The Bisbee Massacre (14 page)

“You'd do a better job than Hatch is doing, wouldn't you?”

“Well, yeah . . . but I could be called away at any time.”

“Have good deputies,” Clint said. “Men you could trust while you're away.”

“You?”

“No, not me,” Clint said, “but Charley's a good man.”

“Yeah, he is.”

“I'm sure there are a few others.”

“If Ike Roberts and Bill Daniels were here they'd be useful.”

“Are they coming back?”

“Maybe, but not in time for this.”

“Well, give it some thought,” Clint said. “Cochise County would benefit from having you as its sheriff.”

“There's no guarantee I'd even win an election,” Dodge said.

“I think you'd win.”

Dodge rubbed his face with both hands.

“You want another beer?” Clint asked.

“Sure.”

He got up to walk to the bar, stopped when he saw five men standing just inside the batwing doors. They were all armed, and looking at him—or Dodge—or both.

“Fred.”

“Yeah?”

“Isn't this gentleman's name Shaunessy?”

Dodge looked up, frowned, and stood next to Clint.

“Yeah, that's him.”

“I remember,” Clint said. “Grand Central Mine, right?”

“That's right.”

“Those Grand Central men with him?”

“Nope,” Dodge said, “those are Hudson outfit boys.”

“Well,” Clint said, “I guess it's about time.”

“Five against two,” Dodge said. “Whataya think of those odds?”

“I think we've got them right where we want them.”

“You want somethin', Shaunessy?” Dodge asked.

It grew quiet in the saloon.

“Yeah, I been wantin' somethin' for three years, Dodge,” the miner said, “ever since you bad-mouthed me over hanging John Heath.”

“You deserved bad-mouthing, Shaunessy,” Clint said. “You broke the law and murdered a man.”

“I hung a murderer,” Shaunessy said. “That ain't breakin' the law.”

“It sure is,” Dodge said. “What about you boys? Why are you standin' with this man over a three-year-old beef? I got no argument with you.”

“We want Barney Riggs,” one man said. “He's in your jail.”

“What's one got to do with the other?” Dodge asked. “Did this man talk you into backin' his play? Where's your foreman? Where's Sam Turner?”

“Turner wouldn't stand with us,” another man said. “He's turned yella.”

“Sam Turner's no coward,” Dodge said. “He just picks his battles, and this ain't his. It ain't yours, neither. Shaunessy, tell these men to go home.”

“I ain't leavin' without your hide, Dodge.”

“Fine,” Dodge said. “Face me man-to-man. Why involve them?”

“Sure, you got Adams backin' your play, I'm supposed to stand alone?”

“Adams won't take a hand,” Dodge promised. “Just you and me.”

Shaunessy licked his lips. Clint could see the hesitation in his eyes, but the men standing behind him couldn't see it.

“I won't make a move, Shaunessy,” Clint promised.

“I ain't no gunman.”

“No guns,” Dodge said. “Just you and me.”

“Go on, Shaunessy,” one of the Hudson men said, “take 'im. Then we'll go and break Riggs out and hang him.”

“Nobody's hangin' anybody,” Clint said. “There's a trial going on. Leave it to the law, boys.”

“That was our boss Riggs killed,” another said.

“You better talk it over with your foreman, then,” Clint said. “This man doesn't care about you or your dead boss. He's got his own axe to grind, and he's trying to get you to do it for him.”

“Come on, John,” Dodge said. “Drop your gun belt and face me.”

“Yeah, come on, Shaunessy,” one of the hands shouted. “Show 'im.”

“You boys, you draw and take 'em,” Shaunessy said. “Take 'em both.”

The four men hesitated, then one said, “Well, if'n you ain't a gunman, Shaunessy, we sure as hell ain't.”

“And that there's the Gunsmith,” another said.

“See, boys?” Clint asked. “Who's yella now?”

“Drop your gun belt, John, or turn and walk out,” Dodge said. “Them's your choices.”

Shaunessy licked his lips again, his eyes flicked back and forth between Dodge and Clint, his hands closed into fists.

“Damn you!” he snapped, then turned and pushed through the four men who were backing him.

“You boys want to push this any further?” Clint asked the remaining men.

Now it was their turn to lick their lips, and then they turned together and walked out.

“Been waitin' three years for Shaunessy to make his move,” Dodge said, as he and Clint sat back down and business in the saloon resumed.

“Kind of disappointing, wasn't it?” Clint asked.

The first day of the trial the room was packed. Clint and Charley Smith collected all the guns, but they were too heavy to hang on the wall, so they just had to pile them in a corner. When it came time for men to get their guns back they could just look for themselves.

The Case of the Territory of Arizona vs. Barney Riggs got under way.

Clint wasn't very interested in what both sides had to say. His only interest was in the outcome. Men arguing in court had never held much fascination for him. Particularly when they argued for hours and hours and nothing seemed to get done.

He could barely stay awake as the arguments went on for two days. On the third day he decided to walk the jury over to the Can Can restaurant with Dodge, where they had set up a table for sixteen—the jurors, Dodge, and room for one more lawman—or whoever.

Today the “whoever” was Clint Adams.

Dodge and Clint walked the jury to the Can Can in a straight line. At one point, as the center of the line of jurors was passing the entrance to the O.K. Corral—owned by a man named John Montgomery—shots rang out.

