“Is that so? Well, you just watch me,” Smoke said.
“Smoke? What is it? What’s wrong?” Kennedy asked when Smoke stepped into his office.
“What is this about?” Smoke demanded, dropping on the desk in front of Kennedy a copy of the telegram he had sent to Gallagher.
Kennedy looked at the telegram and his face turned white. “How did you get this? It is against the law for a telegrapher to disclose the contents of a private telegram.”
“This telegram concerns my wife,” Smoke said. “That gives me every right to know about it. Now, who is Gallagher?”
“He’s a friend back in New York,” Kennedy said. “I . . . I thought I was doing you a favor, making arrangements for Mrs. Jensen’s accommodations.”
“She is missing,” Smoke said. “The police are trying to find her. I suppose you don’t know anything about that.”
“I . . . uh—” Whatever Kennedy was going to say was interrupted by the sound of a gunshot from outside the window, and he went down with a bullet hole in his chest.
Smoke ran to the window, but whoever had taken the shot was gone. He returned to the mayor lying on the floor. Pearlie was squatting behind him.
“Dead?” Smoke asked.
“Not yet,” Pearlie said. “But he soon will be.”
“Your wife . . . won’t be hurt,” Kennedy said, gasping the words out. “She was supposed to be . . . insurance to keep you . . . from going after the children until . . . the ransom was paid.” Kennedy tried to laugh, but the effort brought blood bubbling from his lips. “Who would . . . have thought . . . the children would . . . escape . . . on their own?”
“Who shot you, Warren,” Smoke asked. “Do you have any idea?”
Kennedy’s eyes were still open, but his gasping breaths had stopped.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
New York City
“How long are we goin’ to keep Mrs. Jensen?” Kelly asked.
“As long as it takes,” Gallagher replied.
“As long as what takes?”
“As long as it takes for Kennedy to send us the money,” Gallagher replied.
“Warren Kennedy? He’s the one that’s behind all this?” Kelly asked, surprised to hear the name.
“Aye. ’N would you be for tellin’ me who else we know who went West?”
“You shoulda tol’ me it was Kennedy. I didn’t like the son of a bitch when he was here. You might remember ’twas him who got us into a war with the Five Points gang ’n wound up gettin’ a lot of our friends killed.”
“Aye, but ’tis a sweet thing he has goin’ now. He is the mayor of the town, ’n soon as he gets the money from somethin’ he’s workin’ on, he’ll be sendin’ for me to come join him. You can go, too.”
“No, thank you. I’ve no wish to leave New York. What if he don’t send the money? What will we do with the woman?”
“What makes you think he won’t be sendin’ the money?”
“Do you know anythin’ about this woman’s husband?” Kelly asked.
“No.”
“Well, I do. He’s some kinda hero in the West. He’s a gunfighter, ’n when he shoots someone, he never misses.”
Gallagher laughed. “’N where would you be for getting that information?”
“From Shootout at Sunset,” Kelly replied.
“What? What are you talkin’ about?”
“I’m talkin’ about Smoke Jensen, the legendary gunfighter.” Kelly reached into his back pocket and pulled out the book, the title of which he had just mentioned. “You can read all about it in this book.”
Gallagher looked at the book and laughed. “A dime novel? ’N am I to be worryin’ ’bout some character in a book?”
“’Tis more than just a character in a book. He’s a real person, ’n if he ever finds out it was Kennedy who had his wife took, there’s goin’ to be hell to pay,” Kelly insisted.
“I’ll send Kennedy a telegram ’n ask when he plans on sendin’ the money,” Gallagher said.
* * *
In the office of the Western Union, the telegrapher showed Gallagher the telegram he was about to send.
MRS JENSEN IS OUR GUEST AS REQUESTED STOP WHEN WILL MONEY BE SENT STOP GALLAGHER
“And this is to the mayor of Mule Gap?” the telegrapher asked.
“Aye.”
“Very well, sir. That will be one dollar and ten cents.”
