“Bad break,” said the Doc, putting the bottle of whiskey on the table. “Mary, you got a couple of glasses? I’m sure where Mr. McGhan comes from they don’t just pass the bottle around.”
“You know where they’re at Doc,” shouted Mary. “I haven’t finished forming this cast yet.”
“Ah, hell, I tried to be civil,” said Doc, taking a swig from the bottle and passing it over to Mike.
“No, thank yuh, Doc,” said Mike waving off the half empty bottle.
“Suit yourself,” he said, taking another swig. “I’m getting too old for this shit. That buggy I bought claimed to have the best ride ever and my ass still hurts.”
“How’s Pat goin’ to be?” Mike finally asked.
“Well, he ain’t gonna be riding out of here too soon. He’s got a compound fracture. I’ve seen worse, mind ya. The bone didn’t splinter but it’s still bad. He also has a couple of cracked ribs. All we could do was wrap them and try to keep him from moving around too much.”
“For how long?” Mike asked anxiously.
“At least a couple weeks before he should ride.”
“Damn,” said Mike in exasperation.
“I’m sorry if that doesn’t fit your timetable,” said Doc. “These things happen.”
“Yuh dun’t understand,” said Mike. “We’re chasin’ a fella that some very important people back in Chicago want found. He’s runnin’ with a bunch ov no-goods that already got uh couple days head start on us.”
“Oh, yeah, Red Alvins and his bunch,” said the Doc. “Jack got into a bottle of whiskey over at the Jacobs’ and was telling everybody about it. He don’t understand how Butch Cassidy could be leading a posse.”
“It’s not really Cassidy’s posse,” Mike said with a shrug. “I didn’t put it together, but I guess it’s mine.”
“Well, I wouldn’t worry about it. Butch Cassidy is an outlaw, but he just steals from the rich Eastern cattle barons and bankers. He spreads the money around to the little people when he’s got it to spare. I don’t know whether he’s a Robin Hood or just smart like a politician, but he’s well thought of in these parts.”
“I guess. It’s just we never sprung anybody outah jail tuh lead a search party in Chicago.”
“Things are different out here. A man is known by his reputation. Cassidy once rode all night through a blizzard to get medicine for a little girl. He’s always been good for his word, so nobody has a problem with him leading a posse. Nobody except Jack, that is. He has been fretting for the last couple years about Butch making the Cassidy name famous before he had a chance to.”
“That’s his problem?” asked Mike.
“Well, young Jack is quite a hand with a gun. He wins the shooting contest every year at the Fourth of July celebration. He wants to make a name for himself too.”
“As an outlaw?”
“I don’t think it makes that much difference to Jack whether it’s as an outlaw or a lawman,” Doc said thoughtfully. “He seems to change direction every time I see him. He’s been reading those dime novels about Wild Bill Hickock and Dead Eye Dick ever since I taught him to read. He just seems to want to be famous, and it’s eating him up that he ain’t.”
“Did yuh say you taught him tuh read?”
“Oh, yeah,” Doc said. “He wouldn’t learn from his sister Mary. Said some terrible things about not learning from a half-breed. I didn’t want to take him on with his attitude and all, but Mary begged me to. I agreed if she would help me out doctoring. She has a natural gift for healing. I heard her father was a powerful Sioux Medicine man. Don’t know if there is any truth to it. Anyhow, it’s a damn shame she couldn’t go to medical school. She has a fine mind. Good with the books.”
“Yeah, she said she was a teacher.”
“Well, anyhow, then old man Jacobs was starting in on him when I left,” said Doc. “Telling him he should join the Cassidy posse and he could show everyone which Cassidy was better with a gun.”
“What?” asked Mike, confused as the older man returned to his original story. He was unaccustomed to Doc’s rambling rural manner of speaking.
“Jack,” said Doc impatiently. “Old man Jacobs was chiding him into joining the posse when I left.”
“Well, that ain’t gonna happen,” said Mike.
