Chapter 26 – Free
We'd been here already today, sitting in Connie's office and trying to determine the truth. What kind of deal had Constance made with Rally Simmons to assure that he wouldn't turn her in to Dan Manning and a potentially long prison sentence?
On the way back here Bret had asked me to be patient, promising he'd explain 'later'. I was still waiting and it was definitely later. My patience only extended so far.
"What did you have to promise, Constance?" I finally asked when I could stand it no longer.
She was considerably steadier than she'd been just a few short hours ago. "We settled on a mutually beneficial arrangement," she finally told me. "I stop making life difficult for Rally and June, and Rally doesn't tell the sheriff what actually happened. And I buy June's half of the saloon for a fair price."
"That's all?" I asked. Knowing Rally like the good poker player that he was, I expected there to be something more to the deal.
"And I agreed to settle his debt with Johnny Farrel."
Ah, there it was. Did Connie really know what she'd gotten herself into? "What do you know about that? What did Rally tell you, I mean?"
About that time Bret spoke up. "Connie understands the debt."
That was brother speak for 'don't say anything else.' Connie might not have completely understood the bargain she'd made, but Bret did. I reached over and slapped Bret on the arm. "I'm starved. How about some lunch, Brother Bret?"
He smiled at me and that twinkle was back in his eye. "I think that's a fine idea, Brother Bart. What say Minnie's in thirty minutes?"
"Sure," I nodded. "Sounds good to me. I'll meet you there. Miss Constance, may your day continue to improve." I tipped my hat and left the office and the saloon. I know when I've been asked to leave and allow for some private time. Unfortunately as I walked out into the crisp, cold air I saw trouble fast approaching, in the form of Sheriff Dan.
"Maverick. Just the man I wanted to see."
"Sheriff, I'm on my way to Minnie's to meet my brother. Walk with me?"
Manning nodded and we headed down the street. "You two always this close?" he asked as we hurried to get out of the cold.
"Yep," I told him. 'Why'd you ask?"
"Just wonderin'. Say, I got a telegram this mornin'. From the marshal in Shreveport. Everett Richards and his right-hand man are dead. Got killed in a robbery attempt in Natchez. The reward on your two 'friends' has been upped to two thousand dollars each, to be paid by the State of Mississippi. They wanna end this outlaw gang once and fer all. And by the way, Jed and Dickie ain't been seen anywhere since we got snowed in."
"So what're you tellin' me, Sheriff?"
"Yer a smart boy. Figure it out for yerself. Good-day, Mr. Maverick." The sheriff tipped his hat and made a turn into the gun store. I finished the walk to Minnie's alone, pondering the information that I'd just been given. Was it possible that Jed and Dickie were actually in Sioux Falls and had been all along, just biding their time until the snow melted and there was a way out? Or was Manning just trying to give me something to worry about?
If that was his sole purpose, it worked. I sat in the warmth of Minnie's Café and drank coffee, deliberating the likelihood that Jed and Dickie were here in Sioux Falls. That would certainly explain who'd shot me. But somehow it didn't fit, and it still didn't explain the other body that Manning had found, Bobby Durfee. I had an idea, but I needed some proof before I pursued that particular path.
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Several weeks had passed before Rally Simmons and June Morgan finally got married. It wasn't as cold as it had been outside for months, and the sun was actually visible in the sky. It wouldn't be too much longer before the snow that blocked our exit from this town for an extended period melted enough for the stage to get through with our reward money. And as soon as that happened, Bret and I could leave and head anywhere we wanted.
Rally still limped, and the scars on his face hadn't completely healed, but he was the happiest bridegroom I'd seen in a long time. I was given the honor of walking the bride down the aisle, and I thought it would serve as good practice for Jody's wedding, if it ever actually happens.
After the ceremony in the church Constance held a gigantic reception at Pete's, and she even talked Bret and me into serving as bartenders for the event. Constance and Rally truly seemed to have settled their differences, and while we wouldn't ever be best friends, Rally and I had found a kind of relationship, too. Maybe it was because we understood each other; maybe it was because he'd discovered he could trust me to keep my word. For whatever reason, it was far better than the original animosity we'd had for each other.
The reception provided me with a way back into the Farrel's lives, and I took full advantage of it. When Johnny came to the bar for another drink, I made sure that I served him. "How's Mrs. Farrel?" I asked him, and I got a look that wasn't too pleased from him. "Done anything about replacing Bobby Durfee as your hired gun . . . . . oops, I mean foreman, yet?"
Farrel picked up his drink and walked away. I was sure that I'd rattled him enough to hear from him again, and I was right. Later that afternoon when the saloon was almost empty he reappeared. "That was a clever little trick you pulled on Clara. You got any more up your sleeves?"
"Sure, plenty of em. Wanna see one?"
Farrel stood there and looked at me and for just a moment I wondered if I'd been wrong. Then he bought into my scam hook, line, and sinker. "Okay, cardsharp, let's see what ya got."
I'd borrowed something from Dan Manning just for this very occasion. I pulled out Bobby Durfee's very distinctive pearl handled Colt and set it on the bar. "That's Bobby's gun, used to shoot Tom Miller."
Johnny didn't say anything, but he was watching me carefully. Then from under the bar I grabbed my other surprise. "And that's your gun, used to kill Bobby." Actually the gun was mine, a spare that I kept just in case, but it looked enough like the one found next to Durfee's body that it was difficult to tell the difference. I'd gotten a good look at the actual murder weapon when I went to talk to Sheriff Manning and proposed this little test of my theory. "You the one that tried to kill me?" I asked.
I got an answer I hadn't expected. "Yep. Almost got ya, too. "
I might as well go as far with Johnny as I had with Constance. "Gonna try again?"
His answer came back just as swiftly. "Nope. Next time I'm gonna succeed."
I breathed a sigh of relief. I know, I know, I had somebody that was intent on killing me. The good news was I only had ONE somebody that was intent on killing me, and not two. And he hadn't paid any attention to the fact that Manning was standing within hearing distance and had overheard the entire exchange. By the time Farrel turned around to leave the bar the sheriff had his gun drawn and cocked and Rally Simmons and I were both free men. Sort of.