The jurors scattered looking for cover. Clint and Dodge drew their guns and sought out the shooters. They saw them standing just inside the corral.

Dodge was at the head of the jury, Clint at the back end. They each collected their men and got them under cover, then joined one another across the street from the corral.

“Ironic, isn't it?” Dodge asked.

“Yeah.”

Clint recognized Bannock Riggs. There was another man with him he did not know.

“See 'em?” Dodge asked.

“Yeah, Bannock and another man.”

“I don't know the other one,” Dodge said. “Listen, Bannock's no gunman, but the other one—”

“I'll take him, you take the old man. He was probably shooting at you, anyway.”

“Right.”

“Talk to him.”

Dodge nodded, then shouted, “Bannock. This ain't the way, old man.”

No answer.

“Come on, Bannock. You're not gonna get Barney off this way.”

“I ain't lookin' to get him off,” Bannock answered, “just away.”

“Well, that ain't gonna happen, either,” Dodge said, “so you and your friend might as well come out and drop your guns.”

“I want my boy, Dodge,” Bannock said. “You're gonna have to kill me or give 'im to me.”

“You're makin' a big mistake, old man.”

“You're probably right,” Bannock said, surprising both Dodge and Clint with the admission, “but I can't figure out no other way.”

“Let nature take its course,” Dodge suggested. “Let the trial go on.”

“They'll hang 'im!”

“You don't know that for sure. If you give up, though, you'll be alive to see what happens. If you die here, then he might hang, anyway.”

They were greeted with silence. Clint could still see the two men inside the corral.

“I've got a shot,” he told Dodge.

“Wait,” Dodge said. “I may still be able to talk him out.”

“Yeah, but what about the other one?”

“He'll go along with Bannock,” Dodge said, holstering his gun. “Give me a chance.”

“If either one of them even looks at you funny, I'm firing.”

Dodge made a wait gesture with his hands and stood up. He put his hands in the air. “Keep the jurors under cover.”

He stepped out into the open.

“Bannock, I just wanna talk.”

Clint heard the sound of a hammer cocking. He didn't know if it was Bannock Riggs's gun or the other one, but he could see enough of each man to have a shot.

“Take it easy,” Dodge said. “This ain't the way. Your boy wouldn't want this.”

Bannock laughed.

“My boy wouldn't care one way or the other, Dodge,” he said. “To tell you the truth, I don't much care, neither, but he's my boy. I'm supposed to do somethin'.”

“Sure you are, Bannock, but not get yourself killed,” Dodge said. “Holster your guns. Clint Adams has got you both in his sights.”

Both men moved, then, but Clint felt he still had a shot.

“Come on, Bannock,” Dodge said. “I've got some hungry jurors here. What's it gonna be?”

“Goddamn, old man!” the other man said. He stepped out and took aim at Dodge, impatient with Bannock. Clint shot him down with one bullet to the heart. He fell into the dirt, wafting a cloud of dust right next to Bannock Riggs.

The old man tossed his gun out into the street.

 

With Bannock arrested and placed in a cell, Dodge came back to the Can Can, where Clint was sitting with the jurors.

“You took a hell of a chance, Fred,” Clint said, as the man sat down next to him.

“Not really,” Dodge said. “I knew two things.”

“What two things?”

“I knew Bannock wouldn't shoot me,” Dodge said. “The old man's not a killer.”

“And the second thing?”

Dodge grinned.

“I knew you wouldn't let me get killed out there like a fool, with my hands up.”

Bannock did have a plan.

It had been his intention to send the jury scattering, thereby causing a mistrial. Then he was going to have his lawyer file for a change of venue. Now it was up to the judge to decide if the jury had been tampered with. They had been instructed not to talk to anyone—including one another—about the case. They had not discussed the case, but everyone knew that after being shot at, they were thinking about it.

The judge had to decide if this was reason enough to disband the jury and declare a mistrial.

Clint and Dodge were questioned, assured the judge that they had kept the jury members together during the shooting. Then the jurors were questioned. It took a whole day away from the actual trial, but in the end Judge Webster Street decided to keep the jury together and continue the next morning with the trial.

Dodge went to the jail to tell Bannock that his plan had not worked. Hatch had put Bannock in a cell right next to his son, who was sitting on his cot morosely.

After Dodge delivered the news and left, Barney said to Bannock, “You're a useless old man.”

“You're no-account and you always was,” Bannock said.

“You think Linda's gonna stay with you after they hang me, don't ya? Well, she ain't.”

“A lot you know,” the old man said. “She's happier now than she's ever been. She don't have to worry about you no more, or Hudson. Just me.”

“You disgust her.”

The old man laughed.

“She's happy to have a man between her legs who's full growed.”

“You sonofabitch.”

“Bastard.”

They fell silent, and after a few moments Barney said, “They're gonna kill me, Pa.”

“Your lawyer might still get ya off,” Bannock said.

“What if he don't?”

“They ain't gonna keep me in here forever, son,” Bannock said. “We'll figure somethin' out.”

“You gotta get me out, Pa,” Barney said. “And don't try to do it yerself. Hire somebody. Get a gunny in here to handle that Gunsmith, and get me out of here.”

“Like I said, son,” Bannock replied, “we'll figure somethin' out.”

The trial recommenced the next morning, and this time there weren't so many guns to collect. Seemed folks were worried now that there might be a shooting in the courtroom itself.