Chapter Twenty-One
There is a special comradery that exists between fishin' partners. Charley reckoned that this unusual relationship resulted from spending endless early morning hours together on the bank of a river--drowning worms and dodging mosquitoes. There was something about gazing into the water's reflection that caused a man to reflect on life. Sitting there, on a remote riverbank--enveloped by the beauty and solitude of the Great Outdoors--a man tended to bare his soul. On the other hand, the incredibly relaxed atmosphere lended itself to some incredibly light-hearted observations. As a result, the range of conversation constantly rotated from profoundly philosophical to just plain funny. And, because neither of them knows which direction the conversation pendulum might be heading in next, fishin' partners never seem to take one another too seriously. That's the way it was with he and Crown. A-And, while it was true the two never caught a lot of fish, they sure had an awful lot of fun!
When Charley entered the Federal Marshal's Office, he found his fishin' partner pacing--slowly and deliberately--back and forth in front of his desk.
"Have a seat!" Crown invited, motioning with his head in the direction of a chair.
Charley studied the 'locked in perpetual motion' Marshal carefully for a few moments.
There was a sort of distracted look in the lawman's slightly drooping eyes and a certain tightness in the lines of his freshly-shaved face. That his fishin' partner was in pain was also apparent by the way he clutched at his rib cage with his folded left arm. His right arm was held stiff and straight--and close to his side.
"You're the one who should sit down, Crown!" Mr. Adams casually observed, successfully concealing his growing alarm.
"If yah don't stop movin', yah don't have ta git started again..." Crown countered, without breaking stride.
"If yah don't sit down, you're gonna fall down!" came back Charley's reply. Then he stepped in front of the moving man and stopped him in mid-pace. The Marshal's eyes met his and Charley could clearly see all the discomfort, fatigue and frustration that was reflected in them.
"I'm fi-ine," the lawman nonchalantly announced, seeing the growing concern that was reflected in his friend's eyes.
Charley just stared back at him, looking deeply skeptical, "That's why you are never gonna amount ta more than an average angler, Crown. Truly great fishermen are born liars! And you-ou can't lie-ie worth a darn!"
For a few fleeting moments, amusement replaced the misery in the Marshal's tired eyes. But then he blinked them into stern, determined slits, "There ain't nothin' wrong with me--that a few hours a' sleep won't fix!"
'That kin be arranged...' Charley thought to himself.
"All right," the lawman added exasperatedly, seeing that his friend remained unconvinced, "we'll both have a seat!" Then he turned carefully around and stepped carefully up behind his desk--where he even more carefully collapsed--down onto his chair.
Charley sank back into the Senator's vacated armchair/bed and then motioned with his head in the direction of the jail, "I, uh...couldn't help but notice that you've arrested the town's new Doctor. What's the cha-arge?" he wondered lightly, "Operatin' without a license?"
The Marshal's eyes sparkled with amusement once again. He thought of all the trunks and crates that were cluttering up his jail, "Obstructin' justice!" And of how the kid had kept bothering him in spite of being warned not to, "And disturbin' the peace!" he replied--equally lightly.
But Charley looked more alarmed than amused, "Well...how long are you gonna keep 'im locked up?!"
The lawman managed a one shouldered shrug, "That depends entirely on him...an' how fast he learns his lessons. Enuff about him. What about you? You feel up ta takin' a little ri-ide this afternoon?"
Charley thought his fishin' partner's responses over for a few moments before making his response, "That depends entirely on you...an' on how far you're expectin' me ta go."
The Marshal stared sadly and solemnly down at the folder on his desk, "I'd like yah ta ride out ta John Two Rivers' place...an' deliver this deed for me," he added, picking the paper up and passing it left-handedly across his desk, "It may be of some comfort ta Beth an' the boy ta know that their land is now legally their's. An' that they won' have ta lea-eave..." he let his sad, soft-spoken words trail off.
