Shawn O'Brien Manslaughter (17 page)

Broken Bridle lay under a pall of mourning made more somber by the thunderstorms that came in flashing, roaring bands and threatened never to leave.

The blue-faced bodies arrived in a freight wagon that parked outside city hall, and when Oskar Janacek's four-hundred-pound wife saw what had happened to her husband she collapsed in the street. It took three men to lift her onto the boardwalk where smelling salts were administered and then brandy. But Andrea Janacek rallied when she saw the emotional state of the young widows. She insisted on getting to her feet, and then she hugged them to her ample chest and comforted them as she would crying children.

But in the end it did little good. People were already leaving town.

By midafternoon the hardware store was closed and locked after Mark Logan the proprietor loaded his wife and three children onto a wagon and left for places unknown. Carson's Rod & Gun followed. Big, laughing Andy Carson and his wife left in the company of the baker Lucas Mellon and his wife Agatha with their brood of seven.

More were preparing to leave the next day, filling wagons and even handcarts with supplies and a few sticks of furniture. They were determined to escape Broken Bridle as though it was doomed Sodom.

If nothing was done to stop the exodus, Shawn O'Brien estimated that Broken Bridle would be a ghost town within a week.

When Shawn said this to Sheriff Jeremiah Purdy, the young lawman stared at him, his eyes empty behind the owl glasses. The man was broken and seemed too dispirited to pick up the pieces.

“What do you want me to do, O'Brien?” he said. “You saw what happened when we tried.”

“Organize the defense of the town,” Shawn said, suddenly angry. “In other words, do your damned job.”

Purdy glanced out the office window. “Will this rain never end?” he said.

Hamp Sedley, horrified by what he'd seen in the hills, was on a short fuse. He pulled his Colt and thumbed back the hammer. “Purdy, git out of the chair or by God I'll shoot you out of it.”

“Go ahead,” the sheriff said. “You'd be doing me a favor.”

“Hamp! Let it go,” Shawn said. “Broken Bridle can't afford any more dead men.”

Sedley hesitated, his finger on the revolver's hair trigger, and Shawn whispered, “I said let it go.”

The gambler thumbed down the hammer and shoved the Colt back into its holster. To Purdy he said, “You make me sick. Go on, get out of here and become a politician and kiss babies. It's the only job you're fit for.”

“I'm not fit for any job,” Purdy said. He pulled the star off his shirt and hurled it into a corner. “Especially this one.”

Shawn stared at the young man for a long time, saw nothing to reassure him, and said, “Hamp, let's go see if Burt Becker is awake.”

“Why, Shawn?” Sedley said. “We came here to help Purdy. Well, he doesn't want our help and we can't go out there and stop the great skedaddle, so I say we cut our losses and light a shuck with the rest of them. I mean, while we still can.”

“Before we do anything, we'll go see Becker,” Shawn said.

Sedley let out a wearisome sigh. “Well, I tried to warn you.”

 

 

For cowboys coming in off the trail, Broken Bridle was a glittering metropolis, a mecca for sin and debauchery where sex and booze came easily but never cheap. But in fact it was a Frontier cow town like any other, small, dusty, fly-specked, the buildings huddled close, its only contact with the outside world and its reason for existing at all the slender thread of a single railroad track.

Thus it was that the weeping and wailing of widows and bereaved mothers in a close-packed town produced a keening noise, a low, nerve-scraping whine like an out-of-tune violin.

“Like lilies in the rain, aren't they?” Pete Caradas said when Shawn and Sedley stopped at his table. As was his habit, he sat in his robe at a table in the Streetcar drinking coffee with his morning bourbon. A sleepy girl with mussed hair sat next to him, her shift revealing too much leg and breast.

“We need Becker,” Shawn said. “You saw what happened.”

“I saw the aftermath of what happened. Funny, I was always told steady infantry would defeat cavalry. I guess that's all wrong.”

“They were drunk,” Sedley said. “They were mighty unsteady infantry.”

“A massacre they call it,” Caradas said.

“It was,” Shawn said.

“You know the Chinese left in the night, don't you?” Caradas said. Shawn was shocked and the draw fighter smiled and said, “I can see you don't.”

“They were mighty quiet about it,” the girl said. “Usually they're the noisiest people God put on earth.”

“The thunderstorm provided good cover,” Caradas said. “And of course the town was busy with other concerns and didn't notice.”

“Why would they just pull out like that?” Sedley said. “They scared of the crazy doc like everybody else?”

“I don't know,” Caradas said. “The women and children are gone, so I reckon that means they don't intend to ever come back.”

Shawn said, “This has something to do with Clouston, I'm sure of it.”

“Seems like he's the main troublemaker around here,” Caradas said. “So it's likely. Clouston makes Burt Becker look like an altar boy.”

