The Last Renegade (46 page)

“It is a ridiculous notion. I am hardly qualified to give these men counsel. I know nothing at all about American jurisprudence.”

“And you’re already talking like a lawyer.” He smiled thinly. “Mr. Reasoner accepts.” Kellen’s eyes settled on Raine. “Would you please introduce the jury?”

Raine nodded. She wound her way between the tables and touched each man lightly on the shoulder as she said his name. “Dick Faber. Richard Allen. Howard Wheeler. Jack Clifton. Dave Rogers. Harry Sample. Terry McCormick. Paul Reston.” She stopped at the end of the bar. “And Matthew Sharp.”

“Nine. We really should have twelve. Remind everyone why we don’t have twelve.”

“John Hood and Scott Pennway are dead. Hank Thompson is missing and presumed to be dead.”

“Judge Jones. We need a ruling. Will nine good men suffice?”

“You cannot seriously expect me to sanction this.”

Kellen simply shook his head. “Raine, explain to Mr. Jones why he needs to make a decision.”

Raine moved away from Matt Sharp’s side and put herself in Jones’s line of sight. “Some of us think you belong at the table with Eli and Clay. By your own admission, you killed a man yesterday in order to stop him from shooting Isaac Burdick. We heard your explanation, but it doesn’t go down well.”

“Your deputy was satisfied,” said Jones.

“That may be, but he isn’t here, is he? What I’m telling you is that you better judge, lest you be judged.”

“I believe the correct verse in Matthew is judge not, that ye be not judged.”

“It is, but I was quoting Matthew Sharp, not the gospel of.”

Kellen chuckled. “Well, Jones?”

“Nine men will be sufficient.”

“Good. Are there any other positions to fill?” Kellen put the question to the room at large and waited for an answer.

Jefferson Collins put up his hand to be recognized. “Should have a prosecutor. Last trial we had in Bitter Springs had a prosecutor.” There was a general murmur of agreement. A few men nodded. “Moses T. Parker. From Rawlins.”

“It would be difficult to get Mr. Parker on such short notice and in this weather.”

“Short notice and bad weather have nothing to do with it.”

“Why is that, Mr. Collins?”

“Moses T. Parker is dead.”

“Is that right?”

Clay slapped the table with the palm of his hand. “That man hanged himself. It’s got nothing to do with us one way or the other.”

Kellen raised his eyebrows a fraction. “The man’s dead, isn’t he?”

Clay nodded abruptly.

“I believe that’s all Mr. Collins is saying.”

“I
know
what he’s sayin’.” Clay set his narrowed, pale blue eyes on the station agent. “Don’t think I don’t.”

Kellen would not have found fault with Collins for flinching under Clay Burdick’s threatening stare, but the older man held his ground and did not blink. “Judge Jones? Do you have something you want to say about Mr. Burdick’s behavior?”

Jones stopped stroking his neatly trimmed mustache. He cast a sideways glance at Reasoner. “It would behoove your client to control himself.”

Reasoner’s cheeks puffed out as he blew out a long breath. “Mr. Burdick. Mr.
Clay
Burdick. It appears that not only are your comments unwelcome, you are not permitted to act in a threatening manner.”

“Well done,” said Kellen, nodding in turn to Jones and Reasoner. “I believe now that we have established the whereabouts of Parker, Pennway, Thompson, and Hood, we can begin.”

Raine cleared her throat loudly enough to draw everyone’s attention.

“What is it, Raine?”

“Well, I believe Marshal Sterling should be mentioned here.”

“And why is that?”

“Because he was important to the last trial we had in Bitter Springs.”

“I never met the marshal.”

“He was shot and killed riding out to the Burdick ranch.”

Eli pointed a finger at Reasoner. “Say something.”

Reasoner bristled. “I am quite certain I do not know what you expect me to say.”

“Tell Coltrane it was an accident.”

“It was an accident,” said Reasoner.

Eli set his jaw. “Sterling was mistaken for a rustler.”

“Oh, I see.” Reasoner addressed Jones. “Apparently this Sterling fellow was mistaken for a cattle thief. His demise has nothing at all to do with why we are assembled this evening.”

Jones swiveled in his chair to speak directly to Raine. “Mrs. Coltrane, you will please refrain from speaking out of turn. Comments from the gallery must naturally be limited.”

