Ben Carter checked his pocket watch. It read 7.30 pm. Down the street he could see a steady stream of people pouring into the saloon. Word of the meeting had spread and it seemed like half the town was already inside. However, there was still no sign of the man who'd actually called them there. Ben knew Cort was up in his room, had been for over five hours, and he also knew the Marshal had not been alone for some of that time. He'd seen the whore named Kitty slink out of the hotel at around four, a satisfied expression on her face and she'd winked and grinned at him as she'd passed. Ben had grinned back. God knew Cort needed a little fun in his life, and if he was still asleep right now then it wasn't altogether surprising. Ben figured a wake up call might be in order.
He banged on Cort's door several times before he heard movement inside. Cort opened it with a sheet wrapped around himself, wearing nothing else except a scowl.
"Where's the damned fire?"
Ben gazed at him. "You mean the one you lit over at the saloon? It's full of folks, Cort, and pretty soon they'll be waiting on you."
"What time is it?"
"A little after seven thirty."
"Shit! I've got to get cleaned up. Wait for me."
Ben watched more people arrive at the saloon while Cort got ready. Some of them were forced to stand out on the porch and there were still more coming. The place was literally busting at the seams. Twenty minutes later Cort came downstairs; he looked agreeable in his new set of clothes and he'd combed his hair so the bandage around his head hardly showed. He was limping slightly and Ben grinned.
"Hope you didn't over-exert yourself up there, Marshal."
Cort's head whipped round and he glared.
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
Ben shrugged. "I saw Kitty come out. She looked real pleased about something."
Cort smiled and his face reddened a little. "You keep that piece of information private, you hear me, deputy?"
Ben laughed and they made their way over to the saloon. It was so jammed they soon realised they'd never get in, so they headed round to the back door and went through the kitchen, almost scaring the wits out of Horace when they appeared at the bar behind him. He was bright red and pouring with sweat, rushed off his feet, and Ben looked around the room. All the tables were taken and people were standing, shoulder to shoulder, in every available space, upstairs and downstairs, even on the staircase. It was hot, smoky and stuffy, the atmosphere alive, and the din of voices was so loud he wondered how Cort was going to make himself heard. He spotted Doc Wallace and Charlie Barton and then he saw Kitty, standing apart from a group of whores who were talking with their heads close together and throwing her dirty looks. Ben reckoned he knew what that was about and the thought made him chuckle.
"I didn't think the whole damned town would turn out."
Cort sounded nervous and Ben glanced at him. He was sipping at a bottle of beer and staring out into the crowd.
"You were a preacher; pretend it's a Sunday service."
Cort shook his head. "There's no believers here."
"Sure there are. Just tell 'em the truth, show 'em those marks on your body. They'll believe you."
The noise was beginning to subside as people realised Cort had arrived. Horace spoke to him.
"Reckon you should stand where people can see you, Marshal."
He jerked a thumb towards the top of the bar and Cort considered for a moment then pulled over a crate. He looked at Ben.
"You as well."
Ben's stomach twisted. He had no desire to get up in front of all these people. It went against all his instincts, not to mention six months trying to stay invisible. "You don't need me."
Cort grabbed his arm and boosted him onto the crate.
"I won't find a better time to introduce my deputy."
Ben climbed onto the bar reluctantly, hearing the noise die off even more as he reached down to help Cort. By the time he was up there, swearing softly and clutching his ribs, the room was quiet. Ben gazed around at the sea of faces, reading a multitude of expressions there: curiosity, trepidation, excitement, fear, suspicion, plain drunkenness… Cort cleared his throat.
"Uh, you're all wondering why I brought you here tonight, and I'll tell you soon enough, but first I want to introduce Ben Carter, he's the new deputy marshal of Redemption."
That got some definite approval. The saloon exploded into riotous applause, cheers and whistles, and it took an age to die down. When it was quiet again, Cort continued.
"Is anybody in this room unfamiliar with the name Henry Usher?"
There were rumblings and mutterings, a lot of head bobbing, but nobody spoke up. Cort continued.