"Why, of course!" Charley sat forwards in his seat and accepted both his assignment and the folder, "I'd be glad ta give this to her!"
The Marshal shot him a grateful glance, "Tell her I have John's murderer in custody. An' that I'll let her know when he stands trial..." Again the lawman let his words trail off.
Again Charley nodded his willingness to be of assistance, "I'll take care of it! Don't you worry about a thing! You jes' go on upstairs an' get some sleep!"
"Maybe later..." the Marshal told him, "I still have some unfinished business ta take care a'..."
Charley suddenly looked even more alarmed. He'd been watching Roger Mareck's men ride in all morning, "You'd be better off if you were ta go ta bed NOW--an' leave that business unfinished!"
But Crown completely ignored his friend's timely warning. "Roger Mareck is about ta be taught a lesson. He's about ta learn that he can't escape the long arm a' the la-aw."
"An' you intend ta teach 'im that lesson!" Charley muttered glumly. 'Even if it's the last thing you do!' he added even more glumly--to himself.
Crown nodded confidently. "One way--or the other--Roger Mareck will be held accountable for his...cri-imes!" he finished finally. The telegrams he'd asked Francis to send off for him would see to that!
That clinched it! Charley gulped in disbelief and quickly came to a decision concerning the powerful sedative that he was carrying in his pocket. He saw the Marshal staring sadly off into space, and decided to make his move.
"Help yourself..." the Marshal said, snapping back to reality in time to find Charley standing beside his desk. "I wasn' gonna drink it anyways. It's a little too watered down for my taste."
Charley overcame his dismay at being caught reaching for the cup just in time to be even more dismayed. If Crown had no intentions of drinking his coffee, then ho-ow--? Charley's eyebrows arched as a thought suddenly occured to him, "I don't care much for weak coffee, myself. But I sure am dry-y! What a' yah say I buy us a couple a' beers before I go? You look like you could use a drink!" he added lightly as Crown hesitated to take him up on his tempting offer.
"All right!" Crown finally conceded, "But, since you're already doin' me a favor," he flashed his friend a smile and then flipped him a quarter, "I'm buyin'!"
Charley returned his smile, but kept the coin. He had never turned down a free drink in his life--and he was not about to start now! Especially not no-ow!
So Mr. Adams exited the office and stepped through the Inn. He sat the two bits down on the bar and snatched up two tall glasses. Then, after dispensing the foaming contents of one of Fabriccio's freshly-tapped kegs into them, he placed them down on the ledge behind the bar and pulled out the little bottle of powerful sedative. He added a little of its clear--seemingly odorless--and hopefully tasteless--contents to the glass on the right and then quickly stashed it back out of sight. Then, to insure that there would be no mix up, Charley took several long swallows from the left glass before daring to make his delivery.
"Here's ta long li-ife!" Charley said as he re-entered the office and passed his fishin' partner the fully-loaded mug of beer--which he accepted with his left hand.
Crown nodded his approval of the toast and started to down his doctored brew. But then he stopped...smacked his lips...and shot his drinking companion a strange look, "This stuff taste all right ta you-ou?"
"It's a little fla-at. But, other than tha-at..." Considering the circumstances, Charley's reply was incredibly cool and calm. But then, Charley was a truly great 'fisherman'!
The Marshal assumed that he must be imagining things, and quickly polished off the rest of his drink. Then he slammed his empty mug down hard on his desk and managed another smile--of satisfaction, "If you expect ta make it back here before dark, you'd better get a move on!" he advised as his supposedly thirsty companion failed to finish his beer.
But Charley completely ignored his advice and just kept right on standing there, staring rather uneasily down at him.
Crown completely ignored his strange stare and pulled his watch from his vest pocket to stare down at it. "We'd both better get a move on!" he added, observing the time.
Charley tensed, "Where do you got ta move on to?!"
"I promised Francis I'd bring 'im over somethin' ta eat," Crown calmly replied as he replaced his watch. Then he braced himself and carefully began raising himself up out of his seat.
