Finish the Western III: A Murder in the Gulch

Will was shaky, but with Martha’s help he was able to hook the horses up the the carriage. With only a token protest, he agreed that Martha should be the ones holding the reins.

Graziella handed him his flask filled with brandy. Will took a quick nip, sighing as the fire exploded in his belly and expanded through his fingers and toes.

“Ready, my dear?” Martha asked, smiling at her husband. He lifted his head, enjoying the setting sun on his face.

“Ready,” he said, and Martha slapped the reins and drove toward town. Will would help settle her nephew once and for all.

Graziella watched them leave, then turned back to the house. A nice simple supper, because Senor Will would be exhausted when they returned.

She did not see Alfred Tuttle duck behind some brush. He smiled as he realized the fat Mexican maid would be all alone. He adjusted his pants at the crotch as he sidled toward the house.

Tuttle hadn’t planned this little side trip, but seeing his aunt and her husband leaving had been too tempting. He’d show that maid that he was going to be her new boss. If she wasn’t totally stupid, like most help, she’d learn which side her bread was buttered on, and learn to like it too.

Intent on her meal preparation Graziella didn’t hear to back porch door open, or the quiet steps approach.

“Hey, chiquita, you alone this fine day?” purred Tuttle.

She jumped and gave a little shriek, then turned to face him. “Oh, senor, you gave me such a fright! I didn’t hear you.”

“That was the plan” he replied, as he walked slowly towards her, holding her gaze with his own. He was slightly encouraged, because Graziella was keeping her eyes modestly downcast. “I saw your master and mistress leave for town, you got any immediate plans?” he leered.

Graziella now raised her eyes, and a shy smile illumined her face. “No plans, senor, I just prepare the meal for later.”

As Tuttle now stepped right up to Graziella he looked down at her and caught his breath. She sure was carrying extra pounds, but they were in all the right places. He decided to go gentle on her, he’d get even more out of her that way. Encouraged by her not backing away from him, he slipped his arms around her waist, drawing her close. “This is going to be fun, querida, just relax”

Slowly her arms went up around his neck, pulling his head down towards her. “Oh, si, senor, this is going to be fun” she breathed into his ear.

With no warning she brought her knee up hard, where it would do the most damage. At such close quarters she got exactly what she wanted. Tuttle doubled over, gasping in shock, and as he did she chopped him on the neck, sending him to a fetal postition on the floor, making little moaning noises.

Graziella dashed out to the back porch and rang the triangular dinner bell loudly. There would be a couple of hands out in the barn, or beyond, that could be summoned for help, should she need it. Running back in, and finding Tuttle still helpless on the floor, she gave him a hard, sharp kick in the ribs, then looked for something to bind him up with. “Hombres!” Graziella muttered, “siempre pensais con sus penes.” Before she could find anything to bind Tuttle, Jackson Kemper and Earnie Smith, two ranchhands, came running into the house, drawn by the sound of the bell being rung before times. They skidded to a stop in surprise, but when Graziella explained quickly Jackson Kemper fetched rope and together the three bound Tuttle hand and foot.

“Grazi, who is he?” asked Earnie Smith. The two hands hadn’t laid eyes on Tuttle during his previous visits.

“He is the man who bother the Senora Martha. He threatened her! I took news to the town, and now Sr. Will and Sra Martha are going to see Sheriff Clayton, Zeke.”

“Say” wondered Earnie. “think we ought to see what he’s got on him?” And without further ado the trio rifled Tuttle’s jacket and shirt pockets. From an inside pocket in his vest they drew a large packet of important looking documents. Graziella spoke English fairly well, but didn’t read it nearly as much yet. But Kemper and Smith looked them over, whistling in surprise a couple of times. It was decided that Kemper would follow the Anderson’s into town. With any luck, he would probably even catch them before they got there, and so be able to tell them what had happened, before Will and Martha talked to Zeke.

After Kemper left Smith helped Graziella keep watch on Tuttle. His pain beginning to ease just a little the disgrace officer began to try and wheedle his way to freedom, the cursed as he realized he was trapped.

Zeke shook his head sadly as Mose, who had shown up again, laid a blanket over Doc’s still form.

“Now, what do we do?” Zeke asked, rubbing his ribs again. Damn, but they were acting up.

Mose shrugged. “We give him a decent burial and see if we can find another doctor. Doc was a skilled man. He will be missed.”

Zeke began straightening the room. Doc had been here in the Gulch before he had arrived himself, and to have such a town icon gone was very depressing, just like when Old Gus died.

Mose turned toward the window. A faint roar was coming from the road below. He threw it open and looked out.

“Zeke, quick!” Mose cried out.

“Now what?” Zeke asked, poking his head out the window. To his shock, a wagon was driving down the middle of the street, with townspeople yelling and cheering it. Zeke was puzzled, since it was just Missus Martha driving.

Then he saw her passenger, and began cheering himself.

Will and Martha were overwhelmed by the warmth of the greeting they received. In the past Will had played second, mostly, to his brother Gus. But with his marriage to Martha, his assumption of the reins of the AAA, and his administration of the funds that Zeke had given up, he’d become a local favorite. Just about everyone was glad to see him back on his feet.

