Deadman's Lament (The Deadman Series Book 1) Read online

  The deputies stood their horses and gazed down at Hoss as well. Earl spat and groaned, “Goddammit! What am I gonna tell Martha?”

  “You tell her that he died in the line of duty,” Matthew replied, stepping down off his horse with a sigh. Turning to the other deputies, he added, “Men, we need to secure these cubs and render what medical aid they might need, okay? We do not want to get caught up in a damn war!”

  Travis, Roy and Kevin approached the prone youngsters with ropes and guns in hand. A few of them—more angry than hurt—struggled to get away and cried out in fear but the deputies trussed them up in a wink, forcing the weeping and humiliated teens into helpless captivity.

  One of them, however, was gunshot. Matthew examined him and nodded in satisfaction; the bullet had grazed the boy’s upper arm and, although it bled profusely, he would survive to fight another day. The sheriff grabbed his medicinal kit, pressing some clean cloth pads against the wound. The young brave stared up at him with scared eyes and murmured something Matthew didn’t understand.

  Travis knelt at the boy’s side and murmured, “Steady, son…this is gonna smart.” While Matthew stood up and got out of the way, Travis wrapped long pieces of cloth around the youngster’s arm to keep the pads in place.

  The teen’s eyes rolled back in their sockets but, when Matthew placed his finger on the boy’s throat, the pulse was strong and steady. The other boy who had flown off his pony was bound up tight on the ground. When he saw Matthew and Travis tend to the smaller boy, he shouted something in fear and defiance. Looking between the two teenagers, Matthew realized they must be brothers as the resemblance was uncanny.

  There was something else about the two that made Matthew frown in consternation…they looked familiar to him for some reason. Shrugging off the temporary déjà vu, the sheriff and his deputy moved away as the older boy scooted toward his brother and peered down into his face. Seeing that his sibling still breathed, he glared at the lawmen and then sat staring at the ground under his crossed legs.

  Finally, the prisoners tended to and secured, Matthew and the rest of the posse walked over and looked at Hoss. There was a long gash at his hairline but very little blood and Matthew figured the arrow that had pierced the deputy’s throat from front to back must have killed him quickly.

  Sighing, Matthew said, “We need to get him wrapped up so we can take him on in to Sandpoint. Right, Earl?”

  Earl stood staring down at his friend with his hat in his hands. “That would be proper, Sheriff. I think his people might want to fetch him back home if we move fast enough.”

  Travis said, “If I recall correctly, there’s a good doc in Sandpoint. He’ll get Hoss fixed up and ready for a proper plantin’.”

  “Damn stupid kids,” Roy muttered in disgust while eying the encroaching trees. “Why did they have to go and choose our party to count coup?”

  Matthew felt the same ominous chill and he replied, “I know, Roy. But at least none of them got killed and that’s what counts. Still, we best move quickly.”

  Kevin fetched a large canvas tarp from one of the pack mules and spread it out on the ground close to Hoss’s body. Carefully, and with as much respect as possible, they rolled the big man’s corpse over and over so the tarp covered him head to toe. Grunting with the effort, they hefted Hoss over his now saddleless horse and tied him securely in place.

  Matthew took a final moment to check the Indian prisoners. Fetching a canteen of water, he also left a sack of biscuits for them to share. He sincerely doubted, though, they would starve or die from thirst before their tribe members sent out a search party.

  “We better skedaddle, Boss,” Travis said as Matthew walked up to his horse and rummaged in his bags.

  “Just give me a minute, Travis. I don’t want to take any chances,” Matthew said.

  Fishing around in his saddlebags, he found a faded blue handkerchief. Fashioning it to the end of a long branch like a flag, he stuck it upright in the ground.

  He mounted his horse and, staring down at the boys, he said, “I don’t know if any of you speak English but, just in case, be careful the next time you try to count coup on a band of armed deputies. I’m sure your people are already on their way to find you, but you tell your father and uncles that we didn’t start this…you did!”

  Five sets of dark eyes followed the white men as they trotted off into the setting sun.

