Longarm and Frye and half a hundred other men pushed toward the sound of the voice.
Three burly men in overalls and narrow-brimmed hats were straining to lift a beam that once offered support to the bank?s roof. Before Longarm could reach them, a dozen more men jumped forward to put their muscle into the effort, and the beam was slowly raised inch by painful inch.
Without waiting for a prop to be brought, another man dropped belly-down and edged forward quickly until his head and shoulders were beneath the awful weight of the beam. He was trusting his life to the men doing the lifting. If they slipped, if the beam were allowed to fall, the rescuer would be snuffed out like a candle in a windstorm.
?I got him!? the courageous rescuer shouted. ?I got ?im. Pull me out.?
More volunteers grasped the rescuer by the ankles while above him the men straining to hold the beam aloft sweated and grew red-faced from their sustained effort.
Longarm and the other men who were gathered close could see that the rescuer had hold of a man?s wrist. The others hauled backward, pulling rescuer and victim alike out from under the ominous weight of the heavy beam. As they were pulled clear, though, the rescuer?s face went white and he relased his grip on the wrist they all could see.
He let go and scrambled backward on his own, jerking away from the surprised and confused men who had been helping him. He rolled out away from the men who were holding up the beam and turned on hands and knees to vomit. Then, wiping his mouth with the back of a wrist, he shook his head and said, ?Let ?er down, boys. Just let it drop.?
?But??
?Damnit,? the rescuer said in an anguished voice, ?leave be.?
?But we seen??
? ?Twasn?t a man,? the rescuer spat. ? ?Twas just an arm and shoulder.?
?Jesus,? someone said.
Someone else stepped forward and offered the rescuer a pint bottle. The man drank from it deeply and gratefully, threw up again, and drank a second time.
?That looked like Mr. Thomas?s shirt,? Frye said quietly.
Longarm grunted. He touched Frye?s elbow and motioned for the boy to follow. Slowly he led the way out of the rubble and past the throngs of spectators on the street. There was no point in waiting there any longer. He had seen what he had to. And it could take the night and perhaps several more days before all the mess was cleaned away and the bodies recovered. The silver miners of Thunderbird Canyon were better able to accomplish that job than Longarm, anyway.
?Yes, sir?? Frye asked when they were clear of the crowd.
?You also told me, didn?t you, that you?d been up to the jail and there wasn?t anybody there??
?Yes, sir, that?s right. First place I looked was at Miss Jessie?s place. The sheriff, he likes to go there of an eve ning. But it was closed for some reason tonight, so I went to the jail. Like I told you, the night lamp was burning but there wasn?t nobody there.?
Longarm cursed some more. He had left Jessie and Paul Markham both behind bars, damnit, and Markham handcuffed to a cell bar for good measure.
?You didn?t let anyone out of the cells there?? Longarm asked Frye.
?Sir?? The young deputy looked genuinely confused. ?I don?t know how you?d mean, sir. The cells was empty. Wasn?t anybody in them to let out even if I?d wanted to. Which o? course I wouldn?t.?
?Yeah. Sure.?
Longarm climbed to the top floor of the courthouse anyway. Frye had been telling the truth. The office and cells were empty. A lamp with the wick trimmed low burned in a wall fixture.
The only thing Longarm could see out of place?except of course for the cell doors that were standing open?was a desk drawer that was slightly ajar. He was fairly sure that that drawer had been closed when he left the room earlier.
Longarm pulled the drawer open. It held a few papers, an ink bottle, and a tray of steel pen nibs, nothing of real interest. ?What did Markham keep in here, Charlie??
Frye glanced over his shoulder. ?Just the stuff you see there, Marshal, and I think some spare sets of keys too. I don?t see them, though.?
?Handcuff keys??
?Sure.? Frye?s expression showed that he had no idea what Longarm was getting at. Longarm was convinced the youngster was not actor enough to play this out as a role. He honestly did not know what, if anything, could be wrong here.
?Sit down, Charlie. I think it?s about time I told you a few things. Like for instance how I guess you are the act ing sheriff here now that Chief Deputy Mayes is dead.?
Charlie blinked in confusion but sat where he was told.
Longarm found Markham?s whiskey in a bottom desk drawer, selected the better of the two labels available there, and poured drinks for both of them. He didn?t know about Charlie Frye, but right about now Longarm felt a need for a stout drink.
?Now, Charlie, the situation is
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Chapter Twenty-Four
