Chapter 3

Andy, Christina, Cowboy, Matilda, and Gabriela were just walking up the station platform steps as the train arrived. Malik swung down from the passenger car and into the arms of his wife. He had not seen Gabriela for six weeks, since he had seen her off when she returned to her ranch, at the beginning of March. After a brief embrace -- this being the age of decorum known as the Victorian Era -- Malik greeted everyone else, adding cheek kisses for Christina and Matilda.

He asked Andy, “Are Missus Edwards and Sean still here?”

“Yes. Mitchel Anderson put them into the suite, gratis,” Andy said.

“Good for him. I hadn’t even considered that.”

Andy said, “Reckon you had a few things on your mind. But who’s this forlorn looking creature following you off the train?”

All looked up to see Lonegan, grinning, saddle bags over his shoulder.

“Howdy, one and all. Judge Westcott insisted I come along to make sure Emil got off at the right stop. Did you folks know that this man gets to ride the train for free?”

Cowboy said, “Ya’at’eeh, Marshal, and congratulations on your appointment.”

Andy said, “He just doesn’t just get to ride for free. He’s actually assembling his own train.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Malik said. “Before we start with train car tours, we need to get organized. There’s a lot to do. But first, Connor and I need to visit with Bill’s mother and brother. Are they at the hotel, now?”

Andy said, “I expect so. They’re going to take Bill’s body back to Shepherds Crossing on the train this afternoon. They purchased a coffin and had him embalmed here. The service will be held first thing Monday morning, so that Jackson County folks who attend can catch the afternoon train back here.”

“Fine. We’ll go visit with them, then let’s have lunch in one of the private dining rooms at the Inn. Gabriela, would you arrange that for about,” he pulled out his watch, “twelve fifteen? I’ll invite the Edwards and any of you who would like to may join us. Lunch will be on me. Jacob and Hannah are also welcome, if they would like. I’ll let Missus Edwards know that we’ll tell her about Bill and his life here in Waypoint during lunch. Let’s talk about the cheerful memories, so she’ll know he was happy here.”

Christina said, “What about Mariel Kuiper? She and Bill were keeping company and were getting pretty serious.”

“Oh, of course. Would you go collect her, please, and invite Hannah and your pa?

“I’ll walk out to Kuiper’s now. You know, we should probably invite Francine, too.”

“Oh, of course. Tell you what, since my head seems to be loose, all of you just invite anyone you think should come.”

Gabriela said, “I think we’ve got it covered, now. What else needs doing?”

“Uh, train tickets. Matilda, would you be good enough to organize the train tickets for everyone who’s going, both ways, for tomorrow afternoon and Monday morning’s return? Here’s money for that. Let me know if that’s not enough. As the Marshal said, my ticket will not require payment. Just tell Mister Trent one of ‘em’s for me.”

“I’ll get the count at lunch.”

“Oh, purchase the Edwards’ tickets for this afternoon, too, please”

Malik looked around the group again. “Anyone have anything urgent, that won’t keep until we’re at lunch? No? Good. We’ll see you in a bit. Andy, Cowboy, would you come with Connor and me to visit Missus Edwards?”

Minnie Edwards, a tall, rawboned woman, and her older -- now, only -- son, Sean, the chief deputy for the Franklin County sheriff, were in the sitting room of the two-room suite at the Old Courthouse Inn. When Malik saw the army-style folding cot pushed into the corner he said, “Sean, we could easily have arranged for you to use the bed in another room. You needn’t have slept on that cot.”

“I was fine, Emil. I wanted to stay near Ma, in any case. Neither of us slept much, as it is.”

Malik looked at the tired older woman who had stood up when they entered. He walked over to her and took her hands in his. “Missus Edwards, I can’t even imagine what it must be like to lose a child. I won’t pretend I do. But please know that I feel a profound sense of loss to know that Bill will no longer be part of our lives. Through his friendship with Andy, he had become a member of our family. And he had already become an important part of Waypoint. Our entire community will be less without him. But please, sit. Marshal Lonegan would like to tell you some things.”

Malik walked over and shook hands with Sean and put a hand on his shoulder, while Lonegan went to one knee next to where Minnie Edwards sat on the couch.