* * *
Gallagher returned to the tenement building on West Third Street, just east of McDougal. From the chugging steam engine, the rumble of the cars, and the squeak and rattle of the elevated tracks, the site was loud with the sounds of a passing train. He could smell the horse manure coming from the Minetta Stable on the south side of the street. Standing out in front of St. Clement’s Protestant Episcopal Church, Reverend Peabody nodded at Gallagher as he stepped down from the cab. Gallagher made no acknowledgment in response to the good pastor’s greeting.
Hurrying up the stairs to the fourth-floor apartment, Gallagher saw Kelly reading a book. “Is it another book about Mrs. Jensen’s husband that you’re reading?”
“Aye.” Kelly held up the book. “This one is called Smoke Jensen and The Railroad Bandits. He goes after ten railroad bandits all by his ownself, ’n he kills ever’ one of ’em. It’s a real excitin’ story.”
“Those are all made-up stories,” Gallagher said.
“Aye, ’tis exactly what Mrs. Jensen said when I asked her about them. She said none of the books about her husband are true stories. But he must be like they say he is, or people wouldn’t be for writin’ books about him, would they?”
“Here now, Patrick Kelly, ’n ’tis beginnin’ ter worry about you, I am. Would you be for tellin’ me why ’tis so close to the women you are getting? The time may come when we’ll have to take care of her. If you get too friendly with her, you may not be able to do what will need to be done.”
“Take care of her?”
“Aye.”
“What does that mean? Take care of her?”
“You know what it means.”
“I thought you said Mrs. Jensen would no’ be hurt.”
“’Tis not my intention to do so. But if don’t hear from Kennedy, and if we be cheated out o’ the money, then we’ll no be for keepin’ ’er, ’n we won’t be able to just let her go free now, will we?”
“Is it thinkin’, you are, that we’ll no’ be getting the money?” Kelly asked.
“I don’t know,” Gallagher said. “I sent him a message, asking for the money, ’n I expect to be hearin’ from him soon.”
“What if he does send the money? What will we be doin’ with the woman then? She’ll still know who we are.”
“Aye, ’tis a good point you have made. We’ll see what Kennedy has in mind, ’n if he has nothin’ to tell us, we’ll have no choice but to take care of the woman our ownselves.”
“I would no’ be for killin’ her,” Kelly said.
“Don’t you be for gettin’ sweet on her now,” Gallagher warned. “You knew when you came in with us, that there would be times when we might have to do somethin’ like that. It’s all a part of the business.”
Mule Gap
As soon as Smoke and Pearlie left the mayor’s office, they were met by Marshal Bodine and his four remaining deputies. All five of them had their guns drawn.
“What is this?” Smoke asked.
“You are under arrest,” Bodine said.
“For what?”
“For the murder of Mayor Kennedy,” Bodine said.
“Well, now, that’s interesting,” Smoke said. “What makes you think Mayor Kennedy is dead?”
“Well, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is. But how do you know?”
“Soon, the whole town is going to know,” Bodine said.
“I have no doubt but that they will,” Smoke replied, “but don’t you think there should be a motive?”
“Apparently, Mr. Jensen, you discovered that it was Kennedy who
was behind the five-thousand-dollar reward.”
“No, I didn’t know that, but now that I think about it, it makes sense.”
“Get their guns,” Bodine ordered. “Get the guns from both of them.”
“Am I under arrest, too?” Pearlie asked.
“No. But I have no intention of leaving you armed while I incarcerate your friend.”
Within moments, the town learned that Mayor Kennedy had been killed, and that Smoke had been arrested for murder. Reaction was mixed. Some who didn’t actually know Smoke were ready to accept that he was guilty, but many who did know Smoke were positive there must be some sort of explanation. Smoke would not have murdered Kennedy. If he did shoot him, there would have had to be a very good reason for it.
It was the telegrapher who supplied the reason when he personally visited the marshal. “I just received this telegram from New York, intended for the mayor. Apparently someone in New York is holding Mr. Jensen’s wife as a prisoner and is doing so at the behest of the mayor.”
