hit him again.
“You’re going to spend some time as my guest,” I said, shaking him until his teeth rattled.
I pushed him hard, scooped up my revolver, and marched him off toward my executive suite in the jail.
Queen, she stood there dry-eyed.
“Tell your riders. If they show up armed tomorrow, they’ll all go where your pa’s going.”
She nodded. I don’t think she liked that any. But she’d do it. Word was going out to the Anchor Ranch’s riders and gunslicks, so maybe something got done this morning.
“I suppose you know we’ll tear your jail apart,” Admiral said.
“Walk or I’ll drag you.”
He walked, soon resuming that disdainful way of his, as if I weren’t clutching his shirt and holding my six-gun in his ribs.
Now the whole town was watching. A lot of folks had heard that shot, and they were buzzing around Doubtful like hornets on the loose, looking to see who croaked. But no one croaked. What they saw was me, dragging the boss of the biggest ranch in the valley off to my iron cages, and it sure started the mouths flapping. We got to the sheriff office and jailhouse where a couple of them T-Bar men was lounging as usual, and they sure got an eyeful, me marching the biggest cheese in the valley through my doors.
Rusty, he saw me coming and let us in.
“Book him,” I said.
“For what?”
“I’ll think of something,” I said.
“Discharging a firearm?”
“That’ll do. Anything’ll do. Throw the book. Find enough stuff to keep him here for a few months.”
Rusty whistled.
“Pat him down,” I said.
Rusty went to work, and pulled out a double-barreled derringer from Bragg’s breast pocket, and a hideout ankle knife he kept for insurance.
“You’ll get these back when I feel like it,” I said. “Which I don’t.”
I steered Admiral Bragg through the jailhouse door and then into a cell opposite his boy. The door clanged shut behind him, and he turned to stare at me so hard it looked like murder was pouring out. Which probably was about right.
He saw his son across the aisle and stared.
“Queen disobeyed me,” he said to King.
King absorbed that some. “I’m glad someone finally did,” the boy said.
I sure hated to have to do what I would have to do on the next day.
Admiral Bragg, he just stood there, absorbing that, and not believing it could happen to a fine feller like himself. He clasped them iron bars, and pulled on them, and tugged on them and shoved on them, and I swear them bars bent a little, but maybe it was just my imagination. For the moment, King Bragg’s pa was there, across from his doomed boy, and maybe the boy would teach him a few manners.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Mr. Bragg, he sure was noisy back there. He wanted to post bail. He wanted his lawyer, Stokes. He even wanted Judge Nippers, even though a few days earlier he’d tried to make the judge a hostage. I told him I’d let him out at eleven the next day. He had something to watch about then.
“What are you holding me for?” he asked.
“I’ll think of something.”
“It’s illegal, keeping me in here without charges.”
“Maybe so. I’ll read a law book sometime and find out.”
“Watch your back,” he said.
That’s how he thought. If he couldn’t get what he wanted, try a threat. But I would watch my back, all right.
I left him in Rusty’s care, but Rusty didn’t like it none, and said he was tired of being persecuted and maybe I should give him a day off or some hardship pay. I told him he could have a day off soon as we cleaned out the cells, which would be tomorrow, unless we had to throw a few more cowboys in between now and the big event.
“I guess I have to put up with it,” he said. “What do you want me to feed him?”
That reminded me of something. “King Bragg gets whatever he wants for a last meal. Ask him what he wants, and we’ll do what we can for him. It’s owed him, a good last chow down.”
“Ask him yourself,” Rusty said. He was being ornery, now that I’d put two Braggs in his care. Next thing, he’d ask for a raise or a month-long leave.
“I’m going out,” I said.