Lonegan said, “Missus Edwards, Sean,” he looked over his shoulder, “and you, too Andy and Cowboy,” then again he faced Minnie Edwards, holding her hands in his, “what I now tell you must remain confidential. The first reason for that is because it will help us catch Bill’s killers. The other reason is that it will help us resolve some other illegal activity.

“Here, then, is what no one knew, except me, Judge Westcott, and the judge’s clerk. Your son, Bill, had been sworn in as a deputy United States marshal eight months ago. He was helping in the investigation of several problems, problems which I don’t intend to describe. However, we are almost certain that Bill was shot because of an entirely unrelated matter not having anything to do with the investigation he was involved in as a deputy US marshal.”

Sean Edwards asked, “Marshal, can you tell us what you think that reason was?”

Lonegan looked over at Edwards, who still stood with Malik’s hand on his shoulder. Lonegan sighed. “I suppose so, but it isn’t something we can prove, nor are we fully positive we are right, so it is important that you keep that in mind. Agreed?” He looked at Edwards.

Edwards said, “Sheriff Hanson always insists we keep our personal cares out of our work, so I know how to separate myself from it. Ma, can you handle knowing something but not doing anything about it?”

“Right now,” she said, “not knowing, I feel like going out into the street and screaming at the top of my lungs and calling God’s wrath down on the entire town. I’m sorry, Mister Malik, but that’s how I feel. But to address your concern, Marshall, any knowledge will only help reduce the terrible helplessness I feel, even if it’s only a little.”

Emil walked over and sat down next to her on the couch and took one of her hands from Lonegan. “I can understand that feeling, Missus Edwards. I am not offended in the least. Go ahead, Marshal,” he said to Lonegan.

The Marshal made eye contact with everyone again, then said to Mrs. Edwards, “We suspect, only suspect, mind you, that Bill was shot to prevent him from being a candidate for Jackson County Sheriff in the election this fall.”

“What?” Minnie Edwards exclaimed.

“The hell you say,” Edwards muttered, but loudly enough that all heard.

Andy said, “It’s true. People had mentioned his name as a possible candidate. I think he would have worked well as sheriff. But I also thought that, with a few more years as a deputy under his belt, he’d have made an outstanding sheriff. And, now that I’ve heard the notion, I’m convinced he would have made an even better deputy US marshal.”

“Who do you suspect?” Edwards wanted to know.

“Sean, it’s too speculative to be bandying names.” Lonegan said. “We don’t have all the connections made and, if any of these men find out that Bill was a deputy marshal or if they find out that we’re on to them, then those connections will quickly disappear, to Mexico or Canada or someplace we can’t find them. Then we won’t find out who was actually behind it.”

“But you do know some of the men involved?”

“We think so.”

“How do you know?

“Emil tracked them.”

Edwards looked questioningly at Malik.

“I know one man’s face and first name. I know the other man’s voice and only a quick glimpse at the side of his face. I know their boot prints. I think I know where they roost. I know of one man who helped them, but I don’t know if that man was involved with, or even knew about, the shooting. The rest is all guesses. But overriding all that is the fact that no one, except Bill, actually saw who shot him, so there is nothing that any of us can testify to regarding that very salient detail.”

Edwards looked from Malik to Lonegan, then back again. Then he looked at his mother. It was her turn to explain the realities. She said, “Son, what you’re thinking is revenge. What these men are pursuing is justice. It will likely have the same or an even better outcome, from our point of view. It’s just that it won’t be by either your hands or mine. That’s the only part of it we don’t like, the vengeance that we’d rather wreak on them ourselves. But if it was just up to us, we’d still be sitting here not knowing a thing. So I think it’s all better off that the Marshal handles it in his own way and that we stay out of his way.”

Her son slowly nodded and said, “It’s a big rock to swallow, but I reckon you’re right, Ma. Reckon, too, you’ll probably have to remind me several more times, over the next few days.”