“What are you talking about?” Bodine asked after he read the telegram. “There is nothing here that says Mrs. Jensen is a prisoner.”
“I spoke with Mr. Jensen earlier, and I told him about a telegram that Mayor Kennedy had sent, arranging for Mrs. Jensen to be met by this man, Gallagher. Mr. Jensen was unaware of any such arrangement.”
Bodine’s smile was little more than a ribald smirk. “Well, now, perhaps this was merely the arrangement of a tryst. In that case, of course Jensen wouldn’t know about it. Thank you, Mr. Cox, I had previously thought that Jensen killed the mayor because of his belief that the mayor had posted a reward to anyone who would kill Jensen. But now I believe you have just supplied the actual motive. It is obvious that Jensen killed the mayor in a moment of jealous rage.”
“No, I don’t believe that is it at all!” Cox said. “If you will but read the previous telegram, you will see that the mayor offered Gallagher money for meeting and hosting Mrs. Jensen. I believe the word hosting is a cover word for asking Gallagher to take her as his prisoner.”
Bodine chuckled. “That’s what you believe, is it? Tell me, Cox, do you actually think a court would listen to you stating something you believe?”
“Well, it isn’t hard to figure out,” Cox said.
“Thank you, Mr. Cox. If you don’t mind, I’ll keep this message. And if you would, bring the other one to me as well.”
“I don’t know whether or not that would be proper,” Cox said. “Telegrams are protected by the government as privileged communication. You can’t see them without proper authorization.”
“With the mayor dead, I am now the highest authority,” Bodine said. “And that is all the authorization I need now. Bring me the telegrams in question. That is, unless you want to wind up sharing a cell with Mr. Jensen.”
“No, I’ll . . . uh . . . bring you the telegrams.”
That same afternoon, Bodine authorized the building of a gallows, right in the middle of First Street. A newly printed sign was placed on an easel next to the gallows under construction, explaining the purpose of the gallows.
ON THESE GALLOWS TOMORROW
SMOKE JENSEN
Will Be Hanged
for the MURDER of
Our Beloved Mayor
WARREN KENNEDY
“You can’t hang a man without a trial!” Gil Rafferty said.
“Oh, there will be an adjudication,” Bodine replied. “We will try him, find him guilty, and hang him at high noon tomorrow. And these two telegrams will be all the evidence we will need to make the case.”
* * *
Smoke Jensen was already considered by many of the citizens to be a hero for his role in bringing the kidnapped children back to Mule Gap. News that he was to be hanged spread through the town like wildfire.
“How are they going to hold a trial without a judge?”
“Rufus Gordon is a judge.”
“Gordon is a drunk. He hasn’t heard a case in five years.”
“He’s still a judge, and Bodine plans to use him.”
“Why, how can that be, in any way, a fair trial? Gordon will do anything Bodine asks of him, ever’-body knows that.”
* * *
Visiting with Sara Sue, Thad, and Sandra, Pearlie said, “I’m not going to let them hang Smoke.”
“How are you going to stop it?” Sara Sue asked.
“I can testify in court that the gunshot came through the window. I know, because I was there. We left to go tell the marshal, but Bodine and all his deputies were standing right in front of the mayor’s office when we stepped out into the street. He arrested Smoke for murder before either one of us could say a word.”
“Wait a minute,” Sara Sue said. “Are you telling me that he arrested Smoke for murder before you even told him that Kennedy was dead?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How could he do that? What I mean is how did he even know Kennedy was dead?”
“Yes ma’am, that’s what Smoke asked and . . . I’ll be damned!” Pearlie said. “Bodine did it! He has to be the one who shot through the window. That’s the only way he could have possibly known that Kennedy was dead. Uh, forgive me for the cussword, ma’am.”
“No forgiveness is needed,” Sara Sue said. “I think you are right. I believe Bodine is the one who killed Kennedy. Smoke is being falsely accused to protect Bodine.”
There was a knock at the door and Pearlie waved Sara Sue and Thad to one side, then, drawing his gun, he jerked the door open.