Eager hands helped him down from the wagon, and folks crowded round as he walked slowly up to the clinic, with Martha following. Zeke and Mose emerged, with outward grins of pleasure that attempted to conceal the bad news they had.

“Will, it’s great to see you!” crowed Zeke, putting his arm around his shoulder “it’s been too long!” said Mose, clapping him on the back.

“Speech, speech!" Someone in the crowd called, as Martha stepped up to her husband’s side. He turned around to face everyone, his eyes starting to water. “T-thank y-you” he quavered, overcome. Martha took his arm to steady him, as Zeke, still with a smile plastered on his face, leaned behind Will and whispered to her “We need to talk.” “That we do” was the quiet reply, 'but can we get him inside first? I want Doctor McCaulley to see him”

Something in the fixed stare Zeke gave Martha made her pause, but before she could say anything Mose and Zeke were steering Will in the door. Sitting him and Martha down Zeke put a hand on each shoulder, giving a squeeze. “Mose, can you tell them?” he asked “I might as well tell the folks outside, since so many are here.”

“Folks, I have some bad news” he began. As Zeke told them about the doctor the boisterous crowd grew quiet. Almost unnoticed Silas Jenkins slipped inside, with a helper. They passed by Mose, bending over Martha, who was crying quietly, with Will patting her shoulder.


Later, in the front parlor of the Hasting’s home, Martha sipped hot tea served by Mrs. Hastings. “I just can’t believe he’s gone” she sighed. Will sat and listened to Zeke, as he repeated some of what Mose had told them.

“It’s just too bad” he mused “now we need to find another doctor, or maybe two, with all the folks we have now. He just worked too hard. Well, at least it seems he went easy.”

“That he did” Zeke answered “and now, Will, Martha we need to talk about that man Tuttle. I know he intends to contest Martha’s management of the AAA, but now that you are up and about, I expect the two of you together can stand up to him.”

A look passed between Will and Martha. “There’s another factor involved”, Will Anderson began. “You know how Santini, the teacher, is back in Pennsylvania this summer, visiting? He didn’t just go for his family, he went for mine too.”

“You mean Jake?” asked the sheriff “I thought he wasn’t really concerned with the Gulch anymore.”

“Uh, it isn’t Jake. See, years back I heard I might have a son of my own. To make a long story short, Santini is checking the story out for me. At first I thought, if it’s true, that Martha and I could use him to hold off Tuttle. Now, I just want to see what he’s like. Martha and I won’t be having children, you know.”

"But what about the ranch?’

“Oh, don’t worry, the AAA wouldn’t go to just anyone, even a son. But who knows? He might be okay.”

A knock at the front door brought their heads around. Danny stood there, and his eyes showed relief when he saw Will and Martha. “I’ve been looking for you” he said, holding up a flimsy piece of paper. “I have a telegram for you here. Said I’d find you and deliver it. Patterson said it’s from Will Santini.”

Will took the telegram and read it to himself. After a moment, he began laugh a deep, hearty laugh, coughing as he did so.

"What’s so funny? asked Martha.

“Why I don’t let Zeke here read it outloud?” he answered, holding the paper out to Zeke.

Puzzled, Zeke took the message and as he scanned it before reading a huge smile spread on his face.

“Okay,” said Zeke, "Here’s what it it says:

‘Found Saul’s Jonathon STOP David doesn’t stand a chance STOP Are you thinking what I’m thinking STOP Will be there day after STOP Your worries are about to END MESSAGE

“He has quite a way with words, doesn’t he?”

“Yes,” agreed Will. “I’m guessing he found out something concrete to prove my son’s existance. That will stop any take over attempts by anyone but the railroad or the Gov’ment, as it shows I have an heir.”

Just then Kemper came bounding in the room. “They said I would find you here!” he blurted out to Zeke. Turning to Martha, he added, “That Cavalry guy came back, causing a stink, but we took him down.” Taking out some papers from pouch, he handed them to Zeke. “And these letters and maps show he’s got something mighty irregular buried somewhere around here. Something mighty important to him, as one of these notes seems to say he killed a man over it. At least, that’s what it looked like to us!”

Zeke took the papers and looked them over carefully. Looking to Mose, he asked, “Can I deputize you for an evening?”

Zeke followed Mose out. Mose had his instructions, and he wasted no time getting started. As Zeke watched him ride away, he gasped in surprise as he saw Knight stumble out of the cafe. The man was holding his head and looking none too steady.

“Whoa, man, hold up there,” Zeke said, grabbing and supporting the wobbly Knight. He didn’t look drunk, but he sure acted like it. He eased Knight down to a rocking chair just outside the door. “What’s going on?”

“Where’s Yuri?” Knight asked, wincing. “Damn, my head. Where is he? I’m going to kill him!”

“We got him trying to steal a horse. He’s safely locked up.”

Knight stared at Zeke. Then he began to laugh. “That will teach him!” he cried.

“Pardon me?” Zeke asked.

“He’s working for me, trying to break up a counterfeiting ring. We think someone from the Army is involved. But I think Yuri has been holding out. He may have gotten a little too undercover.” He grabbed Zeke’s shoulder and hauled himself up.

