Chapter Twenty
"Every dog must have his day."
~Jonathan Swift
Jack glanced at the clock and noted that it was a quarter after ten. He was sitting at his desk, beginning his report about last night's saloon fight. An hour ago, as he was leaving the café, he'd run into Pinkerton Richardson and told him that he'd need to interview the miners involved in the poker game fight last night at the jailhouse at ten. Pinkerton Richardson said he'd inform Mr. Gowen. Jack reiterated that the interview was required and the miners must be at the jailhouse at ten. So, Jack was not pleased that they were tardy.
"Let me outta here!" Wiley yelled from his cell.
Jack frowned. Wiley had been hollering all morning at Jack that he couldn't keep him in jail because he was too valuable to the mining company and Gowen would make sure he was released. Also, he would throw in the occasional, "I didn't do nothin' anyway! McIntyre threw the first punch!"
Jack ignored him and continued his report. Rip, on the other hand, growled at Wiley, and walked to the door. He turned to Jack. Jack shook his head. "Alright, boy. I'll let you escape. Just wish I could go with you!" he told Rip as he started to move toward the door. However, as soon as he stood, the door opened and Gowen, McIntyre, and Pinkerton Richardson entered. Rip took advantage of the opened door and headed outside.
"Constable," Gowen greeted Jack, though far from genially. "We need to talk about you imprisoning my assistant here." He motioned toward the cell where Wiley was waving through the bars.
"How's that?" Jack asked.
"It's my understanding that McIntyre threw the first punch," Gowen informed Jack.
"Yes, but Wiley then pulled a weapon on him and injured him," Jack explained. "I need to interview McIntyre to get his account of events so he can press charges."
Gowen turned to McIntyre. "Is there something you'd like to say to Constable Thornton?" he prompted.
McIntyre looked at Gowen and nodded. "Yes," he agreed as he turned toward Jack. "This was all my fault. I don't want to press no charges."
"Ha!" Wiley scoffed loudly from his cell.
Anger flared in Jack's eyes. He quickly determined that Gowen had either threatened or bribed McIntyre to change his story and not press charges. He was angry at McIntyre for kowtowing to Gowen and, most of all, angry at Gowen for being, well, for being Gowen.
When Jack didn't speak for a couple of minutes, Gowen grew concerned that Jack may not release Wiley, after all. "Constable?" he called, getting Jack's attention.
Jack looked at Gowen, but didn't say anything. He was determined to delay yielding to Gowen's plans as long as possible.
"Let me outta here!" Wiley yelled.
"I believe the charges have been dropped. Shouldn't you release this man?" Gowen asked, though he made it sound more like a demand.
Jack hesitated before he finally stood, retrieved the keys from his desk drawer, and headed to Wiley's cell. As soon as he unlocked the cell, Wiley shoved the door open and forced Jack to step backward.
"About time you showed up," he told Gowen as he joined them in the office.
Gowen's eyes narrowed. "Go to the office," he ordered through gritted teeth.
Wiley, noting Gowen's distemper, followed the order and headed for the door.
Jack and Gowen locked gazes, their expressions determined and fierce and their eyes revealing their intense dislike of each other. "Good day, Constable," Gowen offered as he turned to leave. Pinkerton Richardson followed him.
McIntyre, who had been studying his feet since he'd spoken his part to Jack, looked up and suddenly realized he was alone with Jack. His eyes widened.
"Is there something you'd like to tell me, Mr. McIntyre?" Jack inquired, clearly not happy with the turn of events.
McIntyre shook his head and quickly followed the others. He left the jailhouse door ajar, so Jack walked across and stood in the doorway. He watched the quartet walking down Main Street to the mine company office. A low, frustrated growl escaped from his throat before he turned to head back inside. He stopped short as he almost tripped over Rip, who'd returned.
"Decided to come back now that the annoying man is gone, eh boy?" Jack asked, smiling.
Rip laid down in his usual spot by the stove. Jack started to head back to his desk when he stopped short, noticing that Rip was chewing on something. He walked over to the dog and asked him, "What have you got there?" On cue, Rip released the object from his mouth. Jack's eyes widened with realization as he leaned down to pick up the object. He held it up and inspected it: a small piece of red serge fabric. Jack studied it for a moment then reached for his own jacket pocket. It was exactly the same shape as the flap of his pocket. He poked his finger through the button hole in the scrap of fabric. He looked down at Rip and mused, "Where on Earth did you find this?" Rip, who had swiftly fallen asleep, only answered with a snore.
Postscript: I've gotten a fair amount of writing done while my mother's been in the hospital as there's not much else to do all day. She's doing much better and we're hoping she'll be heading to rehab after Thanksgiving. Thank you so much for reading! I hope you're enjoying it! Please let me know what you think about the story so far. Happy Thanksgiving all you American Hearties! And God bless all of you Hearties!