Stay Away From That City . . . They Call It Cheyenne (Code of the West) (19 page)

Everyone quiet, melancholy, ashamed. Where is he, Lord? Where did they hang him?

Tap estimated over three hundred men gathered in the street. In the shadows he saw the silhouette of a man dangling from a rope that had been draped from the cross arm of a telegraph pole. The men silently parted and gave him a six-foot aisle, like Moses through the Red Sea. Some shuffled their feet when he walked by. Most looked at the ground. He stood in front of the swaying corpse of Jerome Hager.

At a night lynchin’ every face looks the same—guilty.

The taut hemp rope was tied off to a broken white picket fence. The killer hung four feet from the ground, his hands tied behind his back. Dirty ducking trousers covered his trail-bowed legs and the tops of his boots. The cotton shirt ripped. One broken suspender.

Hager’s bearded chin cocked sideways on his chest. An o
pened frightened eye seemed to make one last recording of the executors. Alcohol still reeked from his clothes.

May God have mercy on your soul, Jerome Hager. Looks like you got to meet your Maker drunk. You probably got what you deserved, but it’s not the way Pappy would have wanted it.

They wouldn’t let me keep my promise. There’s not many promises I’ve ever had to break, and I hate breaking this one. But it’s too late to apologize to Hager.

Tap pulled out his Barlow knife to cut Hager down.

“Hey, don’t ruin my good rope,” a voice crackled in the night.

Tap continued to saw. Hager’s lifeless body dropped to the ground like a sack of onions, his silent, stone face slammed into the hard-packed earth. Tap pulled the noose off his neck. Tossing it aside, he made sure both Jerome’s eyes were closed.

All eyes focused on him. “Such brave men. You proved that if you have a hundred-to-one odds, you can sneak out into the night and lynch a man and just bypass our judicial system. You don’t need marshals or judges in this town, because you can do it for them.”

Tap’s strong, deep voice boomed across the dark Che
yenne night like a preacher addressing those at the anxious bench. “Of course, from time to time, the man will be innocent. But that won’t bother you none. At least, not until it’s you that’s danglin’ from the rope.”

Tap took another look at Hager, then peered back at the crowd. “Where’s that actin’ marshal of yours? This is his job.”

Most of the men quickly deserted the mob to head back to the 15th Street saloons.

“I asked you, where’s Merced?” Tap's voice echoed down the street to the background of retreating boot heels.

“He took off,” one voice mumbled.

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know.”

“When did he leave?”

“Right after Hager kilt that deputy, I reckon.”

Tap froze. He felt as if a river rock stuck in his throat. “What deputy?”

“The heavy one, Gomez.”

Lord, no. No!
“Hager shot Baltimore?”

“Yep. In the back.”

“What happened after that? You just leave him there?”

“Last I seen, that other deputy was totin’ him to the hosp
ital. But DelGatto said he was dead.”

The spokesman was the only one left in the vacated street. Tap grabbed the bearded man by the shirt collar and almost lifted him off the ground.

“Mister, you go and get an undertaker to fetch Hager’s body. And if I find out you left him lying down here, you’ll be the one danglin’ from a rope. Have you got that clear?”

“Yes, sir. Yes, sir!”

Running up Ferguson Street, Tap could hear only the sound of his boots hitting the stones in the street and his gasping for breath. The night boy at the livery had barely opened his eyes when Tap threw a headstall on Brownie and grabbed a handful of mane hair to pull himself to the gelding’s back.

“Open the gate, kid. There’s no time for a saddle.”

Thundering up the street, Tap stopped at the marshal’s office. He dropped the reins to the ground and took the stairs two at a time, carrying his .44. He crashed into the abandoned office.

In the flickering lantern light, he discovered a puddle of blood in the doorway between the office and the jail cells. The door of cell #1 stood open. A discarded amber whiskey bottle inclined under the crude bunk. Next to it, a small, snub-nosed handgun. Tap retrieved the gun and tromped back into the darkness of a starlit, but moonless Wy
oming night.