“Take me too him. I think we’re about to get to the bottom of this.”

Percival Knight was still shaky as he and Zeke made their way to the stable doing temporary duty as the jail.

“Damn” he exclaimed, rubbing his temples, “that shifty little bastard took me in with the oldest trick in the book.”

“Well, if that’s the worst misttake you ever make you’re a lucky man” Zeke sympathized. He pulled open the door of the stable and whispered to Knight “follow my lead”.

“Where’s that stinkin’ furrin SOB?! I’m gonna kill him!” Zeke bellowed, in his best belligerent tones

Al McReynolds, who’d been keeping watch, jumped in alarm. “What is it Zeke? You find out something?”

Yuri and Nichols, chained several stalls apart, had both been dozing, and now were jerked awake by the shouting. When Nichols saw it was directed at Yuri, he relaxed a little, not knowing what was coming. Yuri cringed in fear.

Zeke grabbed Yuri by the collar of his shirt, jerking him to a sitting position and slamming him against the wall of the stall. “We know it all, you little jerk!” giving Yuri’s head a couple of bangs against the wall."

Knight protested in a weak tone “Sheriff Clayton, I told you the man was working for me…”

“You shut up, I got him first! And after what the little girl told us, and Tuttle, well, let’s just say I’m considering he should be ‘shot while trying to escape’”

Yuri nearly lost control of himself. Tuttle had been taken too? And implicated him? “How am I going to talk my way out of this one?” he thought to himself. he glanced at Knight.

“Mister Knight, I was going to tell you about everything, I just wait for right time I’m sorry about your head, I got scared.”

In a doubtful, hurt voice Knight told him “Yuri, I could understand, but now that the sheriff here has you I don’t know what I can do for you anymore.” He was banking on the hope that Yuri would be confused about the varying powers of different US legal entities.

Zeke unlocked Yuri’s ankle chain, the shoved him towards the door, drawing his gun as he did so. the knife thrower stumbled a couple of steps, looking uncertainly at the Pinkerton agent, as Zeke drew a bead on him. His nerve broke. “Please Mr. Knight, I tell you everything! Please don’t let him kill me! I tell you all about the plates, and the store, even about taking the little girl for Nichols there.” He pointed towards the stall Sam was chained in, and from which a loud series of curses was now emanating.

“If that boy doesn’t kill you I will, you lying little weasel!” Nichols shouted “i paid you real good” then he suddenly stopped as he realized he’d let his mouth betray him, in the heat of his anger.

Knight and Zeke looked at each other, smiles spreading across their faces. “Speaking of old tricks, Mr. Knight, seems these two both fell for one of them. Flip a coin to see who gets the word from which one?”

“Suits me”, Knight said, drawing a silver dollar from a pocket and tossing it into the air. Nichols and Yuri’s mouthes hung open as they rbegan to understand how they’d been had. Completely seperately they both came to the conclusion that their only chance at not swinging from a noose was to give the law so much dirt about someone else that they could strike some sort of bargain. Percival Knight and Zeke were about to learn more about the recent crimes than they had dared to hope for.to hope

As Knight flipped the coin in the air Zeke said “Heads, I get Nichols, tails, you do.”
The coin landed heads up, so Zeke strolled over to where Nichols was chained up, after first securing Yuri.

Zeke squatted on his haunches, looking keenly at Sam. “Now, I know you pretended to talk to me before, but I have a feeling there’s a lot of details you forgot, let’s say.”

Nichols looked at Zeke with loathing, but knew this man he’d insulted so badly had him by the short ones. Forget that garbage about “honor amongst thieves” Sam was ready to rat on anyone, since it might give him a chance not to hang.

“It’s all about the money” he began " I found jobs for those boys" (here Zeke snorted in disgusted disbelief) and I was paid a finder’s fee. And I never did lay a finger on that girl, that was Yuri’s doing. I paid him sure, to keep him quiet, as I didn’t want anyone to think I was at the bottom of it." Another snort from Zeke. Sam went on and on, trying to pin the blame on anyone but himself, and painting his own actions in the best light he could. Blaming Tuttle totally for the stolen plates, Nichols tried to say he’d just been stringing Tuttle along. He ended up with the death of Sam Goldstone. “That was purely self defense Sheriff, I’d made him an offer to hide the plates, until I could turn them over( a final snort of disgust)and he’d agreed, but when the deed was done he said he’d blackmail me over it. I laughed at him, he came at me with a knife, and I grabbed the arrow and fought back.”

“Where’d the arrow come from?”

“From that Fenno bitch. Yuri stole it for me, when she threatened to have me implicated in Hasting’s death. I wanted an unaltered arrow. And it was Yuri who altered May’s bow in the first place, so the shot would go wild. He’d screwed up and thought the plates were in Hastings place. Didn’t know there were two mercantile stores in town.”