She took her hands away from the two men near her and held them out to Edwards. He stepped over and clasped them. “Sean, I couldn’t possibly be more pleased with the way you and your brother turned out,” she said. “Had your Pa lived, he’d ‘a been poppin’ his buttons in pride. My job was to turn out men, good men. And I did.” Her tears began to flow, but she had a kerchief at hand to dab her eyes.

Malik stood to let Edwards sit next to his mother. Lonegan pulled his watch, looked at it, put it away, and said, “Missus Edwards, Mister Malik has arranged a lunch with Bill’s friends, downstairs in a private dining room. We’d like you to join us.”

“Oh, no. For one, I can’t afford it. For another, I’m just in a terrible state and crying at the drop of a hat.”

“The crying is of pure necessity, at times like this,” Malik said. “But don’t worry about costs. I’ll let you in on one more secret that I’d appreciate you keep to yourselves. I own this hotel. Well, me and some others, but mostly me. Folks think it’s owned by a farm supply company, but we made that company up so I wouldn’t get hog-tied by the county while we set up the business and got it running.”

Edwards said, “Let’s go down, Ma. These are Bill’s friends. They want to share their grief with us, too, while we share ours with them.”

Chuckling, Sean Edwards put down his fork and said to Andy, “Yeah, but I knew that it was Bill all along. He thought he was getting away with something. He was so pleased about it that I couldn’t bring myself to knock the pins out from under him. So I just kept quiet and let him have the new saddle. There was nothing wrong with my old one. I’m just surprised he was still telling that story. Hope to heaven that wasn’t the high point of his life.”

Andy said, “No, Sean, I reckon Miss Mariel, here, has that distinction.” Mariel Kuiper, sitting between Andy and Christina, began blushing like a house afire.

Edwards said, “That flush on her face makes me think you are right, Andy.” Given-name familiarity had been established by Malik at the beginning of the meal, though Minnie Edwards was still being addressed as “Missus Edwards,” with the same courtesy being extended to Francine Kuiper and Hannah Isely.

“Anders Malik, you mind your tongue,” Christina warned, leaning forward to glare at her husband.

Minnie Edwards said, “You stop picking on that young lady, Sean. Bill wrote about her in his letters, about how lovely and thoughtful and smart she was, and what a hard worker and how generous she was with her time, helping others, like teaching embroidery at the school, and for no pay. Bill thought very highly of you, Mariel. He prized your company.”

“Thank you, Missus Edwards.” The Kuiper girl, still blushing furiously, began to tear up. “He was very dear to me. No, he was precious to me, ma’am. I just never thought...” Her crying overcame her and Christina put an arm over her shoulder. All the women, including Mariel Kuiper, were well fortified with handkerchiefs by this juncture.

“I apologize, Mariel,” Edwards said. “I’m just used to the rough and tumble talk with my brother, and my tongue got away from me.”

“Forgive me as well, please, Mariel,” Andy hurried to add. “Bill would have taken me to task for upsetting you. I suppose all of us are off balance with his loss. I know he thought the world of you and would not have permitted such familiar speech.”

Cowboy leaned back in his chair and said, “Speaking of off balance recalls one Sunday afternoon Bill and I were fishin’, below the railroad bridge. Of a sudden, he hooked into what must have been, if not the king of the catfish, then at least the crown prince. But, to be correct, when I say he hooked into it, what I should have said was that his fish pole hooked into it, because, at that precise moment, that bamboo stick rested only on his knees, without further restraint. That was because Bill had been overcome by one of Missus Kuiper’s delicious Sunday dinners, and he’d drifted off to sleep on that soft, grassy bank, in the warm autumn sun, the happiest little smile on his lips...”

“Nice save with that fishing story, Cowboy. Was that true, or did you make that up?” Malik asked his friend.

Malik, along with Cowboy, Andy, and Lonegan, were walking up Jackson Street to his office, at the corner of Courthouse Avenue, placing it across from both the new Jackson County Courthouse and the Old Courthouse Inn. Following the solemn send-off of the Edwards’ family, including Bill’s coffin, on the northbound train, the men had walked over to the K&ASR switchyard where Malik’s railcar was spotted, on the north edge of town. After the brief tour, Baylor had returned to his store and Malik had asked the others to join him at his office.