"No-o!" Charley panicked as he envisioned his now powerfully sedated fishin' partner passing out--right in the middle of Main Street! "Let me do that! Where's he at?!" he wondered, latching onto the lawman's right wrist and jerking him back down.
The Marshal grimaced and gasped as the sudden stop jarred his shoulder. "Tha-anks!" he gulped, when he finally got his breath back, "But I kin manage it, myself. Besides, you already got an errand ta run. Remember?"
"Yea-eah..." his terribly apologetic looking companion glumly realized, "Ri-ight..." and he reluctantly released his hold on the man. 'I'll jes' have ta tag along--at a discreet distance--an' try ta catch yah...when you finally keel over,' Charley realized further--to himself.
The Marshal made another attempt to rise and, this time, no attempt was made to stop him. "Have a safe trip!" he called out as he headed over to his hat rack, "An' I'll see yah when yah get back!" Crown flashed his worried looking friend a warm smile and tossed his Stetson on his head. Then, after tipping it slightly, he turned and went out the back way. Apparently, the lawman didn't want to risk being followed.
Charley guzzled down the remainder of the beer in his glass and delayed his departure from the office. If he was going to successfully pursue his fishin' partner, he would need to be very discreet, indee-eed!
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But Charley was just a little bit too 'discreet'. It took him five minutes to catch up to Crown.
And, by then, the Marshal was already heading back to his office!
That is, until Judge Rutger's stepped out of the little diner that was just down the street--and blocked his path.
Charley, who was beginning to have serious doubts about the sedative's supposed powers, squeezed himself into a doorway two buildings down and listened--along with the rest of the townsfolk in the vicinity--to what the two men had to say to each other.
"What's the matter, Judge?" Crown innocently inquired, "You're lookin' at me like I was a ghost...or somethin'."
"Maybe you a-are!" the judge replied, rather matter-of-factly, "That would certainly explain a lot of things." The man tried to side-step the Marshal.
But, this time, Crown blocked his path.
The judge tried to step aside again.
But again the Marshal stopped him.
"You are a hard man to get rid of, Crown!" his honor admitted icily.
"You ought ta kno-ow!" Crown came back--equally icily, "You've been tryin' long enuff! Why, you've been payin' people ta take potshots at me for the pas' two months! I was wonderin' what I had done ta become so unpopular...An' here, you were jes' tryin' ta clear the way for 'Mister' Mareck. You mus' be wonderin' what you're gonna run out a' first...money?...or assassins? I figure you mus' be runnin' rea-eal low on both! Because I'm still here! I keep comin' ba-ack--ta haunt you," The Marshal paused in his taunting to stare at the judge in total disbelief, "You actually went...from Colby an' Reimes...ta the Hampton brothers?! Ain't that what they call goin' from the sublime...ta the ridiculous?!" Crown continued taunting. .
And finally succeeded in coaxing a response, "I never thought one had to be a genius to be an assassin. After all, how much smarts does it take to squeeze a trigger?"
"I dunno..." Crown confessed, "But I'm livin' proof that it mus' take at least a little more than you reckoned on! Right, Rutgers? An' yah know...I'll bet that it takes even less smarts ta send a corrupt Judge ta jail for acceptin' bribes, an' attempted murder! No-o...I don' expect it'll take all that mu-uch. Why, with a little coachin', I imagine even the Hampton brothers should be able ta figure out which hand ta rai-aise...an' which hand ta place on the Bible. Yah see-ee, they seem ta feel that seven hundred dollars is worth killin' for...But it ain't worth bein' killed for. Yes, sir! I kin hardly wait ta see you in court again--yore 'Honor'!" the perforated--and powerfully sedated?--peace officer paused again...apparently for effect, "Money an' assassins ain't the only things you're about ta run out a', Rutgers! Yore boss' train leaves at two! If you got any smarts left, at all...you'll be ON it!"
