Second Chance (The Deadman Series Book 5) Page 8

  Hannah grinned. “I’m okay, papa, and…you can call me Hannah from now on—at least with these fellas.”

  Jacob straightened up and said, “I’m sorry about that, but we really didn’t know you men, at first. The family decided to keep my daughter’s…persuasion a secret.

  “Good idea, Jacob,” Dick said. “And a secret I think we should keep, at least until this sorry business is over and done with.” Turning to face Chance and Hannah, Dick said, “We need to get back to the cabin. Chance, we’ll help you back up and through the wall. Then, I want to send Hannah and her father back to fetch Abner. He can carry you back. Sound good?”

  Chance nodded in agreement. “Much as I’d like to say I can get there on my own, I’m not so sure.”

  Dicky eyed the boy’s ankle and said, “Nope. I think that ankle is broke.” Turning around, he said, “Jacob, can you give me a hand? This boy weighs a ton!”

  Jacob moved in to help and Hannah said, “Listen…I can run—fast! Why don’t I go on ahead? I could be halfway home by the time you get Chance up that hill!”

  Dick nodded and looked to the girl’s father. Jacob grinned and said, “Yeah, go on. Don’t forget to take your pistol!”

  Hannah bent over, grabbed the gun, and stared at Chance for a moment before turning around and taking off up the path.

  They watched her go for a moment and then they pulled the young man to his feet. Chance winced in pain as his foot touched the ground, but knowing there was no other choice, he gritted his teeth and, with Dick’s and Jacob’s help, made his way slowly up the path toward the Lindsay home.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Matthew

  Matthew helped with as much clean-up from the small fire as possible. Once the day-shift replacements showed up, he asked the tough young deputy, Will Riley, if he would care to give him a hand in following, and possibly apprehending the perpetrators.

  Will said sure, and seemed ready to go that very minute. Matthew held up a hand, laughing a little at the kid’s enthusiasm. “First,” he said, “I need to clear it with your boss. If he gives the go-ahead, you need to go home and get a little sleep, eat something, and then meet me back here in about five hours’ time.”

  Staring into the young man’s face, he added, “You realize that these men are stone-cold killers?”

  Will nodded. “Yes sir, I do, but I’m handy with a gun. Bad outlaws just like these killed my ma and pa about five years ago. That’s why I joined the sheriff’s department.”

  “Okay, that’s good. Go on home and meet me back here at…one o’clock,” Matthew said.

  “Yes, sir!” Will replied and walked swiftly down the alleyway, disappearing around the corner.

  Matthew studied his watch. It was almost seven-thirty in the morning, and he figured Sheriff Lobey was in his office by now. He needed to go in and visit with the man…ask to borrow young Will and beg for a few more days of police presence around the newspaper office.

  He knew that the old man was frustrated and feeling besieged but there was no help for it. Lobey knew, as well as he did, that crooks did not honor a convenient timetable and often the phrase “It never rains but it pours” seemed to apply, specifically, to trouble.

  Seeing the two relief deputies show up on the street, Matthew ran to catch a ride on the carriage, back to the sheriff’s office. A few minutes later, Matthew was standing in front of Lobey’s desk.

  As usual, Frank seemed to be in a foul mood, but he acquiesced quickly enough when Matthew asked to borrow Will Riley for the afternoon. “He’s new and pretty far down on the roster list,” Lobey replied, “but, he needs to show up for work, as scheduled…” peering up at a calendar on the wall behind his desk, he added, “Um…the day after tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff,” Matthew said.

  Lobey stared up at him from under gray, beetled brows. “How long do I have to send half my man-power your way, Matthew?”

  Matthew sighed. “I don’t have an answer for you, Frank. I’m hoping that, with Will’s help, I can round these crooks up this afternoon. That would take care of the immediate threat, I think.” He sighed with frustration. “I am still working on getting the Thurston’s out of town but, so far, Clyde is refusing to budge.”

  “Well,” Frank grunted. “I will offer protection for just so long, you know. This is a big city, and if some fool wants to put a bull’s-eye on his own back, so be it!”

