by Dan Arnold
“That is nothing to be concerned about. I shall be delighted to spend some time at your house. There is always the chance we can enjoy another late lunch, in the company of your lovely wife.”
That’s Bob, always thinking of the needs of others.
***
As I expected, Lora had been watching for me. She rushed out to meet us as we stopped at the gate. The delight was evident in her eyes.
“Darling, you’re home! I’ve been so worried.”
Bob was quicker to respond than I was.
“Why, thank you, Lora. I’m delighted to see you as well. You will note I brought your husband along with me. You do remember John, don’t you?”
I was stepping carefully out of the carriage.
Lora ignored Bob’s comment, but I shot him a look, as I swept her into my arms.
He grinned back at me, as he stepped down from his horse.
Lora looked into my eyes. “John, something has happened hasn’t it? Where is Brother Spradlin?”
“Well, Baby, it’s a long story. He stayed behind in North Fork. I’ll tell you all about it when we get inside.”
The kids were watching us through the fence.
“Well, howdy there!” I said, giving them a silly exaggerated wave and a goofy look. They both grinned and Sarah giggled.
I tried not to, but I found myself limping as we headed for the house.
“John, you’re hurt!” Lora observed.
I nodded toward the kids. “It’s nothing serious. I’ll tell you about that too, in the house
She understood I didn’t want the children hearing what had happened in North Fork.
She finally acknowledged Bob’s presence.
“Bob, would you care to join us for lunch?”
“Well, if you insist. I would so hate to impose, although I am quite hungry as you will understand.”
***
After lunch, the kids went back outside to play. It gave the adults a chance to talk.
I told Lora about the house inspection and then I told her about the gunfight.
I explained the story of Wes and his half-brother, Andrew Peterson, and how it ended in gunfire.
“Wes was wounded in the fight—now, don’t worry he’s going to be fine—but, Lora, I thought it would be a good opportunity for him to start a new life, with a new name. So, I have an affidavit swearing the notorious gunman, Wes Spradlin, was killed in the gunfight at the Gold Dust Saloon and Casino in North Fork, Colorado, last night.”
Lora took a deep breath.
“Do you think it will really work?”
Bob butted in.
“The story will spread like wild fire. People who weren’t even in North Fork last night will tell the tale of how they personally witnessed the shootout.
They’ll tell stories about how Wes braced Peterson, or maybe it was the other way around. They’ll tell the tale of how the two men stood in the middle of the bar and challenged each other. Each man slapped leather and no one could tell who was faster.
Did Wes Spradlin draw first or was it Peterson? There was the roar of gunfire and both men staggered and fell, shot through the heart with a single gunshot from the other man’s gun, the two half-brothers standing face to face, and falling side by side at the end. The legend will grow with each telling, partly truth and partly myth.”
“Why Bob, it sounds almost as if you were actually there,” I observed.
“Well, I was there, wasn’t I?”
“We both were. I pretty much wish I hadn’t been there. Actually, I wish the whole thing hadn’t gone the way it did.”
“It isn’t your fault, John. You didn’t raise those Thorndyke boys. You didn’t build the Gold Dust Saloon and make it a haven for the dregs of humanity. You didn’t rob the bank, and kill a man in the process. It’s part of the work you’ve chosen to do, but it isn’t your fault it happened the way it did,” Bob stated. “No one could have predicted there would be several men in that saloon who would rather fight and die than be arrested.”
I shrugged.
Lora said, “But what a horrible way to die, to be shot to death in a filthy saloon.”
“Well, Lora, it could be argued those men met their demise in a place and manner of their own choosing. The evidence suggests they would have preferred that death to one by hanging in a public execution,” Bob said.
I needed to bring some light to the discussion.
“Actually, how they died is not the point. Everyone dies. Whether we die by accident or illness, old age or incident, as children or adults, is unimportant. What is important is the way we choose to live the life we have, however long or short it may be. God will be the judge. I just wish I never had a part in sending them on to judgment.”
“Again, John it is what you have chosen to do with the life you have. Is that not the life of a lawman, to bring suspected criminals to judgment?” Bob asked.
I sighed and nodded.
“That’s part of it, though I prefer to make arrests and let a court of law determine their fate. Let a jury decide whether or not they’re guilty. There’s also the part about protecting the innocent and preventing crime in the first place,” I said.
Bob acknowledged my comment with a slight nod of his head.
We all thought our own thoughts for a moment.
Lora knit her brows.
“Is it really right to use this kind of deception to give Brother Spradlin a new start?” She asked.
“I thought about it before I decided to give it a try. I decided the story hurts no one and it benefits everyone involved. Wes gets a new life with a new name. North Fork gets a new preacher and a new church. Alta Vista County and the city of Bear Creek won’t have to deal with a bunch of gun fighters trying to make a reputation showing up and causing all manner of trouble. It’s a win/win situation for everybody.”
I don’t know, John, it doesn’t seem right—but then again, it just might work.”
