The Bisbee Massacre (9 page)

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Authors: J. Roberts

BOOK: The Bisbee Massacre
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“Got a beer coming,” Clint said as Dodge joined him at the bar.
“Good, I can use it.”
“Still juggling jobs, eh?”
“Most days I enjoy it,” Dodge said. “Better than doin' the same exact thing every day.”
“But not today?”
“It's been kind of a rough day, and I think it's gonna get rougher.”
“How so?”
The beer came and he nodded to the barman. Dodge took a deep drink before answering.
“There are some neighbors outside of town I think are headin' for trouble.”
“What kind?”
“The domestic kind,” Dodge said.
“Oh, yeah, I think I heard something about that.”
“From who?”
“I forgot to tell you I talked to Hatch earlier,” Clint said. “He was looking for some fellow named Riggs, I think?”
“Barney and Bannock,” Dodge said. “Barney's the younger, and he's married. Seems he thinks his neighbor, fella name of Hudson, has been seein' his wife.”
“And has he?”
Dodge rolled his eyes.
“Probably.”
“Aren't there enough women in Tombstone without going after somebody's wife?”
“You'd think,” Dodge said. “Plenty of women workin' downstairs.”
Dodge shook his head and drank his beer.
“That all that's botherin' you?”
“No,” Dodge said. “But I'll tell you over a steak. Cattleman's?”
“Sounds good to me.”
They both finished their beers and set the empty mugs down on the bar.
“Place looks the same, don't it?” Dodge asked.
“Yeah,” Clint said, with a nod, “and yet so different, you know?”
Dodge looked around, then said, “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
They left and headed for Cattleman's Steak House.
TWENTY-THREE
When they were situated at a table against a wall with steak dinners in front of them, Dodge said. “It's Bob Hatch.”
“Your sheriff? What about him?”
“He's doin' the same thing Barney Riggs's neighbor is doin',” Dodge said.
“With the same woman?”
“No,” Dodge said, “with his neighbor's wife.”
“Jesus, things sure have changed around here,” Clint said. “I'm used to people trying to shoot each other, but all this . . . infidelity.”
“I know,” Dodge said.
“How do you know about Hatch?”
“He brags,” Dodge said. “He has a room at the end of town and he meets her there.”
“Is Hatch married?”
“Yes.”
“What's he thinking?”
“He ain't thinkin',” Dodge said. “Or maybe he's just thinkin' with his dick.”
“A lot of men have gotten in trouble doing that,” Clint said.
“Thank God I'm too busy.”
“Ah,” Clint said, “the perfect reason to have three jobs.”
“Well, it keeps me out of this kind of trouble.”
“Have you talked to Hatch about it?”
“I have,” Dodge said, cutting into his meat. “He brags about it, I told you. He's proud of himself. He's got his wife uptown and his woman downtown.”
“Makes him feel powerful,” Clint said, chewing a piece of steak.
“Yes!” Dodge said, gesturing with his knife. “That's it. He walks around with his chest all puffed out, like he can do anything.”
“Is it affecting his job?”
“I wish I could say it was,” Dodge said. “But if it was I wouldn't want to take over. Actually being the sheriff would just get in my way.”
“What about Charley?”
“He don't wanna be sheriff, either,” Dodge said.
“So nobody wants the job and Hatch does. Let him do it. If he messes it up, let him mess it up.”
“I don't care who messes what up,” Dodge said. “I just don't want people getting killed.”
“I can't blame you for that.”
“To tell you the truth, Clint,” Dodge said, “I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. I may have to come in from the outside, eventually.”
“You mean as a Wells Fargo agent?” Clint said. “Let everybody know?”
“Well, not everybody,” Dodge said. “I mean, I won't put it in the newspapers, but I'd carry my credentials and identify myself.”
“So no more deputy's badges?”
“No,” Dodge said, “just my Wells Fargo badge.”
“Do you have it on you?” Clint asked. “I don't think I've ever seen one.”
“No,” Dodge said, “I don't carry it. I've got it hidden away. It's good-lookin', though. I'll show it to you, some time.”
“I'll hold you to that.”
They continued to eat and talk and, when they were done, paid their bill and stepped outside. Immediately, someone came running up to Dodge. It was Charley Smith.
“It finally happened, Fred.”
“What?”
“Barney Riggs.”
“Oh, shit,” Dodge said.
“Yep,” Charley said, “he killed Hudson.”
“Do you know it was him?” Clint asked.
Charley looked at Clint for the first time. His face brightened as he recognized him.
“Hey, Adams. I didn't know you was in town. Um, well, nobody saw him do it, but Riggs ain't exactly the type to brace a man from the front.”
“Shot him in the back?” Dodge asked.
“Yup. Snuck up on him.”
“Damn. Okay, does Hatch know?”
“Yeah,” Charley said, “he sent me after you. He rode out there.”
“Okay, I'll ride out, too. Guess you better stay in town and watch things.”
“Okay.”
“You wanna come?” Dodge asked Clint.
“I wouldn't miss it,” Clint said. “A chance to see you and Hatch in action together.”
“I don't know,” Charley said.
“Know what?” Dodge asked.
Charley gave Clint a sidelong glance.
“You can say what you want in front of Clint, Charley,” Dodge said.
“I ain't so sure Bob wants to catch Barney, if you know what I mean, Fred,” Charley said.
“Yeah, Charley,” Dodge said. “I know what you mean.”
TWENTY-FOUR
The two houses were just out of town. They were small ranches, with the main houses actually being walking distance apart. Clint thought this must have made it easy for the cheating couple.
When they rode up to one of the houses Clint knew this was the Hudson house because there was a dead man sprawled on the ground. Standing over him, staring down mournfully, was Sheriff Bob Hatch.
“Glad you brought Clint, Fred,” Hatch said, as they approached on foot.
There were some men milling about. Clint assumed they were employees of Hudson.
“This was bound to happen,” Hatch said, as Fred leaned over the body. Hatch had no idea Dodge was a trained detective, but he deferred to him, anyway.
“Shot in the back, all right,” Dodge said. “Damn it.” He stood straight up. “Not much doubt about who did it, Bob.”
“We don't have no witnesses, Fred.”
“That don't mean we can't hunt him down,” Dodge shot back.
“If he's even on the run,” Sheriff Hatch said. “What if he's just settin' in his living room with his wife and Pa?”
“Then we'll take him in for questioning,” Dodge said. “You wanna go over there together?”
“Sure,” Hatch said. “Let's get somebody to throw a blanket over Hudson until the doc gets here.”
They waited for one of the hands to bring a blanket over and lay it over his boss.
“Don't let nobody near the body,” Hatch told the man. “We're goin' next door to see if Barney's there.”
“He ain't gonna be there, Sheriff,” the hand said. “He back-shot the boss and lit out.”
“Did you see him do it?” Clint asked.
“Well, no—”
“Then keep your opinions to yourself, Sam,” Dodge said. “You're the foreman, it's up to you to keep your men in line.”
“I understand.”
“We'll be right back, probably before the doc even gets here.”
“I won't let nobody near him, Dodge.”
“Okay.”
Dodge, Hatch, and Clint walked over to the Riggs house.
 