  Matthew studied Frank’s cantankerous face and knew he was operating on borrowed time. He couldn’t blame the sheriff, really. Each and every sheriff’s department had a limited budget and, so far, Lobey had been generous with his meager resources. Too much more, though, and he would pull the plug.

  Matthew stuck his hand out and said, “Understood, Frank, and…thank you!”

  Lobey studied Matthew’s hand for a moment and then stood up with a ghost of a smile on his craggy face. “I ain’t pulling my men out quite yet, Matthew. Just…let’s get this over with, okay?”

  “Today, I hope,” Matthew said and took his leave. Hopping a cab ride, he made his way back to the newspaper office, ate a little breakfast and checked in on Tommy and Chen, who were sleeping like puppies by the wood stove in the kitchen. As predicted, they were both scrubbed clean and it looked as though there were two sets of new clothes draped over the kitchen table.

  He could hear Annie, Marty and Clyde talking, softly, in the print room and suddenly, he felt an overwhelming surge of fatigue. He walked into the little store room where he had set up his cot and, within seconds, he was snoring into his pillow.

  Five hours later, a soft hand shook him awake. “Matthew, wake up.” Annie said.

  Matthew snorted and sat up with a start. “What time is it?”

  “It’s a little past two o’clock. The boys are up and dressed and your deputy, Will, and another young man are in the kitchen drinking coffee. Will told me you wanted to check things out at a warehouse this afternoon?”

  Matthew rubbed his hands over his face and shook his head to clear the cobwebs from his mind. Frank sent two deputies to help out? he wondered in confusion. Finally, after a mighty yawn, he said, “Yes. I wanted to leave at noon, though.”

  Annie nodded. “I know, Matthew and I’m sorry, but I thought you needed a little extra sleep.”

  Matthew shook his bleary head and mumbled, “It’s all right, Annie. Thanks for waking me.”

  Standing up from the side of the bed, Annie said, “I’ll let you have your privacy, but when you’re dressed, come out and have a little lunch before you go, okay?”

  Matthew gazed up at her for a moment and knew, in that moment, he would ask her to marry him. He had no way of knowing whether she would say yes or no, but he knew he wanted a second chance at love.

  Seeing the quizzical expression on his face, Annie said, “What?”

  Matthew just grinned. “Oh, it’s nothing, Annie. You just look very beautiful this morning, that’s all.”

  Pleased, she said, “Thank you, Matthew. I’m flattered. Now, hurry up and come out to the kitchen before the soup gets cold.”

  An hour later, Matthew, Will, a Spokane County deputy named Tory Young, and Tommy crept between the high walls of warehouses that were lined up by the railroad tracks. Will was telling Matthew that the reason Sheriff Lobey had sent two deputies his way was to legitimize any arrests—or killings—that might take place today.

  Some of the warehouses were quite busy. One was a fish house, judging by the smell of the place, and others were filled with grain and heavy pieces of machinery. Trains chugged, whistles blew, freight wagons and fast-moving carriages zipped here and there, adding to the clamor of the busy industrial district.

  Matthew figured that his mug was recognizable, so he wore his hat down low and a neckerchief pulled up high over his mouth and mustache. The others in his group, though, could (he hoped) be anyone and his prayer was that if the crooks were on the lookout, the (starless) deputies would be able to blend into the hustle and bus
tle of the busy work-a-day crowd without raising any alarms.

  Tommy came to a stop and said, “We should stop here and hide. That’s the place me and Chen saw those men go into.”

  Matthew gestured to his companions and they slipped between two large buildings, where they were out of sight but could still see most of the crooks’ hide-away. The day had grown cold and moist. Dark, heavy clouds were settling over the city like a great, gray goose over her brood. Staring though a light mist that had begun to fill the air, Matthew spied a thin stream of smoke coming up through the roof of the warehouse.

  He sighed with relief. There was a good possibility the crooks had made a hasty exit while he and his men slept, but there was simply no help for it. No man could be expected to go for days on end without rest. That was a good way to get dead and Matthew did not want anyone to come to harm—much less Sheriff Lobey’s borrowed deputies.

  Turning around to face Tommy, Matthew said, “I want you to go back to the newspaper office now and help Chen watch over the Thurstons and Mr. Fulbright.”