Nichols tale wound down finally, and Zeke got up to leave. Knight, it seemed, was also done with Yuri, so the two of them left to compare notes. The two stories seemed like a photograph and it’s negative, where one said black, the other said white. Percival Knight and Zeke Clayton figured there was at least enough confessed information to imprison the men for life, but that, or even a stiffer sentence, would be up to a judge. Knight left to see the Anderson’s, to get their authorization to send someone to dig up the plates at the AAA. they could also lend a hand to Mose, who’d gone, on Zeke’s instructions, to fetch Tuttle back to town. Zeke smiled inside, thinking of just how part of those instructions might make Tuttle more, well, willing to cooperate, once he could get away from Mose Doubletree.

Sheriff MacTavish strapped on his holster. He had had enough. He’d been mighty patient, with Clayton vouching for Parker’s character, but he still had a dead schoolmarm and a sabotaged bridge.

For some reason, Clayton was not responding to his repeated telegraph messages. The Solace folk wanted answers, and he was tired of waiting.

MacTavish mounted his horse and headed toward the Gulch. He wasn’t leaving without someone in custody, he promised himself.

As MacTavish rode noth, towards Anderson’s Gulch, he naturally took the rode that passed the AAA, before stretching on to the Charging Bears and the Parker’s. Absorbed in his own thoughts he missed seeing a wagon leaving the AAA. He recognized Mose Doubletree at the reins, of course, and the face of Earnie Smith sitting beside him was as well, as Earnie spent as much time in Solace as he did in the Gulch, on his off time.

"Whoa, Satan, " he called. as he pulled up beside the wagon. “Morning, Mose” he greeted, “Smith. What in heaven’s name have you got going on here?”

For in the back of the wagon he saw a glowering woman he wasn’t acquainted with, pretty in a plump sort of way. She was holding a small pistol, covering a bound man laying flat on his back in the wagon bed.

“Sheriff MacTavish”, began Mose, “this here is Senorita Graziella Marquez. The man we have tied up is Alfred Tuttle, formerly, I believe, captain in the Army. Not sure of his current status. Sheriff Clayton, Zeke, deputized me to bring him back to the Gulch. If even half of what he’s gonna be charge with is true, he’s in a heap of trouble.” He clucked to the horses and got the wagon moving again, and MacTavish moved to ride alongside.

“So why is the lady holding the gun on him?”

Mose gave a dry chuckle. “Seems he misjudged Graziella here. Came “calling” and thought she was a pushover. Well, she’s about as much of that as Mrs. Parker is.” As the wagon and rider moved on northwards. Mose told MacTavish about the latest news from the Gulch, and the latter’s mind began to ease a little. It sounded to him like it was outsiders that had caused all the trouble. Of course, it would take a judge to sort things out officially, but still.

“Miss, you need a hand with that rattlesnake there, you just let me know” Tuttle glared at him, embarrassed at having been caught out by a woman, and held his tongue.


MacTavish had not been to the Gulch since the tornado, and was shocked at the destruction. Most loose debris had been cleared by now, and some of the building with lesser damage were being repaired, but major rebuilding would have to wait on the order of larger quantities of building materials.

Passing by the destroyed school house had reminded him of something.

“Mose, if you all can’t get your school up in time for the fall, you think your teacher might like to come to Solace?”

“I heard that!” said Caroline Charging Bear, who was in town for the day, having left Sally with LIttle Mose at their ranch. “Don’t you come in here and spoil my Sally’s last year of school! Why, that young man has done more to keep our kid’s learning than the last three teachers put together!” Her words were sharp, but she was smiling. She was acquainted with MacTavish, although not closely, and knew he was a good sort. “Mose, Zeke has been telling everyone, when they see you, to let you know they want the prisoner there down at the livery stable, where they have the other two” She turned to MacTavish and explained. “Jail got blown down, amongst other things.” Turning back to Mose she added “Zeke’s still limping, Mose, I think he’s hurting still. Everyone’s trying to get him to rest up more, but he just won’t listen to us. He needs someone to manage him.” Hearing this, Graziella perked up. Her prisoned just glared some more.

“Thank you Caroline” Mose answered. He looked around “How’s my little namesake doing?”

"Oh, Sally has him back at our place. Charley asked that boy Danny back too, wants him to look at reshoeing some of the horses. 'Course, I really think he wants a closer look at the young man that’s been sniffing around Sally. " She gave a little snort of laughter. “From all I’ve seen of him, after the storm especially, he seems like a fine fellow, but you know how fathers are!”

Everyone else smiled or laughed as they moved on, except Tuttle. He still just glared.

The next few days were busy ones in the Gulch. With Nichols, Tuttle, and Yuri safely locked up and guarded around the clock, the town could turn to continuing the repair and rebuilding. Zeke kindly let MacTavish bunk with him, and once Belle explained her former relationship with JB, he realized that Jesse may very well have been framed. Unfortunately, Starling was long gone, and it looked like he was going to get clean away.

Judge Cotton arrived late on the evening of the third day after Tuttle’s capture, exhausted. He was not a young man, and he was saddened to hear of the death of his friend, Doc MacCaulley, who had been so helpful in previous cases. He also teased Zeke a bit about all the trouble the Gulch had been getting into over the past few years. He set the trials for two days hence, wanting some time to visit with the prisoners and witnesses.

