Outcast (29 page)

Bodmer's eyes roved the street. “That wagon. That white wagon. Ed take him down there and get that white wagon. I'll get you a rope and meet you at the livery. We'll hang him from the hay hoist. You'll like that won't you Miles? You can plead your case to God.”

Miller stared at Bodmer. Bodmer stiffened. “Now, Ed!”

“Boss, the horses are at the livery.”

Bodmer's face turned a deep purple. “I'm not running. Once these honyockers know who he is, they'll dance on his grave, and we'll dance with them.”

“The sheriff.…”

“The sheriff is down in Carbon County digging through a pile of trash.”

“Boss, I don't think.…”

Rage painted Bodmer's face a dull red. “I've waited three years to hang this son of a bitch, and I ain't waiting any longer. Get that white wagon down there. The one in front of that bakery. We'll stand him in the back of that wagon.”

“Boss.…”

“Do it, damn it! Do it now!”

Standish stiffened. So this is how it would end. Best he didn't make a fuss. If Arch and Iona knew what was happening, they would likely step in. They could be hurt. Standish shut his eyes for a moment, remembering the three of them working in the garden and Arch catching the cutthroat. He had something to carry with him on this journey. Miller pressed his pistol into Standish's back, and they walked toward the wagon.

“Name's Miles Standish,” Standish said.

“I know who you are,” Miller retorted.

Standish nodded. “But I don't know who you are.”

Miller pulled the pistol from his vest and stuck the muzzle into Standish's back. “That's none of your damn business.”

“Man about to hanged has some right to know who's hanging him.”

“Man might. Cannibals don't.”

“Then I have a right.”

The pistol's muzzle jammed hard into Standish's back.

“I would like to shoot you dead right now. Then Boss and I can ride out of town and be shut of this.”

Standish paused; Miller's pistol digging into his back. “Bodmer will never be shut of this. Guilt will ride him to the grave.”

“No guilt in this. We kill you; you won't be killing anybody else. Thing that rides him is what you did on that mountain. He's a little off kilter because of that. He thinks he sees you all the time, thinks you're following him. I'll tell you one thing, you son of a bitch, killing you won't bother me at all.”

“I wasn't up on that mountain when Bodmer…did what he did.”

“Bullshit! Bodmer's a good man. He supports half the churches in Helena, and he gives money to people in trouble.”

“And he's about to hang an innocent man.”

“If you're innocent, why did you run?”

Standish stopped an turned. “What will you do if I run?”

“I'll blow you to hell.”

“What will you do if I don't run?”

“We'll hang you, you son of a bitch, and then we'll buy drinks for anybody who wants to hear what you did up on Moose Creek.”

“So what would you do. Stay and be hanged or run an take a chance that you aren't much of a shot.”

“Run and we'll see what kind of a shot I am.” Miller grinned, a twisted black grin. “I'll going to enjoy this, Standish. I'm going to set that noose so you strangle. I want to watch you kick yourself to hell.”

“Bodmer is a murderer.”

“Bullshit. He's been good to me.”

“He's turning you into a murderer. How is that being good to you?”

“He said he would take responsibility.”

“You think he can stop the state from putting a rope around your neck, Mr.…”

“Miller. Ed Miller.”

“You will die on the gallows with him.”

Miller raged. “Ain't a jury in the state that will convict us for killing you. You can go to hell, Standish. I s'pect they got an especially hot fire reserved for you.”

The two had reached the wagon.

“Climb up. You drive. You try anything, I'll kill you.”

“I don't do anything, and you will kill me.”

“Not me. Bodmer will.”

“You and Bodmer.”

Miller hit Standish with his pistol, and Standish's cheek spurted blood.

“I figure that was the best cinnamon roll ever,” Arch said, his tongue running over his lips.

Iona smiled.

Arch cocked his head. A question ran across his face.

“What's wrong, Arch?”

“Who's taking our wagon?”

Iona stood and walked to the door. Standish was driving the wagon. A man was sitting on the seat beside him. Her turned the wagon in the street, bouncing over deep routes, and stopped in front of the blacksmith's shop. Standish was shoved on the wagon bed, and somebody was…tying his hands. Another man was climbing on the wagon with another rope in his hands.

