Mundy's Law

by Monty McCord

  Joe cocked the other hammer and held the shotgun on Todd. “Think about your next move very carefully. It may be your last.” Todd eyed Joe, Dan, and the carbine, and Joe again. A few long moments later he straightened up and raised his hands without being told.

  “Pull your coat open,” Joe said.

  “I ain’t heeled,” Todd said. He opened his coat and then raised his hands again.

  “Drop the knife, Dan,” Joe said without looking at the butcher. He heard the knife clatter onto the wood floor.

  “You ain’t got no right to barge in here. We’re closed,” Todd said.

  “Both of you sit down against that wall, keep them hands high. I can’t see ’em, I start blastin’!” Both men sat down and held their hands as far above their heads as they could manage. Joe picked up one of the lanterns and held it down by the dead steer’s rump. He saw no brand, so moved it slowly up the rib-cage and found what he was looking for. The brand was hard to read under the winter hair, so he retrieved a pair of clippers. The brand on the steer became clear as he removed patches of hair.

  “Looks like a Circle A brand. You have a bill of sale for this one, Mister Todd?” Joe said. “What’s Mister Jarvis’s brand?” Todd looked away.

  “Mister Jarvis holds the Seventy-Seven brand, Marshal,” Dan said. “I ain’t no thief. I just butcher what they tell me—”

  “Shut up!” Todd said.

  “Last chance, Todd, you got a bill of sale or not?” Joe said.

  “Go to hell, Mundy!”

  “With that attitude, I believe you’ll make it there first.”

  Todd scowled at Joe.

  “Both of you stand up,” Joe said. “We’re gonna take a little stroll down to the jail, and if you’re polite about it, I won’t have to cut you in half with this shotgun.”

  When the trio walked into the marshal’s office, Adam raised up and banged his head on the upper bunk of the cell. “Damn! What’s goin’ on, Marshal?” The clock rang four bells before Joe answered.

  “Sorry, Adam, these two are takin’ your place.” Adam stepped out of the cell and swung the door open wide. Joe patted down their pockets, making sure there were no hidden weapons. He pushed Todd into the cell by himself and closed the door.

  “Hey, what about him?” Todd said.

  Joe ignored him and walked Dan over to his desk. “Consider yourself under arrest as well, Dan.You’ll have to explain yourself to the judge. What’s your last name?”

  “Loman, Marshal, Dan Loman. I needed the job. I just did what he told me to do,” Dan said.

  “You’re a butcher, then?” Joe said.

  “Six years of it up at Omaha. Got fired ’cuz . . . well, ’cuz I drink a bit. Met Ace at a saloon up there, offered me a job here. Hell, I hadn’t never even heard of Taylorsville. I just needed the job.”

  “Be a shame for all that meat to go to waste, wouldn’t it?” Joe said. “If I let Adam escort you back down to the market, you do your job quick and without a problem?”

  Dan grinned. “I shore will, Marshal. That’s too much meat to let rot. I won’t be no trouble, give you my word on it.”

  “His word ain’t worth shit!” Todd spat and glared at Dan. “You keep your mouth shut, ya’ dumb bastard! Remember what I said before!”

  “Mister Todd, would you be kind enough not to open your mouth again unless you’re asked to?” Joe said. “Adam, strap on that Navy Colt you been fawnin’ over, take the shotgun, and escort Dan to the market.”

  Adam looked a little sheepish, surprised that Joe knew he had been wearing the Colt around the office and polishing it whenever he could.

  “I will ask Adam to shoot you if you’re not cooperatin’,” Joe said. “It’s loaded, isn’t it?”

  Adam nodded, wondering how Joe knew he’d reloaded it in case of an emergency.

  “There’s a carbine layin’ on the counter in back, might want to put it up out of the way when you get there.”

  “Okay,” Adam said.

  “I won’t cause no trouble, Marshal,” Dan said.

  Joe rummaged through the top desk drawer and brought out a badge. “Adam, I’m appointin’ you a temporary special deputy. You may not get any pay for it, but it’s legal. Swear to uphold the state’s laws and ordinances of Taylorsville?”

  “That ain’t no problem, Marshal, proud to. I do!” Adam pinned the badge to the outside of his green coat and cinched up the gun belt over it as well. The belt was too big for his waist, but it fit around the coat.

