I do.” Jim paused and then he said sarcastically: “I reckon I’ll just leave that dream for someone else.” And then he laughed.
The irony of his dead brother having played a small role in causing Jim to abandon his dream was apparently something that he didn’t want to recognize.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Josh was up before sunrise the next morning, as was Jim. They would be headed in opposite directions today—Jim in search of a livelihood more reliable and safer than the goldfields, and Josh seeking justice for what seemed to be a growing list of victims. For Jim it would be a dream abandoned; for Josh it would be a dream interrupted by the lawlessness of the goldfields and a commitment to a friend.
It was midmorning when Josh reached the head of Chokecherry Canyon. He was at the beginning of the switchbacks that zigzagged down the face of the mountain to the bottom of the canyon. From this vantage point he could see a long ways. In the distance, almost to the point that he couldn’t make them out, were two large birds circling in the sky. He assumed that they were probably turkey vultures, which suggested there might be something dead or about to die on the ground below them. Josh nudged Thunder and they began the descent down the switchbacks into the canyon. As he rode along Josh reflected on what it was he was trying to do. Essentially, he was going to Bear Creek to do what, confront the sheriff? He had no solid proof that Hollis had done anything wrong other than what Jim Holchek had told him and an anonymous letter. And besides that, if he tried to arrest Hollis it would be him against not only Hollis but his deputies as well. As far as he knew there wouldn’t be anyone to back his play. Josh shook his head slightly and laughed. “What the heck am I gettin’ myself into?” he said aloud. “Ever since I came to this country my life has been turned upside down.”
It was about half an hour before Josh was close enough to the circling vultures that he could see a way to get through the trees beneath the birds. A fairly well-defined game trail, which intersected the main path that he was on, headed in that direction. Within a few minutes he could see a small clearing through the trees up ahead. There was movement there, ravens for sure…and then he saw it: a large black bear. It appeared to be feeding on a dead animal. Thunder became a little skittish at the sight of the bear so Josh reined him to a stop. “Hey, bear,” yelled Josh as loudly as he could. The bear stood on its hind legs to see better, and then recognizing potential danger he turned and ran in the opposite direction. Josh gave the bear a minute or so to leave the area before riding on into the clearing. He was still a hundred feet or so from the dead animal when he suddenly realized what it was that he was looking at.
A helpless, angry feeling came over him: it was the marshal’s gray horse. Josh rode closer before dismounting. A good number of opportunistic feeders had been working on the horse, but one thing that was still discernable was a bullet hole in its head. It appeared to Josh that someone had led it off of the main trail up this draw to a more secluded place and killed it so hopefully anyone looking for the marshal wouldn’t see his horse wandering loose in Chokecherry Canyon. As far as Josh was concerned it was a despicable thing to do. The bear, ravens, coyotes, and undoubtedly the turkey vultures had all been there feeding on the remains of the horse. Josh circled the carcass slowly, looking for any possible clues as to who might ha
ve killed the horse. The stench in the hot sun was overwhelming, causing him to widen his orbit of the dead horse and at times even hold his breath. And then he spotted the partial outline of something lying in the tall grass beneath the aspen trees outside of the clearing. Quickly, Josh walked towards the object to investigate. As he neared it he could see that it was a saddle—most likely from the marshal’s horse. Josh knelt and pulled the saddle around to where he could see the back of the cantle; there, stamped into the leather, were the marshal’s initials: CJ for Caleb Johnson. The saddle, bridle, saddle blanket, even the saddlebags with nothing apparently taken, were all there. But then as Josh struggled to re-create the image of the marshal and his horse that day he met him on the road, it came to him—just a flash at first, but then it came and stuck in his mind. The marshal had been carrying a Sharps repeater in a saddle scabbard. Both the rifle and scabbard were missing. The scabbard had been nothing special, but the rifle had a light, honey-colored stock that had a deep scratch on the left side, beginning at the cheek piece and extending towards the butt of the stock for eight or nine inches. The image of the gun had stayed in Josh’s mind as he had never seen a stock that color before.
