"He was my youngest brother, almost fifteen years younger than me. He had
his wild streak but he wasn't vicious or bad. Just growing pains." Major
Rodney Ashley-Pitt took a sip of water and licked his lips before
continuing. "About a year before he - died - he fell in with a bad crowd.
Did some dumb things."
Elliott Marston and Melvin Collins watched their shadows lengthen along the floor as the late afternoon sunlight crept through the window. The major's voice got stronger as he talked although he continued to rub at his neck. "One night he and his friends went to a tavern down on the docks. You know the sort of place I mean - thieves and smugglers all doing business there."
The two listeners nodded but Ashley-Pitt wasn't looking. "They thought it might be fun to steal a portion of some smuggler's cargo and sell it themselves. Stupid, I know. Of course they ran into trouble. Some young criminal caught them and a fight broke out. My brother was shot and lingered for over a week until he finally died."
The silence throbbed with remembered pain and no one spoke. Finally Marston leaned forward and gave a gentle prod. "And Sam Flanagan? Where did he come in?"
Ashley-Pitt roused himself with an effort. "Flanagan was working for some of the ship owners whose cargoes had been tampered with. The ruckus involving my brother's shooting attracted attention and he was able to find the killer." His mouth twisted bitterly. "And he let the young bastard go."
Marston sipped his drink. "Did he have a reason?"
"Said he was a young kid, his first time in trouble with the law. New to smuggling too. Flanagan got some fool to hire him instead. Some punishment for murder!" The major clenched his fists until the knuckles gleamed white.
"What did you do about it?" Marston was painfully conscious of the passing of time. The police could arrive at any moment and the opportunity for finding the whole truth would be gone.
"I was just a captain then. And I didn't know the whole story. It wasn't until a few months later that I heard what Flanagan did. Then I was furious. I did what I could to prevent him from getting work for the army. I wasn't always successful." He drained his glass of water and rubbed at his throat again. "But all that is water under the bridge now. Flanagan is dead, God rot him, and my interest in him died as well. What happened today was not because of Flanagan."
Marston frowned. "Does it have anything to do with Hiram Crabbs?"
Ashley-Pitt looked up, puzzled. "Who's Hiram Crabbs?"
******************
"You know that Elliott will be back any time now." Sam Marston backed away from Cal Torken, carefully keeping her brother behind her. "I'm sure that he will punish Niall for going through your papers."
"Nice try, missy." With a sudden movement that completely belied his ungainly bulk, Torken slapped her hard across the face.
Sam's head snapped back and she stumbled into the wall. Niall Flanagan gasped and froze in his tracks.
"Now we're going to go upstairs and wait for Elliott." The large man pulled out his gun and gestured to the stairs. "Move."
Sam and Niall moved. Pushing the boy in front of her, she hurried upstairs and along the hall to Molly's room. The older woman looked up with nervous fright that changed into near panic at the sight of her husband in the doorway carrying a weapon.
"No Cal! I didn't say anything! I swear!" She lifted her hands in a cringing manner that Sam could not force herself to watch. "Don't hurt me. Please don't."
"Sit down Molly. No one's going to hurt you." Torken walked to the window and checked the dusty street. "We're just going to wait for Elliott." He cocked the gun. "Then I'll finish things up. You and the boy sit down and don't move."
"Did you kill Hiram Crabbs?" Sam had to know the answer.
"Not personally. That's what I got men to handle." Torken looked across the room. "I said, sit down!"
Sam took Niall by the shoulders and pulled him to the sofa against the wall. They sat down, hand in hand. She examined the room as carefully as she could while keeping her attention focused on the man by the window. The door was slightly ajar and the same distance away as their captor but they could never make it without at least one of them being shot. Sam did not know how good Torken was with a gun but she thought it best to assume a high level of competence.
"Do you want some tea, Cal?" Molly seemed to have taken refuge in a trance- like state that protected her from what was happening. "It's still hot."
"Not now. Just be quiet and let me think." Torken had resumed staring out the window. Sam kept her arm around her brother's shoulders and squeezed reassuringly. "What are you going to do when Elliott gets here?" She forced her voice to remain steady for Niall's sake.
"Kill him." He glanced over his shoulder. "And you, too."
"But why?" Niall couldn't be restrained. Sam held him back or he would have leaped to his feet.
"Boy, you have surely got a mouth on you. Didn't nobody ever tell you to shut up when your elders are talking?" Torken finally stepped back into the room. "Because I'm tying up loose ends. My wife," He cast a withering glance at Molly. "Has probably explained a little history to you. I got to finish what I started."
"If it's the money, Cal, I'm sure Elliott won't do anything about it. And if he doesn't know about his parents then it would be cruel to tell him." Sam tried to smile. "There doesn't have to be any more killing."
"Girl, I am not surprised that Elliott married you. Just as dumb as he is." Torken seated himself in a chair. The wood creaked ominously under his weight. "Now listen up. What happened years ago had to happen. We needed that money more than the Marstons did and we spent it better. Do you know what they were going to do in the outback? Do you?" For the first time his voice began to rise.
"Be ranchers?" Sam offered, hesitating to rouse his temper.
