Death Mask (3 page)

“Amen to that,” Portland Rose yelled.

“Cockle-doodle-doo!” Barnabas howled.

Judge Cline hammered his gavel for quiet.

Tanneman looked straight ahead, knowing several jurymen were talking with each other. Two looked frightened.

Rattled by the impression made by Tanneman, Judge Cline cleared his throat and asked the district attorney to proceed with his case. Immediately, Johnson called Kileen to the stand and the big Irishman told about the Rangers suspecting the Rose brothers and setting in wait for them. His testimony was littered with Irish phrases. His eyes rarely left Tanneman’s unreadable face. Kileen explained to the jury that the four Rangers had been waiting at two locations, watching the bank.

Smiling confidently, Johnson asked Ranger Kileen why the four Rangers were in town.

“Aye. Orders, it be,” Kileen growled. “Orders from himself, Captain Leander McNelly.”

“And who this Captain McNelly?”

Folding his arms, the big Irishman proudly described their Ranger leader. Carlow grinned at his uncle’s enthusiastic description.

“What were these orders?”

“Wait for Tanneman and Hillis Rose, the blaggards, to come to town an’ try to rob the bank o’ these fine citizens. We be lookin’, too, for their gang, but the blaggards never were seen.” Kileen went on to explain what had happened. He finished, smiled at Carlow and folded his arms in self-satisfaction.

“Any cross examination, Mr. Rose?” Judge Cline pointed with his gavel.

Tanneman stood behind the desk. He was silent for a long moment, looking down at the table. As he looked up, his right hand fingered his necklace briefly and then dropped to his side.

“I thought we were friends, Ranger Kileen. Sharing many of the same interests. The same duties,” he said softly.

“Aye, that be so. Before ye misused the trust of this fine Ranger badge. I not be likin’ any man who does so.” Kileen held out his coat lapel where the badge was pinned.

“I think you were deceiving me—about your friendship. You were eager to do this to us, weren’t you? In fact, you volunteered.”

Kileen twisted his face to match the snarl in his voice. “Nay. Me did not. Captain McNelly hisself gave me the orders.”

“I see. Tell me, just how did you come to think Hillis and I were coming here—to rob the bank of these fine citizens?”

Kileen told the story about a Ranger overhearing Hillis.

“As a lawman, you realize, of course, this is hearsay—and not admissible in a court of law,” Tanneman said. “Besides that, my brother is not here to defend himself. Please advise him of this, Judge.”

Nodding his head, Judge Cline told the jury that they should disregard that statement, as it was inadmissible. Carlow realized Tanneman was making the jurors think about something that didn’t matter. It was a fascinating spin of secondary information that had nothing to do with the actual robbery.

Kileen’s face reddened and his mouth became a thin, tight line.

“What did you see when you came toward the bank?”

“I be seeing ye with your pistols out, and fine, thick beards be coverin’ your faces.” Kileen snorted and nodded to himself. “An’ full saddlebags o’ the town’s money be on your shoulders.” He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his legs. “Your late brother, bless his miserable soul, be holdin’ your hoss for a quick getaway. That’s what I be seein’. Yessir.”

“That’s interesting.” Tanneman smiled and looked at the jury again. “You saw two Rangers with their guns out. Like they would be if they were expecting trouble, is that right?”

“Aye.”

“Would that be the way we would come out of the bank if we thought there were robbers near? Would you have one Ranger standing guard outside while you went in to check the situation?”

Kileen frowned. This wasn’t what he had expected.

“Would you think wearing a beard might be helpful so the robbers wouldn’t realize you were a Ranger—until it was too late?”

Tanneman cocked his head to the side and went on, not waiting for Kileen’s response. “Of course that makes sense.” He spun toward Kileen. “Tell me, Ranger Kileen, has Captain McNelly ever been wrong?”

Kileen started to blurt his assurance that his leader had never been wrong, saw Carlow shaking his head, and said softly, “Aye, be sure that he has. Rare that it be.” He felt as if he had spoken blasphemy.

“I see. Did he ever cross the Rio Grande illegally and create a problem between our government and Mexico’s?”

“Aye, but…”

“Did McNelly hang three men in the center of El Paso—without trials?”

“There be a reason for…”

“Did McNelly ever use torture to make a man confess?”

“When it be necessary.”

“So, would you agree there is reason to think Captain McNelly could be wrong about me and my brother?” Tanneman said, nodding toward the jury, then spun back to the rattled Kileen.

The big Irishman glanced at Carlow, then back to the cold-eyed Tanneman. Kileen wondered if the man would begin to chant some ancient Persian incantation. He muttered something under his breath and stammered that it wasn’t possible.

Tanneman folded his arms and sat down. “Thank you, Mr. Kileen. I am finished.”