"Then I'll take it that you all believe him to be a man of the church; a man dedicated to spreading God's word and bringing change to towns in the territory that need it most."
More rumblings, and they sounded approving. Ben figured what was coming next wouldn't go down well. Cort glanced across and he nodded his support.
"Last night, during the storm, Usher and four of his men jumped me. They beat me, drugged me and took me up to the cemetery. Then they tried to bury me… alive. Ben Carter saved me; if it wasn't for him I'd be lying in an unmarked grave right now and…"
He couldn't continue. The room erupted again but this time it sounded ugly. Everybody seemed to be shouting opinions and questions at once, not even prepared to listen to the explanation. Annoyed, Ben drew his gun and fired a shot into the ceiling. That got their attention.
"Just listen to the Marshal, you damned fools. If you've got questions then ask them after!"
Cort threw him a look of gratitude and ploughed on. "You're wondering why he'd do that and I'm trying to tell you. Usher wants Redemption; he smells money here, most likely from the railroad, and that's going to put us all in danger. Building a church and bringing God sounds just fine but it's only a front for how he really makes money, which is extortion, blackmail and murder when things don't go right. Anything you confess to his priests gets passed right along and if you've got something to hide and money to spare, you pass that along too or he goes public."
"Bullshit!"
The voice came from a corner of the room and Ben looked around sharply, trying to spot the man who'd called out.
"It ain't bullshit!" He recognised this voice as belonging to Charlie Barton, and he sounded irate. "There was plenty of us in this saloon yesterday when Usher's men came. They tried to take Ben away by force, like they was above the law, and they promised they'd come back."
"Maybe they were just giving a thief and liar what he deserved!"
That generated another buzz of speculation and Ben's heart sank. Word had sure got around fast. He heard Cort's voice, quiet in his ear.
"Reckon it's your turn, Ben."
Cort had known all along he'd need to tell his story, that's why he'd gotten him up on the bar. He signed and raised his voice to shout above the noise.
"It's true I stole money from Usher but it wasn't from church donations, it came from the rackets he's running. I knew how to do it because I used to work for him. I was one of the boys who'd go in and blackmail hardworking folks and their families, make their lives hell because somebody slipped up in the eyes of God and regretted it enough to confess to a priest. I ain't no believer but I can see the wrong in that."
"You stole from a robber? Still makes you a thief in my eyes." This time Ben spotted the owner of the voice, a burly, middle-aged man with a silver moustache and a fancy hat. He recognised the type as well; he'd spent plenty of time around them. Men with just enough money to make them pig-headed and arrogant, and he'd watched most of their money vanish into Usher's pockets. He grinned insolently.
"You look like somebody who'd regret his time in Usher's confessional, mister."
The man smoothed his moustache with a forefinger, cool as a cucumber. "I've got nothing to fear from God, or Henry Usher for that matter. Thirty thousand dollars is a hell of a bounty though, son, must've made you feel real special for a while."
Ben's face burned with indignation and the words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to consider.
"That money was for somebody else, you son of a bitch. It didn't mend all the lives torn apart by greed, but it helped make them a little easier."
"Sounds like a guilty conscience to me, boy!"
"Damned right! Usher's a curse on this territory and he's coming to Redemption. I know too much about his organisation and your Marshal knows it too. He'd like us both dead but if we spread the word, write letters and tell everybody we know about him, pretty soon there'll be too many of us to kill without folks noticing."
He looked at the man squarely, then took in the entire room.
"Redemption doesn't need Usher's church or any of his other crap,H
and that's a fact. All you'd be getting is another John Herod, though at least Herod was honest about his business in my opinion. If the town's right for the railroad's then it's gonna come anyway, and you already got a priest standing right here. He might not wear the collar but he's a man of God and I've seen him hurt bad for this town, for a bunch of cowards who don't even have the guts to believe what he says."
More rumblings and Ben thought the tide might be shifting. He shot a glance at Cort. "Show 'em your bruises."
Cort shook his head. Ben scowled at him and pressed on.
"Anybody remember that gunfight four nights ago? Those three men who tried to shoot the Marshal were working for Usher. That's his idea of playing fair."