Raine accepted the rebuke graciously, holding her sardonic smile in check.

Kellen asked the judge, “You agree we can begin?”

Jones nodded.

“I believe I am allowed to say my piece first,” said Kellen.

“You have the gun,” Jones said.

“So I do.” Kellen tapped the Colt once against his thigh. “I am Kellen Coltrane, representing the interests of Bitter Springs in the matter of the recent deaths of Emily Ransom, George Weyman, and Nat Church.” Kellen observed the stirring in the saloon in response to this last name. “Let me be clear that this Nat Church is not the man you might have read about in the dime novels. He was a former U.S. marshal, a widower, and most recently, a hired gun. Mr. Collins, everyone here might not know what happened to Nat Church while he was a passenger on the U.P. line. It would be a help if you would tell us what you know about Mr. Nat Church, you being an employee of the Union Pacific and privy to official information.”

Jefferson Collins got to his feet. He straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed hard. “Nat Church was traveling to Bitter Springs when he met a bad end in the number six coach. He was stabbed when he boarded after a stop at Rocky Hill. He didn’t make it to Westerville before he died of his wounds. The company wired me about the incident because Mr. Kellen Coltrane was with Nat Church when he died, and Mr. Coltrane had announced his intention to the conductor that he was getting off the train in Bitter Springs. As a company man, it was my duty to keep an eye out, report anything suspicious to the U.P. detectives.”

“And did you make a report?”

“No, sir. There wasn’t anything to tell them.” Collins made eye contact with his audience. “You all know my grandsons, and you all know they favor their granny when it comes to sniffing out what’s suspicious. There’s no better recommendation than having those boys vouch for your character, and they vouched for Mr. Coltrane. They told me right off that he was sweet on the Widder Berry, and ain’t that turned out to be the truth?”

Laughter, some elbow nudging, and murmurs of agreement greeted this last statement.

“Well, thank you, Mr. Collins.”

Collins nodded, started to sit, but popped up again. “And they just told me the other day that Mr. Coltrane is real good at speculating. Seemed like something the nine good men should know.” With that, he dropped into his chair.

Kellen tapped his gun again. “I was indeed sitting with Nat Church when he died. He could not name the person who gutted him, but he did give me some things before he passed to help me learn the answer for myself.” He motioned to Raine to step forward. “You all know Lorraine Berry Coltrane, the owner of the Pennyroyal Saloon and Hotel. Raine, you had special knowledge of Mr. Church’s purpose in coming to Bitter Springs. Explain that, please.”

As though she were taking the witness stand, Raine moved from the bar to Mr. Jones’s side. She did not try to hide the revolver she was carrying. It was clearly visible in her right hand resting against her green-and-white-striped sateen gown. The Colt’s four-and-one-half-inch barrel pointed at the floor. Raine’s finger remained on the trigger.

“I answered an advertisement placed by Mr. Church in the Chicago
Times-Herald
. He presented himself as a gun for hire, a reputable former lawman with experience in settling disputes and the organization of responsible town committees.”

Clay Burdick snorted. “That’s just fancy vigilante talk. Tell them, Reasoner. Do your job. You see what’s goin’ on here, don’t you?”

“I do indeed, and I find it as disturbing as it is distasteful.”

“Then do something about it.” Clay pointed his lawyer to the judge. “Tell
him
.”

Reasoner looked sideways at Jones. “These proceedings are naught but a farce. I believe this is what is called vigilante justice, which is to say that justice cannot be served.”

“Your point is noted,” said Jones. “But they have the guns.”

Kellen nodded. “Excellent ruling, Judge. Go on, Raine.”

“I expressed interest in Mr. Church’s services. There had been a number of deaths associated with my sister’s trial that I believed deserved investigating. I was particularly interested in how the Burdicks might be involved.”

Clay swore and jabbed his brother. “
You
say something.”

Eli shook his head slowly, leaned back, and rested his folded arms on his chest.

“She was never your woman, Eli. She despises you. She always has.”

“Shut up,” Eli said. “Let her talk.”

Raine seized her opportunity when Clay was surprised into silence. “Mr. Church accepted my offer and was on his way here to finalize our agreement. His trip would have been without incident except someone else read at least some of our correspondence. Mr. Church’s arrival was anticipated by someone other than me, and he was murdered to keep him out of Bitter Springs.”

