Long Shadows

Chapter 5

After a long, brisk walk into the hills and back, Colonel Farrance felt sufficiently braced and healthy that he thought he might be able to tackle anything that the rest of the day threw at him. As he walked back into Endeavour, he fervently hoped that Ikey Wilson had managed to keep out of mischief and was not already at the center of a storm. He needn’t have worried though, because when he went back to the room over the saloon, it was to find Wilson sleeping soundly. The whisky that he had guzzled down earlier seemingly having acted as a soperific.

“Hey, you lazy fellow,” said Farrance, “Wake up now. We need to talk.”

Watching Wilson come to and ready himself for action was a startling experience, for there were none of the preliminaries that one saw with most folk when once they had been roused from a deep sleep. Ikey Wilson simply opened his eyes, sat up and swung his legs round to plant his feet on the floor. He looked as bright and alert as though he had just walked into the room and sat down on the bed.

“Lord Ikey, you are quick off the mark,” said Farrance, after witnessing this, “It takes me a half hour after waking up before I am ready to face the world.

“Happen nobody has cheated you out of eleven thousand dollars,” said Wilson, “It puts one on edge and eager to get to the task of recovering the money.”

“I dare say that is true. Listen, I want to tell you what I see as the best means of proceeding now. First off, is where I wish to speak to Crawley alone. He and I might have some morsel of unfinished business of our own to talk over and I do not want my life’s history laid out for the edification of you nor anybody else.” He could see that Ikey Wilson was disposed to argue the point, but held up a hand and said, “No Ikey, I will have my way on this. What’s done between me and Andrew Crawley is nothing to the purpose here. You want your money back and I will work towards that end. I am not budging on this point.”

Wilson didn’t like it, but there was little that he could do about it, so he shrugged and said, “You will have it your own way, Bob. You were ever so, even back in the old days. You have not changed that much.”

“We have time to eat before Crawley is likely to arrive here. Do not let us fall out over a trifle like this.”

Being nearly evening, there was something more substantial on offer in the way of food when the two men went downstairs to the bar-room. It was only meat and potatoes, but they were both ravenously hungry. The fellow behind the bar said, as he took their order, “I do not look for there to be any fighting here this night. I feel it in my water, you men are bad news. I shall not be sorry when you go and that’s a fact.” There was little enough that either Farrance or Wilson could say to this, which was a pretty accurate summation of the case as it stood.

While they ate, Wilson asked, “What time do you expect Crawley?”

“I said in my note that I would be here in this room from eight of the clock.”

“Do you think that he will come?”

“I make no doubt of it,” said Colonel Farrance, “No doubt at all. If for no other reason than pure curiosity.”

“Which,” said Wilson, with a sudden and unexpected smile, “Was apt to kill the cat, if I recall the lesson aright from my schooldays.”

Throughout the whole of their conversation, although there was not one thing upon which he could lay his hand, Farrance grew more and more certain that Wilson was planning to do something foolish. What it could be, he had no idea at all.

A good half hour before Crawley was likely to make his entrance, Ikey Wilson went off for a walk, having first given his oath that he would not show himself nor interfere with the bargaining that Farrance had promised to undertake on his behalf.

The saloon filled up slowly, until by eight it was fairly busy, with perhaps two or three dozen men drinking there. Most tended to congregate at the bar and a number of tables remained unoccupied. Farrance sat alone at a table, nursing a small glass of whisky. He spotted Andrew Crawley at once when he entered. It had been over fifteen years since he had set eyes upon him, but the man had not changed all that much since then; he still looked reckless, arrogant and overly confident of his ability to best anybody at cards, shooting, lovemaking or anything else.

To save his life, Colonel Farrance could not have brought himself to greet Crawley or even indicate that he had spotted him. In the event, this was not necessary, because Andrew saw his old boss and smiled broadly, making his way across the room like he was coming to welcome a long lost brother.

When once Crawley was within hailing distance of the table and had commenced to tell the colonel how glad he was to see him, Farrance said curtly, “You may as well cut out all that crap Andrew, I am no more pleased to see you than you are to find me in town. Sit down and we will settle this as swiftly as ever we are able to do.”

His smile did not fade in the least as he seated himself at the table and set his drink before him. Crawley said, “You still have the same way with words, Bob. Short and to the point. I thought that you might have come to talk over old times, but I can see that there is somewhat more on your mind than that.”

“You robbed a train back in 1879, with “Mad Ikey” Wilson and some few others. He went to prison and you offered to look after his share of the robbery. Now he wants it back again.”

“Well now, you have opened your mouth wide. I wonder if I will be able to fill it? First off, is where I would ask what affair this is of yours? Can’t Ikey Wilson speak for himself?”