After thoroughly searching the area surrounding the dead horse and finding nothing more, Josh decided to move on. He reasoned that it was a safe bet that the marshal was, as the anonymous letter had said, dead somewhere in Chokecherry Canyon. He needed to get word to Judge Higgins confirming that the marshal had likely been murdered. Who knows, thought Josh, maybe he’ll send me some help to deal with Hollis and his deputies. There was no telegraph to Bear Creek, only the mail which went on the stage twice a week, so even if the judge could send someone it’d be a while before they came.
It was early evening when Josh rode into Bear Creek. He knew that Hollis wouldn’t be happy to see him, but he was not certain what kind of a reception he would get—especially if he were to probe the sheriff about the marshal. One thing he knew for sure was that he wasn’t going to be leaving Bear Creek this time under the same circumstances that he had the last time he was here. He was a deputy marshal and Hollis needed to respect that fact. And so Josh rode first to the livery and secured lodging for Thunder, and then on to the hotel where he got a room and then on to the café. He made no attempt to hide the fact that he was in town, and so he figured it wouldn’t be long before Hollis would come looking for him.
Josh took a seat at a table on the far side of the café, where he could see both the front and back doors and have his back facing the wall. He’d barely sat down when the motherly-looking woman who ran the place emerged from the kitchen. Josh could tell by the look in her eyes that she remembered him, and then, as had others in town that he had encountered since arriving, she did a double take when she noticed his badge.
“Well, young man, I see you’ve added some decorations to the front of your shirt since the last time I saw you,” said the woman with a smile.
Josh laughed. “Yes ma’am, I figured I better have the law on my side if I ever came back here again.”
The woman laughed briefly and then she became more serious. “Where’s your little sidekick?”
Josh knew right away that the waitress was referring to Sarah. His assessment of her was that she was a kind woman and that she’d inquired about Sarah not to have the latest gossip but because she just cared about people. And so Josh was straight up with her: “Sarah’s stayin’ with a friend up Porcupine Creek till I get some things settled.”
The waitress stepped closer to Josh’s table. There was a look of concern on her face as she leaned forward towards him. “Just so ya know, there’s some fellar in town claiming that you murdered his partner and stole their gold. The sheriff and his deputies been going ‘round like little banty roosters crowin’ about how they’re gonna get you.”
The waitress’ words were truly a surprise to Josh. He didn’t think Edgar, a man who’d abandoned his partner in a gunfight, had the nerve to go to the sheriff and tell him such a lie. Josh knew how Leroy died was of no concern to the sheriff, but what had happened to the gold that Leroy and Edgar had stolen from Seth was, and now Edgar had apparently convinced him that Josh had taken it. Josh had the feeling that he’d just stepped into quicksand, but short of turning tail and running there was little he could do but play the cards he was dealt, and so he said: “I appreciate the heads-up, ma’am.”
A feisty look came to the woman’s eyes. “It’s the least I can do. The way I see it anything that comes out of either Hollis’ or his cronies’ mouths has a pretty good chance of being a lie. By the way my name is Mabel, Mabel Oakley. Some folks just call me Ma, though. Whichever one of those works for you works for me.”
Josh managed a smile for his new friend. “My name’s Josh Morrow. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ma.”
The woman seemed flattered that Josh had chosen to address her in a more familiar manner. “If ya don’t mind me askin’,” said Ma, “what is it you aim to do here in Bear Creek?”
Josh was about to answer when the front door opened suddenly. There stood Hollis, gun drawn and flanked by one of his deputies, who had his pistol drawn as well. No sooner had this registered with Josh and the back door to the café opened. Hollis’ other deputy stepped inside. He had a double-barreled shotgun leveled at Josh; both of the hammers were cocked. It was the smaller, more sinister of the two deputies. He had an evil, hateful smile on his face. His body language radiated an urgent desire to pull the triggers on the scattergun. It was almost like he was a bloodhound straining against his leash, and the only thing stopping him were multiple witnesses in the café. Josh kept his hands on the table. “Ma, ya’ll better step to the side but do it slow-like. Appears these boys has got themselves all worked up.”
Ma did as Josh asked, leaving a clearer path should either Hollis or his deputies decide to just shoot Josh where he sat. She had no sooner done this than Hollis, moving slowly towards Josh with his pistol aimed at his chest, said: “Well, lookie here if it ain’t our Texas boy back again. I see what I heard about you masqueradin’ as a deputy U.S. marshal is a fact.”