Kellen raised his free hand to quiet the saloon. “Thank you. Stay where you are because we will need to hear more from you in a moment, but for now, I would like everyone to hear from Walter Mangold. Walt?”

Walt set the revolver he had taken from Eli on the table between Howard Wheeler and Jack Clifton. Visibly nervous, he wiped his damp palms on his trousers. “Yes, sir. Do I tell folks about the letters now?”

“Yes. Tell them just what you told me this morning.”

“Well, Mrs. Coltrane—she was the Widder Berry then—trusted me to take her letters to Mr. Collins at the station. I was happy to do it for her, but Emily Ransom took it in her head that it would be a help if
she
took the letters. I didn’t see the harm, so I let her deliver letters and packages and such. It
wasn’t only the things the widder gave me, but also the things guests asked me to post for them.”

Mr. Reasoner put up his hand. “I see where this is going, and poor Miss Ransom is not able to defend herself. How do we know Mr. Mangold is not blaming her for something he did?”

Kellen pointed to Mr. Collins. “We need to hear from you again.”

Mr. Collins stood. “Most everything that came for posting from the Pennyroyal was delivered by Miss Ransom. Sometimes a guest would bring his own letters to post. Mr. Petit was particular about his photographs, for example. Most of the time he liked to put them in my hands himself.”

Reasoner spoke up after the station agent sat. “Mrs. Coltrane indicated that someone read her correspondence. If we can believe what is being said, we now know that at least three people had the letters in their hands: Mr. Mangold, Miss Ransom, and Mr. Collins.”

Frowning deeply, Walter rocked forward on the balls of his feet. “Mr. Coltrane won’t say it. I don’t suppose other folks want to say it either, but everyone knows I don’t read so well. Mr. Clay used to make fun of me regular about it. Mr. Eli, too, if he was in a mood to kick someone.”

Reasoner threw up both hands and sat back in his chair. He stared hard at the men he was charged with defending and shook his head slowly.

“Mr. Collins can read just fine,” said Clay. “Say something about
him
.”

Mr. Reasoner rolled his eyes.

Kellen said, “Even more important than who read the letters is what that person did with the information. No one is saying that Emily Ransom or Mr. Collins murdered Nat Church.”

Jefferson Collins jumped to his feet. “And I do
not
read anyone’s mail.”

Kellen said, “Judge. A ruling please.”

Jones sighed heavily. “Mr. Collins does not read anyone’s mail.”

The station agent eased himself back into his chair, and
Kellen continued. “Raine, you recently learned that Emily Ransom had a secret admirer. Will you tell us about that?”

“Emily was keeping company with Clay Burdick.”

“That’s a goddamn lie,” said Clay. “Where the hell is Dan Sugar? Why isn’t the real law here tonight?”

“Deputy Sugar was not invited,” Kellen said. “What would his contribution be? People have always told me that you and Eli are the real law in Bitter Springs.”

“Us? If someone said it was us, they meant it was Uriah.”

Eli said, “You probably want to stop talkin’, Clay.”

“Why? No one else is speakin’ up. You’re not.” He jerked his chin at Reasoner. “He’s not. You know Emily never spoke to me if she could help it. You’ve said as much yourself.”

Eli shrugged.

“Where’s your proof?” Clay asked Raine.

“In good time, Clay.” She spoke to her audience. “You should take into account how naïve our Emily was. She was a harmless flirt, encouraged by most of you because she made you feel important. Some of you might think she had the good sense to stay away from Clay and Eli because my sister was her friend and, well, because they are the Burdicks. To Emily’s way of thinking, though, she was showing good sense by keeping it from everyone, including her family. Keeping it a secret and hiding it are really two different things, and while Emily didn’t say a word, there was at least one person who noticed her attachment to Clay Burdick. Sue?”

A harsh, discordant sound rose from the piano when Sue stood and used the keyboard to brace herself. As startled by the noise as anyone else in the saloon, she jumped away from the piano and quickly tucked her trembling hands in the folds of her skirt. Her eyes darted nervously around the room until they rested on Raine.

“DoIsaymypiecenow?”

Raine nodded. “Just like you told me earlier. But slowly, so everyone can understand you. Charlie, maybe you could stand a little closer to Sue.”

Charlie stepped up to Sue’s side and placed a hand at the
small of her back. “Ain’t no one goin’ to bother you. Say what you have to say.”