Speaking of being effected...
Charley was so alarmed to learn that Crown had learned of Mareck's leaving--that he nearly fell out of the doorway!
There was a lo-ong, ominous silence...followed by the sound of boot heels, echoing off down the boardwalk.
Charley chanced a glance and discovered, to his dismay, that--with the exception of one extremely flustered-looking, exceedingly-corrupt court official--the sidewalk was now empty. Charley left his hideout and hurried off after his fishin' partner.
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Charley caught up to Crown before he reached his office.
The Marshal had stopped out in front of the Inn and was just sort of standing there--in the middle of Main Street--staring off into space again.
'Uh-oh! This must be it!' Charley thought and began creeping up behind the man--so that he'd be there to catch him when he finally keeled over.
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Crown was recalling a conversation, which had been held in that exact spot--earlier that morning...
"It took Miss Dulcey's party last night for us to realize just how beholdin' this whole town is to you, Marshal."
"George is right. We all owe you a debt of gratitude."
"And we want you to know that we are ready, willing and perfectly able to begin paying that debt back."
"With interest!"
"That's right! So please--feel free to deputize as many men as you need."
"We held an emergency town meeting this morning. And every man present agreed--that if it came to a showdown...well, you won't be facing this Mareck fella ALONE!"
"That's right! We're behind you, Marshal! One hundred percent!"
"Thank you, gentlemen. A-An' thank the rest a' the men, too. But I don't believe it'll come ta that. Because Roger Mareck's gonna be leavin' town very short--" ...
The Marshal dropped--and spun as he drew. And, as Crown came around, he was so clo-ose to his target that he rammed the tip of his Colt right into the pit of the man's tummy!
And it was Charley's turn to grimace and gasp! Charley watched as first recognition and then relief and finally rage filled the lawman's slightly squinting eyes.
"What's the matter with you, Charley?!" the Marshal shouted angrily, "You know better than ta come creepin' up on a man carryin' a gu-un! Ma-an! You came THIS close ta gittin' yore bellybutton blown off! An' how do yah think that would a' made me fee-eel?!"
"Not nearly as bad as it would a' made me feel..." his pale--and still quite visibly shaken--fishin' partner confessed, seeing how closely together his friend's thumb and index finger were pressed.
The equally pale--also quite visibly shaken--Marshal heaved a long heavy sigh, that ended in an exasperated gasp, and carefully holstered his gun, "You mus' be a whole lot 'ti-ireder' than you look! You kin forget about runnin' that errand for me! You'd better go back ta be-ed, instea-ead! Before yah step out in front of the noon stage an' get yourself trampled ta death, or somethin'!"
"I'm fi-ine. Honest! I'm not the least bit ti-ired!" Charley told him truthfully. Then he cocked his head and stared up at the powerfully sedated Marshal, looking both confused and curious, "Are you-ou?...The least bit 'ti-ired'?"
It was a rather odd question--which Crown did not feel obligated to answer. But, upon seeing his friend's extremely anxious stare, he decided to do so, anyways.
Charley waited expectantly while his fishin' partner apparently took inventory.
Crown's shoulder was still killing him. But he no longer cared. And his thoughts no longer seemed to be focused on his breathing. His thoughts no longer seemed to be focused, period! The combination of the alcohol in the beer and the alkaloid in the sedative was creating pandemonium with the Marshal's--usually crystal clear--thought processes. And that was because the areas of the brain that were being most affected by this dangerous drug duo were the areas that regulated one's sound judgment and determined one's inihibitions. In short, the Marshal's brain was rapidly losing its ability to distinguish the deadly difference between rational and irrational thoughts, and appropriate or inappropriate behavior! Unfortunately, the lawman was unaware of all this. Crown could tell that he had a slight headache. Bu-ut...aside from tha-at..."I'm fi-ine," Charley's fishin' partner was finally forced to conclude, "In fact, this is the best I've felt--all mornin'!" Then he spun on his heels and started striding briskly off--in the direction of his office. He hadn't found Charley's frown or the look of obvious disappointment on his face the least bit peculiar.
