“Don’t worry none about that,” Garth said. “Ain’t never gonna be a shortage of folks to kill.”
Chapter 14
Despite Matt’s ominous prediction, the next few days passed relatively peacefully in Arrowhead. There was still considerable muttering going on in the town about how Joshua Shade ought to be taken out and strung up, Flagg reported when he came back to the jail from his forays outside a couple of times a day, but without somebody powerful like Stan Hightower to back them up, the men who would have been eager to form a mob settled for grousing in their beer.
The part-time deputy Flagg had sent to Tucson arrived back in Arrowhead five days after he left, bringing good news with him.
“The judge is about a day behind me,” he told Flagg as he lowered his weary body into one of the chairs in the sheriff’s office. “He’ll be here sometime tomorrow, and he said he’d hold the trial right away.”
Flagg sighed in relief. “And we’ll have Shade strung up as soon as the trial’s over, I’m bettin’. But at least it’ll be legal.”
Shade had quieted down considerably the past couple of days. He sat on the bunk in the cell, constantly muttering to himself. Matt and Sam didn’t know if he was praying, calling down curses on his enemies, or just raving maniacally, but any time one of them stepped into the cell block, day or night, he could hear the soft voice from Shade’s cell.
The outlaw had started eating, too. The blood brothers supposed it was so he could keep his strength up for whatever he was doing in there.
Now, after hearing that the trial was imminent, Sheriff Flagg said to Matt and Sam, “I reckon you boys will be glad when this is all over and you can be on your way.”
“We were in no hurry to get anywhere,” Sam said,
“Just driftin’,” Matt added.
A knock sounded on the thick front door. All four men in the office tensed at the sound, but they relaxed as they realized how unlikely it was that a lynch mob would knock so politely. Flagg went to the door and called through it, “Who’s there?”
“It’s Matthew Wiley, Cyrus.”
Flagg grunted in surprise and turned to look at Matt and Sam. “The mayor o’ Arrowhead,” he said by way of explaining who Matthew Wiley was. “Wonder what he wants.”
“Only one way to find out,” Matt drawled.
He and Sam had their hands on their guns as Flagg unbarred the door, just in case this was some sort of trick. Flagg swung the door open and said, “Come on in, Mayor. What can we do for you?”
Wiley was a thin, pale, fair-haired man in a brown tweed suit. Matt and Sam knew from talk they had heard that he owned the bank, which was not surprising since political power always followed the money.
“I saw Deputy Johnson ride past the bank,” Wiley said with a nod toward the man who had just returned from Tucson, whose name was Randy Johnson. Wiley pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his forehead with it. As he put it away, he went on. “Does that mean the judge is on his way?”
Flagg nodded. “It does. With any luck, by the time the sun goes down tomorrow, this whole ugly business will be behind us.”
“That’s just it,” Wiley said. “The town council and I have been talking about it, and we’re afraid that the trial won’t bring an end to our problems.”
Flagg frowned. “You ain’t afraid that Shade’ll be found not guilty, are you, Mayor? There’s too many witnesses against him for that to ever happen.”
“No, that’s not it.” Wiley began to pace worriedly. “But what’s going to happen
Matt had been leaning casually against the desk with his arms crossed over his chest. Now he straightened and said, “No offense, Mr. Mayor, but wait just a doggoned minute. We had to stand up to lynch mobs twice, and now you’re sayin’ you don’t
Wiley reached for his handkerchief again. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. After what Shade and his gang did to our town, I’d like to see that son of a bitch dancing at the end of a rope as much as anybody would. But I’m not sure it would be the wisest thing for Arrowhead if it happens here.”
“Because you’re afraid of his gang,” Flagg said.
“It’s not just me,” Wiley said. “All the businessmen in town are worried, and with good reason.”
Sam said, “You can’t be suggesting that we just…let him go.”
Wiley shook his head. “Not at all. We can go ahead and have the trial, find him guilty and sentence him to hang, but I think the sentence ought to be carried out somewhere else.”
“Like where?” Matt asked.
“I don’t know. Tucson perhaps?”
With a frown, Flagg sat down behind the desk. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I figured we’d just take care o’ things right here. I was about to go tell Cassius Doolittle to start hammerin’ together a gallows.”
“The town council and I just don’t think it’s wise,” Wiley insisted.
“Well, I reckon we’ll have to wait and see what the judge says,” Flagg said with a sigh. “If you can talk him into it, I’ll go along with whatever he decides.”