  Joe walked outside with them and closed the office door. “Dan, I need you to tell me right now, with Adam as a witness, just what went on at the meat market. You do, and I’ll put in a good word with Judge Worden. If not, you’ll stand for the same thievin’ charges that Todd will. What’ll it be?” Joe said.

  “I don’t owe him a damn thing,” Dan said. “Ace had word out that he’d take beeves to dress out and sell, but only one or two at a time, and only when he was ready for ’em. He’d wrap up a wagon load and head out the same day to Willow Springs, or Broken Bow, or elsewhere. Does it mostly in the winter ’cuz the meat keeps better.”

  “Who was them two riders that brought in the steer tonight?” Joe said.

  “I don’t know who any of ’em are, Marshal, that’s the God’s truth of it. They ain’t always the same ones, neither. There’s a bunch thievin’ cattle up north. Horses, too.”

  “They all part of the same gang?”

  “From what little I hear, I think there’s a big gang, but, hell, there’s little ones, too,” Dan said. “Them ones was killed here in town, I knowed them. Luther, Cookie and Bob. They worked with a man name of Tyler, never met him, though.They brought us beeves too. Them’s the only ones I knew.”

  “Now, this next question is very important, and I want the truth,” Joe said, hoping for the chance to nail down Sheriff Canfield once and for all. “Who was Luther and them workin’ for?”

  “I don’t know that they worked for anybody, Marshal, I figured they were working on their own.”

  Joe grabbed the front of Dan’s shirt and pulled him close. “That’s bullshit, and you know it! You’ll swing right alongside Todd!” Joe threatened. Adam’s mouth hung open as he stared at Joe. The vicious change of demeanor scared both Dan and Adam.

  “Marshal, I don’t want to hang. I’m tellin’ ya’ what I know. If I knowed who them fellas worked for, I’d tell ya’! I just done my work and didn’t ask questions.” Dan’s eyes were glassy, and his face turned pasty in the cool air. Joe believed he was either telling the truth or was a first-class liar. He leaned toward the former.

  “Okay, but I better not find out you’ve lied to me or held back on anything,” Joe said. “One more thing. Is Budd Jarvis involved in this?”

  “I can’t say certain—”

  Joe glared at him.

  “I . . . I don’t think he is. I say that ’cuz Ace told me regular not to be discussin’ our extra sales with nobody, or I might not wake up in the mornin’ sometime. I think Ace is a little crazy.”

  “You sell Jarvis’s beef at the market, don’t you?” Joe asked.

  “Yeah, that’s what we sell there, just like Mister Jarvis wants,” Dan said. “The extra that comes at night, that’s Ace’s own little business. And he’s hauled off some of Jarvis’s meat to sell, too. Not much at a time, but it adds up.”

  “So, you come to work here knowin’ you’d be cuttin’ up rustled stock?” Joe said.

  “No, sir. I was promised the job of butcher and clerk, that’s what I was promised.”

  “Okay. Adam, take him over there, and as soon as he’s done, bring ’im right back here. Take a look for any other hides while you’re there.”

  “Yes, sir,” Adam said. “Move!” He poked Dan in the back with the shotgun.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “So Judge Worden set trial for next Thursday. I told him Dan Loman was cooperative with my questions. Don’t know if he was all truth, but cooperative.” Joe leaned agains
t a chair in Siegler’s store and gazed at the new Winchester. It hung by itself, prominently displayed in a horizontal rack. It was apparent that no one had yet forked over the $14.25 required to take it home. It was nearing suppertime, and the store was empty except for Joe and Siegler.

  “I can’t believe what goes on in this town anymore. What’s happening?” Siegler said. “You don’t think Budd is involved do you?”

  “Don’t know him very well. What do you think?” Joe said.

  Siegler sat in a chair by the checkerboard and considered the question. He worked his mustache and slowly shook his head. “No, I don’t. He’s abrasive sometimes, as you know, but he’s no criminal.”

  Joe looked through a front window and saw Jarvis coming from the North Star under a full head of steam. He was out of Joe’s sight when he landed on the boardwalk in front of the hotel. He could hear Jarvis’s boots clunking down the boardwalk before he saw him. Coming into the store, he skipped the formalities of greeting and stomped straight into his mission.