Which struck Charley as being a bit peculiar. He stiffened and started off after him, "Hey! Wait up, Crown! Hold the door!"
Crown did.
And they both entered his office...and they both had a seat.
Charley watched in wonder as the Marshal flopped himself down on his chair and then just sort of sat there, drumming his fingers on his desk and staring blankly off into space.
The lawman was lost in his 'wi-ild' thoughts. 'What if Mareck has enough ill-gotten capital gains of his own ta bankroll this operation, himself? What if it doesn't matter that his investors have pulled out an' his bank drafts are no good? Maybe I should have Francis send another telegram...' he silently and solemnly realized. He slid the center drawer of his desk open and started to pull out a piece of paper. But then, one of his spare badges slid into view and another--even wilder--thought suddenly occured to him. There might be a way to get Mareck to disclose his personal finances. After all, there was more than one way to make the man PAY for his crimes! Crown picked the badge up out of the drawer. Then he picked himself up out of his chair and started heading for the door.
"Where yah goin'?!" Charley asked anxiously, leaping to his feet.
"Fishin'!" the Marshal called back over his shoulder and then disappeared out into the street. He was about to turn a rash idea into a rash action!
Maybe he hadn't used enough of the stuff...o-or maybe the stuff was no good. "I should a' known better than ta trust that ki-id Doctor!" Charley muttered glumly, giving voice to his growing consternation. He gasped in complete and utter exasperation and then took off after his friend again. Only this time, he would cast discretion to the wind and stay right on Crown's heels--come hell or high water!
"Where yah goin'?!" the Senator stopped and wondered as his partner brushed passed him on the boardwalk.
But his partner did not bother to respond.
"Where's he goin'?!" Dave repeated, pulling Charley to a stop.
"Fishin'!" Charley announced rather irritatedly. "You're welcome ta come alo-ong..." he added, seeing that the man carried a gun and--judging by how low it hung on his hip--that he obviously knew how to use one.
So the Marshal's two fishin' partners followed the lawman--over to the former Cimarron Hotel...through the lobby full of lawyers...up two flights of stairs...down a long hallway...and clear into the third room on the right.
Four startled men started getting to their feet. But then they saw who it was--and froze.
"Relax, gentlemen!" Crown advised the four, still half-seated figures, "I'm here ta discuss some important business."
"You got no business, here, Cro-own!" one of the gentlemen snidely replied as he and the other three sank uneasily back down in their seats, "Important or otherwise!"
"Shut up, Gordy!" 'Mister' Mareck ordered, "I'd like to hear what the nice lawman has to say!" he added, his words oozing with insincerity.
And the four relaxed gentlemen glanced at each other and grinned.
Charley didn't know quite what to make of things. But his sweating palms were proof enough that the situation was fa-ar from amusing.
Ever since they had entered the building, Dave had been getting the distinct impression that something was about to happen that might make Maggie a...widow! But then, if that were the case, his partner would never have allowed him to tag along. After all, the promise was Jim's idea in the first place! The Senator swallowed hard and stood there, hoping that he wouldn't be forced now to break it.
"This 'ba-adge' is up for sa-ale!" Crown announced to everyone's astonishment--and disbelief. Then he glanced down at his vest--at the piece of tin that was pinned to his chest. "Care ta make an offer?" he inquired calmly and calmly glanced back up.
Roger Mareck remained so stunned that it was some time before he could speak. "You're joking!" he insisted, his voice still filled with disbelief. But then aga-ain, the streets weren't exactly crawling with government reinforcements. And the Justice Department had, in fact, hung the Marshal out to dry! Maybe the lawman had had a cha-ange of heart?
"It's been recently brought ta my attention, that Rutgers is offerin' a sizeable reward for this thing. Now, I figure that--if there's any money ta be collected for my-y 'badge'--I may as well be the one doin' the collectin'!"