“Is the altar boy awake and taking nourishment?” Sedley said.

“I don't know. Sunny Swanson is up there with him. Why don't you ask her?”

“I'll do that,” Shawn said. He turned for the stairs, but Caradas said, “Folks pulling out, O'Brien.”

“Seems like,” Shawn said.

“You should go with them, O'Brien,” Caradas said. “There's nothing for you here now.”

“Some will stick,” Shawn said. “And what about the widows and the orphans? How will they get out with their menfolk dead?”

Caradas smiled. “O'Brien, unlike you, Burt hasn't suddenly got religion. He couldn't care less about widows and orphans. There's no money in it.”

“Maybe I can convert him,” Shawn said.

“I wouldn't count on it,” Caradas said. “I wouldn't count on that at all.”

 

 

Sunny Swanson looked tired, but when she saw Shawn O'Brien she merely looked angry. “Are you here to gloat again?” she said.

“You know what's happened to this town, Sunny?” Hamp Sedley said.

“Should I care? I'm a whore and that's how this burg treated me . . . like a whore. I don't give a damn if the whole place burns to the ground.”

“There must be people in this town who never did you any harm,” Shawn said.

“Name them,” Sunny said. Then, “Burt is awake, but he's still not right in the head. He says he's being haunted by men with no skins and they scare him. It's hard to understand him because Dr. Walsh still has his jaw bound up tight. But he says there's gold in the Rattlesnake Hills and Thomas Clouston is trying to steal it from him.”

Sedley snapped his fingers. “Damn it, now I remember something that's been bothering me. Shawn, you recall hearing the name Last Chance Pike, a prospector from over New Mexico way?”

“I think I heard my father or one of my brothers mention that name. Maybe it was Jake. He knows everybody.”

“Pike had two simple sons and a wayward daughter. None of them came to any good, and I recollect that the youngest boy was hung. Or was it the oldest? I can't—”

“Hamp, where are you going with this?” Shawn asked, a tinge of urgency in his voice. “I have to talk to Becker.”

“I'm sneaking up on it, Shawn. A few years back when I was dealing faro in Abilene I heard Pike tell another tinpan that if you can find yourself a belt of greenstone, you can find mineable gold. Then he talked about how much gold you can take from a good-sized seam.”

Shawn opened his mouth to speak but Sedley silenced him with a raised hand. “There's a massive belt of greenstone in the Rattlesnake Hills. I saw it with my own two eyes.”

“How come you noticed but nobody else did?” Shawn said. “I didn't see any green-colored stone.”

“Pike gave me an eye for it. The seam is well hidden at the base of an overhung rock face, and that makes for mighty dangerous digging. If a man's not careful, the whole damn hill could come down on top of him. Now maybe others did see the greenstone, but to mine a worthwhile amount of gold, you'd have to shift thousands and thousands of tons of rock.”

“How much gold would be in that seam you saw, according to what Pike told you?” Shawn said.

“From what I remember, I'd say at least a million ounces, maybe more.”

Shawn stood in thought for a while, then said, “That's over thirty tons of gold, about twenty million dollars' worth. There are men who would kill for that.”

“A man like Clouston would,” Sedley said. “He's proved that already.” He smiled. “How did you calculate that tonnage so easy?”

“I've got a head for figures,” Shawn said. Then to Sunny, “Does Becker know there's that much gold in the hills?”

“Sure he does,” the girl said. “But he never thought it through like Clouston did. Why do you think Clouston moved the Chinese?”

“Of course. To work the mine for him,” Shawn said.

“The Chinese work hard and they work cheap,” Sunny said. “Clouston stands to get rich, even if he moves the ore out by train and pays to get it crushed somewhere else.”

“And it has to be kept secret until the Chinese cut out all the greenstone. If the news of a strike got out there could be a gold rush,” Sedley said. “That's why he wanted everyone gone from Broken Bridle.”

“Seems like he got his wish,” Sunny said. “The whole town is going to up and leave.”

“Not if I can help it,” Shawn said. “Now I want to talk to Becker.”

“Follow me,” Sunny said. “I moved his guns out of the way, O'Brien. He planned to shoot you on sight.”

Burt Becker, looking more than ever like a huge rabbit because of the bandage tied on top of his head, saw Shawn O'Brien and growled. He cast around frantically before Shawn removed a Colt from the big man's shoulder holsters and said, “Is this what you're looking for, Burt?”

Shawn spun the revolver, smiled, and shoved it back into the holster.

“Sunny moved the guns over here out of your way,” he said. “She thought you might do yourself an injury.”

“I'll kill you, O'Brien,” Becker said, gritting out the words between clenched teeth.

“Don't get overexcited, Burt,” Sedley said. “We're here to talk peace.”

Becker's red eyes glared at Sunny and he gestured wildly to his guns on the table beside the door, an angry question on his face.