“It ain’t no masquerade, Hollis,” said Josh angrily. “You and your boys best put them guns down ‘fore ya’ll get yourselves in any more trouble than you already are.”
Hollis and his deputies laughed. It was a nervous, manufactured laugh owing to the tension and danger in the air. “How ‘bout we do this?” said Hollis sarcastically. He paused and laughed again, and then said, mocking Josh’s Texas accent, “Why don’t ya’ll just stand up real slow-like and with your left hand put your pistol on the table and then step back.”
Josh studied Hollis’ face for a moment. He was taking pleasure from this. There was nothing that he could do. They had him cold and they were just looking for the slightest provocation so they could gun him down. Nonetheless, Josh remained seated. It would take some real moxie or stupidity to gun him down in front of the other café patrons. And so he said: “What’s this little charade all about anyway?”
“Murder and robbery,” replied Hollis smugly. “Ya got away with goadin’ that big dumb Swede into a fight and killin’ him, but this time it’s different. I got an eyewitness that says you just plain executed his partner.”
Josh knew exactly what Hollis was talking about. It was his turn to laugh. “You’re a real prize, Hollis,” said Josh angrily. “I’m doing your job by tryin’ to arrest the guy who bushwhacked Seth Jacobs and jumped his claim. I tried to get him to come along peaceably but he came at me with his gun a-blazin’. He didn’t give me any choice. You’ve got some nerve.”
“We’re done talkin’ here,” snapped Hollis. “Now take out your gun and lay it on the table like I already asked you to. You best do it before I shoot you for resisting arrest.”
Josh could see the fear in the faces of the other patrons and even Ma, as feisty as she was. There was no point in arguing anymore with Hollis—to do so would mean certain death for him, but also the possibility that an innoce
nt bystander could get killed as well. And so reluctantly, Josh slowly removed his pistol from its holster and placed it on the table; as he did he said: “You know, Hollis, the word’s out on you. You’re a crooked sonovabitch and that fact is known in high places in Boise. Your days are numbered.”
“Shut your lyin’ mouth, you whore-lovin’ reb,” snarled Hollis as he maneuvered behind Josh. “Keep your pistol on ‘im,” said Hollis to the chubby deputy that had come in the front door with him. “OK, Tex, now real slow-like put one hand at a time behind your back. Got a matching set of bracelets for ya’ll to wear.”
Seeing that Josh was going to be compliant, Hollis holstered his pistol and began putting the manacles on him. “Ya know, Hollis,” began Josh. “There’s too many good people around here to let ya’ll get away with what you’re doing. There’s gonna come a time when they’ll have had a gut-full of your evil corruption and just do away with ya.”
Hollis knew what Josh had said was true; he feared that day was close at hand, but he laughed in an attempt to feign a bravado that he was having difficulty maintaining. With the manacles securely on, Hollis grabbed the now defenseless Josh and jerked him in the direction of the door. “Let’s go, Tex, I gotta room waitin’ for ya’ll.”
There had been enough people see Hollis and his deputies go into the Blue Bird Café with their guns drawn that a small crowd had now gathered outside. As Hollis and his deputies emerged with Josh, the speculative buzz of the crowd went silent. There were no shouts of outrage. No one was questioning the fact that Hollis was arresting a deputy United States marshal. They parted and made way for the sheriff as if they were a bunch of sheep and the sheriff was that mean sheep dog that they feared. It was what Josh had hoped would not happen—that the people would be intimidated and that they would say or do nothing. And then it was as if he had lost control of his thoughts and he blurted out: “Hollis is corrupt. How long are you going—” Suddenly, his head was jolted violently. There were flashes of light and then came the pain. And then through this rapid onset of pain and confusion, he became aware that he was no longer standing. Slowly it came to him that he was laying on his side. His senses recovered gradually—first the dirt in his mouth and then the dampness of the blood in his scalp, and finally he could hear Hollis shouting at him. “Get your sorry ass up and if you know what’s good for ya, you’ll keep your mouth shut.”