That sounded reasonable enough--to Roger Mareck, "Did you have a certain 'figure' in mi--?"
"Mister Mareck, do-on't--!" Gordy began.
But was quickly silenced by another shouted order to, "Shut up!"
Crown suddenly looked curious, "What did you pay for Blakesley's command?"
"Ten thousand!" Mareck obligingly informed him.
"An' Rutgers' gavel?"
"That cost me another ten thousand!" Mareck begrudgingly confessed.
"That bein' the ca-ase, I figure this 'ba-adge' ought ta be worth at least twenty!"
The condescending smirk returned to Roger Mareck's face, "Consider it so-old!" he told the lawman--who he had both loathed and admired. Then he got carefully up off of the sofa he was sitting on and crossed quickly over to his desk.
The Marshal took a step back so he could keep all four men covered.
Mareck saw the move and his smirk broadened, "I would've given you thirty for it...two weeks ago!" he reminded the lawman.
"Two weeks ago...it wasn't for sa-ale!" the lawman reminded him.
Mareck's smirk vanished for a few moments, but then reappeared--and broadened into an outright grin. He pulled the top drawer of his desk open and carefully removed a large cash box from it. The box wasn't locked--for he simply flipped its lid up and emptied it of its entire contents. All eyes in the room watched as the man counted out twenty thousand dollars in crisp, new, one hundred dollar bills. The rather meager amount of what money remained was placed back into the box.
"I'm glad you finally came to your senses!" Mareck admitted and shoved the twenty thousand dollars towards the lawman.
"Why-y," Crown said side-stepping over to the desk and undoing the bottom two buttons of his shirt. He stashed the sizable sum safely out of sight and then buttoned his shirt back up, "you said it yourself--I'm a reasonable man! An' only a foo-ool would turn down twenty thousand dollars for a two-bit piece a' tin!" he reasoned calmly, unpinning the badge and placing it down on the desk. "Besides," he continued, calmly pulling another one out of his vest pocket and--even more calmly--pinning it on, "the Government gave me a few 'extras' when I signed on. I still have a few left. So-o, should you ever decide you wanna buy another one...you jes' let me know!"
Mareck and his cronies were anything but ca-alm! In fact, Roger Mareck looked like he was about to lose all control! He and his henchmen exchanged grim glances.
"Unh-uh...uh-uh!" Crown said, seeing Mareck eye-balling his bodyguards the order to kill him, "I wouldn't if I were you! Unless, a' course, you boys have been practicin'--an' have gotten a whole lot faster--since the las' time you tried it!" he taunted truthfully. Then he directed some of his attention away from the three seething men and back to their boss again, "For the fifth--an' FINAL--time, Mareck...I ain't interested in boardin' yore trai-ain! But you--an' yore boys, here--had better be! Because--if you're NOT o-on that trai-ain--when it pulls out a' here at two a' clock...I'm gonna KILL you-ou!"
Dave had been enjoying the whole terrifying experience immensely--up 'til the-en! Something in Jim Crown's voice told him that this time his poker playin' partner wasn't 'bluffing'! And the Senator was finding that little revelation truly terrifying--indeed! He was about to make a comment to that effect when Jim motioned with his head that it was now time for he and Charley to leave. Dave didn't debate the issue. As far as he was concerned, it was PAST time for them to leave! He and Charley backed out of the opened doorway and then waited there for Jim to join them.
The Marshal backed carefully out of the room, closing the door as he did so, "Jes' like old ti-imes, huh!" he told Dave with a devilish gleam in his dark green eyes--and a wry grin on his handsome face. Then he turned and took off down the hall like a shot--with his two fishin' partners hot on his heels!
"If and when I do step on to that train," Mareck called out through the door, "it'll be OVER your dead body!"
And--by the sounds of it--he wasn't 'bluffing', either!