“Burt, you can't use guns,” Sunny said. “You're not ready yet.”

Becker let out a frustrated wail and tried to swing his feet off the cot. But suddenly Shawn's Colt was in his hand and his face was stern.

“Burt, make a move toward your guns and I'll drop you right where you stand,” he said. “Don't think about it, and don't try me.”

Becker was mad clean through, but he read the writing on the wall and stayed right where he was.

“Did Sunny tell you what happened last night?” Shawn said.

“I haven't told him yet,” Sunny said.

“The good citizens of Broken Bridle tried to drive Clouston out of the hills,” Shawn said. “They lost thirteen men and now the folks who are left are pulling out. This town is dying, Becker.”

Shawn saw in the big man's eyes that there was no point on playing on his compassion. He had none.

“Clouston plans to attack this town and kill everyone in sight,” Shawn said. “And he will, unless you and your men are willing to stand up to him.”

As he knew he would, Becker shook his head, and when he looked at Shawn his eyes were filled with murder.

“Becker, he's got the Chinese in the hills digging for him,” Shawn said. He played his trump card. “If you don't stand up to him and stake your claim on the gold, you'll lose everything, including your life.”

Greed is a powerful incentive. Becker's eyebrows lowered as he thought things through. After a few moments he waved Shawn away from him and lay on his back in the cot, staring at the ceiling.

“Leave him now, O'Brien,” Sunny said. “You've tired him out.” She saw the irritation on Shawn's face and added, “He's thinking about what you said. When he's made up his mind, I'll come for you.”

“Don't take too long, Burt,” Shawn said. “Time is running out for all of us.”

 

 

“You still got big rats in there, Sunny,” Hamp Sedley said. “They could eat ol' Burt alive.”

Alarm flashed in the woman's face. “I'll take care of it,” she said.

“You'd better make it fast,” Sedley said. “Judging by the racket they're making.”

“Hamp, right now we've got more to worry about than rats,” Shawn said.

“I hate rats,” Sedley said. “They give me the damned shivers.”

 

 

There was no sign of Pete Caradas or his girl when Shawn and Sedley left the saloon. Outside, rain fell from a low, leaden sky and the street and boardwalks were empty of wagons and people, as though the town had lost its will to exist and had come to a standstill.

The two men were about to cross the street to the hotel when they were hailed by Utah Beadles, who'd just stepped out of one of the few stores still open. He carried a pink-and-white-striped paper sack in his hand.

“Howdy, boys,” the deputy said. “Got me some mint humbugs. You want to make a trial of them?”

Shawn refused, but Sedley eagerly shoved his hand in the bag. “I love humbugs,” he said, sticking the candy in his mouth.

“How is the sheriff ?” Shawn said.

“Right poorly, I'd say,” Beadles said. His white eye looked like a piece of porcelain. “Fact is he fired me.”

“How come?” Sedley said, talking around the huge candy in his mouth.

Shawn was easily irritated that morning, and Hamp and his humbug ruffled his tail feathers. “Stick that in your cheek or spit it out,” he said.

“No. I'm enjoying it,” Sedley said.

“Sheriff Purdy says there will be no one left in town to pay my wages,” Beadles said, saving Sedley from harm. “So he said he was letting me go.”

“Stay in town, Utah,” Shawn said. “We'll need your gun.”

The old man shook his head. “Hell, no. I'm too young to die. I plan to skedaddle like the rest o' them. I can tell you something though.”

“What's that?” Shawn said.

“I know where Tom Clouston's camp is. The place where he keeps them damned drums.”

“Why didn't you tell the sheriff ?” Shawn said.

“I did. But he said to keep it to myself.”

“You could have led Oskar Janacek's posse right to the camp,” Shawn said.

“And they would have died just the same, me among them,” Beadles said. “Besides, them boys wasn't inclined to listen to me, an old coot with one eye and a drinkin' man's reputation.”

Sedley was noisily crunching now, and beside him Shawn gritted his teeth. “Where is the camp, Utah?” Hamp said.

“Due west of the Rattlesnakes, boy, about a mile,” Beadles said. “It's hidden behind a rise, so even a long-sighted man can't see it from the hills.”

“How do you know this, Utah?” Shawn said.

“Saw it on my way here, didn't I?” the old man said. “I steered well clear and that's why I'm standing here talking instead of being as dead as a doorknob.”

Beadles extended his candy poke toward Sedley. “Have another,” he said.

“No!” Shawn said, slapping Sedley's hand away. “Suck on another humbug, Hamp, and I swear, I'll rip it out of your mouth.”

“Kinda touchy, son, ain't you?” Beadles asked.

“This morning? Yes I am,” Shawn said.

“Every morning, seems like,” Sedley said, miffed.

But the morning was about to get a lot worse for both Shawn and Sedley.