The Bisbee Massacre

Table of Contents

 

 

Charley got to his feet then and moved in on them. Clint and Dodge followed, but they were only backing him up.

“All right, Barney, throw your hands in the air, partner,” Charley Smith said, gun in hand. Barney gave his wife a murderous look, as if he suspected her of leading the law there on purpose.

“Take it easy, Barney,” Charley said. “She didn't know nothin' about it. I just decided we should follow her.”

“Charley,” Barney said, “you wouldn't shoot me, would you?”

“I'm wearin' a badge, Barney,” Charley Smith said. “It's my job to shoot you if you try to escape. And if I don't do it, one of these fellas will.”

Barney looked past Charley at Dodge and Clint.

“Damn it, Charley, he deserved it—”

“Don't admit to anythin' we'll have to swear to in court, Barney,” Dodge said, quickly. “Just come along quietly.”

Clint moved in, relieved Barney of a rifle and a six-shooter, and then took the six-shooter Linda Riggs was wearing.

“What were you going to do with this, ma'am?”

Clint Adams was a legend among lawmen, outlaws, and ladies. They called him . . . the Gunsmith.

 

The popular long-running series about Deputy U.S. Marshal Custis Long—his life, his loves, his fight for justice.

 

Today's longest-running action Western. John Slocum rides a deadly trail of hot blood and cold steel.

 

An action-packed series by the creators of Longarm! The rousing adventures of the most brutal gang of cutthroats ever assembled—Quantrill's Raiders.

 

Dex Yancey is Diamondback, a Southern gentleman turned con man when his brother cheats him out of the family fortune. Ladies love him. Gamblers hate him. But nobody pulls one over on Dex . . .

 

The blazing adventures of mountain man Will Barlow—from the creators of Longarm!

 

J.T. Law: the most relentless—and dangerous—manhunter in all Texas. Where sheriffs and posses fail, he's the best man to bring in the most vicious outlaws—for a price.

Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada
(a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen's Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)
Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia
(a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)
Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India
Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand
(a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)
Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196,
South Africa

 

Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

 

THE BISBEE MASSACRE

 

A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author

 

PRINTING HISTORY
Jove edition / April 2010

Copyright © 2010 by Robert J. Randisi.

 

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

 

eISBN : 978-1-101-18612-1

 

JOVE
^®

Jove Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
JOVE® is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
The “J” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

 

 

 

 

Constable Fred Dodge walked past the Bird Cage Theater, stepped up to the front doors, and checked them. It was 4:00 a.m. All the doors in Tombstone should have been locked, even the Bird Cage. He rattled the doors, and then moved on, continuing his rounds down Allen Street.

Five years ago he had been in Tombstone during the whole Earp/Clanton thing. Since that time the legend had grown. Every story he ever read about the showdown had it happening in the O.K. Corral, when actually all of the principals had been on the street.

Dodge knew the whole story, though, because when he first came to Tombstone in 1879 he met and befriended the Earps. In fact, he and Morgan favored each other, so much so that he was occasionally called “Morg” while Morgan had occasionally been called “Fred.” They were good friends, though, and found it funny.

Dodge had done much work in this area of Arizona. In 1883 he was in Bisbee—twenty-three miles south of Tombstone—during the whole “Bisbee Massacre” thing.

So, the O.K. Corral in 1881, the Massacre in 1883, and now a constable during a time when Tomstone had become pretty boring.

But no one knew that, all during those times, he was also working undercover as a detective for Wells Fargo. Well, that wasn't exactly true. One man knew that he was a Wells Fargo man, but that man was also a very good friend of his.

His name was Clint Adams.

 

Clint rode into Tombstone at noon. It was not the Tombstone he had known back in 1881, and again in 1883. He hadn't been back since then. He had heard that the wild days were gone, so when he'd found himself fairly close by he decided to take a slight detour and have a look.

As he rode down Allen Street he wondered if the badge wearers in town were the same as the last time he was there. Fred Dodge had been there when he last left. Dodge was a good friend of his—so good, in fact, that Clint had been the only man in Tombstone or nearby Bisbee who knew that Fred Dodge was working undercover for Wells Fargo.

Dodge was good with a gun—so good that some called him a gunman. He had also owned a saloon for a while in Bisbee. And he had worked as both a constable and a deputy sheriff. And while holding each of those jobs, he had been working for Wells Fargo.

Clint also new Jim Hume, who Dodge had learned from. Those two men were the best detectives he'd ever known working for Wells Fargo. They were probably almost as good as his good friend Talbot Roper, the Denver-based private detective, and his other friend, the famous Heck Thomas.

Dodge—and his bosses at Wells Fargo—felt it was necessary for him to remain undercover as long as possible. So it was possible that he might have moved on to pursue his real job. If he hadn't, though, if he was still around, Clint felt certain he'd find Dodge wearing some kind of badge. Being a deputy was good cover for his undercover job.

Clint went through the ritual of freshly arriving in a town. First stop was the livery, which was being tended by a man he didn't know. The man was impressed with his horse, Eclipse, and promised to take good care of him.

Next move was to take his rifle and saddlebags over to the Sagebrush Hotel, one of the lesser known of the Tombstone hotels. He didn't want to attract any attention until he was good and ready.

After checking in he left his gear in the room and walked down to the Crystal Palace Saloon for a cold beer. If it had been later in the day he might have gone to the Bird Cage, where Doc Holliday used to deal faro back in the day. Now Doc was dead, and the Earps had gone their separate ways. He wasn't even sure where Wyatt and Virgil were at the moment.

He decided to nurse the beer and, when he was done, take a walk over to the sheriff's office to see who was behind the badge these days. He would be surprised if he walked in and found Dodge himself sitting at the desk.

However, before he even finished his beer the bat-wings opened and a man wearing a badge walked in. He looked around, but since there wasn't much to see—the gaming tables were covered, the girls hadn't come down yet, and a few customers were scattered—his eyes fell immediately on Clint, and brightened with recognition.

“Clint Adams?” he said, aloud. “By God, is that you?”

At the sound of Clint's name the few men in the place—including the bartender—perked up.

So much for keeping a low profile, Clint thought.

The next to last time Clint had seen Robert Hatch he had been running Campbell & Hatch Billiard Parlor, where Morgan Earp had been shot and killed. Two years later Hatch had managed to get himself appointed a deputy sheriff, and then elected sheriff. Apparently, that situation had not changed.

He approached Clint with his hand extended. Hatch and Clint had never been good friends, but they'd been civil to each other back in '81 and '83. However, Hatch pumped Clint's hand as if they were old friends.

“Well, whataya know?” Hatch said. “What are ya doin' in Tombstone?”

“Just passin' through, Bob,” Clint said. “Looks like you've been doing a better job than your predecessor.”

“I think folks around here woulda voted for anybody to get rid of Sheriff Ward.”

Ward, now there was a man Clint remembered, and had never liked. The people of Cochise County had found out very quickly that they'd elected the wrong man.