  “Byron, have you seen Ace or Dan around town? Those two sons-a-bitches are nowhere to be found!” He paused for a reply. Siegler looked at Joe.

  “Mister Jarvis, I’m afraid your two boys are in my jail.”

  “What the hell’s he talking about, Byron?” Jarvis said, ignoring Joe.

  “I’m asking you to settle down and hear what Marshal Mundy has to say. You’ll want to hear this,” Siegler said. “And thanks for asking about Fern, she’s back home and doing well.” Joe wondered if Siegler’s sour tone escaped Jarvis, knowing the rancher was waist deep in poor social graces.

  “I’m, ah, sorry, Byron. Glad to hear she’s better,” Jarvis said, his tone reconciliatory.

  The exchange surprised Joe. He’d never have believed the word sorry would cross Budd’s lips.

  Joe told Jarvis what he’d been doing during the last week, culminating in the arrest of Ace and Dan. Jarvis’s face got tight when Joe told him about their little side business.

  “Adam cut out three other odd brands from hides at the market,” Joe said. “And there’s a whole beef in the cellar you might want to do something with.”

  For the first time, Budd Jarvis was quiet. His loss for words amazed Joe.

  “I’d like you to step outside where we can talk privately,” Joe said.

  “You have questions of me?”

  “Yes,” Joe said.

  “Budd, before you go off half-cocked, Joe is the duly appointed city marshal here, and he’s doing his sworn job right now, however unpleasant it might be for all of us,” Siegler said.

  “You can ask your questions in front of Byron. I’ve no secrets,” Jarvis said.

  “Okay. Did you have any knowledge of Ace or Dan’s activities with stolen stock?”

  Jarvis flashed an angry look at Joe. “You accusin’ me of being a thief?”

  “Budd, please, just answer the damned question, get this over with,” Siegler said.

  “I ain’t no rustler, and I don’t sell stolen goods. We used to hang rustlers where I come from!”

  “Texas?” Joe said.

  “That’s right. Suppose you think Texans are thieves?”

  “Nope. But I need to know your involvement, if any,” Joe said.

  “I flat out ain’t involved with stealin’, and don’t ask me that again!” He gripped the counter and look down at the surface. “If I’d known those curs were stealin’ from me, you’d never got ’em in your jail!”

  “Did you know Luther Brennan, Cookie Jones, Robert Carlson, or a man named Tyler?” Joe said.

  Jarvis raised his head slowly and turned it. Joe figured he was mad enough to burn down a cottonwood tree with a single glance.

  “Heard their names, but didn’t know ’em. Carlson’s the one dumped in the street. The first two, weren’t they the ones killed in that shack?”

  Joe nodded. “They were. Know who did it?”

  Jarvis whipped around toward Joe. “You accusing me of murder now?”

  “Nope. Just wondered if you’d heard anything,” Joe said.

  Jarvis leaned back against the counter, seemingly exhausted. “I don’t know who done it. Ain’t that your job, to find out?”

  “You’ll be called to testify at the trial next Thursday,” Joe said.

  “I’ll be there,” Jarvis said.

  The following morning Joe sat at his desk sipping at a fresh cup of coffee. Adam had just returned the prisoners to the cell after taking them one at a time to the privy. He’d already emptied the slop buckets, and it was now time to feed. Joe smiled to himself as he watched Adam pour two cups of coffee and let them sit on the table by the stove before he left to fetch their breakfast. He was happy that his temporary deputy was taking to the job. In time, Adam might make a lawman. Still, Joe had no intention of putting him in the line of fire. His help with the prisoners was as far as Joe was willing to risk Adam’s safety. It was true, everybody has to start somewhere, but he refused to put Adam in a position that might get him killed.

  He got up and went to the window. The weather continued to embrace the area with a milder temperature, which was rapidly melting the accumulated snow. On the bad side, the streets were transformed into muddy quagmires that could suck the shoes, and maybe even the boots, right off a person’s feet.