Charley was getting more used to Danny. Lord knew the boy was a hard worker. But it was hard to see Sally look at Danny with the same look she used to give her daddy, like he hung the moon. A sharp glance from Caroline, though, kept his mouth shut.

The morning of the trial dawned sunny and cool. Autumn was just around the corner, even if it did get hot as blazes by the afternoon. Because most of the buildings big enough to hold a trial were still under repair, Cotton decided to hold the hearings in the huge front field of the Triple A. There weren’t enough chairs for all the spectators, but furniture had been scrounged from the Phoenix and the Tumbleweed, so the judge would have an appropriately somber “bench,” and the witnesses and accused would have a place to sit. The rest would have to make do with blankets and quilts spread on the ground.

Zeke managed to sit near Graziella, where they would wait for their turn to testify, and as luck would have it, MacTavish was observing the proceedings next to May Fenno.

The judge banged his gavel on his bench, and said, “Here ye, here ye! Come forward and you shall be heard! The first case will be Captain Alfred Tuttle. The charges are attempted ravishment, attempt to defraud, and possession of counterfeit Treasury plates.”

Tuttle was a sorry sight. He’d been allowed to take a bath, under guard, as all the prisoners had, but his clothes were now hand-me down work garments, none too smart looking. He hadn’t shaved, so he had nearly a week’s worth of beard, and his eyes were red.

Because of a shortage of available advocates he, and the other two, had reluctantly agreed to bench trials, without a jury. Jesse Parker, with his law studies, might have been called on as counsel, but he was naturally considered, by Cotton, to have a bias in this case. Judge Cotton was an honest judge, and he had informed the prisoners, during the preceeding days, that getting a jury that hadn’t already made up it’s mind would be difficult.

Yuri’s English was determined to be good enough to testify, and there wasn’t another Russian speaker around anyway. After several questions, including Yuri’s own involvement in placing the plate’s at Goldstone’s store, the judge got to the heart of the matter.

“Did you recieve the Treasury plates back from the hands of Alfred Tuttle?”

“Yes, uh, yes your Honor.”

“What were you to do with them?”

“He tell me to bury them at ranch here, he would be back for them later, had plans he said.”

“What plans?”

“He not say.”

Percival Knight was called, and detailed the course of the investigation that had him on Tuttle’s trail to Anderson’s Gulch.

After finishing with questioning about the plates, Martha Anderson was called, and in a soft, yet very firm voice, told how Tuttle had intimidated her on two occations. Zeke confirmed that Tuttle had let him know he intended to have Martha’s competency questioned, and the documents that had been found on Tuttle’s person at the AAA were introduced. Judge Cotton had already read them in the preceding days, and had discovered evidence of alterations Tuttle had been making. He’d been trying to transfer the power of attorney from his brother to himself.

“Will Miss Graziella Marquez please come forward?” She was sworn in and Judge Cotton began to question her about the “attempted ravishment” charge.

“Miss Marquez”(the judge used the English form for this trial) “did you in any way encourage the attentions of this man Alfred Tuttle?”

“I did not”

“When he entered the kitchen, did he make threats?”

“He ask me if I have plans for the day, say he saw Senor Will, and Senora Martha, leave for town.”

“What did you do then?”

“I tell him I was fixing supper, for later”

“And then?”

“He put his arms around me, pull me close to him.” The women in the crowd seemed to lean forward, listening closely to this intimate testimony.

“And what was your reaction?”

“Knives too far away, on counter. I put my arms around him too. He tell me this was ‘going to be fun’ so I say yes, it was. Then I put my knee in his cojones, and hit him on head when he goes down.” There was an involuntary hiss of sympathy from the men in the crowd, then nearly everyone exploded in laughter. The image of a woman, who barely came up to the man’s should, hurting him in such a tender place. was a release.

Kemper and Smith testified to what they saw, then Judge Cotton called on Alfred Tuttle.

“Do you have any statement to make, concerning these proceedings so far, any additions, alterations, rebuttals?”

“Just one, your Honor.”

“Proceed.”

“That little bitch(and here he stabbed a finger at Graziella) is lying! She came on to me. By God, I ought to charge her with perjury!” There was an uproar from the spectators at his words, but Judge Cotton just shook his head in disbelief. The man was charged with numerous felonies(with possible implication in murder that would come out during the next two trials) and he was more concerned about his masculine image!

“This court take notice of your testimony. Now, you have several charges that have been made, and you have been made aware, have you not, that others may still arise?”

“Yes, your Honor.” This was said in a sullen tone.

“Very well, the court declares a short recess, before judgement is handed down, in these cases only.”

People milled around, and got drinks of iced tea, water, and lemonade that folks had brought with them. It was almost like a pcinic, but the judge had discouraged eating, at least until the trials were over, so that some semblance of solemnity might be encouraged.

Zeke, sitting on the blanket with Graziella again, told her “it’s not so bad the new courthouse got so much of it’s furnishings sucked out during the tornado. I hate to say it, but this is more pleasant than a stuffy courtroom would be.”

“Si, it is. But I worry about your leg, having to move around so much. Do you still hurt?”

