Steeds 33

26 05 2017

Lee leaned back in his chair. “Tell me about your horse business.”

“What horse business?” Gomer asked.

“The business in which you and a few ‘good men’ round up ‘strays’ and ship them to Milwaukee to sell to anyone needing work horses cheap and fast, with few questions asked.”

“Sounds like a good scheme. I should look into it.”

“Sounds to me as though you came here looking to expand it.”

“What are you tryin’ to accuse me of now?”

“How many horses have you or your men found here in Tuscumbia County?”

“Is that the name these parts go by?”

“How many horses have you found?”

“Why do you ask?”

“How many horses have you and your men stolen from my neighbors over the past, what, six to eight weeks or so?”

“Don’t be a fool, man,” said Gomer. “I just got into your little hamlet yesterday.”

“Have you been here before?”

“No.”

“Do you have employees here? Or maybe partners? Sellers, if no one else.”

“Stop it. I’m not answerin’ any more questions, except maybe from my lawyer.”

“Do you have a lawyer?”

“No. But I need one.”

“I can provide you a list of names.”

“Locals?”

“Certainly.”

“Not on your life.”

“You mean your life,” Lee corrected.

“What?”

“What kind of life will you have in Waupun?”

“Waupun? Why would I go there?”

“Imprisonment.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know what you did to someone else in Wood County in the course of your duel, but stealing horses here is felony theft, on each occasion. That means years in prison.”

“I haven’t stolen any horses.”

“Has anyone in your employ?”

“No. I want my lawyer.”

“You don’t have one.”

“Get me one.”

“There are a number in town.”

“Not a local shyster.”

“Do you know one in Wisconsin Rapids?”

“I’m not sayin’ anymore.” Gomer looked at the cup in his hand. “Can I have some coffee now?”

“Sure. In your cell. While you’re taking a break, I’ll examine your belongings once my deputy brings them from the hotel. I may find I need to send an ancillary telegram.” Lee stood and walked to the shelf upon which Philip had placed the keys to the shackles well out of Gomer’s reach. He put both Gomer’s revolvers there, and then he stepped behind Gomer’s chair. “Place both hands on the desk and hold still,” Lee ordered.

Gomer did so.

Lee unlocked the shackle securing one of Gomer’s legs to an office fence post, moved it to his other ankle, and secured it. “Again, keep both hands on the desktop.” Lee unlocked the shackle securing one of Gomer’s arms to the same fence post. “Hold your right hand up high.”

Gomer did so.

Lee secured the shackle to the upraised wrist. Next he took hold of Gomer at the back of his belt. “Stand slowly.”

Gomer stood.

Lee eased the chair away. “Walk back to your cell.”

The ankle fetter was so short in the length of its chain that Gomer could move only at a third of his normal stride.

“Mrs. Oakley!” Lee called as they passed through the doorway between the office and the jail proper. “If you please.”

“Yes, sir.” Dorothy, standing at the work table, slid the dough knife she was using between her back and her apron string. She grabbed the ring of keys from a hook nearby, and then walked to the door of the steel cage in which Gomer had spent the night. After opening it, she stood at its leading edge.

Gomer shuffled toward the cell. Once in its doorway, Lee let go of Gomer’s belt. Instead of continuing to go inside, however, Gomer spun like a dancer to his left and whacked Lee across the face with the chain of his wrist fetter. He continued spinning until he was behind Dorothy. He bumped her head against the edge of the door, grabbed the dough knife, reached over her head, and brought the chain of his wrist fetter to her neck. He dragged her backward away from Lee as he put the blade of the knife against Dorothy’s throat.

Lee reached into his right vest pocket and produced his Remington.

“No need for that palm gun,” said Gomer. “You don’t know what or who you’ll hit if it goes off.”

Lee pointed it at Gomer’s head.

“You’re a fool, man,” said Gomer. “You’ll be lucky if you can shoot the back wall.”

Lee’s gun did not move. “You should know, I suppose. You’ve had practice shooting at people?”

“I said I’m not answerin’ any more questions. I’m givin’ orders, instead.”

“Who are you to give anyone any orders?”