“Oh!” the man in the hall said.
“You’re the telegrapher, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Lymon Cox,” the man said.
“I’m sorry about this,” Pearlie said, putting the gun away. “Do you have another telegram for us?”
“Yes, well, no. That is, not exactly. I’ve come to show you a telegram I just received that was meant for Mayor Kennedy. I thought it might be of some interest to you.” He handed it to Pearlie.
MRS JENSEN IS OUR GUEST AS REQUESTED STOP WHEN WILL MONEY BE SENT STOP GALLAGHER
“Look at this, Miz Condon,” Pearlie said, showing the telegram to Sara Sue. “At least we know that Miz Sally is still alive.”
“Oh, thank God for that. I hate that she is a prisoner, but I am very happy to hear that she is alive.”
“Does Smoke know about this?” Pearlie asked.
“No, I showed the telegram to the marshal, but he took it from me. I didn’t get a chance to talk to Mr. Jensen. They have him locked in the cell in the back of the building. There’s a door between the front of the building and the cell, so I didn’t even get to see him.”
“Mrs. Condon?” a male voice called from the hall.
“It’s Richard Blackwell. May I come in?”
“That’s Wee’s pa,” Thad said.
“Yes, please do,” Sara Sue replied.
Blackwell nodded toward Cox.
“Don’t mind me, Mr. Blackwell. I’m just on my way out,” Cox said.
Blackwell waited until Cox was gone before he spoke. “If it’s all right with you, Mrs. Condon, I would like to shut the door. What I have to say to you is for the ears of those in this room only.”
“Yes, of course you can close the door.”
Blackwell closed the door before speaking again. “I’m sure you know that Mr. Jensen’s status now is quite precarious. It is my understanding that Bodine intends to hold a trial to be conducted by Judge Rufus Gordon. In addition, he will put only his deputies and others that they select on the jury.”
“But the defense attorney will have voir dire, won’t he?” Sara Sue asked.
“Have what?” Sandra asked.
“Before we got into the cattle business, my husband was an attorney,” Sara Sue said. “Voir dire is used to determine if any juror is biased and cannot deal with the issues fairly or if there is cause not to allow a juror to serve because of possible bias.”
“Believe me, Mrs. Condon, the defense attorney will al
so belong to Bodine,” Blackwell said. “There is no way Smoke Jensen can win this trial. Why else do you think they have built the gallows?”
“I hope you didn’t come to cheer us up,” Pearlie said. “If you did, you sure aren’t doing a very good job of it.”
“Well, no, I don’t suppose I am. However, I do have one thing that, if we are lucky, might work.”
“What do you have?”
Blackwell held up a key as a big smile spread across his face. “I have a key to the cell.”
“What? How did you get that?”
“As it so happens, sir, I own the jail.”
“You own the jail?” Pearlie asked, surprised by the comment. “I’ve never heard of a private citizen owning a public building like a jail.”
“Well, until Bodine was appointed, we didn’t have a city marshal, and thus, we had no reason to have a jail. Then we got a marshal, and I made one of my buildings that I had been using for storage available for the town to use as a jail. I hired a contractor to convert the building into a jail and leased it to the town. The contractor was working for me, so he made me a spare set of all the keys to the building, including to the cell, and gave the second set to Bodine. This is the key to the jail cell where they are keeping Mr. Jensen.”
“All right!” Pearlie said, reaching happily for the key. “Now, all I’ve got to do is figure out how to use it.”
“The best way would be to get the key to him,” Sara Sue said. “But I don’t know how we will be able to do it. You know he isn’t going to let you see Smoke.”
“I can get the key to him,” Thad said. “I’m just a kid. The marshal would never suspect me of anything.”
“Especially if I went with him,” Lorena said.
“What would be your reason for going to see him?” Sara Sue asked.
“We’re going to thank him for rescuing us,” Lorena said.
“That won’t work,” Blackwell said. “The whole town now knows that it was Thad who managed to rescue you.”
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