Zeke was touched at her concern, and the distressed look in those beautiful brown eyes made him catch his breath. “It’s not so bad now” he said, lying only a little, “but I wish I could talk to the doctor about it more.”

“I will pray for you, till you are well again, light a candle too.” She would have gone on, but the judge called court back into session.

“I have reached a verdict on current charges against the accused, Alfred Tuttle. Will all please rise?” There was a rustle of movement, and a few groans.

"Alfred Tuttle, you are judge guilty on all charges. There was a muffled cheering that was silenced by the judge rapping his gavel hard on the table.“Sentencing will be delayed until the next two trials are completed. Do you have anything to say?” Tuttle just glowered and shook his head.

“We will take up the matter of the case of Yuri—Yuri—Andropov,” The judge stumbled over Yuri’s unfamiliar name. At Yuri’s nod, the judge cleared his throat and prepared to read the charges.

“Excuse me, your Honor?” came a voice from the crowd. “A word?”

Judge Cotton nodded. “Yes, Mr. Knight. How can I help you?”

Knight hobbled up to the bench on his crutches. He bent his head and whispered urgently to the judge. The judge appeared to object at one point, but Knight withdrew some papers from his jacket and showed them to the judge.

The crowd began to murmur. What was going on?

“Very well, Mr. Knight,” Judge Cotton said. He banged his gavel. “Yuri Andropov, all charges against you are dismissed. As Mr. Knight explained, I do not have the authority to hear your case. You are hereby turned over to the custody of Mr. Knight, who will have further business with you in federal court.”

Percival nodded at Yuri, who smiled ruefully at him.

The case of Samuel Nichols was brought up after a short recess for refreshments. The charges leveled against him were the most numerous of all. Kidnapping, conspiracy to commit kidnapping, attemeted murder in relation to kidnapping for ransom, murder in the first degree with several names being read, conspiracy to defraud the county, destruction of public property, aiding and abbeting a criminal venture (the major link to Tuttle) and finally, breaking and entering.

Sam Nichols stood as all the charges were read. When the question “How does the defendent plea?” was asked, the appointed attorny rose to answer, but before he could finish clearing his throat, Nichols’ loud, clear voice virtually boomed out, “I will represent myself, Your Honor.”

Looking slightly irritated, the Judge replied, “Mr. Nichols, this is no time to play games. Do you not realise just how serious these charges are?”

“I do, Your Honor. I am a member of the California Bar Association, qualified and authorised to be legal representation for any citizen or resident of the US of A.”

“Very well then, How do you plea?”

“Your Honor, I refuse to plea these charges based on the lack of legitimacy or jurisdiction of this court.”

The uproar took several minutes to die down. Banging his gavel nonstop while shouting at the top of his lungs, Judge Cotton finally got the trial back in session. Glowering full at Nichols, he warned, “You would be well served to accept the COMPETANT aid of the fellow assigned to represent you, my good sir!”

“No need, Your Honor,” answered Nichols. “I do not need representation because this trial is illigetimate. Anderson’s Gulch is not a part of the US of A, according to its charter, an official copy of which I have here.” With that, he reached into his leather bag and produced a folder. Handing to the fired representative on his left, he said, “Be a good boy, run this up to the judge.”

“Do it yourself” was the annoyed reply.

Sam looked at Judge Cotton, with a questioning look. At a nod of assent he walked forward and presented the judge with the document in question. Flicking his eyes over it, he asked Nichols “May I ask you how you happened to acquire this copy, on such short notice?”

“It was not short notice for me, I’ve had it for some time.”

“May I ask how long?”

“Is that relevant your Honor?”

Judge Cotton decided to back down temporarily. “The court calls a short recess, so that the question of jurisdiction in this case may be investigated.” Giving the document another squint, his eyes gave a sharp flick, which he hoped Nichols didn’t notice. “I’d like to call Mr. William Anderson, and Mr. Mose Doubletree up here, to have a look at this. Do you have any objections to that, Mr. Nichols?”

“No your Honor” came the smug, confident reply.

Will slowly made his way up to the judge. Mose came alongside him and kept pace with him. The three men studied the copy for a short while, then Will turned and beckoned up his ranchhand, Jackson Kemper. Whispering something Nichols couldn’t hear, Kemper took off as fast as he could, to the Anderson ranchouse. A low buzz of conversation grew louder as the minutes passed, then Kemper was seen coming back. He handed his employer what appeared to be a large, heavy brown envelope, with a pullover flap, tied with a red ribbon. Will undid the ribbon and removed a number of papers, shuffling through them.

Finding what he was looking for he handed it over to Mose, who gave him a sharp, quick nod, before handing it back. Nichols was beginning to get a little uneasy.

“Mr. Nichols, will you please approach the bench again?” With a little frown Nichols complied Judge Cotton laid what Kemper had brought, and Nichols charter side by side. The rooba-rooba noise from the spectators started to grow again, anticipating some dramatic twist in an already convoluted tale.

Nichols looked to where Cotton and Anderson were pointing. He shook his head angrily, and took a step backwards as Judge Cotton summoned Dave and Al McReynolds, doing extra duty as court bailiffs. As they moved to restrain Nichols a hoarse “NO!” tore from his throat. He attempted to bolt for freedom, but was roughly tackled and handcuffed. Shouts and shrieks from the crown were gaveled into quiet by the judge.