"No! They were missionaries! They were going to build a hospital and a school for the aborigines. Just like they were people!" Torken scowled and the calm façade of his features shattered. "My family had nothing! And they were going to spend money on those black savages. It wasn't right. I knew it wasn't. And I fixed it. And today I'm going to finish it."
Elliott Marston and Melvin Collins watched their shadows lengthen along the floor as the late afternoon sunlight crept through the window. The major's voice got stronger as he talked although he continued to rub at his neck. "One night he and his friends went to a tavern down on the docks. You know the sort of place I mean - thieves and smugglers all doing business there."
The two listeners nodded but Ashley-Pitt wasn't looking. "They thought it might be fun to steal a portion of some smuggler's cargo and sell it themselves. Stupid, I know. Of course they ran into trouble. Some young criminal caught them and a fight broke out. My brother was shot and lingered for over a week until he finally died."
The silence throbbed with remembered pain and no one spoke. Finally Marston leaned forward and gave a gentle prod. "And Sam Flanagan? Where did he come in?"
Ashley-Pitt roused himself with an effort. "Flanagan was working for some of the ship owners whose cargoes had been tampered with. The ruckus involving my brother's shooting attracted attention and he was able to find the killer." His mouth twisted bitterly. "And he let the young bastard go."
Marston sipped his drink. "Did he have a reason?"
"Said he was a young kid, his first time in trouble with the law. New to smuggling too. Flanagan got some fool to hire him instead. Some punishment for murder!" The major clenched his fists until the knuckles gleamed white.
"What did you do about it?" Marston was painfully conscious of the passing of time. The police could arrive at any moment and the opportunity for finding the whole truth would be gone.
"I was just a captain then. And I didn't know the whole story. It wasn't until a few months later that I heard what Flanagan did. Then I was furious. I did what I could to prevent him from getting work for the army. I wasn't always successful." He drained his glass of water and rubbed at his throat again. "But all that is water under the bridge now. Flanagan is dead, God rot him, and my interest in him died as well. What happened today was not because of Flanagan."
Marston frowned. "Does it have anything to do with Hiram Crabbs?"
Ashley-Pitt looked up, puzzled. "Who's Hiram Crabbs?"
******************
"You know that Elliott will be back any time now." Sam Marston backed away from Cal Torken, carefully keeping her brother behind her. "I'm sure that he will punish Niall for going through your papers."
"Nice try, missy." With a sudden movement that completely belied his ungainly bulk, Torken slapped her hard across the face.
Sam's head snapped back and she stumbled into the wall. Niall Flanagan gasped and froze in his tracks.
"Now we're going to go upstairs and wait for Elliott." The large man pulled out his gun and gestured to the stairs. "Move."
Sam and Niall moved. Pushing the boy in front of her, she hurried upstairs and along the hall to Molly's room. The older woman looked up with nervous fright that changed into near panic at the sight of her husband in the doorway carrying a weapon.
"No Cal! I didn't say anything! I swear!" She lifted her hands in a cringing manner that Sam could not force herself to watch. "Don't hurt me. Please don't."
"Sit down Molly. No one's going to hurt you." Torken walked to the window and checked the dusty street. "We're just going to wait for Elliott." He cocked the gun. "Then I'll finish things up. You and the boy sit down and don't move."
"Did you kill Hiram Crabbs?" Sam had to know the answer.
"Not personally. That's what I got men to handle." Torken looked across the room. "I said, sit down!"
Sam took Niall by the shoulders and pulled him to the sofa against the wall. They sat down, hand in hand. She examined the room as carefully as she could while keeping her attention focused on the man by the window. The door was slightly ajar and the same distance away as their captor but they could never make it without at least one of them being shot. Sam did not know how good Torken was with a gun but she thought it best to assume a high level of competence.
"Do you want some tea, Cal?" Molly seemed to have taken refuge in a trance- like state that protected her from what was happening. "It's still hot."
"Not now. Just be quiet and let me think." Torken had resumed staring out the window. Sam kept her arm around her brother's shoulders and squeezed reassuringly. "What are you going to do when Elliott gets here?" She forced her voice to remain steady for Niall's sake.
"Kill him." He glanced over his shoulder. "And you, too."
"But why?" Niall couldn't be restrained. Sam held him back or he would have leaped to his feet.
"Boy, you have surely got a mouth on you. Didn't nobody ever tell you to shut up when your elders are talking?" Torken finally stepped back into the room. "Because I'm tying up loose ends. My wife," He cast a withering glance at Molly. "Has probably explained a little history to you. I got to finish what I started."
"If it's the money, Cal, I'm sure Elliott won't do anything about it. And if he doesn't know about his parents then it would be cruel to tell him." Sam tried to smile. "There doesn't have to be any more killing."
"Girl, I am not surprised that Elliott married you. Just as dumb as he is." Torken seated himself in a chair. The wood creaked ominously under his weight. "Now listen up. What happened years ago had to happen. We needed that money more than the Marstons did and we spent it better. Do you know what they were going to do in the outback? Do you?" For the first time his voice began to rise.
"Be ranchers?" Sam offered, hesitating to rouse his temper.
"No! They were missionaries! They were going to build a hospital and a school for the aborigines. Just like they were people!" Torken scowled and the calm façade of his features shattered. "My family had nothing! And they were going to spend money on those black savages. It wasn't right. I knew it wasn't. And I fixed it. And today I'm going to finish it."