“Baby, I have to go into town for a little while. Bob will drive me home as soon as I take care of a couple of things I must do. I’ll be back as quick as I can,” I said.
“That’s fine, honey. As long as I know you’re okay, and you’ll be home soon, all is right with the world,” Lora said.
I wrapped her up and kissed her.
“I guess we’ll be in need of another pastor now. I wonder if Bud and Mildred will be able to return to Bear Creek. I’ll write to them immediately,” Lora mused.
***
Bob and I left her to her thoughts and plans and headed on into town.
Our first stop was at the courthouse. I had the affidavit recorded in the County Clerk’s office. The clerk’s eyes nearly bugged out when he read the details. I knew the story would be in circulation all over town within the day.
I found Chief Deputy Charlie Owens sitting behind my desk in the Sheriff’s office. I could see Charlie was relieved to see us alive. We told him the story of why we had no prisoners.
Charlie looked at Bob.
“Well, Bob, do you still want me to give that letter to, John?” he asked.
“Indeed sir, if you would be so kind.”
Charlie pulled a sealed envelope out of a desk drawer and handed it to me. I opened it and was not surprised to find it was exactly what Bob had told me it would be. He’d resigned, as of noon the previous day.
I sighed as I put the letter back into the envelope.
“Charlie, will you send Ed up here. I have an assignment for him.”
“Yes sir, I’m on it.”
When Charlie had gone, I offered to hand the letter back to Bob, but he shook his head.
I shrugged.
“We’ll miss having you on the team, Bob. You’re probably the best detective I know. I understand why the governor has confidence in your services,”
Bob smiled with real warmth.
“Thank you, John. I hope you understand this decision is purely based on my desire to pursue more lucrative economic opportunities, an
d in no way reflects on our friendship.”
“I do, Bob.”
“Further, I will be happy to offer my services at any time should you have need of me. In a private capacity of course, I find the constraints of uniform service unappealing.”
“What are your plans?”
“As I indicated, I’m going to stay here in Bear Creek until Homer Thorndyke has been accounted for. Then, there is an opportunity down in New Mexico I might explore. I expect the governor will have an occasional assignment for me as well. The possibilities are endless for a man of my talents.”
I nodded.
“I have no doubt.”
“You should consider hanging up the badge and coming along with me. We could make a lot of money together.”
I shook my head and smiled.
“Like I told you before, I know how that goes. You make good money, but it comes intermittently and at a high cost, and the way you like to live, it goes away pretty fast, too. The feast is followed by famine, and you just might get yourself killed somewhere in between. Besides, I prefer to represent the law. You feel no such obligation.”
“True enough, although I have no real desire to operate outside the law, on occasion I may have to dance in the shadows, as it were. I have to apply my talents wherever the money is most readily available.”
“Not for me, Bob.”
He shrugged.
“Well then, ‘to each his own,’ as the saying goes, John.”
Ed came in. I filled him in on the recent events in North Fork.
“I need you to go up there and make sure the Gold Dust is closed down and stays closed. Throw out anybody hanging around. You’ll need to be tough. You can’t count on Tommy Turner for anything. Be careful, be alert, and don’t hesitate. You represent the law and you represent me. I’ll back you no matter what you have to do; any questions?”
He took a moment to think about it.
“When do you want me to go?” He asked.
“How soon can you get your gear ready?”
“I’ll leave within the hour.”
I slapped him on the back.
“Okay, again, be careful and remember you won’t have many friends up there.”
He nodded, then he had another thought.
“One more question. How long do you want me to stay up there?”
“You come back anytime you need to. Otherwise, I want you to stay up there until the thirty days I gave them to clean up their act is up. It’s just a couple of weeks, now. Make it stick, Ed.”
“Yes sir. Adios then; I’m off to gather my things, and then I’ll hit the trail.”
“Oh, there’s one more thing you should know.”
I explained the story about the “death” of Wes Spradlin, and gave him some directions about handling the details of the burial of an empty coffin.
We shook hands and I clapped him on the back again, as he headed out the door.
“I have to go over and see Doc Johnson. I figure I can walk that far. Do you want to go with me?” I asked Bob.
“No, but when you get done over there, I’ll be around here somewhere. I’ll drive you back down to your house.”
39.
I limped over to Doc Johnson’s. He wasn’t in his office, so I eased my way up the stairs to his rooms above his office. He answered my knock.
“John, how are you? I understand there was some serious shooting trouble up at North Fork, and you were in the middle of it. Is it over?”
“It is, Doc. How did you happen to hear about it?”
“I treated three men last night and this morning, all of whom were shot up. I gathered it must’ve been pretty horrific.”
I nodded.
“Who did you treat and are they still here?”
“Two of them are downstairs in my office. A fellow named Murphy and a man named McGregger. They were brought down in a wagon last night. The third one left under his own power; Wilkins was his name. Why do you ask?”
“I’m looking for McGregger, how bad is he hurt?”