“You know what happened when he came here. Now I am here to aid him and I tell you straight that if you will not deal straight with him, then you had best resign yourself to going up against me. Is that what you will have?”

“Not so hasty,” said Crawley, laughing as though at a hearty joke, “There need be no talk of you and me going up against each other. Leastways, not yet a whiles.”

Colonel Farrance leaned forward and lowered his voice until it was little more than whisper which Crawley alone could hear. “Let us rightly understand each other, Andrew. You don’t want to get crosswise to me. I did not come these hundreds of miles to bandy words with you, neither. You owe Ikey Wilson upwards of eleven thousand dollars. If you will not pay up, then by God I will see you lose all that you now have and hold.”

“Well, that is plain speaking, Bob and I am obliged to you for it. Since you are somehow mixed up in it now, the case is altered. I will not deny that I was hoping not to settle up with Wilson, but now I see things in a new light.”

“You will give him his money?”

“His money? You mean the railroad’s money. But yes, I will settle up. You needs must give me a few days though to get it together. Tell me, how is your wife? Anne, wasn’t her name?”

At the sound of his dead wife’s names on this man’s lips, Farrance almost lost possession of himself; which as maybe what Crawley had in mind. Luckily, he recollected himself in time and merely said, “Don’t you set mind to my family, Andrew. Just you think about raising that money before I come calling on you.” He stood up and said, “I will be in this same place at this time in five days from now. Be very sure that you have the money by then.” He turned and walked away, heading up to the room that he and Ikey had rented.

Ikey was still out and about, so Farrance lay on his bed and considered what had been said by he and Crawley. Was it a true bill? Would Andrew Crawley really do his best to scrape together over eleven thousand dollars and hadn it over to Wilson? It was an interesting question. Colonel Farrance set his mind to working out how he would raise such sum if called upon to do so. He supposed that he could mortgage his house and land at a pinch and probably Crawley could do likewise. It would be placing a burden around his neck though, especially with interest rates running at current levels. It was more likely by far that the man would seek some convenient method of welching on his debt. He would know by now about the way that Wilson had beaten up that man of his, Cartwright. It would not be easy to arrange for both he and Wilson to be silenced or disposed of while they were in Endeavour. The danger would come if Crawley invited them to go up to the Double Star to collect the money, when once he had supposedly raised it.

Did Crawley know about Charlotte? That was another aspect of the thing which he could not fathom out. Had the man known that Anne was dead? The enquiry after his wife might have been mocking, but still perfectly genuine.

After he had been laying there on the bed for perhaps an hour, turning around in his head every smallest part of the situation, Farrance grew weary of his own company and resolved to go downstairs and mingle with his fellow men for a spell.

The Busted Flush was not a fabulously well appointed drinking place; but the colonel had seen a good deal worse in his time. It was gloomy, but that was perhaps because Farrance was used to gas lighting. The bar room of this saloon did not run to any such luxury, being illuminated only by three enormous kerosene lamps, suspended from the ceiling on pulleys. There were none of the gilt-framed pier glasses that one found in some of the more prosperous establishments either. Nor was there any pianist or faro table. Nothing, excpet for a bar stretching the length of the room and a dozen round tables scattered about the joint. It was strictly a drinking place; somewhere that men came to escape from their womenfolk and enjoy a glass of whisky and a smoke.

Farrance worked his way to the bar, easing and wriggling his way gently through the throng. What with the dim light provided by the oil lamps and the fug of smoke, it was hard to see your hand in front of your face in the bar-room. Eventually, he reached the bar and ordered his second whisky of the evening. When it came, he turned round, ready to be sociable and chat to anybody who might be, like he himself, at a loose end. As he swivelled his body round, it was inevitable that he should brush against the man nearest to him. The colonel thought nothing of it, until a voice at his elbow said, “Mind where you’re stepping, you clumsy ape!”

“Were you speaking to me?” asked Colonel Farrance pleasantly, “I’m sorry if I brushed against you. It is mighty crowded in here tonight.”

The man who had spoken to him did not seem appeased by this fair spoken apology, saying, “Am I speaking to you? Well, I don’t see any other clumsy apes near to me, do you?”

It was immediately apparent to the colonel that this was a stunt set up by Andrew Crawley as a neat way of sidestepping his obligations. This fellow had been primed to start a fight with him and, it was perhaps hoped, get him out of the cart and off Crawley’s back for good and all. It was an old, old trick; but none the less effective for that. He said to the man, “I’ll wager that you are employed up at the Double Star.”

“What does that have to do with the price of sugar?” said the man, “You knocked into me and spilled my drink all down me.” This was such a palpable lie, that Farrance could not restrain himself from smiling; which action only caused the man in front of him to grow more angry.

“Who the hell are you laughing at?” he said, blustering and raising his voice with the clear intention of making it appear that a quarrel had broken out, “I do not take kindly to being laughed at, particular not by an old whore’s son such as you.”