“If you will just wait a minute, the trial of Samuel Nichols will be resumed. At that time I will explain the action you have just seen here.”


“Mr. Nichols, before we begin I will ask you, do you still wish to represent yourself?”

Shaken and smudged, with his hands cuffed, Nichols uttered a sullen yes

“Very well, but I will now add yet another charge of attempted fraud to your long list of charges. Do you acknowledge this?”

“I do.”

“Folks, Mr. Nichols had what purported to be an official copy of the charter for Anderson’s Gulch. As Will Anderson has told me, his brother Gus, who founded and promoted the development of the Gulch, moved out here and drew up a “lease” of the land from tribal authorities, while this land was still Indian territory. So technically the town was founded on land belonging to another ‘nation’.”

“What Mr. Nichols did not know, for all his vaunted legal expertise, after he somehow “obtained” this copy of the charter, was that Gus Anderson failed to provide the entire amount of trade goods he had promised as part of his land use agreement. This here” and the judge held up the paper Kemper had fetched, “is an official complaint from tribal authorities that the town was being settle without full payment. According to Will Anderson Gus was working to make good his promise, but the deadline passed. Now, even though the Gulch “reverted” to Indian territoy, there were already too many white settlers who would not have been of a mind to be moved. The point was rendered moot when local tribal authorities were pressured into trading local territory for another, one much further north. Mr. Doubletree and his family were one of a few that didn’t move, and he vouches for the story in Mr. Anderson’s portfolio her. Mr. Anderson, I believe you had a statement?”

“Yes you Honor. Folks, Gus never told you about all this because he was ashamed. He’d worked hard here, and about all* I* was doing was being a flunky for him. He wanted to be a straight shooter with all folks, red, white, or brown.” Here will looked pointedly at his great-nephew, Zeke Clayton. I can’t change the past, but I can ask you to remember it, for my brother’s sake, with kindness, and try to keep on making this a town where we all can have a piece of the pie."

A few noses were being blown in the crowd, and a number of people found they had something in their eye that needed tending to.

“Samuel Nichols” the judge began again, “it seems you didn’t keep up on legalities. It’s getting late to start your trial, so I declare this court adjourned, to reopen tomorrow morning at 9:00AM. Court dismissed!” and bang went the gavel, once again.

Belle and Jesse rushed home to tend to chores. To Belle’s delight, her mare had delivered in her absence, a beautiful foal. Tessie was awe-struck at the new addition to the ranch, and had to be forcibly restrained from trying to take the foal away from her very protective mother.

“When she’s older, sweetie,” Belle said, holding the squirming little girl in her arms. “She needs her mama right now. But when she’s older you can play with her.”

Tessie nodded. “Can I name her?”

Jesse laughed as he stood up, a full milking pail in his hand. “Of course you can,” he smiled. “Come on. Let’s help Mama make supper.”

The next morning, as everyone regathered in the makeshift court area, it was obvious that something had changed. A wagon with the markings of the US Army was parked behind the judge’s desk. Several uniformed soldiers and officers were milling about. A short but distinguished looking dark haired man in a Cavalry officer’s dress uniform was discussing something privately with Judge Cotton. The rank markings on his uniform read Colonel. Ex-Captain Tuttle and Sam Nichols were standing shackled together, arms and legs chained, with four armed guards surrounding them.

Zeke was standing at the other side of the desk with a sour look on his face. He caught sight of Mr. Knight and beckoned him to come over.

Limping over to Zeke, Percival queries, “What’s going on here?”

In an annoyed tone, Zeke answered, “It seems that your telegrams to the Treasury Dept were shared with a few concerned Washigtonians, and now the Dynamic Duo here [gesturing towards Tuttle and Nichols] have been deemed enemies of the state. We have been ordered to turn the criminals over to the US Army, signed by the President himself.”

Percival’s eyebrows almost jumped off his face. “So…? …You know, I would really like to see these orders signed by the President himself.” Stepping over to where Judge Cotton and the officer were conversing, he interupts them. Curious and now newly worried, Zeke tags behind to hear the explanation. He catches sight of Mose in the gathering crowd and motions for him to join them.

Someone tapped Jesse on the shoulder. “What’s going on?”

Jesse turned, then whooped. “Damn, Will!” he cried, hugging the schoolteacher and slapping him on the back. “When did you get back in town?”

Belle, the Charging Bears, Danny, and the Hastings quickly gathered around. Will grinned ear to ear. “Thought I’d surprise you,” he laughed. “I just got in a few minutes ago. The town was deserted, so I wandered up here to see if Martha and Will could tell me what was happening. I also have someone I want them to meet.”

Will shook hands all around, quizzing Sally on her studies over the summer and shook his head sadly at the news of the damaged schoolhouse. Then he pulled Jesse aside.

“I really need to talk to Will and Martha. Any idea where they are?”

Jesse glanced around, then pointed. “Over there. See them?”

Will nodded, then motioned to his companion. “Let’s go.”