Johnson was clearly relieved to have Kileen off the stand and Time Carlow in his place. In response to Johnson’s opening question, the young Ranger explained the situation.

The district attorney stepped back, pleased. “Your witness, Mr. Rose.”

Tanneman was not as confident as he had been earlier, but he knew discrediting Carlow was crucial. He remained in his chair, leaning forward on the table.

“Ranger Carlow, how many so-called bank robberies have you broken up?”

“This is my first.”

“I see.”

“No, you don’t,” Carlow snapped. “Because it was my first, I wanted to make absolutely sure of what was going on. I don’t want Rangers involved in crimes, so I was hoping you and your brother wouldn’t try to rob the bank. But you did—and we stopped you.”

“Ranger Carlow, your fellow Ranger…your uncle, I believe…mentioned something about other bank robberies my brother and I were supposed to have been involved in.” Tanneman cocked his head to the side. “Forget for the moment that it is irrelevant to this case, and answer this, please. Do you know if any of those supposed robberies have gone unsolved?” He folded his arms. “That is, Ranger, were the robbers—or some of them—or any one of them—arrested?”

Carlow grinned back. “You already know that. In each case, you arrested an innocent man for the crime.”

Tanneman was stunned by the statement. He rubbed his chin, trying to think of what to say next. He had to make the young Ranger appear rash. Careless. Too eager.

“Interesting statement, young man,” Tanneman said. “So my brother and I robbed those banks—and then arrested somebody totally innocent of the crime.”

“That about sums it up.”

“Why didn’t the folks in those various towns recognize us?”

“That’s why you were wearing beards—and those long coats. Makes it hard that way. Just like you were wearing when you came out of the bank here,” Carlow said. “You want to show the good folks by putting that beard on again?” He motioned toward the beards on the table.

Judge Cline hammered his gavel to rid the room of laughter.

“I appreciate your comment, Ranger. It’s a fascinating theory,” Tanneman said, running his fingers along a scratch on the defense table’s surface. “Maybe you should be writing for one of those penny dreadfuls, instead of being a Ranger.”

Dramatically, he stood again and walked around to the front of the table. Leaning against it, he gripped the table and asked, “Tell me the names of these towns where my brother and I were supposed to have robbed banks.”

Without hesitation, Carlow rattled off the five towns.

Grinning evilly, Tanneman reached inside his coat pocket and retrieved a folded sheet of paper.

“Tell me, Ranger Carlow, what do you think of this?” Slowly and dramatically, he unfolded the paper. “This is a wire from Marshal Tipin of Paris. It reads: ‘In response to your query, the city of Paris is thankful for your help in arresting the bank robbers.’ I can wire the other cities you mentioned if that will help.”

Shaking his head, Carlow straightened his back. “Nice try, Tanneman, but it won’t wash. Why don’t you tell us how you and your brother just happened to be in town during each of those robberies?” He paused and added, “And tell us how you managed to catch the robber each time—but never recovered a cent. Not one.”

Portland guffawed and Barnabas giggled. Tanneman glanced at them, frowning.

Instead of answering the young Ranger, Tanneman waved his arms and asked, “If you were my brother and me, and you rode into town and heard the bank was being robbed, what would you have done?” Tanneman looked up slowly.

Carlow cocked his head to the side. “I would’ve waited outside, so no one in the bank got hurt. Like we did.” He leaned forward. “You didn’t answer my question, Tanneman.”

“Judge, please inform the witness that he is to respond only to my questions. Not make speeches.”

Looking toward the end of the table, Judge Cline said quietly, “He’s right, Ranger.”

Smiling victoriously, Tanneman continued, “Now, answer this, please. Wouldn’t you be worried that the robbers would shoot the people inside—and leave one of your fellow Rangers on guard outside?”

“You asked me what I would have done, Rose. I told you.” Carlow stared at the accused Ranger with a look Tanneman had seen before, but never directed at him. It was a look that tore into a man and challenged his manhood. He didn’t like it.

“I have no more questions of this witness, Judge.” Tanneman looked away.

Carlow turned to the judge. “Your Honor, I have written testimony from Ranger Deconer. He was wounded by Hillis Rose and is recovering. Should I read it?”

Tanneman winced, but didn’t look up. The judge directed Johnson to ask Carlow about the wounded lawman’s testimony. Carlow read the simply written text and looked up at the arrested Ranger again.

“Now, Mr. Rose, do you have any questions for this witness related to this written testimony?”

Tanneman Rose licked his lips. A dream last night had him enjoying revenge against all of them.

“Yes, I do,” he said without raising his head. “Ranger Carlow, if you entered a bank thinking it was being robbed and came out looking for the robbers, what would you have done if someone came at you, shooting?”

Carlow looked down at the hilt of the war knife barely visible above his Kiowa leggings. He flashed a wide smile as he looked up.