A sneak gun? A Colt cloverleaf house pistol. Where did Hager get a gun? Does this belong to him or someone in the lynch mob?

He shoved the short-barreled rimfire pistol into his pocket and climbed up on Brownie’s back.

“I know it don’t feel right without a saddle, boy, but we’ll both just have to suffer it through. Come on,
gi-hup
. Let’s go.”

Kicking the horse in the ribs, Tap galloped north toward the hospital on 23rd Street, several blocks past the north edge of town.

Tap tied Brownie to a tree in front and bolted up the stairs. Out of the shadows a man grabbed his arm. As he went for his revolver, a familiar voice resounded. “Tap, it’s me—Williams.”

“Did they kill him, Carbine?”

“Not yet. Dad gum it, I’m glad you’re here. Did Angelita find you?”

“No. Pepper and me are staying at Sava
nnah’s. She went east. How’s Baltimore?”

“Doctors are tryin’ to remove the bullet. Hit him dead ce
nter in the back. He was unconscious when I brought him in, but the doctor indicated there’s no tellin’ what that means if he pulls through.”

“If?”

“Chances aren’t too good, the doc warned.”

“Where’s Angelita?”

“She cried around here for a while and then ran off lookin’ for you. She seems to think you can do something about all this. That girl figures you can walk on water, you know.”

“I saw this comin’, and I couldn’t do a thing to stop it. I tried to get Baltimore to quit this afternoon. One more day. One more lousy day. Someone must have told ’em about the judge coming back.”

“The whole thing’s screwy.”

“Can we talk to Baltimore?”

“Don’t know if he’s come to. I thought he was dead, Tap. I knew I couldn’t stop the mob. But I figured maybe I could help Baltimore. Nothin’ we can do except wait for them docs to get through with him. You want a quirley?”

Tap shook his head and then plopped down on the steps. Carbine sat down beside him and dug at his fixings.

“How did it happen?”

“Me and Baltimore was figurin’ on stayin’ on until Judge Blair made it back. He told you that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Things was so quiet tonight. We kept thinkin’ maybe som
ethin’ was being planned. We decided to partner up and wait the night out together. About 9:00
p.m.
we were both gettin’ pretty bored when someone came to the office reportin’ that there was a drunk shootin’ up DelGatto’s Saloon on the south side. We flipped for it. I lost. So I went to check it out and bring us some supper.”

“Baltimore wanted to stay?”

“We was still plannin’ on havin’ a quiet night.”

“When I got to DelGatto’s, some bummer had barricaded himself into one of the girls’ cribs, threatenin’ to cut her up if anyone came through the door. You could hear her in there wailin' something fierce. They told me the bouncer had a
lready been shot and had to be packed out to the doc with a leg wound. So I goes upstairs to try and talk the guy out when some boys down in the bar take shots at me. Then the guy in the crib starts openin’ up with a scatter gun, and I’m sayin’ my prayers.”

“An ambush? Someone wanted you out of the jail.”

“I surmise they wanted me dead. When my back was against it, a door across the hall swings open, and instead of being shot, one of the girls beckons me in. At the moment I was bein’ serenaded by lead and buckshot, so I figure it’s worth the chance. I dove through the door.

“She’s pointin’ toward a window and tells me to jump out. I oblige her but hit bad on my right knee and shoulder and sort of rolled to some cover. All the while I hear her yellin’ that I jumped out the window. She put on quite a show. I limped over to a little shack by the track waitin’ for them to come after me, but they boiled out of that dive and hustled up the street t
oward downtown.”

“They were joinin’ in the hangin’, no doubt.”

“I stay there and get my breath back. Then the same thing dawns on me. Someone wanted me out of the office. So I sneak to my mount and ride back to 18th Street. By the time I got there, they had Hager drug out of the jail and were carryin’ him down the street.

Tryin’ to turn ’em was worse than a stampede. When som
eone hollered that Baltimore was kilt, I gave up on the mob and ran into the office. Baltimore was all crumpled up near the door, bleeding bad and unconscious.”