When a woman answered their knock at the door, Clint was taken aback. She was a rare beauty, with long black hair framing a heart-shaped face. Now he knew why Hudson was dipping his wick next door.
“Yes?”
“Sheriff Hatch, Mrs. Riggs. Can we come in? We gotta talk to Barney.”
“Barney's not here, Sheriff.”
“Where is he?”
“I—I don't know.” She lifted her chin defiantly. Clint admired her. She was standing up for a husband who cheated on her.
“Is Bannock here?” Dodge asked.
“My father-in-law is home, yes.”
“May we speak to him, ma'am?” Dodge asked.
“Of course,” she said. “Come in, gentlemen.”
The three men entered, and as the woman closed the door behind them they all removed their hats. The house was small and they could see Bannock Riggs sitting in front of the fireplace. The old man stood up, slightly stooped but still tall.
“What's this all about, Sheriff? Dodge?” He frowned at Clint. “Who's this feller?”
“This is Clint Adams, Bannock,” Dodge said. “He's helpin' us with somethin'.”
“Somethin' that brung you here, lookin' for my boy?” the man demanded.
“That's right,” Dodge said. Hatch seemed satisfied to let Dodge do the talking. “Bannock, somebody killed your neighbor, Hudson.”
They heard a slight intake of breath from Mrs. Riggs.
“That's too bad,” the old man said. “What's that got to do with us?”
“Come on, Bannock,” Dodge said. “You know we got to talk to Barney.”
“Barney didn't do nothin',” Bannock said. “Why would Barney kill Hudson?”
With that the three men turned their heads and looked at Mrs. Riggs. She still seemed stunned by the news that her lover was dead.
“Clint,” Dodge said, “why don't you take Mrs. Riggs outside while Hatch and I talk to her father-in-law.”
“Sure, Fred. Ma'am?”
Clint knew what Dodge was doing. Separating daughter-in-law and father-in-law so they could be questioned separately.
He escorted the lady outside.
TWENTY-FIVE
Outside Mrs. Riggs hugged her upper arms, as if she was cold, but Clint thought she was feeling something else. Maybe guilt? Maybe she was feeling trapped?
“Mrs. Riggs,” Clint said, “it's in your husband's best interest for you to tell us where he is. If the law has to track him down he might end up dead.”
“Is Hudson really dead?” she asked.
“He is.”
“How?”
“Shot in the back.”
“And Barney did it?”
“That's what everyone thinks,” Clint said. “What do you think?”
She thought a moment, then said, “Yes, I think he did it, too.”
“Then will you help me find him?”
“Didn't you say if the law had to track him down he might end up dead?” she asked.
“I did.”
“Then let them track him down.”
“You don't care if they kill him?”
“No,” she said, “I don't care at all.”
With that she turned her back on Clint.
 