“No,” Iona screamed. “No!” She ran toward the men.

The baker ran into the room. Arch was sitting wide-eyed at the table.

“What's wrong?”

Arch rose from the chair and ran after his mother. The baker glanced back at the kitchen. Not long before the bread.… He tore off his apron and raced after them.

Doors were opening and people spilling on the street. They ran toward the melee.

Bodmer was standing in the wagon, tying a hangman's knot. He paid no attention to the crowd until he had thrown the rope over the hay hoist and dropped the noose over Standish's neck. He turned then and assumed an orator's air.

“I have come to hang the Moose Creek cannibal,” he said, and a murmur fluttered through the crowd. “Miles Standish marched through miners knife in hand. He killed them, and ate their livers raw. I may hang for doing what I am doing, but your children will be safe from this murderer, this eater of human flesh.”

“Yeah, and that son of a bitch preached to us in church about that whore.” A louder roar rumbled from the crowd.

Iona sagged. She wrapped her arms around, she was holding Arch's arm as he tugged toward the wagon.

Ivan Kabanov stepped from the front of the blacksmith shop blinking in the light.

“Well, I tell you one thing. You will not hang any man from my shop. Come on Hortenzi, you back up. You don't pay any attention to those bad men.”

Kabanov unhitched the horse and lead Hortenzi into his corral.

Bodmer blinked. This wasn't right. He wanted to hang Standish. That seemed more…judicial. If he shot him, that would.… Ruffians shoot people. He wasn't a ruffian.

A man stepped from the crowd, bleary still with drinking the night before and the night before that. “Let's get the son of a bitch hanged, so I can have my turn with the whore. Truth is, she wasn't much that night. Far as I'm concerned we didn't get our dollar's worth.”

Thunk
. Sheriff Dolby looked down at the fallen man. “Amos, I don't think you're ever going to know how much I appreciated that.” He turned to his deputy. “Clive, have those two drag this son of a bitch back to the jail. Lock 'em all up. I want to talk to them this afternoon. I want to talk to them real bad.”

Dolby climbed into the wagon, his face a dull red. He slipped the noose off Standish's neck, and untied his hands.

Bodmer wailed, “He's the Moose Creek cannibal. I have to hang him.”

Dolby glowered and turned to the crowd. “Got something to read to you before we decide who the Moose Creek cannibal is.”

A soft rumble filtered through the crowd.

Dolby waved a small leather-covered book. “One of the miners, Jasper Smith, kept a little journal in one of his boots. Let me read a little of it, starting at October 2.

“Blizzard. Terrible blizzard. We're out of wood and food and no way to get more. Just to step into that howling wind to take a.…” Dolby looked up, willing the crowd to understands. Nods spread through the crowd. “This comes four days later:”

“
We've all crowded into one tent so we can share each other's warmth. This is a terrible cold, and without food, I don't know how many of us will survive. One man said we should eat the men as they die, so the rest of us can live. Miles Standish volunteered to walk down the mountain through his howling wind to get help. He asked us to wait three days before we did something that would haunt us all of our lives. We all thanked him, but we know he is walking to his death because he doesn't want to be part of what will likely happen in this camp.”

Dolby waved the journal over his head. “This makes for good reading. It tells about how Bodmer told the miners to give him their gold, so he he could make sure it got back to their families.” The sheriff stepped closer to Bodmer. “They didn't get back to their families, and their gold didn't either.”

A resolute rage settled on the sheriff's face. “Jasper wanted to run. He wanted to run into the storm and die. “But you didn't let him die with dignity.”

Dolby stuck his face next to Bodmer's. “You're signature is on this book, Bodmer. You signed it with Smith's blood. He had to be alive when you cut his throat you son of a bitch, or he wouldn't have bled so much.”

“You are the Moose Creek cannibal Bodmer, and if they didn't die fast enough to suit your fancy, you killed them. Smith says you were partial to liver.”