“You get to talk to him at all?”

“Not a word. He really looked dead. There was a big pool of blood, and I couldn’t find a pulse. I flagged down the first rig that came up Ferguson and got him here. Angelita came runnin’ up about fifteen minutes later. I don’t have any idee at all how she knew about Baltimore. She was bawlin’ and wanted to see her papa, but they kept her back. So she went to get you, sayin’ you’d fix the one who done this. She didn’t find you?”

“No. When I woke up, the air crackled like a hangin’.”

“What?”

“It’s hard to explain. They were all done when I got there. I cut Hager down, but that’s all there was left to do. How’s your leg and shoulder now?”

“I’ll be limpin’ awhile, that’s for sure. But with Baltimore in there packin’ lead like a grizzly, I can’t complain.” Carbine fixed a moody gaze into the night and took a deep drag on the quirley. “If he was goin’ to get lynched, we might as well have let them do it four days ago.”

“That’s been eatin’ at me all the way out to the hospital. You try to do things proper and lawful and it ends up worse. It just don’t figure. Tell me, did that gun under the bunk b
elong to Hager? How in the world did he get a rimfire sneak gun? Or for that matter, how did he get some snake-head whiskey?”

“Hager had been drinkin’?”

“Smelt like a brewery. You know how wild he gets when he’s drunk. Anyone come to see him?”

“Nope. I told you, the whole town’s been avoidin’ the jail like the smallpox.”

“So Baltimore’s in the office, Hager’s in cell #1, and the rest of the jail’s empty. Hager gets a bottle and gun, gets drunk, somehow talks Baltimore into opening the door, shoots him in the back, runs out to the steps, and a lynch mob happens to be standin’ there.”

“That ain’t right, Tap. It don’t add up.” Carbine crushed his smoke on the limestone steps. “Maybe one of those bu
mmers broke in and shot Baltimore.”

“That could be. But some of ’em told me they caught Hager on the steps tryin’ to escape. You and I both know Baltimore would never unlock the doors even if Hager had a gun.”

They stood quiet. Carbine broke the siege of silence. “Stars don’t care, do they?”

“What did you say?”

“Men are born, live, and die. That whole blanket of stars hangs right there in the same place. They don’t care.”

“I reckon they don’t, but the Almighty does.”

“That’s the way I figure it too. I’m surely askin’ Him to look after Baltimore.”

Tap stood up and stretched his legs. “It still doesn’t add up. There’s no way Hager could get a gun. And there’s no way Baltimore would open the door to anyone.”

“Except me. And you. And Angelita.”

“And Simp Merced.”

“Simp’s pretty much worthless, but he wouldn’t be a part of shootin’ Baltimore, would he?”

“I reckon that’s the first thing I’ll ask him when I track him down. Have you seen him?”

“Ain’t seen him all night.”

“Seems mighty suspicious for an actin’ marshal to aba
ndon his prisoner. Do you know anyone who carries a snub-nosed Colt cloverleaf?”

“You don’t see many of those around unless you’re in a card room fight.”

“Mr. Williams?” The voice behind them was deep, quiet, authoritative. Both Carbine and Tap jumped to their feet.

“What’s the verdict, Doc?” Tap quizzed.

“We removed two bullets from Mr. Gomez’s back.”

“Two?”

“Yes. The smaller-caliber one hit the shoulder and was of minimum threat, but the other larger one hit the spinal cord.”

“Is he goin’ to pull through?” Carbine pressed.

“We aren’t sure if he will survive the night, and if he does, we aren’t sure he will be able to move anything below the neck.”

“Can we talk to him?” Tap asked.

“I’m afraid not. He  may not come to. It’s a critical situation. Sorry I can’t give you better news.”

“At least you didn’t tell us he was dead.”

“Not yet anyway.”

Tap stepped closer to the doctor where the light was a li
ttle better. “Doc, eh, can I see those bullets?”

Holding the two in his hand, Tap glanced over at Carbine. “The smaller one looks like maybe a .41 or .38. Look at this.”