“Bannock,” Dodge said, “you must know if we have to track Barney down he could end up dead. You don't want that, and we don't want that.”
“Why do you think Barney killed Hudson?” Bannock asked.
“You don't know?” Dodge asked.
“No, I don't.”
“It's about Hudson and your daughter-in-law, Mr. Riggs,” Hatch said.
“What are you talkin' about,” Bannock asked. “Linda didn't have nothin' to do with Hudson.”
“That might or might not be true,” Dodge said, “but the fact is Barney thought there was somethin' goin' on, and that was enough for him to bushwhack Hudson on his own property.”
“You say.”
“That's right, I say,” Dodge said. “Come on, you know me, Bannock. Why would I lie?”
“I ain't sayin' you're lyin',” Bannock Riggs said. “I'm sayin' you're wrong.”
“About what?” Hatch asked.
“About everythin',” Bannock said. “While you're blamin' my boy, huntin' him down for somethin' he didn't do, your real killer is gonna get away.”
“We got the right man fingered, Mr. Riggs,” Hatch said. “It's only a matter of time before we catch him.”
“Then you go and catch him.”
Hatch and Dodge exchanged a glance, then shrugged.
“We got to search the house, Bannock,” Dodge said.
“Go ahead, it won't take you long.”
It didn't take long. When they opened the door and stepped outside, Linda Riggs still had her back to Clint.
“Anything?” Dodge asked.
“Not a thing,” Clint said. “She doesn't care if you have to kill her husband.”
“The old man won't give us a thing,” Dodge said.
“We better get to town and gather us up a posse, then,” Hatch said.
“Let's see if Doc is over at Hudson's,” Dodge said. “He's got to take the body back to town. We might as well ride along with him.”

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