  A few hours later, Redbird and a number of his warriors followed three young boys back to the meadowlands. The days were long although it was late enough now that shadows fell in pools across much of the valley. Still, there was enough light to see a small blue cloth hanging listlessly from a tall stick about a hundred yards past the trees.

  The boys were anxious to rescue their hunting companions but stopped their ponies and sat silently when their war chief barked an order for them to stay still and shut up. Redbird was furious with the lot of them and afraid of what he might find under that little flag.

  The youngsters had told him the white men were fiends from hell, with weapons spitting sound and fire all at once. They confessed that they were outgunned and did not realize that the men were soldiers of some sort until it was too late. Every boy there also knew that just as soon as the rescue party got back to the village, they would be severely punished.

  “You stay here,” Redbird told the boys as he and four of his warriors walked their horses past the tree line into the pasture. They approached slowly and could hear the sounds of voices coming from up ahead. Sighing with relief, Redbird also heard his older boy Matthew telling the others to be quiet.

  Suddenly furious again, Redbird decided to teach his sons and their friends a lesson. Catching the eye of one of his warriors, he winked and then let out a blood-curdling screech. His fighting braves did the same and spurred their ponies into a fast gallop.

  They circled the boys on the ground, yelling insults and taunts in the dark, and he heard his older son call out, “Father, is that you?”

  Losing the heat of his anger, Redbird brought his mount to a halt. Sliding off his pony, he approached the youngsters who were tied up together on the ground where a canteen and the remnants of some meal were spread out between them. He also saw his youngest son sitting up though obviously in great pain with a bloody bandage tied around his right arm.

  “We are sorry…” Matthew started to say but closed his mouth quickly when he saw the look in his father’s eyes.

  Redbird knelt by Jacque’s side and studied the field dressing on his son’s arm. Whoever had done this did a good job, Redbird decided with relief. The boy stared up into his face and whispered. “Are you going to punish us, Father?”

  He sighed but said, “I think you have had enough punishment. But your brother and his friends…yes, they will be punished as soon as we get home.”

  Matthew stared at the ground beneath his toes and wished he could just disappear like smoke from a fire. His father did not use capital force very often but, when he did, the experience was painfully memorable.

  Strangely, the men who his sons had attacked left them their horses and a warrior walked up with one now while the other braves cut the ropes off the remaining boys’ arms and legs. They scrambled to mount their ponies and waited until Redbird mounted his own.

  “I will carry my son…hand him to me,” he said and young Jacques was placed gently into his father’s arms.

  Within moments of the Indian’s disappearance into the forest, a female cougar and her two kittens were tearing silently at a dead deer that lay forgotten in the tall grass.

  Chapter 25

  Onward Christian Soldiers

  The next two days were sad and frustrating for Sheriff Wilcox and his deputies. They traveled the remaining forty-eight miles into Sandpoint without incident but, twice, Hoss’s body had slipped down off the horse’s back. He had been overweight with most of his bulk in his upper body so, no matter how many clever ways they thought of to secure him, he kept tipping over to one side or
the other.

  In addition, summer had finally made an appearance. It was in the high 90s by the time they reached town and Hoss’s corpse was beginning to stink. This upset Earl to no end and the animals, too; they shied and snorted, both at the burden they carried and at the darting shadows of carrion birds circling in the hot, flawless sky.

  When they got to within ten miles of town, Matthew sent Earl ahead to secure a wagon and a few bales of ice, if there was any to be found. After the deputy rode away, Matthew led Hoss’s horse to a small stream. Roy and Travis followed on foot while Kevin Short took care of their mounts, hobbling them off the side of the wagon trail in some tall grass.

  The three men untied the ropes around Hoss’s body and wrestled the corpse onto the ground. A loud, farting noise came from within the tarp and Roy jumped back in alarm.

  “Holy shit! Is he still alive?” he asked with a tremor of fear in his throat.

  “No, Roy…you know better. It’s just body gasses escaping, I suspect,” Matthew said even as he suppressed his own shudder of revulsion.