“He lost the index finger on his right hand and the bullet traveled through the rest of his hand and his wrist. I had to dig for the bullet and take some bone fragments out of his arm just above the wrist. I had to pretty much knock him out with laudanum to do the surgery. It’s why he’s still here. The hand is ruined. He may regain some use of it, but not much. I guess he’s lucky, back during the war I would’ve had to amputate it.”
“What about the other guy, Murphy?”
“Abdominal wound, the bullet went through, but I don’t know….. If he lives through another night, he has a chance. He survived the wagon ride down out of the mountains, so he’s pretty tough. We’ll see. I was just headed down to check on them. Do you want to come with me?”
“I do.”
“Just one thing, John . . . .”
I waited.
“No gun play, you understand? I think there’s been more than enough of that.”
I agreed completely.
“Is he armed?”
“No. There are no guns at all down stairs. I just don’t need any more bullet wounds today, and neither do you.”
”Actually, Doc, I wonder if you’d take a look at my leg. I got shot last night, too. The bullet went through a part of my calf.”
“Good heavens, John, why didn’t you say something sooner?”
When he saw the bandage he nodded with appreciation.
“It appears you’ve already seen a doctor somewhere.”
“Sort of . . . .”
He examined the wound.
“This should heal well, John. Keep it firmly bandaged for a few more days. Change the dressing once a day and keep it dry. Come and see me if there’s any new pain, if it gets red and angry looking, or if it starts bleeding.”
He bandaged it up again with a fresh dressing and the same bandage.
***
I limped down the stairs ahead of him and then followed him into his office.
To one side of the office, at the back of the room, there was a screen around an examining area. Behind the examining area there was a door leading into a room with four beds. I’d been in the room before.
Today, two of the beds were occupied.
On one bed, a man fully dressed lay back against the pillows, his muddy boots on the bed. He had no gun I could see. His red hair and beefy body told me who he was. The heavily bandaged and splinted right arm and hand confirmed it. He was clearly groggy, but on seeing me, he became more alert.
The other man lay under bed covers across the room and appeared to be in a deep sleep, unaware of our presence.
I smiled as turned to the red haired man.
“Howdy, Mr. McGregger, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m the Sheriff, John Everett Sage is my name. I’d shake your hand but you seem to have a problem there. I hear somebody shot your trigger finger off.”
I found pleasure in saying it.
He just looked sick.
Doc Johnson was checking the pulse on the other man. He felt the man’s forehead and lifted an eyelid. Then he pulled back the covers to examine the bandages on the man’s torso. He looked concerned about the results of his examination.
“I’ve had to give him a lot of laudanum. The pain was pretty much more than he could take. I was hoping he would be doing better than this by now,”
“How about Mr. McGregger here?”
Doc Johnson looked him over from the other side of the room.
“Mr. McGregger, you’re good to go if you feel up to walking now. Come and see me in the morning and I’ll change the bandage.”
He looked at me.
“I guess I’m under arrest. Can you come to the jail?”
McGregger’s speech was a bit slurred and he seemed disoriented.
I shook my head.
“No, that won’t be necessary. You aren’t under arrest. In fact, I’m going to let you leave town; I expect you to pull out of this county all together. And do it today.”
/>
He focused his gaze more fully on me.
“But all my money, everything I have is in a safe, in my saloon up at North Fork.”
I shook my head again.
“Uh, uh. In about thirty minutes I’m going to put you on a stage headed east. You’re done with North Fork. I closed down your saloon. You may recall the circumstances.”
He was still a bit groggy, but he was getting the message.
“But, what about my money?”
I slapped him across the face.
“Your money should’ve been in a bank.”
“Now, see here, Sheriff Sage. That was uncalled for,” Doc Johnson began.
I cut him off.
“No, I need to have his full attention. This worthless piece of trash tried to kill me last night. He should’ve died in the fighting. Several other people did. He deserves to go to prison, but I won’t spend the time or the resources holding him in my jail. I have to let him live and he gets to start over somewhere else, but I won’t put up with his whining.”
I turned my attention back to McGregger.
“You hear me, McGregger? You’re done here, and you better run like a whipped dog.”
McGregger’s eyes had come into full focus now, and they were filled with hate for me.
“You’re a dead man, Sage. I’ll kill you for this,” he said.
“You already tried that, ‘Lefty.’ Now, get up and I’ll walk you over to the stage station.”
40 .
The stage to Ogallala, Nebraska was headed East with Ian McGregger on board. I knew he could get off at any stop and make his way back to North Fork, so I’d given him clear instructions not to try it. I made sure he understood he was not wanted anywhere in Alta Vista County and if he showed up, he would be treated the same way I would treat a rattler in the outhouse.
***
I was limping up Line Street back to the courthouse when Tom fell in beside me.
“I hear there was some shooting up in North Fork last night,” he said.
I nodded.
“Yep”
“Is that why you’re limping?”