CHAPTER 16
BACK ON THE TRAIL
Mike McGhan took in a gulp of fresh mountain air as he stepped out onto the wood porch of the Cassidy ranch house. If I did that in Chicago, he thought, I would gag from the smoke and soot from Mr. Carnegie’s steel mills. He saw Butch and Elzy were already up and had feed bags on all the horses. Mike felt bad they had to sleep in the barn, but he rationalized that they were probably more accustomed to it than he was.
“Morning Lieutenant McGhan,” hollered Butch. “You sleep well? You didn’t look like you got much shut-eye the night before. Sleeping on the ground with a saddle for a pillow takes some gettin’ use to.”
“Yeah, I caught uh few winks,” said Mike.
“I’ll bet you did,” complained Elzy. “In the house in a nice warm bed while we’re freezing our asses off in that drafty old barn.”
“Elzy, quit bitching,” said Butch. “You’re a damn outlaw. Nobody wants you in their house at night.”
“Well, why didn’t you tell them about your going straight, Deputy Cassidy?” retorted Elzy. “Explain to them how you’re going to have a place just up north next year. That will set their minds at ease. They would have probably given you your own room and served you pancakes in bed.”
“How’s young Patrick?” asked Butch, bowing out of the squabble.
“Not good,” said Mike quietly. “The Doc says he can’t ride fer at least two weeks. Maybe more. His arm’s got uh bad break and he’s got uh few busted ribs.”
“Does that mean we’re given up this fool’s chase?” asked Elzy sarcastically.
“It dun’t mean nothin’ of duh kind,” Mike snapped back. “I just got tuh figure out what to do. We can’t just wait around here. I know that.”
Mary Cassidy came out the door and tugged on his shoulder.
“Mike, would you help me get some more ice for Patrick?” she asked with a hint of a smile. Mike turned around in surprise and nodded affirmatively.
“Morning Miss Cassidy,” said Butch and Elzy in unison, both removing their hats. Polite manners towards the opposite sex were expected on the frontier.
“Where are we goin’?” Mike asked.
“The ice house, of course,” she replied, swinging a wood bucket towards him.
“That’s good,” he said. “Ice always is uh soothing comfort.”
They walked down a weather rutted lane towards an outcropping of rock about a hundred yards from the house. Half way there, they passed through a makeshift gate in a barbed wire fence. Mike wondered if they had bought it from Phineas Trout.
“I know you have a problem now with Patrick,” she said. “He can’t move and you have to move on if you’re going to catch this gang you’re after.”
“It’s not the gang I’m after,”said Mike. “It’s one man - Sean Daugherty.”
“What did this Sean Daugherty do that warrants sending Chicago’s most famous police officer after him?”
“Most famous police officer,” Mike protested. “Where did yuh get that infermation?”
“Patrick,” she said, smiling playfully. “He’s quite talkative.”
“I’ve never noticed that about him,” said Mike, playing along.
“Oh, yeah,” she continued. “Especially about his uncle, the hero of the Haymarket Riots. According to him, you almost single-handedly kept the city from being overrun by German anarchists.”
“Well, I had uh hand in settling things down,” he admitted modestly. “What else was the lad tellin’ yuh?”
“Oh, the World’s Fair. He’s very upset they are going to start it without him.”
“Fat chance uh that happenin’,” grunted Mike. “The way they’re movin’, he
’ll have fergot what arm he broke before it starts.”
“I would like to see this White City he was telling me about.”
“It’s just uh bunch uh immetation Greek columns and such,” he said. “I swear I dun’t know what’s wrong with folks. Their parents risk it all gettin’ out ov Europe and then they tarn around and try tuh immetate it.”
“Well, I’d still like to see it,” smiled Mary. “There will never be something that important as far west as Chicago again.”
“Dun’t count on it. St. Louie is already talkin’ about uh World’s Fair.”
“That would be nice, but I would still like to see Chicago’s.”
They walked upon a rock ledge that hung over the icehouse sheltering it from the sun far into the summer. Mike opened the rough-hewn door for her and they stepped into the cool darkness.
“Cold as uh tomb in here,” said Mike.
“I hope it’s a while before either of us have to find out how cold that is.”
