As they reached the back of the bank building Longarm could see the flat steel top of the old vault protruding from a pile of floorboards and filth. The ornately decorated door, painted in gold scrollwork, stuck up ten or eleven inches out of the pile. It was easy to see at a glance that the door was partially open. Longarm called for a lantern, and one was handed to him. He leaned forward and directed the light inside the vault as best he could.
Young Frye had been right about that, at least. The floor of the vault was littered with dust and fallen papers, but there was no sign of the bags of cash that had been deposited there earlier in the afternoon.
Son of a
Longarm started to mutter. He was interrupted by a flurry of excited voices from his right.
Over here, someone was calling. We found another over here.
Longarm and Frye and half a hundred other men pushed toward the sound of the voice.
Three burly men in overalls and narrow-brimmed hats were straining to lift a beam that once offered support to the banks roof. Before Longarm could reach them, a dozen more men jumped forward to put their muscle into the effort, and the beam was slowly raised inch by painful inch.
Without waiting for a prop to be brought, another man dropped belly-down and edged forward quickly until his head and shoulders were beneath the awful weight of the beam. He was trusting his life to the men doing the lifting. If they slipped, if the beam were allowed to fall, the rescuer would be snuffed out like a candle in a windstorm.
I got him! the courageous rescuer shouted. I got im. Pull me out.
More volunteers grasped the rescuer by the ankles while above him the men straining to hold the beam aloft sweated and grew red-faced from their sustained effort.
Longarm and the other men who were gathered close could see that the rescuer had hold of a mans wrist. The others hauled backward, pulling rescuer and victim alike out from under the ominous weight of the heavy beam. As they were pulled clear, though, the rescuers face went white and he relased his grip on the wrist they all could see.
He let go and scrambled backward on his own, jerking away from the surprised and confused men who had been helping him. He rolled out away from the men who were holding up the beam and turned on hands and knees to vomit. Then, wiping his mouth with the back of a wrist, he shook his head and said, Let er down, boys. Just let it drop.
But
Damnit, the rescuer said in an anguished voice, leave be.
But we seen
Twasnt a man, the rescuer spat. Twas just an arm and shoulder.
Jesus, someone said.
Someone else stepped forward and offered the rescuer a pint bottle. The man drank from it deeply and gratefully, threw up again, and drank a second time.
That looked like Mr. Thomass shirt, Frye said quietly.
Longarm grunted. He touched Fryes elbow and motioned for the boy to follow. Slowly he led the way out of the rubble and past the throngs of spectators on the street. There was no point in waiting there any longer. He had seen what he had to. And it could take the night and perhaps several more days before all the mess was cleaned away and the bodies recovered. The silver miners of Thunderbird Canyon were better able to accomplish that job than Longarm, anyway.
Yes, sir? Frye asked when they were clear of the crowd.
You also told me, didnt you, that youd been up to the jail and there wasnt anybody there?
Yes, sir, thats right. First place I looked was at Miss Jessies place. The sheriff, he likes to go there of an evening. But it was closed for some reason tonight, so I went to the jail. Like I told you, the night lamp was burning but there wasnt nobody there.
Longarm cursed some more. He had left Jessie and Paul Markham both behind bars, damnit, and Markham handcuffed to a cell bar for good measure.
You didnt let anyone out of the cells there? Longarm asked Frye.
Sir? The young deputy looked genuinely confused. I dont know how youd mean, sir. The cells was empty. Wasnt anybody in them to let out even if Id wanted to. Which o course I wouldnt.
Yeah. Sure.
Longarm climbed to the top floor of the courthouse anyway. Frye had been telling the truth. The office and cells were empty. A lamp with the wick trimmed low burned in a wall fixture.
The only thing Longarm could see out of placeexcept of course for the cell doors that were standing openwas a desk drawer that was slightly ajar. He was fairly sure that that drawer had been closed when he left the room earlier.
Longarm pulled the drawer open. It held a few papers, an ink bottle, and a tray of steel pen nibs, nothing of real interest. What did Markham keep in here, Charlie?
Frye glanced over his shoulder. Just the stuff you see there, Marshal, and I think some spare sets of keys too. I dont see them, though.
Handcuff keys?
Sure. Fryes expression showed that he had no idea what Longarm was getting at. Longarm was convinced the youngster was not actor enough to play this out as a role. He honestly did not know what, if anything, could be wrong here.
Sit down, Charlie. I think its about time I told you a few things. Like for instance how I guess you are the acting sheriff here now that Chief Deputy Mayes is dead.
Charlie blinked in confusion but sat where he was told.
Longarm found Markhams whiskey in a bottom desk drawer, selected the better of the two labels available there, and poured drinks for both of them. He didnt know about Charlie Frye, but right about now Longarm felt a need for a stout drink.
Now, Charlie, the situation is
Chapter Twenty-Four
It was three oclock in the morning, undoubtedly an odd time for the countys board of supervisors to meet, but Longarm had insisted on having the three men brought together at this hour.
Two of the men he had already met. They had been Paul Markhams distinguished visitors the evening before, when Longarm broke up Markhams party by putting the sheriff under arrest. The tall gentleman who was too dignified to consort with whores turned out to the S. Vance Hightower, his companion the previous evening Wellington Jones, and the third supervisor Howie Bright. Among them they represented major ownership interests in the three mines of Thunderbird Canyondamn convenient, Longarm thought, for the big money to represent all the local political power tooand Jones owned the Huckman mine outright.
All of them had been awake in the aftermath of the bank explosion, but none seemed particularly pleased to be called into emergency session now. Charlie Frye sat meekly off in a corner looking nervous and more than a little afraid.
Thank you for coming, gentlemen, Longarm told them.
Better be a damned good reason for this, Marshal, Bright said.
There is, sir. Longarm cleared his throat and reached for a cheroot. Fatigue was making his head ache and thump again, and a shot of rye would have been much more welcome than a smoke right now, but this was not the time for it. Later would have to do.
As I am sure you are all aware, gentlemen, Thunderbird Canyon is having a difficult night.
Thats one way of putting it, Bright agreed.
To belabor the obvious, gentlemen, your bank has been blown up and your payroll funds stolen, presumably by the White Hood Gang. At the same time, your sheriff, under arrest for violation of federal antislavery laws, has managed an escape from custody and has disappeared.
So were told, Bright said sourly.
The point is, gentlemen, this is a moment of crisis. What I need from you is a formal declaration of emergency.