“Make him talk about what?”
“Where his men are.”
“What men? Who saw him with any men?”
“I did,” Maurice said.
“Who saw him or any men out where the Mex was found?”
“I saw them here in town.”
“So what did you see? Nothing. Get your smart-aleck ass out of here, sonny.”
“Who else have you got as a witness,” Maurice said, showing his tenacity, “besides Armando's son. Any of the other Mexicans?”
“What Mexicans?”
“Armando's people-the ones that live up there.”
“They're gone,” Bruckner said, “disappeared. It's you and Fly and the Mex's kid…and the Indin agent, Moon.”
This surprised Maurice. “You subpoenaed Moon? How come?”
“We believe he saw things.”
“Sundeen told you that?”
“We know, that's all.”
“Has he come to town?”
“He had better be here tomorrow for the hearing. He's not, I'll go and get him. I may be going for him later on anyway.”
“Why? For what?”
“Get your smart-aleck ass out of here,” Bruckner said. “Time's up.”
Item: The circuit court hearing-to determine if a murder had been committed and if there was sufficient reason to believe Sundeen did it-would be held on the second floor of the city jail. The cells up there had not been occupied in several years. Sections of iron bars had been removed and transported to the mine works to be used, it was said, in the construction of a storage facility for high explosives and blasting equipment. Chairs and benches from the Masonic hall and a funeral parlor were now being placed in the second-floor courtroom for the comfort of spectators and visiting newsmen.
Judge Miller Hough of Tombstone was occupying the LaSalle Suite at the Congress Hotel. Prosecutor Stuart “Stu” Ison, who had practiced law in Sweetmary until winning the county position three years ago, was staying with friends.
The services of a young attorney by the name of Goldwater-said to be a nephew of the owner of the well-known Goldwater & Cateñeda General Store in Bisbee-had been retained to act as counsel for Phil Sundeen.
Color item: The mine and crushing mill continued to work two shifts, business as usual, as the town of Sweetmary bustled with activity in preparation for the hearing. The miners who came down the hill in their coarse work clothes seemed from another world. Many of them were, until recently, from Old World countries. Strange accents and foreign languages were not uncommon on the streets of this mining community.
The news reporters knew what their editors were going to say. Dandy…but, goddamn it, where was the Early-Moon confrontation stuff? The stage was set, the suspense built. Now a cattle rustler and ex-con by the name of Sundeen comes along and steals the spotlight. Did he lynch the Mexican or not? What did company-man Bren Early think about it? More important, what were Early and Moon up to during all this, squaring off or just looking at each other?
That was the trouble, they weren't doing anything. But how did you tell an editor Bren Early was holed up at Mrs. Pierson's, wouldn't answer the door, and Moon hadn't showed up yet? If, in fact, he ever would. The newsmen sent wires to their editors that said, in essence, “Big story to break soon,” and had a few more drinks while they waited for something to happen.
2
The morning of the hearing the newsmen staying at the Congress came down to the dining room and there was Dana Moon and his wife having a breakfast of grits and ham. Moon did not understand what the newsmen were so excited about. Where had he been? Home. If they wanted to see him why didn't they come visit? They asked him why he had been subpoenaed and he said that's why they had come to town this morning, to find out.
Moon and his wife, news reporters trailing behind, stopped by the Fly Gallery to see the latest “showing” in the window: Armando hanging from the telegraph pole. Neither of them said anything as they continued down LaSalle Street to the jail and went upstairs to the hearing.
When the reporters who had been waiting outside Mrs. Pierson's house arrived, they said it didn't look like Bren Early was coming.
After all the excitement and suspense the hearing did not prove to be much of a show. (Which John Slaughter and others could have predicted from the beginning.) Though there was one surprise that stirred considerable interest.
Maurice Dumas, cap under his arm, took the witness stand and told the county attorney, yes, he had seen Mr. Sundeen ride out of Sweetmary with seventeen men. No, Mr. Sundeen would not let any of the reporters follow them. Five hours later he had joined Mr. C.S. Fly and a man in Mr. Sundeen's employ, one Ruben Vega, and accompanied them out to a place where they were to witness a meeting between Mr. Sundeen and Armando Duro. What they found instead was Armando hanging from a pole. Maurice Dumas began to tell about Ruben Vega being “genuinely astonished,” but the county attorney, Stuart Ison, said that was all and for him to step down.
C.S. Fly supported the young newsman's testimony as to the purpose of their journey and what they found out on the road. He did not however-if he had witnessed it-mention Ruben Vega's stunned surprise.
Next, Eladio Duro took the stand. Answering the county attorney's questions he admitted, yes, his people had fired on Mr. Sundeen's group when they crossed the property line. (There were several objections by Mr. Goldwater, Sundeen's counsel, during Eladio's testimony, most of which were sustained by Judge Hough.) Eladio described men coming to their house and a Mexican convincing them it was safe to come out and speak to Mr. Sundeen. But as soon as they were outside, Sundeen's men drew pistols and began to shoot at them. Three people fell dead and another was wounded. Before his father could get back in the house Sundeen's men grabbed him and carried him off. Eladio was asked where his family and friends were now. He said they were hiding because they were afraid for their lives. (Objection: judgmental. Sustained.)
Mr. Goldwater, the defense attorney, cross-examined, asking Eladio if the Mexican who spoke to them first carried something in his hands. Yes, Eladio said, a flag of truce. He was asked if his people had fired weapons at Mr. Sundeen and his men. No. But weren't shots fired at Mr. Sundeen's men? No. From others not standing in the yard? Oh, yes; from Sundeen's men who were up on the slope above the house. But weren't three of Sundeen's men struck down by gunfire and killed? Yes, Eladio said. Shot by mistake, he assumed, by their own companions. Eladio was asked to think very carefully before answering the next question. Did the first shots come from the men in the yard or the men on the slope above the house? Eladio was silent and then said, they seemed to both come at the same time.
Mr. Goldwater then called Dana Moon to the stand and asked him if he had been present at Armando Duro's the morning of May the 19th.
“Not actually present,” Moon said, already uncomfortable sitting here in this hot room full of people…picturing where the cells had been a few years before and where he had talked to Bren through the iron bars.
“But you observed what took place there?”
“Yes.”
“You observed a man holding a white flag?”
“Yes.”
“How far away were you?”
“About four hundred yards.”
“Did you see any others, or another group of men, up on the slope above the house?”
“No.”
“You observed the shooting?”
“Yes.”
“Did you take part in the shooting?”
“Yes.”
“Did you hit anyone?”
Moon hesitated. “I can't say for sure.”
“Did you shoot to kill?”
“I fired to prevent Armando and his people, all of them unarmed, from being shot down in cold blood.”