“Well, Rose, if I had on a fake beard and was holding a bag full of the bank’s money, I would figure the town had discovered what I was doing—and either surrender or start shooting. Kinda separates the wheat from the chaff.”

The same jurors who had chuckled earlier laughed.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Yeah, I did. You and your brother wanted the town’s hard-earned money,” Carlow said, his voice showing glimpses of temper. “But we were waiting for you. Your brother tried to kill us. You decided it wouldn’t happen to you.”

He started to add that the other two brothers had been waiting to help, but didn’t. There was no proof of that, only his hunch. It might muddy the case against Tanneman, giving him the opportunity to point out they weren’t there and that this was a personal vendetta against them—with no real evidence.

Somewhere in the packed audience, a man cheered. Portland stood to see who it was until Judge Cline told him to sit down.

Tanneman again said he was finished with the witness and Johnson called the bank teller to the stand. Carlow returned to his seat beside Kileen. As the skinny teller walked to the designated witness chair, he glanced in Tanneman’s direction, then sat down, blowing his nose into a handkerchief,

Carlow realized something was wrong. Terribly wrong. He whispered his concern to Kileen and asked if anyone had visited the prisoner while he had been taking his turn helping with guard duty, as the Rangers had done. Nodding, Kileen indicated that Tanneman had asked to see the teller and the vice president, stating as his own counsel he had a right to interview key witnesses. Both had met with him for a few minutes, at different times, then left. So had Tanneman’s other brothers. Kileen didn’t think anything untoward had occurred.

“Aye, fooled, we may have been,” Kileen growled.

Judge Cline turned toward him briefly. His scowl indicated he wanted silence.

Turning back toward the now seated witness, Johnson crossed his arms. “Mr. Branson, would you please tell us what happened in the First National Bank on the morning in question.”

“Well, there was a lot of confusion, I can tell you that,” the man said, rubbing his hands together as if the motion would relieve his nervousness. His nose made even more noises than usual, almost a symphony.

“Yes, go on.” Johnson liked the sound of his voice.

“Ah, it’s my opinion that Mr. Rose—and his brother—came to our bank thinking we were being robbed. They’re Rangers, you know. They were trying to disguise themselves so the robbers wouldn’t realize what was going on.”

The courtroom erupted with questions, assertions and shouts. Portland yelled his agreement. Barnabas giggled loudly. Carlow glanced their way; the big man glared back and the teenager giggled again.

Judge Cline pounded on the table for silence. Not sure of what to do, he pointed toward the district attorney and told him to continue, if he wanted to.

“Ah…yes, Your Honor,” Johnson said and faced the teller who was blowing his nose again. “I don’t think I heard you correctly, Mr. Branson. Will you state that again?”

“Ah, I said I thought Tanneman, ah, Mr. Rose, came to the bank thinking we were being robbed. It was all a big mistake in…ah, knowing what was going on. Between the Rangers and all.” He blew his nose and looked at his feet.

Carlow jumped to his feet and blurted, “Rose, how much did you pay him?”

Johnson spun around, half angry and half relieved that someone else was getting involved.

“That’s enough, Ranger. This is a courtroom,” Judge Cline ordered, but without much conviction.

“Then make it one,” Carlow snarled. “This man is under oath—and he’s lying.”

“We don’t know that, Ranger,” Judge Cline responded, wishing he hadn’t.

Without waiting to be asked, Tanneman reinforced the teller’s dramatic statement with a few questions.

Stunned but unable to adjust, Johnson then called the bank’s vice president William Debo to the stand. The stocky man in a three-piece suit glanced at Tanneman as he approached the witness chair.

“Be steppin’ aside, Johnson, me be handlin’ this.” Kileen put a hand on Carlow’s shoulder and moved toward the bank officer, pushing Johnson away.

“What is this? Your Honor, I object,” Tanneman said loudly.

Carlow looked at him. “I bet you do, Rose. I just bet you do.”

“Beggin’ your pardon, Your Honor,” Kileen said, rather quietly, “but this teller fella an’ this bank officer boy has to know they be headin’ for trouble by not tellin’ the truth. I’ll be doin’ the askin’ for now.”

Tanneman stood and pounded his fist on the table. “This is not right, Your Honor.”

Judge Cline looked at Tanneman, then back at the huge Irishman, took a deep breath and said, “If the district attorney agrees, I see no problem with the change.”

Kileen marched to where the vice president sat, not even waiting for Johnson’s timid agreement. All color was vacating the bank officer’s face. He looked at Tanneman, frowned and tried not to look at the advancing Irishman.

“Look at me, boy,” Kileen charged. “Ye be close to makin’ a big mistake—with your life.” He glanced at Tanneman, who was fuming. “An’ all for a few pieces o’ gold.”