Mike mumbled some agreement and reached out to take the ice pick from her. Their hands touched momentarily, the contact being a little longer than necessary. The soft warmth of her skin was a stark contrast to the cold of the icehouse. He felt that pleasant, syrupy feeling again.
“Pat told me you had lost a girlfriend recently,” Mary said softly. “I’m sorry to hear of it.”
“She warn’t me girlfriend,” he said, driving the ice pick down with such force that it cracked off a large chunk. “She was just a friend from the old neighborhood that I looked out fer. Guess I didn’t do too gooda job ov thet.” He began attacking the ice as if he were angry at the clear, frozen slab.
“Oh.” Mary was respectfully silent for a moment. “Maybe you’re being too hard on yourself. There was no way you could protect her if you were sent way out here.”
“Yeah, I been thinkin’ real hard about that.”
“So you don’t think it was a coincidence?”
“I suppose Patrick told yuh she run uh brothel. I’d be the only cop in Chicago tuh spend uh minute on the case. I would say it was convenient I was out ov town.”
“Maybe it was just a coincidence?”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t think anyone will investigate the case if you’re not there?”
“I would guess me partner Bockleman might if he was able, but that don’t seem tuh be the case. They got him busy with other things.”
“Why do you say that?” she asked.
He took out the telegram the rider had delivered out of his coat pocket and gave it to her.
“You seem tuh be uh smart lady. What do you make of this?”
Mary read the telegram and looked at him puzzled.
“Seems very insensitive if he knew you had feelings for her,” she concluded. “One line about her and then giving you a move for your chess match.”
“I dun’t play chess,” he said flatly.
“Then what does it mean?”
“I think it means tuh be careful. Patrick says that pawns are sometimes sacrificed. Do yuh think I’m duh pawn?”
“I don’t know,” she said with concern. “Maybe this Sean what’s-his-name you’re after is the pawn. You still haven’t told me what he did?”
“He’s wanted fer killing the wife ov Theodore Carver, the next Governor ov the state of Illinois. Some pretty high-placed poleticians are waitin’ on me tuh bring him back.”
“So do you think this Sean Daugherty did it?”
“They got eyewitnesses thet saw him standing on the balcony she was thrown off ov.”
Mary shivered involuntarily.
“Let’s get out ov here, lass,” said Mike, taking her by the arm and escorting her and the bucket of ice to the door. “I been jawin’ about me problems and you’re standin’ here freezin’.”
Mary laughed as she came out of the icehouse.
“What’s so funny?” asked Mike.
“Oh, nothing really,” she blushed. “It’s just no one’s called me a lass since my father died.”
“Well, it’s about time somebody did. These fellas around here must be blind tuh not be payin’ attention to uh women as fetchin’ as yourself. Why uh flower in springtime would look wilted next tuh you,” said Mike, doling out his usual Irish blarney as was his custom to waitresses, whores and hat check girls. Mary reacted to the exaggerated praise with only a slight smile. She was a serious woman and not accustomed to the light banter of the big city. There was that look that passes between a man and a woman that speaks without words. He was the first to look away. They walked in silence for a moment enjoying the first warm rays of morning sunlight.
“Mike,” she said, moving closer to him as they walked, “I’m concerned about something.”
“What might that be?”
“That pawn thing is wearing on my mind. If it’s so important to get Sean Daugherty back to Chicago, why are you out here with only your nephew and two outlaws?”
“I’ve rolled that over in my mind uh couple times myself. I guess it’s my own impatience, but I’m not sure.”
“At least you realize that about yourself,” she said playfully poking him in the ribs. “Patience would not be at the top of your list of virtues.”
“Aye, and most people know that,” he said very seriously. “When I left, I was told me partner was busy on another case. Everybody I asked for was too busy. The chief of detectives offered me uh couple rookies and I turned him down. But dun’t worry, says he, the Governor of Wyoming has been contacted and he’ll supply everything.”
“I would think our Governor would have his hands full with our state’s own problems. We have what amounts to a civil war going on. Those arrogant Eastern cattlemen think they can invade Johnson County.”
“Yeah, we heard some stirrin’ about that. This Red Alvins we’re chasin’ has a nose fer trouble. Me two expert trail scouts figure he’s headed tuh this place they call the Hole-in-duh-Wall.”
“Just be careful, Mike. That’s a dangerous place for a lawman to go.”
As they walked into the yard, Mary’s brother Jack rode in accompanied by another Jacobs’ brother who was not yet out of his teens. Their horses kicked up dust that was swirled around by a Northwest wind that was picking up gradually. The boy was riding a hungry looking pinto that didn’t look in much better shape than the packhorse Butch was trying to retire. On his head young Jacobs had a floppy hat that went well with his tattered-looking coat. Strapped to the side of the horse was a buckskin gun sheath with a long weapon inside. He was a sharp contrast to Jack whose stylish outfit was fresh off the store shelf. Jack looked a little sick from celebrating the night at the Jacobs’ ranch and had trouble dismounting.
“That horse is a little too much for you this morning,” observed Elzy, leaning nonchalantly on the corral fence.
“I can handle him,” Jack assured him, staggering a bit. “You just tend to your own business, cowboy.”
“Where were you all night?” asked Mary. “We were worried about you.”
“Yeah, right,” he muttered, dismissing her protests with a wave of his hand as walked towards the ranch house.
“He got a little too deep into one of Pa’s bottles, Miss Mary,” said the innocent looking young man.
“Well, did you try to stop him, Luke?”
“I tried ta get him ta slow down but you know how Jack is when he gets a head of steam.”
Butch came over to Mike’s side. “Wish he was in a better mood. I need to talk a little business with him. We could use some fresh horses. We got to replace that packhorse Gus give us. I can’t believe I let him stick me with that spasmed swayback. The word must have got out I had a pocketful of the Governor’s money.”
“They gave you money before you left?” Elzy asked. “How much?”
“Marshal Parker gave me a hundred dollars for expenses.”
“A hundred dollars! Why didn’t we just head for the Colorado border?”
“You just aren’t gonna take me at
my word, are you Elzy?” asked Butch. “My outlawin’ days are over. Marshal Parker and me had a little set down after my last indiscretion. He explained to me how the West was civilizing and I had to go along with the times.”
“Indiscretion,” said Elzy. “You must have picked up that three dollar word from me. I’m the only educated man you know.”
“Well, I probably did Elzy. That brings up another thing. When are you gonna use that education instead of running around with a bunch of outlaws and no-goods. You’re like some damn schoolboy playin’ hooky. It’s time you grew up and developed a little… ah.”
“Maturity,” offered Mary.
“Thank you, Miss Mary,” said Butch.
“Oh, you can always count on her to correct you,” Jack assured him. He had walked into the middle of the discussion clutching a cup of coffee like it was a dear friend.
“Some people could stand some correctin’,” said Mike.
“Miss Mary was my teacher,” chimed in Luke. “I weren’t much of a pupil though.”
Butch saw no good coming of this conversation. “We got to talk some business,” he said abruptly. “We need horses. That pack horse Gus stuck us with is all played out and the rest of them won’t make it to the Hole-in-the-Wall the way we been pushin’em.” He pointed to the far side of the corral. “I’ll give you fifty dollars and the saddle off the dead horse for four fresh mounts we can trade up to. I get to pick’um.”
“Do ya know for sure that’s where Red Alvins is headin’?” said Jack, ignoring the offer for the horses. He had already noticed the three saddles thrown over the corral fence in anticipation of his acceptance.
“We know they got off the train at Table Rock,” replied Butch with conviction. “He’s an outlaw on the run. He must be headin’ for the Hole-in-the-Wall.”
“So you don’t know for sure,” said Jack, setting him up like a prosecuting attorney.
“Well, I’d feel a lot better if we could pick up their trail.”
“I have,” said Jack smugly. “Luke here’s little brother Lester was fishing on the Sweetwater yesterday morning and gave a fish to a red-headed man and four other riders. Said the man didn’t even say thanks.”
The Cassidy Posse Page 11