  Travis added, “Well, natural or not, I will be happy to get this man buried and be on our way.” He walked off, leading Hoss’s horse over to where the others grazed.

  Matthew and Roy stared down at the tarp-covered body and said their farewells. Then they joined the others and waited for the wagon to arrive, which it did about three hours later. They saw a small plume of dust on the horizon and a couple of riders accompanying it. Fifteen minutes later Earl, Sandpoint’s sheriff and another man rode up.

  “Winston is the name,” an old man with white whiskers said, “and this here is the town doctor, Samuel Thompson. Hear you got a dead deputy?”

  “Yes, sir, we do. He’s over there waiting for your arrival,” Matthew answered. His tone was sharper than he intended yet he couldn’t help but take offense at the sheriff’s flippant tone of voice.

  The old man looked startled and then swept his hat off his head as the doctor got down off his horse and told Earl to move the wagon closer to the dead body.

  “I’m sorry, son,” Winston said. “I have been at this job too long, I guess…makes a man cold. I didn’t mean any disrespect to you or yours, though.”

  Matthew stood in the hot sun and felt a trickle of sweat run down his back. He was tired and heartsick, frustrated and uneasy. The last day and a half, as he and his remaining deputies traveled to this little town, Matthew had felt as if eyes were watching his back…an amused, malevolent gaze that measured his every decision and found them laughably ill-conceived.

  He thought, at first, that the Indian boy’s tribe was coming after them with revenge in their hearts but dismissed that idea after he and his posse traveled over thirty miles without any sign of attack. No, he thought, this is something else. A premonition of some kind or a warning of impending doom.

  Staring at the old sheriff, Matthew mustered his manners and held out his hand to shake. “It’s me who should be apologizing. It has been a rough trip overall, and a sad one as well. Thank you for bringing a cart out for my deputy. I would like him to have some dignity now that his time has come…at least more than my boys and I have been able to offer.”

  Winston nodded and said, “Looks like the men have got it, Sheriff.” Matthew turned to look and saw the wagon with Hoss’s body in back heading their way.

  The doctor hollered to them, “If it’s okay with you, I would like to take this man on into town while there’s still some daylight left.”

  Winston shouted, “Go on ahead, Sam. We’ll be along shortly.”

  Turning back to Matthew, he added, “I told the missus that you boys were coming and she has set to making a fine dinner. Why don’t we get going? You boys can get washed up, eat some good food and sleep in beds tonight instead of on the ground.”

  Matthew smiled with genuine gratitude, as did his fellow deputies. In their mad race away from the young Indians, they had forgotten all about the dead deer and were forced to choke down cold biscuits and jerky. They also stank with the sweat of leftover fear and hot temperatures. Mounting their horses, Matthew and his posse followed the grizzled, old sheriff into Sandpoint, Idaho.

  Mrs. Winston had outdone herself. After Matthew and his deputies visited the town’s bathhouse and donned fresh clothes, they ambled over to the sheriff’s modest home and sat down to a dinner of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy and string beans. There were fresh biscuits as well and sweet, raspberry jam.

  Stout black coffee and peach pie was served after dinner and the lawmen sat at the table, trading stories about the outlaws who had made their lives and their duty such a burden in recent years.

  After recounting many of the gang’s evil deeds in his area, Winston said, “Good news is, I think our bad apples have up and left!” He took a sip of his coffee and continued, “Honestly, I wouldn’t dream of turning away a helping hand and you boys showing up to chase those devils off is the best thing that has happened to this town in a long time.”

  He lit a stogie and stared at Matthew through the smoke. “My deputies and I try to keep an eye on the gang’s movements, you know. Well, about two weeks ago, the bunch that keeps us company packed up and moved east like they were heading into Montana territory. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say, but it looks to me like your services are no longer required.”

  “How about Bonner’s Ferry?” Matthew inquired. “Have you heard news from those folks?”

  Winston nodded, “Yup. Same story there, Sheriff. It’s as though the whole gang has decided to pull up stakes and get the hell out of here…maybe they heard you and your boys were headed this way.”