Cowboy replied, “It really happened, though he’d sworn me to secrecy. But I’m sure he’d have gladly sacrificed his dignity on behalf of Mariel, so I allowed him a last opportunity.”

Andy gave Cowboy a quizzical look. “You been taking silver tongue lessons from the Marshall?” he asked.

Lonegan said, “No, we’re just similarly blessed with the gift of uh ... articlicity? Articularity? Ah, smooth-talkin’.”

They all were laughing as Malik unlocked the door to the stairway leading up to his rooms. He’d been carrying the cardboard folio box, the one Fisk had given him, throughout the day, keeping it always in hand or in view, and it was under his arm as he followed the others up the stairs.

He invited them to sit around his small dining table, then said, quietly. “We’re meeting up here, rather than in my office, because Cowboy has demonstrated to me how easily conversations in my office can be overheard from the street, and that was with the windows closed. Even up here, I suggest we keep our voices tight.” He set the folio on the table and said, “I’ll fetch us some cool water from the basement. Anyone want something stronger?” He had no takers, so he went down the stairs and returned a minute later with a large glass carafe. He brought four glass tumblers from a cupboard, then sat down and reached for the folio box.

“Been wonderin’ when you’d be openin’ that,” Andy said.

“Well, wonder no more, little brother, but, in the meantime, take a gander at this,” and he produced, from his inner coat pocket, a square, black leather pocketbook which he set in front of Andy.

Andy opened the wallet, took a quick read of the contents, and said, “Well, now I have heard of everything. Life can have no more surprises.” He looked at Cowboy, who was seated next to him. “Did you know about this?” and he passed him Malik’s badge and commission case.

Cowboy betrayed his surprise only by a slight widening of his eyes and said to Andy, “It’s news to me.”

Cowboy handed the case back to Malik, who said, “Well, that was the entertainment. Now comes the work.” He pulled the typewritten plan from the cardboard briefcase. “As I hope you were able to decipher from my telegram from Villagemill, the two men I followed onto the train got off at Cleveland and were met by another man. That man had two extra saddle horses bearing the B-Bar-L brand. The three of them rode off together, but I’d boxed myself in earlier by telling them I was going to Fort Birney, so I couldn’t follow them off the train.

“Moreover, the man who had brought their fresh horses into the Leander Hills was identified by Sheriff Hanson as Clarence Odey, the manager of Arthur Coates’ livery stable at the Crossing. Later, I realized Odey had looked familiar to me because he was one of that B-Bar-L posse at the Crossing station when the Marshall had us in his custody. Now, go ahead and read this.” He set the plan between Andy and Cowboy, where both could read it at the same time, then poured some water into each glass. He and Lonegan sat silently until the other two looked up.

“I assume there’s a reason you didn’t include me as a deputy,” Andy said to Lonegan.

“That was my notion, Andy,” Malik said. “I figure, if you run for sheriff, I didn’t want the voters wondering which job would be getting your loyalty, as word of our appointments will likely get out sooner or later.”

Andy was nodding his head. “Ah, you’re right, big brother. The sheriff idea’s been growing on me.”

“I think it would be a good fit for you and you for it.”

Cowboy said, “According to this plan, Gabriela should be here.”

“Oh, you’re right,” Malik said, looking a bit flustered. “This whole business has me at cross purposes. Does anyone know where she went?”

Andy said, “Christina was going to take Mariel Kuiper to get a mourning dress from Missus Palmer. At a guess, she’s likely with them.”

Malik said, “I’ll go down and see.”

After he left, Cowboy said to Lonegan, “He shouldn’t be but a minute or so. The dress shop’s in the next building.”

Two minutes later, Malik returned with Gabriela. The men all stood. Malik said, “Please sit, Gabriela, and I’ll catch you up.”

Malik pulled over an ottoman from in front of an overstuffed chair and brought it next to the table. He sat on the cushioned and upholstered stool, though he was several inches lower than the others.

He said,”Gabriela, we are here, in the apartment, because conversations downstairs can be heard outside, even through the window glass. What we are discussing is confidential and not to be repeated where anyone else could hear it, nor told to anyone else deliberately. Can you agree to those strictures?”