Gomer pushed the knife slightly, and Dorothy winced. “Shut up. I ain’t goin’ back there. You’re goin’ to give me that popgun. Then you’re goin’ to unlock these shackles. Then you’re goin’ to give me back my pistols and my money, and finally you’re goin’ to give me a saddled horse.”

“Ain’t happenin’,” said Dorothy.

“What?”

Lee said, “There’s no need to go crazy, Gomer. I’m aware that some people can’t stand being in close quarters. If you can’t abide the jail cell, we’ll put you out in the courtyard.”

“What?” Gomer repeated. He shook his head as if to shake hair away from his eyes so he could better see things. “Are you tryin’ to crack jokes to make this more fun?”

“The sheriff doesn’t joke with criminals,” Dorothy said.

“You think I’m joshin’? You don’t think I’m serious?” Gomer pressed the knife again. “I ain’t goin’ back to Wood County, and I mean it.”

“We’ve talked about this, Sheriff,” said Dorothy.

“What’s that?” Gomer asked.

“I have told the sheriff he is never to let an evil-doer loose on the people on my account, and I mean it. I still mean it.”

“Woman, you’re the one who’s crazy.”

“It is written, ‘For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.’ ”

“What did you do in Wood County, Gomer?”

“I gave you orders!”

“Ain’t happenin’,” Lee repeated. “Tell me what happened in Wood County, and maybe I can make sure you’re treated justly.”

“I shot a man. So what? He asked for it. And he cooperated. He had his chance. It was a fair fight.”

“Were there witnesses? Seconds, even?”

“Seconds, no. It wasn’t that formal. Witnesses, yes.”

“Did you kill him?”

“No.”

“But you shot him.”

“Yes.”

“Where’d you hit him?”

“In the belly. He missed me completely because I was quicker than he was.”

“Gut shot,” said Lee.

Dorothy said, “Like Mr. Garfield, he may have died later. Wound sickness. Blood poisoning. Whatever.”

“You ain’t helpin’ yourself here, woman.”

“You ain’t lettin’ this shootist go, Sheriff.”

“Tell me about stealing horses,” said Lee, “and I’ll keep you here on that account. That’ll give us time to sort things out in Wood County.”

“Now you’re crazy.”

“Grand theft means some years in prison,” Lee said. “Murder means all the years you have left in prison.”

“I ain’t goin’ to prison! I can’t! I won’t!”

“Yes, you are, if you survive. Or would you rather die than go to prison?”

“You’re not ready to meet your Maker, mister,” said Dorothy.

“Shut up!”

“This is the second time you’ve assaulted an officer of the law,” said Lee. “And this time it’s even more grave; it’s deadly.”

“Second? Who? This she-female?”

“She is my deputy.”

“No more talkin’! You have your orders! Get to them!” Gomer pushed the knife.

Dorothy hissed as if stung.

“You’re drawing blood,” Lee said.

Dorothy quietly said, “Father, into Thy hands I commend my spirit.” Her knees buckled, and she began slumping to the floor.

Gomer’s grip was not adequate to hold her dead weight up. As she went down, more of Gomer’s body was exposed.

Lee cocked the double-barreled Deringer.

Gomer had only an instant to make a life-and-death decision. He threw the dough knife far away to his right.

“Get that fetter off my deputy!” Lee said.

Gomer complied.

Dorothy shifted to her hands and knees and crawled out of the way.

“Get in that cage!” Lee said.

Gomer hesitated.

Philip came through the doorway of the jail. “What in blazes?”

“Deputy Redman, take that man by the back of his belt and his collar and force him into his jail cell.”

“Yes, sir.” Philip made sure to stay out of Lee’s line of fire as he moved to Gomer’s rear. “What’d you do to Mrs. Oakley?”

Gomer said nothing as Philip half carried and half slid him across the floor and into the steel cage.

Dorothy answered, “He tried to give me a shave with my own knife.”

“Are you all right?” Lee asked.

Dorothy dabbed the cut on her neck with her apron. “I will be, now that I’ve recovered from that fake she-female swoon.” She stood. “That’s the first time in I-don’t-know-how-long I’ve lied to someone.”

Advertisements

Actions

Information

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s




%d bloggers like this: