Kill Crazy (16 page)

“Mr. Schumacher, did you see the altercation between Duff MacCallister and Mr. Harper?”

“I did.”

“Would you tell the court what you saw, please?”

“MacCallister come up behind Harper and said somethin' to him. I don't know what it was 'cause I wasn't close enough to hear. But what happened was, Harper jumped up and turned around, and the next thing you know, MacCallister hit him and knocked him down.”

“Who made the first move?”

“As far as I could tell, it was MacCallister.”

“Thank you, no further questions.”

“Mr. Dempster, do you wish to question this witness?”

“No, Your Honor. But I would like to question Biff Johnson.”

Biff Johnson was sworn in as casually as had been Francis Schumacher.

“Mr. Johnson, did you witness the altercation between MacCallister and Harper?”

“I did.”

Biff told how Harper had waited for Duff all day long, and how Duff had stepped up behind him to introduce himself. He then told how Harper had attempted to draw his gun, but was knocked out.

“Then, while he was out, Duff removed all the cartridges from his pistol, and when Harper woke up again, he tried to shoot Duff.”

“Tried to shoot?” Dempster asked.

“Yes, sir. He actually pulled the trigger, but of course there were no bullets in his gun. That's when Duff knocked him out again, and put him up on his horse.”

“Thank you. Nor more questions, Your Honor.”

“Closing, Mr. Crader?”

“Mr. MacCallister, would you take the stand, please?” Norton asked.

Duff was sworn in; then he took the stand.

“You have heard all the testimony given here today, by both Mr. Schumacher and Mr. Johnson. Is there any part of the testimony of either man that isn't true?”

“Nae, Your Honor. 'Tis all true.”

“Why did you approach him as you did?”

“I believed that he was there to kill me.”

“Is there bad blood between the two of you? Have you had a run-in with him before?”

“Nae, Your Honor.”

“Why do you think he intended to kill you?”

“I'm told that Mr. Harper is a hired assassin. 'Tis my belief he has been hired to kill me.”

“Did he say he was going to kill you?”

“Aye, Your Honor, when he was belly down across the horse, he did utter those words.”

The gallery laughed.

“Before that, Mr. MacCallister. When you first encountered him, did he say he was goin' to kill you?”

“He dinnae say that. But when I called his name, he made a move for his gun.”

“You say he made a move for his gun. Did he actually pull his gun from his holster?

“He was nae able to pull the gun, for I hit him too quickly.”

Again, there was a scattering of laughter in the court.

“Very well, you are excused,” Norton said. Norton looked back toward Crader. “Mr. Crader, your closing?”

“Your Honor, while it is true that Mr. Harper said he was going to kill MacCallister, he made no such statement until he was belly down across his own horse. And I'm sure you can understand the anger and frustration one might feel under such circumstance. I believe he made that statement out of anger and duress. I respectfully petition the court to declare no cause for the charge of attempted murder.”

Norton looked over toward Harper.

“Mr. Harper, with every fiber in my being, I would dearly love to find cause why you should come to trial. I believe you and your kind are the scum of the earth.

“But, in all fairness, I do not see sufficient cause to bind you over for trial. Release his shackles, Marshal Ferrell. There will be no charge against this man.”

“Ha!” Harper said. “MacCallister, you . . .”

“If you so much as say one word without my permission to talk, I'll find you in contempt and you'll go right back to jail,” Justice of the Peace Norton said.

“Don't say a word, Harper!” Crader demanded. “You are free to go. Don't be a fool now and make the judge change his mind.”

Harper bit back whatever he was going to say. Instead, glaring at the marshal, he stuck his shackled hands out in front of him.

“Turn me a' loose,” he said with a growl.

“Get out of town, Mr. Harper,” Marshal Ferrell said as he began releasing the chains. “Get out of town now.”

Chapter Twenty-two

Back in Bordeaux the next day, Johnny Taylor saw Harper the moment he set foot in the Red Eye Saloon.

“You're out!” he said. “What did you do? Break out?”

“Nah, I didn't break out,” Harper said. Without being invited, he reached down to pick up a bottle of whiskey that was sitting in the middle of the table occupied by Johnny and the others. He took several Adam's-apple-bobbing swallows straight from the bottle. He wiped his mouth and moustache with the sleeve of his dirty shirt.

“Then how did you get out?”

“They held a trial for me 'n' your brother. And then they let me out.”

“They've already had the trial?”

“It weren't no real trial. It's what they said was a hearin'. It was a trial to see if they was going to have a trial for us. They said yeah for your brother, and put him back in jail, and they said no for me, and let me go. So, here I am.”

“Why are you here?” Blunt asked.

Harper glared at Blunt, then looked back at Johnny. “Who is that?” he asked.

“He is working with me,” Johnny explained. “All these men are workin' with me.”

Harper took another swallow of the whiskey before he replied. “Yeah, well, I reckon I am too,” he said. “I ain't done what you hired me to do yet, but I still aim to do it, and I still aim to collect the other half of the money you promised me.”

“We may not need to kill MacCallister,” Johnny said.

“What do you mean? I thought you wanted the son of a bitch kilt.”

“I do, but my first goal is to get my brother out of jail. And I've just been talking over my idea with these men. Pull up a chair and join us. If you are going to work with us, you may as well get in on this as well.”

“What is it you have in mind?”

“I aim for us to leave a little callin' card for the good folks of Chugwater,” Johnny said.

“Callin' card? What kind of callin' card? What are you talkin' about?”

“You'll see,” Johnny said. “I figure we'll drop in on the town tonight.”

From the
Chugwater Defender:

“Whooeee, how about that?” Elmer said, giggling, and slapping his hand on his knee. He had gone into town this morning and returned with a copy of the newspaper. “You're a king, Duff. The newspaper called you a king.”

“It dinnae call me a king, Elmer. It compared me to a king, a man named Leonidas.”

“In my book, gettin' compared to a king is the same thing as bein' called a king.”

Duff smiled. “If you say so.”

“I seen Miss Parker while I was in town. She told me to tell you she was mad in love with you.”

“What?” Duff gasped.

Elmer laughed again, a loud, gut-busting laugh, and he pointed at Duff.

“Oh, I wish you coulda seen your face when I said that.”

“What did you say such a thing?”

“What she really said was, ‘Elmer, would you please give Duff my fondest regards'? Fondest regards,” Elmer said, repeating the phrase. “Now you tell me if fondest regards don't mean the same thing.”

“Fondest regards is nae the same as love.”

“Maybe, but she does love you. Me 'n' you both know that. And if you was honest with yourself, you'd admit that you love her too.”

“I am very . . . fond . . . of her,” Duff said with a laugh.

Elmer laughed as well, then pointed back to the newspaper. “I think Norton made a mistake by lettin' Harper go free, like he done.”

“He dinnae have any choice. There was nae attempted murder.”

“But you tol' me yourself that once you called out his name he started to go for his gun. Only you knocked him out before he could get to it.”

“Aye, but that may be because he was startled by my unexpected appearance.”

“Unexpected my hind end. I talked to some of the others this mornin'. Biff Johnson says that Harper had waited there for you for near 'bout the whole day. You can't wait for someone that long and be startled when they finally do show up. And why was he waitin' for you, if he wasn't plannin' on killin' you?”

“You may have a point,” Duff agreed.

“You mighty damn right I have a point. From what I've heard of Harper, he's a man that gets paid for killin', and to make matters worse, he's a man that enjoys his work.”

“I did get that feeling from him,” Duff admitted.

“It wouldn't surprise me none at all if he hadn't been hired by Johnny Taylor his ownself, just to kill you.”

 

 

Percy Dillon drove a wagon for Guthrie Building and Lumber Supply company, Walt Goodman drove one for the Chugwater Mercantile Store. Even though the two men worked for different employers, they often made the trip to Cheyenne together, so they had become good friends.

Tonight they were celebrating Walt's thirty-fifth birthday in the Wild Hog Saloon. Kathy, Annie, and Betty, having learned that it was Walt's birthday, had given him a “birthday present” by coming over to the table and flirting with him without charging him the price of a drink. And, because Percy was with him, he also got to enjoy their company.

“Hey,” Percy said to Annie. “Next month it's goin' to be my birthday. Are you ladies goin' to come spend some time with me then, the way you're a-visitin' Walt now?”

“I don't know,” Annie said. She ran her hand through Walt's hair. “Walt is a lot prettier than you are.”

“There you go, Percy, did you hear—wait a minute! Did you say I was
prettier
than Percy?”

“That's what I said, honey.”

Percy laughed in loud guffaws. “Pretty! Annie thinks you are pretty!” He continued to laugh.

“I ain't no way pretty,” Walt said. “Go away, if that's what you think I am.”

“All right, honey, I'll leave if you want me to,” Annie said with an exaggerated pout. She bent down and kissed Walt on top of his head before she and the other two girls left.

“Damn, Walt, now look what you done. You sent her away.”

“I ain't pretty,” Walt said, mumbling into his drink.

“Hey, look at the clock. It's damn near midnight, and me 'n' you both has got a run to Cheyenne tomorrow. We'd best be gettin' on back to the boardin' house.”

“Yeah, you're right,” Walt said.

 

 

Johnny, Calhoun, Evans, Harper, and Leroy were waiting in a little patch of woods just outside of town. The sounds of the town, the tinkling of a couple of pianos, periodic outbursts of laughter, and low murmur of conversation coming from both the Fiddler's Green and the Wild Hog Saloons drifted out to compete with the trilling of the night insects. From one of the houses on the outskirts of town, a baby started crying. In a nearby stable, a mule brayed.

They were waiting for the perfect opportunity and that came when two cowboys left the Wild Hog, staggering along the boardwalk, barely able to keep upright.

“All right, let's go,” Johnny said. “Remember, ride in real slow. We don't want to do nothin' that might spook them.”

They rode in slowly, but not quietly, because the horses' hooves made loud clopping noises.

 

 

“I tell you what, Percy, I been thinkin' about it. And I think Annie is in love with me,” Walt said.

Percy laughed. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, 'cause she called me pretty.”

“I thought that made you mad.”

“Well, it did at first, but then I got to thinkin' about it. She more 'n likely figured that was a compliment.”

The five horsemen rode on up to the two drunken men, as if totally oblivious to them, and the two men, engaged in their own conversation, paid no attention to the riders. Neither Percy nor Walt noticed it when Johnny Norton and Bart Evans dismounted no more than thirty feet behind them.

“Bullshit, Walt. Annie is no different from any of the other women who work there. They are only in love with you as long as you have money to spend on 'em,” Percy replied.

“Well, I wasn't buyin' her no drinks tonight, now, was I?”

“That's just 'cause it is your birthday.”

“No, I mean I can tell by the way she acts, the way she looks at me. It's like she's sayin' that she don't really want to drink with nobody else but me.”

“Ha! Walt, you are as full of . . .”

 

 

That was as far as he got, because Johnny had dismounted and come up behind him. Grabbing a handful of Percy's hair, Johnny forced his head back, exposing his neck. He drew a sharp knife across Percy's neck, cutting the carotid artery. Percy made a gurgling sound, even as Walt was having his own carotid artery severed.

Johnny and Calhoun stepped back to let the two men crumple to the ground. Then, as the two men lay bleeding their lives away in the dirt of Bowie Avenue, Johnny reached down and pinned a note to the one who had stopped flopping first.

“All right,” Johnny said, rubbing his hands together as if in appreciation of his own work. “Let's see what happens next.”

 

 

A crowing rooster awakened Louise Teasdale the next morning. Louise was a cook at the City Café and she had to get up early every morning in order to be to the café in time to get the fire laid in the cook stove and start preparing breakfast. She yawned, stretched, then smiled as she wished she could have held on to the dream that was just now drifting away. In it, she wasn't a cook, but a pampered wife in a big house that was filled with servants who would clean and cook for her and her handsome and wealthy husband.

“That's why they call them dreams,” she said, chuckling as she spoke aloud. She hurried to get dressed.

The sun was but half a disk above the eastern horizon when she left her small, one-room house and headed for work. She saw two men lying in the street, just off the boardwalk in front of her, and she shook her head. Her route to work took her right by the Wild Hog Saloon. These two men were not the first passed-out drunks she had ever encountered.

“Looks like Marshal Ferrell could at least get the drunks off the street,” she said aloud. She hiked her skirt, preparing to going around the two men. That was when she saw the blood.

“What?” she asked curiously, and she leaned down for a closer look.

One of the men was lying facedown, but the one that was lying on his back had his head tipped back. His skin was a gray pallor, and his mouth and eyes were open. But the most grotesque sight was the great gaping gash in his neck. It looked as if his neck had nearly been sawed in two.

Louise's scream awakened households for two blocks around.

The double murder was the lead story in the
Chugwater Defender
that evening.