He turned to Cort. "Show 'em goddammit. Don't lose the moment."
Cort shook his head more fiercely and Ben was about to grab him when Doc Wallace stepped into the fray.
"Anybody who don't remember how he suffered can talk to me. I've spent weeks patching him up and these past few days more than ever. We're both tired of it."
"It looks like a horse kicked him". That was a woman's talking and Ben knew who'd spoken before he met the eyes of Kitty, who had spots of colour blazing in her cheeks. He saw the other whores glaring at her but she was oblivious. "Whoever did that sure had a sick mind!"
A raucous, drunken voice yelled out. "Kicked by a horse then riding on a filly. I'm impressed, Marshal!"
There was a roar of laughter. Ben glanced over at Cort and saw him go red. He lowered his head, hanging his hair down so the whole town wouldn't see his shame. Ben snarled in his ear.
"Just fucking show 'em Cort, this ain't nothing to laugh about!"
Reluctantly Cort pulled up his shirt, exposing the livid bruising on his ribs. The room quietened down and some of the women gasped. Ben grabbed him and turned him round, so they could see the mark over his kidney. "He's pissing blood; that okay with you folks? You still think Henry Usher's a good bet? He sees the Marshal here as your leader, that's why he needs him dead. With him gone he figures this town will roll over and do anything he asks, and he's probably right. So you'd better decide right now if you can stand to back the only man who's gonna help you!"
That might have been the clincher and Cort seemed to sense it. He tucked his shirt into his pants and Ben saw a change in his composure and expression, suddenly got an inkling of what Cort the preacher might have been like. His eyes were blazing, his presence filled the room and he immediately had the full attention of everybody in it. Even the drunks shook themselves half awake and listened.
"I believe in Redemption enough to defend it from ugliness and evil, even if it means getting hurt or maybe even dying." Cort's voice was measured but utterly commanding. "But I can't fight Henry Usher alone and I won't. If you don't believe what I've told you and what I've shown you, if you're not prepared to help me then I don't see any reason to risk my life here. You need to make a decision, folks; you get behind me or take your chances with Henry Usher. I'll be over at the hotel; let me know when you decide."
He got down from the bar and Ben followed him out through the kitchen, leaving a cacophony of raised voices behind. He reckoned the decision might be some time coming but he was glad to get out of the hot, sweaty saloon and feel the cool evening air on his face. He wasn't sure what to make of the meeting, wasn't sure they'd succeeded in their mission, but Cort didn't seem bothered either way. He strolled over to the hotel, calmly helped himself to a beer from behind the bar, then sat in a chair away from the windows and put his feet up on a table. Ben grabbed a beer for himself and approached cautiously.
"You reckon we won 'em over?"
Cort glanced up at him, the picture of nonchalance. "Let's see what the breeze blows in."
"They'd be damned stupid not to see the truth of it."
Cort cocked an eyebrow. "Just what is the truth Ben? You've been skirting around it for days now."
"You don't need to know Marshal, and it won't change anything."
Cort took a sip of beer. "Like you said I don't wear a collar anymore, but I'll still hear your confession."
Ben shook his head. "I got no time for the church, and I don't believe there's anything above me except sky, so what's the use in confessing?"
Cort gazed at him, measuring him. "Then maybe you'll confide in a friend?"
Ben thought about it. He'd never told a living soul about the events which finally drove him out of Henry Usher's employment, but getting things out in the open might help ease the terrible burden of guilt. He trusted Cort, who'd willingly shared a terrible secret of his own, and knew he wouldn't be judgemental. Finally he sat down and took a bracing gulp of beer.
"You ever hear of Gregory Furnell?"
"No."
Ben wasn't surprised. Cort didn't seem to have heard of anybody important in the past three years.
"He was mayor of Bisbee – only a young feller but he had a lot of good ideas and people liked him. He had a pretty wife, two young kids and another on the way, and when Henry Usher wanted to bring his ministry to town, he welcomed him with open arms…."
He paused. Cort was looking like he already knew how this story panned out.
