from the miners. Maybe he told them he’d take a bigger cut if they didn’t do what he said.”
“Or bribed them by promising that he’d take a smaller cut,” Bo speculated. “Either way, sending them here to start a fight is crooked.”
“What about trying to get me and my girls to tell people how to vote?”
Bo shook his head. “That’s just electioneering. A mite dirty, maybe, but not against the law. The threatening and the fighting, that’s what’s crossed the line.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“First things first,” Bo said as he put his hands on his knees and pushed himself to his feet. “We have to get some proof that Devery had anything to do with this ruckus.”
He and Bella went back to the parlor. Bo told Scratch what Bella had said, then asked the madam to point out which of the unconscious men had started the fight. When she had done so, Scratch and George dragged the men to one side of the room.
Bella’s soiled doves started fussing over the men who’d been the victims in the attack. Those hombres might have headaches when they came to, Bo thought, but other than that it would probably be a pretty pleasant awakening.
Not so for the ones who’d started the fight. George brought a bucket of water from the kitchen and threw it in their faces. The men came awake, sputtering and snorting as the water went up their noses.
Bo and Scratch had their guns drawn again. They showed the Colts to the men, and Bo said, “You fellas just take it easy. Sit there on the floor, and don’t try to get up.”
“You can’t do this,” one of the miners protested as he wiped water out of his eyes. “We didn’t do nothin’.”
“The hell you didn’t,” Bella said. “You caused a couple hundred dollars’ worth of damage, and who knows how bad you hurt some of my regular customers.”
The men glared at her.
“We’re going to have to lock you boys up,” Bo went on. “You’re under arrest for assault and disturbing the peace, and you’ll stay locked up until after the election, when Mankiller’s got a real judge who can decide what to do with you.”
That brought more protests and words of alarm from the miners. “We can’t leave our claims alone that long!” one of them said. “Somebody’ll come along and take all the gold out of ’em.”
“You should’a thought of that before you agreed to do Pa Devery’s dirty work,” Scratch said.
From the looks of surprise that appeared on the faces of the men, Bo knew that Bella’s hunch was right. Devery was behind the riot that had broken out here tonight.
The miners concealed the reaction as best they could, but it was too late. Bo said, “What did Devery do? Threaten to take even more of what you make from your claims, or promise to take less?”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about,” the first man replied in a surly voice. “I ain’t seen Devery in weeks.”
“Me, neither,” another man said, and the rest of them chimed in with similar denials.
“You know,” Bo said, “as long as the damage gets paid for, Deputy Morton and I might see our way clear to forgetting about the charges. That way you wouldn’t have to stay locked up in a smokehouse for a week or more, and your claims wouldn’t be unprotected for that long.” He saw hope start to creep onto the faces of the men, then added, “But you’d have to be willing to testify why you came in here tonight and started a riot for no apparent reason.”
It was like slamming a door. Several of the men shook their heads. One said, “You’ll have to lock us up then, Deputy. We ain’t talkin’.”
Bo tried not to let his disappointment show on his face. At the same time, he wasn’t really surprised. Devery had probably threatened to kill the men if they ever said anything about his involvement in tonight’s trouble. They were more afraid of him than they were of being locked up and possibly losing some gold from their claims.
“All right, if that’s the way you want it. George, have you got a shotgun?”
George nodded. “Yes, sir, Deputy, I sure do.”
“Do you mind getting it and coming with us while we lock these fellas up?”
“I don’t mind at all.” George smiled. “Fact is, I reckon I’ll enjoy it.”
Bo and Scratch searched the prisoners, removing several knives and a couple of pistols from them. Then the Texans and George marched the disgruntled prisoners down the street at gunpoint. They attracted a lot of attention along the way.
When they reached the smokehouse that would serve as a makeshift jail, they herded the men inside the windowless, thick-walled structure. Earlier in the week, Bo had picked up a padlock from Abner Malden’s store and hung it on the hasp of the smokehouse door. He snapped it into place now, and barred the door as well. As sturdy as the building was, the prisoners had no chance of getting out.
“That’s a pretty small space for half a dozen men,” Scratch commented quietly.
Bo nodded. “I know. I don’t reckon we can really leave them in there for a week or more. But they can suffer for a day or two. Maybe then they’ll be more willing to talk about why they went loco at Bella’s Place tonight.”
“I ain’t gonna hold my breath waitin’,” Scratch said with a shake of his head. “I reckon those hombres are plumb scared of Devery. Too scared to talk.”
“I’m afraid you’re right,” Bo said.
George went back to Bella’s, and the Texans returned to the sheriff’s office. They both had to identify themselves before Biscuits O’Brien would unbar and unlock the door and let them in, which Bo thought was a good thing.