Will and Martha were sitting side by side, but Will himself was talking in hushed tones to Hank Poole, who was standing beside his chair. So it was Martha who first saw Will Santini, and the man with him, approaching.

As she looked at the stranger she put her hand up to her heart, as there was no doubt as to who he was. The gentleman was shorter and younger than her husband, but in his build and his face he was a virtual copy. The schoolteacher and the stranger stepped up to the couple.

Will Anderson looked up, as Hank stopped speaking, his mouth hanging slightly open. He stared for a few seconds, as Santini smiled, and the stranger just stood there.

“Mr. Anderson, I’d like to present William Sullivan. Mr. Sullivan, this is Mr. William Anderson, and his wife, Martha Anderson.”

The rancher held out his hand, and in a faint voice said “Pleased to meet you”. “The same”, said Sullivan, with a short nod. Martha held out her hand as well. “I’m so very glad to meet you Mr. Sullivan.” “And I you, ma’am” was the reply. Sullivan seemed sparing of his words. Martha considered for a moment. “Your name is William?” She looked at her husband, and at Will Santini. “That’s a lot of Wills, isn’t it? We’ll have to figure out what to call you all, so there’s no confusion.”

“Ma’am, I usually go by Billy, when I’m not working” he said. The seated couple looked at the newcomer. He was dressed very neatly, in a suit that seemed only slightly mussed by travel. He had a small mustache, light brown, no beard, and wore wire-rimmed glasses. Martha glanced at his hands, and saw well-trimmed nails and long fingers. Billy seemed to be about thirty-five years old.

“Billy” began Will Anderson “I guess I ought to say it. Did your mother, Carla, tell you anything about me?”

“About being your son?” was the direct reply. “Not until I was leaving for college. She wasn’t well, and I didn’t press her, it didn’t seem to matter then, we were doing alright. Her folks, my grandparents, took care of us.”

The older man closed his eyes for a second. “I take it she’s passed away?”

“About a year ago. She’d decided, after all that time, to tell you about us, I guess maybe one of the contacts she tried gave you enough to find me as well.”

“That’s about the size of it.” He looked his son over and liked what he saw, but he was concerned about something the younger man had said earlier. “Will Santini here telegraphed me once about how he found you playing pool. Is that what you meant by ‘work’, playing pool for a living? I though you said you went to college.”

“Oh, I did go to school, for many a weary year it seemed. I play to relax, that’s all. It helps sometimes when I’ve had a bad day.”

“But what do you do?”

“Mr. Santini didn’t tell you much, did he?” The two men standing looked at each other, and Santini told him “I figured as you said you wanted to get out of Philadelphia anyway, you could just come with me and talk to McCaulley. “ The teacher looked around. “I haven’t seen the doc anywhere. I looked for him at the clinic, before we headed out here, but he wasn’t in.”

Martha spoke again. “I hate to tell you, but Dr. MacCaulley is dead. His heart gave out after the storm, he was working to hard we think. “ Will Santini was dismayed. “That’s too bad, I liked the man, although I didn’t know him all that long. “

Martha looked at Billy again. “My husband asked you what you do, sir.”

Billy go a rather odd look on his face. “Mr. Santini here wanted me to talk to this doctor of yours because…”

Will Anderson butted in, concern in his voice “*You * aren’t ill, are you?”

“Me?, oh no. See, I’m a doctor too. My full name and all is William Clarence Sullivan, MD.”

As Percival questioned the Judge and the Colonel, Zeke looked around at the mixed company of friends and family that were gathering in the ‘court.’ He noticed the Santinis talking quite animatedly with a man he didn’t recognise and a certain young man approaching a certain young woman sitting with her family on a spread blanket, which him smile to himself. The tone of Mr. Knight’s voice jolted him back into this important conversation.

“… a uniform and a fancy looking piece of paper doesn’t prove anything,” he was saying to Judge Cotton, while the Colonel stood stil with a stern look on his face.

“What do you want me to do, Mr. Knight?” asked the Judge. “These men have met all the legal requirements for taking into custody the two prisoners. Are you questioning the authority of the United States Army?”

“By no means,” Knight replied. “I just feel protocol would be better served by authenticating these orders. I can send a telegraph directly to the State Department for confirmation.”

“You do that, sir.” offered the Colonel. “Whatever you feel is neccesary to satisfy you. But, since I have already secured the prisoners and signed the documentation, I will retain custody of them until you do.” With that he made a quick waving motion to the armed gaurds, who loaded Nichols and Tuttle into the waiting wagon. “Come, let us go together to the Telegraph.”

As Percival and the Colonel were making their way back to town, Judge Cotton opened up court and informed everyone of the current situation.

Mose finally worked his way over to Zeke and asked him, “Did you see smirk on Nichols’ face as he was being loaded onto the wagon?”

“No. No I didn’t.”

“I don’t like the way things are happening concerning this trial, Sherrif. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

As he watched the wagon slowly pull away, Zeke couldn’t help but feel a raw gnawing at his stomach. It did’nt feel right to him, either. But, Detective Knight should be able to clear it all up with his telegram. He decided to follow the two men into town himself.