Bodmer jerked Miller's pistol from his holster, pointing it at Dolby. He was shaking his head violently. “No, that's not true. That couldn't be true. See, there's the real cannibal. Don't you see him coming down the street, there?” Bodmer shot at the shadow walking toward him, and again and again. Then the shadow stepped beside the wagon and looked up at Bodmer. It was Bodmer, carrying a man's liver in his hands, his mouth bloody and grinning.

“I know how to kill you,” Bodmer screamed, and he pressed the muzzle of the pistol against his own temple.

CHAPTER 16

“Sorry you had to see that.” Standish stood on the depot landing. The train porter was waiting, not very patiently for Arch and Iona to board.

Arch scuffed at the dirt with his shoes. “Where we going?”

“Boston.”

Arch shook his head. “I think we should stay here. Don't see any reason to go”

“I want you to meet your grandparents.”

“If they're so hesper grand, why ain't they ever come here?”

Iona's face dropped, but Standish stepped in. “I can understand why the boy wouldn't want to go.”

Iona's attention jerked to Standish. Surely he didn't think she would go back to Boston and leave Arch to fend for himself.

Standish sighed. “Those dining cars can be an awful nuisance.”

Iona nodded, a slight grin crossing her face. “I agree they're a terrible nuisance. Always after you to eat.”

“Course the food is good.”

“Really good.”

“I can't imagine where they get steaks that big.”

Iona's face wrinkled. “I've wondered about that, too. Could be they raise those cows down in Texas.”

“Well, Texans say everything's bigger down there.”

“Except mountains.”

“And trout,” Standish added. “Texas doesn't have cutthroat as big as the one Arch caught.”

Arch's head had tipped toward one shoulder, and the lid crawled shut over one eye. “How big are those steaks?”

Standish shook his head. “I wouldn't worry about it if I were you, Arch. No way you could eat a steak that big. Maybe you can get them to cut one in half for you.”

Iona shook her head. “Arch probably couldn't eat more than a quarter of a steak like that.”

“I could, too,” Arch said. “I'll bet I could eat the whole steak.”

Standish rubbed his knuckles across his chin. “Not with the potatoes they serve.”

“They serve potatoes with that big steak?” Arch asked, wonder in his eyes.

Iona nodded. “I have to admit their potatoes are really good.”

Arch swallowed. “How do they fix those potatoes?”

“Anyway you want,” Standish said. “They'll give you mashed potatoes and gravy or fried potatoes or scalloped potatoes or baked potatoes or.…”

Arch tugged on Standish's sleeve. “Them scalped potatoes. What are they?”

Iona shook her head. “Arch wouldn't like scalloped potatoes.”

Standish nodded. “Probably not. All that cheese would likely put him off.”

“Cheese on potatoes,” Arch whispered. “Peterson cheese?”

“Wisconsin Cheese,” Standish said.

“Ain't as good as Peterson cheese,” Arch said.

“There are people that say Wisconsin cheese is the best cheese in the world. Course they've never had an expert like you to taste it.”

Arch nodded. One eye squeezed shut. “I 'spose I could taste it for them—for a fair price.”

“A prince among men,” Standish said.

“Always putting others first,” Iona added.

Arch nodded. They had that right. Arch blinked and took a deep breath. “What about the varlet?”

Standish shrugged. “I was thinking that Sally and Hortenzia and I would go back into the mountains. See if we can find that old man.”

“Will you come back?”

“I suppose.”

“And take care of the garden.”

Standish nodded.

“Why don't you come back to Maine?” A plaintive note hung on Iona's words.

Arch nodded, “That's what I was thinking, Ma. It's a long way to go without the varlet. Ma, I.…” Arch stomped to the depot wall, and stood staring at it, shoulders shaking.

Standish glanced at his boots, and then stared into Iona's eyes. “Will you ever come back?”

Iona shook her head. “No. Maybe. I don't know.”

“Think you could write?”

Iona smiled. “I'll be sure Arch adds a little note, too.”

Standish nodded.

“All aboard.”

Iona sighed. “We have to go.”

“I know.”

Iona stood on her toes and kissed Standish on the lips. “Thank you.”