It was not until Meagan dismounted that he saw the expression of extreme sadness on her face, and the red-rimmed eyes. She walked over to him and invited him to put his arms around her.
“What is it, lass? What has you in such a way?” Duff asked in a comforting tone, holding her close to him.
“Jenny Hanlon,” Meagan finally said. “Ethan Terrell brought her and her husband into town today.”
“He brought them in?”
“Dead. Both of them. Oh, Duff, they were shot. Someone murdered both of them. How awful it was!”
Duff continued to hold her in his arms for a long moment, letting her cry into his shoulders. He knew then why she had come to him. She had been holding the sobs in, and now, no longer restrained, she let them out.
Duff waited until she had cried herself out, pulled away, and put a handkerchief to her eyes.
“Do ye wish to go back into town, or would you be for staying the night out here?” Duff asked.
“I . . . I think I would like to stay here,” she said.
That evening before dinner, Meagan and Duff waited in the living room for Elmer to return. Elmer and a couple other men had ridden over to the Hanlon ranch to see if there was anything that needed to be done. While they waited, Meagan told Duff how Jenny had come into her shop just the day before to make arrangements to buy a dress for the christening of the baby.
Once again, tears began to slide down Meagan’s cheeks, though this time the crying was silent. Again, she dabbed at them with a handkerchief.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But I just can’t get Jenny’s face out of my mind—she was so happy. And now . . . this. Oh, Duff, who could have done such a thing? And why?”
Just as she asked the question, Elmer came into the house.
“All his cattle is gone,” Elmer said. “Ever’ cow except for the milk cow. Funny thing, though, his horses is still there.”
“Cattle thieves,” Duff said.
“Yeah.”
“Here, Houser is so dead certain that ’tis the small ranchers who are stealing the cattle, but it was Asa Hanlon who was killed, along with his wife. A small rancher he was, but ’twas his cattle that were stolen.”
“I thought the territorial deputies were supposed to take care of that,” Meagan said.
“Apparently the only thing the deputies have done is kill one of their own,” Duff said, referring to the killing by Captain Harris of Knox, whose first name was unknown.”
“Yeah, ’n there’s somethin’ that’s just real peculiar about that, too,” Elmer said.
“And what is that?”
“Well, sir, when I was talkin’ to Mr. Welsh about the Hanlons, he told me about the bullet holes in Knox’s body. It was bein’ told that Knox shot at this Harris feller first, ’n then Harris shot back. But that don’t seem very likely now.”
“Why do you say that, Elmer?”
“’Cause Mr. Welsh said that Knox looked like he had been hit on back of the head by some kindly of a club, ’n then he was shot, two times.” Elmer paused for a moment before he added, “In the back.”
* * *
Although the burial of Knox and Sobel, three days earlier, had been an isolated event, attended only by the gravediggers, the joint funerals of Asa and Jenny Hanlon had been attended by almost everyone in town, as well as a large number of ranchers. Noticeably absent were Houser and his deputies. The cadre of deputies had now increased by two. After Knox was killed, Malcolm and Dobbins were “deputized.”
Twin Peaks Ranch was, however, represented by one man, Ben Turley. Ben stood alongside Mary Ellen, his head bowed, and his hat in his hand. He spoke to no one, except when he was spoken to.
After the burial, as the mourners began to leave the cemetery, Sheriff Sharpie asked Duff if he would drop by his office for a few minutes.
* * *
“It’s a sad day,” Sheriff Sharpie said, filling two coffee cups and passing one to Duff. “Asa Hanlon was as fine a young man as you would ever want to meet.”
“Aye, he was.”
“Duff, I want to ask a favor of you. And if you feel you can’t do it, I certainly understand, so don’t feel bad about turning me down.”
“Here now, Sheriff, ye have nae yet asked the favor, ’n it’s turning you down ye would have me doing. Ask me the favor, mon, ’n let me be for deciding my ownself.”
Sheriff Sharpie chuckled. “I guess you’re right, that’s not the best way to ask somebody for something if they’re wanting a positive response. The favor I’m askin’ of you is this. Would you be willing to let me make you one of my deputies? I don’t mean a deputy that would have to come into town ’n make rounds ’n such. Fact is, there wouldn’t even be anybody who would need to know you was deputyin’ for me except me ’n you, ’n whoever else you might want to tell.”
“The valley seems a bit overloaded with deputies now. Are you sure that you want another one?” Duff replied.
“It’s those other deputies that I’m worried about,” Sheriff Sharpie said. “I sent a telegram to the governor; he responded that both Brad Houser and Paul Harris hold commissions by him. The others have been deputized by those two.
“I’ll be honest with you, Duff. As they hold their appointments by way of the governor, they have more authority than I do, ’n that means they will have more authority than any deputy that I might appoint. So if you agree to take the job, you will have two strikes against you before you even start.”
“Two strikes against me?” Duff was clearly confused by the term.
“Oh, I forgot, you being a Scotsman that may be somethin’ you don’t understand. It’s a baseball term, and it means that if you decide