  For a second it looked as if Tommy wanted to argue, but thinking better of it, he tipped his new tam and said, “Yes Sir!” Then he ran swiftly down the rubble-strewn corridor between the two warehouses and out of sight.

  Will and Tory were studying the Wenatchee Orchard warehouse and discussing the best way to approach without being seen. There’s no doubt the front door is padlocked, Matthew thought, staring at the side of the long structure and at the numerous windows dotting the high, wooden walls.

  He noticed that one window was broken. An attempt had been made to seal it shut…either wood or some sort of heavy canvas was stretched across the shattered pane. It was a little too close to where the smoke emanated from the chimney pipe, though.

  Deciding that a window closer to the front of the building would make a good entry point, Matthew spoke softly to his two companions. Pulling his hat low over his brow and tugging his kerchief up over his mouth, Matthew walked back out onto the street with the two Spokane County deputies in tow.

  They strolled along until they were on the opposite side of the warehouse. Then they ducked out of sight again and studied the warehouse’s windows. None of them were broken, but Matthew figured he could rectify that quickly enough, and with all the noise on the busy street, without drawing undue attention.

  Drawing a deep breath, Matthew told his companions to be ready, and then he ran in a crouch to the second window from the road. Checking to be sure no one was watching, he used his pistol to shatter the glass. Reaching inside, and hoping his hand wouldn’t be blown off by the crooks hiding inside, he felt around and found the window latch.

  One by one, Matthew and the two deputies clambered inside the building to find and arrest some thieving, murdering, fire-starting, woman-beating sons-a-bitches.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Take-Down

  Matthew, Will and Tory crept as quietly as possible through the warehouse toward the back. The huge building was filled with large wooden bins, a mechanized belt assembly that wound overhead, mountains of wooden slats and spools of metal bands, used, presumably, to bind crates shut.

  The place reeked of apples gone sour. The high, vinegar odor filled nostrils and brought tears to the eyes. Matthew couldn’t help but wonder if the owners of this outfit didn’t make either sour mash or apple vinegar as a sideline to their fresh apple sales.

  The closer the men crept toward the back of the building, the more they could smell wood smoke. Matthew heard a low, popping noise and gestured toward the two deputies to get down! Then he realized the sound was merely wood settling in the stove. He also heard men’s voices.

  Matthew grinned. He and the deputies had gotten the drop on the crooks. He felt pretty sure there was a back door to the building—probably for access to the business office. He figured if they could get close enough without being spotted, the men they sought wouldn’t have a chance to pop out the back door and make their escape. Unless, of course, he thought, there are a bunch of them.

  He was operating under the assumption there were four or five men—at most. If he was wrong, and there were twenty outlaws hanging around in the back room, he and his young helpers would be outnumbered. Matthew knew that he, at least, could take out quite a few before he was shot down but he didn’t know if the deputies were good enough gun hands, or not.

  It seemed to him that more and more these days, young men were hanging up their pistols. That was fine by him…the less guns there were, the less chance there was of someone getting shot down. But, he thought grimly, what did that mean in the long run? Only the crooks had guns? Matthew shuddered at the thought of it.

  Matthew saw a shadow pass by the entrance to the back room. Signaling to the deputies, he knelt behind an empty apple bin and watched the two younger men crouch down as well. They were about twelve feet away from the door and the men’s words could be heard clearly now.

  Matthew quietly ordered the deputies to stay where they were. Then he ran five feet or so, ducked behind a bank of dusty file cabinets and peeked carefully around them to get a glimpse at the room beyond.

  At first, he couldn’t see much, but as his eyes adjusted, he saw two sets of denim-clad legs stretched toward the woodstove, a small pile of kindling and a brown jug of hooch sitting by one of the men’s socked feet. Peering around the doorjamb, he also saw the front of a large desk, and two sleeved forearms perched on the desk’s blotter. A hand clutched a shot glass.

  “Well,” a voice growled, “You gotta know that Mr. Farnsworth ain’t gonna be happy about it.”