  Joe thought about the previous night and the supper he’d enjoyed with Sarah. She was still angry with him for not telling her about Lute Kinney. So much so that few words were spoken until they had finished the meal. It didn’t help much to explain that he didn’t want her to worry about it and that Kinney probably wasn’t going to show now anyway. She wasn’t dumb, and recognized the potential danger. She asked him the details of the shooting in Baxter Springs, and he told her. She winced at Arliss’s age, but recognized that Joe had been given no choice.

  Adam returned with the prisoners’ breakfasts and served them, including the lukewarm coffees. Joe stayed at the window and watched a young man help a woman through the mud to the boardwalk in front of Siegler’s store.

  “You know somethin’, Carr, that badge don’t make you a man,” Todd said. He gripped at the iron strapping and looked out of the cage at Adam. “You’re nothin’. Nothin’ but a common stooge.”

  Joe listened but didn’t turn around. Loman lay on the top bunk and turned his head slightly.

  “You ain’t much better’n a dung beetle. Only thing is, I ain’t never seen a dung beetle with a badge.”

  Joe had to grit his teeth while he stared out of the window, but he wanted to see how Adam would react to the verbal abuse.

  “In fact, it don’t much matter how many badges you hang on your coat, all you’ll ever be good for is dungin’ out stalls, which you’re lousy at, by the way.”

  Adam glanced at Joe and back to Todd.

  “Don’t be lookin’ at him. You know how to talk, don’t ya’, boy? That’s right, boy. You ain’t no man, that’s for damned sure.”

  Adam remained silent and ignored Todd.

  Joe noticed a lone rider coming from the east who reined up his horse in front of the office. Joe didn’t recognize him, and he instinctively felt for his Colt.

  “Marshal Mundy?” the stranger asked when the door opened.

  “I’m Joe Mundy.”

  “Name’s Revis. Marshal Twilliger over at Willow Springs asked me to deliver this note to you, pronto.”

  Joe ripped open the envelope and read:

  Marshal Mundy,

  Had a fella here ask about you. Smelled trouble, a bad one I think. I didn’t lie, Tole im I didn’t know you. He’s wearin two guns, unfriendly type. Been gamblin here a lot. Still with it.

  Marshal Hank Twilliger

  Willow Spgs.

  “Marshal, what is it? What’s the matter?” Adam said. “Marshal?”

  “Oh, uh, nothin’, Adam, nothing at all,” Joe said. “Would you give my regards and thanks to Marshal Twilliger for me?”

  Joe knew that he could let Twilliger know who the man
was, and that he was wanted in Kansas. It would be an easy way out. Let Marshal Twilliger arrest Kinney, if that’s who it was, and it sounded like it. But Joe knew there was a better than average chance that Kinney would kill Twilliger, and Joe didn’t want that on his shoulders. Besides, this was between him and Kinney. He would have to deal with Kinney himself.

  “Sure will. Good-day,” Revis said, and hesitated. “Say, whatever happened to Marshal Welby—George, was it?”

  “Yes, George. No one seems to know. Lit out one night and never came back,” Joe said.

  Revis gave a quick nod, touched his hat brim, and went back out to his horse.

  Joe stood for several moments looking at the note. He’d missed his guess about Lute Kinney showing up. He knew the killer liked poker. He must have tied up in some games along the way that he didn’t want to hurry through. He also knew that just because Twilliger didn’t tell Kinney where Joe was, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t soon find someone else there who would.

  “Marshal, dang it, what’s the matter?”

  Adam’s sudden question startled Joe slightly.

  “I can see the look on your face. Somethin’s wrong,” Adam said.

  “No, nothing’s wrong.”

  “That’s bull!” Adam came back. “Why won’t you tell me? I can see it on your face!”

  “Adam, it’s not important right now. When it is, I’ll tell you, don’t worry,” Joe said. He stuffed the note in a coat pocket, put on his hat, and started for the door. “Goin’ on rounds.”

  As soon as Joe stepped out, he saw Lucy at the north corner on the boardwalk. There wasn’t anything odd about that except that she had not one stitch of clothing on.

  Joe had his overcoat in his hand when he trotted down the boardwalk toward Lucy. She was stumbling and wavering, which was now normal for her. The brown whiskey bottle in her hand, however, was affecting her already challenging mobility problems. As Joe approached, she bounced off the corner building and went headlong into the muddy street.