"Furnell had money, power and influence, and he always caught the eye of other ladies. I guess one night temptation got too much and he cheated, then he was fool enough to tell one of Usher's priests. You can guess the rest, I reckon."
Cort nodded his head. "How did you fit into it, Ben?"
"I lead the gang Usher put onto him, and we milked him dry. A night of fun with another woman don't sound like much, but he was a public figure and if would have finished his career. So every month we'd go down there and take his money, easy as you like, and every month I saw his wife and family hurting worse. They didn't know what was happening, and he never told 'em, but it was ripping them apart. One mistake wasn't worth all that suffering and then Furnell started running out of money and getting desperate. I told Usher to back off and leave 'em be but he wouldn't listen. The last time I went down there his wife was wearing black and holding a newborn baby. Furnell had put a shotgun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. That family was left with nothing and Bisbee was robbed of a good mayor. The bastard they've got running things now is friends with Henry Usher, wouldn't you know?"
He took a gulp of beer. Cort was watching him intently, his eyes dark. "That's what changed your mind?"
Ben nodded. "On that day I knew I couldn't work for Usher anymore. I couldn't be a part of ripping any more lives apart. Stealing the money was easy. I just waited until we'd finished our work in that area, and there was plenty of folks to visit, then I rode off with it one night. I knew it would hurt the fucker bad, and I knew he'd come after me, but it was worth it. I broke into that widow's house and left most of it on her kitchen table, then I ran like hell."
A group of people sauntered into the bar and Ben glanced at them, wondering if the meeting was over. Cort didn't move and his eyes never left Ben's face.
"You never felt like telling her what that money was for?"
"Think about it Cort. If I'd put her in the picture about Henry Usher then I doubt she'd be alive today. Last I heard they'd moved to Colorado, which is far enough to be safe, I reckon."
More people were coming in and Cort's eyes flickered towards the bar where trade was picking up smartly. Ben wished he'd say something, make some kind of comment on what he'd just revealed. Finally he looked back over.
"Don't be too hard on yourself, Ben. You played a part in that ugliness but you learned a lesson from it and you made amends as best you could. You tried to change, to make yourself better, and now you're helping me bring Henry Usher to justice; I don't think anybody would ask more of you."
Ben stared at him, remembering how Cort once shot a priest. "Do you ever stop feeling guilt?"
"Not in my experience. You just try and live with it; be the best person you can and hope that's enough." Cort stood up and smiled, put a hand on his shoulder. "Any time you need to talk I'll be ready to listen. Now we'd better go see what all these folks want."
They headed towards the bar just as Charlie Barton and a bunch of his cronies came in. He marched straight up to Cort and he was grinning. "Well Marshal, a few of them folks needed some persuading but we made 'em listen to sense and they're all behind you now. You just tell us what needs doing and I'll make sure it gets done."
Cort's face was impassive. "That's good to know. You can ask everybody to start spreading the word, but be careful about who they tell and how they say it. Tell 'em to keep their ears and eyes open too. I want to know about every new face in town and any news that comes with 'em. Tomorrow I'm moving up to the Marshal's office so I'll be easy enough to find."
Charlie nodded. "Now you've finally settled your tab Marshal, how about I buy you boys a drink? I reckon you did real well in that saloon tonight."
"Thanks, Charlie." Cort turned to Ben as Charlie elbowed his way towards the bar and suddenly he was grinning like fox. "That's a damned relief. I didn't think we'd had a hope of swinging everybody our way."
Ben was surprised at his words. Cort had seemed totally calm and composed, apparently unconcerned by the outcome of the meeting. "You were nervous?"
Cort laughed. "Nervous as hell."
Ben shook his head. "I'm never playing poker with you, Marshal!"
Charlie Barton brought some beers over and Ben got stuck in a conversation with a couple of the store keepers, but he was watching the room as they spoke. He noticed Doc Wallace come in and pull Cort aside. He spoke to him urgently and Cort frowned, then beckoned to Ben. He sauntered over.
"What's up?"
Cort was still frowning. "Jack Bellows has woken up, and he wants to talk."