  Another voice answered, “I know, Delray, but what were we supposed to do? Let ourselves get shot down…or arrested? I’m telling ya, the place is crawling with lawmen!”

  For a moment, silence filled the air and Matthew strained to hear more. Then, he stepped back when he saw the figure behind the desk stiffen. A moment later, the man’s shot glass streaked through the air to land with a thud and a muffled curse.

  “God dammit, Delray! What did you do that for!” One of the men by the woodstove stood up and walked past the open doorway toward the desk. Matthew saw a stout, well-dressed man rubbing the back of his balding head, as he placed the shot glass back on the desk, then turned around and headed back to his chair by the stove.

  “I did that because you men seem to think that your failure…no, FAILURES, in killing the Thurstons are going to be tolerated! Well, they’re not. Our bonus depends on success and, so far, not only have you failed in your mission, but half the law-dogs in Spokane County are gunning for us!”

  Matthew changed positions and saw that the balding man was still rubbing the back of his head. He sat with another man who, so far, had decided to keep his mouth shut. Try as he might, Matthew could see no others in the room. Knowing that three on three were the best odds he could have hoped for, he turned around to gesture the two deputies forward.

  He caught Will in the act of already creeping towards him on his own, with Tory in hot pursuit. Glaring briefly at the two youngsters, Matthew rolled his eyes and motioned for them to proceed quickly.

  Within moments they stood by his side.

  “What are we gonna do, Mr. Wilcox?” Will whispered. The young man’s voice seemed to echo throughout the warehouse, and Matthew frowned in alarm.

  Will, hearing his own volume, cringed and clapped his hands over his mouth. Matthew shook his head and peered carefully around the end of the file cabinets to see if they‘d been heard. He relaxed, though, as none of the men had stirred and he realized that the crackle and pop of the wood fire were filling the ears of the men inside the office.

  Turning back around, Matthew placed his fingers over his lips until he saw the deputy’s shame-faced agreement. He pointed to the three of them—holding up three fingers. He saw Will and Tory watching his every move, nodding in understanding. Then he then held up three fingers again and pointed toward the office.

  Smiling now, the young men watched as Ma
tthew pointed two fingers to the left of the room and one to the right. Then he gestured for them to cover his left flank while he took the man on the right.

  Leaning forward, Matthew pulled Will’s shaggy black mane toward him and whispered in his ear, “It would be best to take these men in alive for questioning, but if anything goes wrong—at all—you shoot. And, I mean, shoot to kill! Now, tell Tory what I just told you and be quiet about it!”

  Will grinned and gave Tory the message as Matthew watched. Once Tory gave a thumbs up, all three of them pulled their pistols. Then Matthew held one finger in the air and mouthed the word, “ONE!”

  He moved a step forward and could feel the deputies dogging his footsteps. Listening, he heard the man at the desk say, “I’m going to go and make a phone call. I’m damned sure I’ll get an earful when Farnsworth hears about what happened, but I need to find out what he wants to do now. It’s almost time to rotate on outta here, anyway. Hopefully, once we get back to Seattle we’ll still have a job!” The man’s voice rose a notch in anger. “That is, if we make it back at all! You know how old man Branson is…he might just arrange to have us all killed!”

  Matthew filed the names in his head, praying that he wouldn’t forget. Farnsworth, Branson…Seattle. Could these men be a part of the so-called “Trinity”? he wondered. He had no way of knowing, but it was a clue. Swearing that, from now on, he would always carry a paper notebook on his person so he could never possibly forget a clue, Matthew held up two fingers and whispered, “TWO!”

  The young deputies watched like hawks as Matthew took a deep, steadying breath and then shouted, “THREE!”

  Instantly, Matthew and the two deputies crowded into the office yelling at the top of their lungs, with their pistols held high. Matthew knew immediately that they were in luck. His guess that there were only three men present was accurate and moments later, all three of the miscreants were spread-eagled on the dusty floor.

  The two men by the woodstove were in various stages of undress, and neither wore their guns. The man behind the desk did have his gun belt on, which Matthew quickly removed. Then, knowing the old trick by heart (especially since he did the same thing), Matthew found a small 22 cal. pistol tucked into the man’s right boot.