  “I doubt if that worried them over much,” Matthew responded. That same feeling—that itch of apprehension—was tickling the back of his neck again and Matthew shifted in his chair. He suddenly ached for some fresh air and a good night’s sleep; he was not immune to fear but he was unaccustomed to these kinds of nervous vapors.

  Sitting up straight, Matthew smiled and said, “Sheriff, I want to thank you for the fine meal and your welcome words but I think my boys and I could use some rest. We have been sleeping with one eye open the last three days in a row.”

  “Yes, sir.” Winston smiled. “Like I said, the missus has made up the beds upstairs. There is plenty of room since my two daughters flew the coop. And there are privy pots and a little widow’s walk if you want to smoke. Sound good?”

  “Sounds great, Sheriff,” Matthew answered and heard his deputies echo his words of thanks.

  Earl had ridden home earlier to deliver the news of Hoss’s demise to his widow, Martha, which left four men to share two beds. Although he would rather have had the fine double-bed to himself, he offered to share his mattress with Roy and heard the other two deputies in the next room do the same. Despite Roy’s loud snores, Matthew closed his eyes and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  The next morning dawned bright and clear; it was going to be another hot day. Breakfast was laid out on a sideboard: scrambled eggs, bacon, tomatoes, and biscuits along with a note that read, Come down to the office. See you soon. Sheriff Winston.

  The four men ate, taking care to wash and rinse their dishes when they were done as Mrs. Winston was nowhere to be seen. Then they grabbed their things and walked down Main Street toward the sheriff’s office.

  As soon as they stepped onto the porch, they saw Winston jump up from his chair and gesture to someone outside the window. Standing still, they heard singing coming from across the street.

  Mrs. Winston and some other women burst into song apparently aimed at them. Onward Christian Soldiers, they sang, as passersby stared. A few whores, taking the sun up the road, snorted with laughter at the expressions on the faces of Matthew and his deputies.

  Matthew felt mortified and wished the women would stop but he doffed his hat and tried to smile as graciously as possible. He understood that the only thing standing between death and the good life for many of the citizens in the Northwest Territories was the l
ong arm of the law.

  People like him and his deputies represented order and safety and, although it sounded as if their services were not needed, the womenfolk were profoundly grateful that they had showed up to render assistance.

  The song finally ended and—after elbowing Roy—Matthew and his posse bowed slightly and smiled their thanks. Then they ducked quickly inside the sheriff’s office, slamming the door shut.

  Sheriff Winston grinned at them and said, “Sorry about that, boys. I tried to talk the missus out of it but she insisted. Besides, she has a few new members in her choir. I suspect she’s been itchin’ to see how they were going to do.”

  Matthew thought his cheeks must still be red with embarrassment but he said, “That’s okay, Sheriff. My boys and I have been in tighter spots than that before.”

  To which Travis replied under his breath, “But they wasn’t half as humiliating.”

  “Oh! This came in this morning.” Winston lifted a sheet of paper and handed it to Matthew. “Looks like you best move fast back home.”

  Matthew stared down at the telegraph in his hand: OUTLAWS HERE NOW stop> COULD USE ASSISTANCE stop> BEST HASTE stop> SHERIFF O’BRIAN, CDA stop>

  Returning the missive to Roy, Matthew extended his hand to shake and said, “Guess we best be on our way, Sheriff. My boys and I thank you again for your hospitality.”

  The older man smiled and said, “You tell Sheriff O’Brian to wire me if he needs more men, alright?”

  Matthew nodded and said, “Will do. Say, is the mercantile open this early? We could use a few victuals and some oats for the trip back.”

  “Sure,” Winston replied. “And you tell that old crook, Aubrey, to put your supplies on my tab.”

  Matthew and his deputies made their farewells and then walked down the road to the local mercantile. A scrawny, sour-faced man sat at the counter and stared suspiciously at every item they placed in front of him. But he brightened when Matthew told him to charge their purchases to the sheriff’s department.