Colonel Farrance raised his voice, so that it carried above the hubbub of noise in the saloon, and cried, “I call upon all you fellows to witness what is happening here. I am being pressed into a quarrel that is none of my making. This man is determined to fight with me and it is far from my wish to do so.”

The sound of converrsation and laughter slowly died away as everybody present stared at Farrance and the man near him. Anything which happened from here on in would be seen and attested to by dozens of men. There was no chance of any hole and corner kind of action where the colonel might come to grief in mysterious and unexplained circumstances.

The bully who had been pushing Farrance and attempting to goad him into some unwise action, was taken aback by the course of events and the ingenious way that he had been exposed to public view. He stood for a few seconds, foxed and unable to work out how best to proceed. His instructions had perhaps been to provoke a fight with Farrance and then injure or kill him. Probably, it had been hoped to do this round the back of the saloon and out of sight of many people. Crawley had chosen his instrument badly, because this man did not have the wit to handle the matter with any finesse and had now been manoeuvred into a situation where his actions would be under scrutiny from many witnesses. He decided to make the best of it.

“You folks had better stand clear,” said Crawley’s bully, “Me and this man have to deal with this here and now.”

“There was a mad scramble among the patrons of the Busted Flush to get as far from either man as ever could be. The other drinkers were particularly anxious not to be standing anywhere behind either of the two parties, lest they should be struck by stray bullets if gunfire erupted. Nobody wanted to leave the saloon though. Gunfights were a rare entertainment in these more civilised times and it had been over a year since there had been any shooting of this type.

The barkeep was far from happy about the way events were developing in his saloon and he said, “Come on fellows, can you not at least take it out into the street?” Both men ignored him.

A fair duel like this had not been part of the plans as far as Crawley and his man were concerned. In fact Crawley had specifically instructed his hired hand not to brace the colonel in full view of the public, but to wait until they were more or less alone. The fellow was none too intelligent though and had difficulty holding more than one idea in his head at a time.

Farrance stood up straight and tall, not for nothing had he once been known as “Long Bob”; he was far and away the tallest man in the room. The Remington hung at his hip and since Crawley’s man was also carrying iron, it looked to the spectators as though this would be a regular duel of the kind that was becoming vanishingly rare as the century drew towards its close.

“Are you sure about this?” asked Farrance, in a calm and collected voice, like he was asking the other man if he wanted to place a large bet on a game of cards.

“Yes,” said the man standing facing him, “I’m sure.”

The problem was of course that this great, hulking fellow was a dab-hand at punching and wrestling; the perfect man to have on your side in a rough house. That was his limit though and anything needing brainpower or close reasoning was quite beyond him. He was not specially fast in any respect, even in pulling a gun from its holster. It had never been part of Crawley’s plans that it would come to a straight contest between his own man and “Long Bob” Farrance.

Farrance stood, waiting at his ease and the bigger man in front of him realised that having started this thing, he would be shamed forever in the town if he did not finish it. He grabbed for his pistol, caught his thumb on the belt as his hand snaked down and was still fumbling to get the gun out when Farrance’s first bullet took him in the chest. He did not fall down at once, but continued trying to free his gun from the holster, whereupon Colonel Farrance shot him again, this time in the forehead. He turned to the awestruck spectators and said, “You all saw that this was no wish of mine. His blood is upon his own head.”

The buzz of conversation resumed and people began drifting over to view the corpse which lay sprawled on the floor in front of the bar. Nobody wanted to get to close to Farrance, either because he had about him the taint of death, or for the more practical reason that he might take it into his his head to shoot somebody else. He stood there, a man alone, wondering what to do next. In the end, he figured that he might as well have his drink, which still set untouched upon the bar.

The owner of the Busted Flush, who also served behind the bar, was none too pleased at this turn of events, coming over to the colonel and saying, “Didn’t I just say that you and your partner would cause trouble here? This is the first killing that has been seen in here for three years. Fine goings on for a respectable house!”

“I did not start it,” said Farrance quietly, “You know that fellow was determined to have a fight with me.”

“Whether or no, it is not what I need here.”

“Do you have a sheriff in this town?”

“A sheriff? No, it is peaceful enough in the general run of things. I will have the body moved out back and send word to the Double Star about what happened.”

“Yes,” said the colonel, “That would be the dodge alright, and you can say that Crawley had best not send anybody else down here to try a similar trick.” he did not wait for a reply, but downed his drink in one gulp, set the down the glass and then turned and left the saloon.

It was not quite dark outside; the sky was that beautiful indigo that you sometimes get in summer about an hour after the sun has sunk below the horizon. As he walked slowly along main street, he met Ikey Wilson coming from the opposite direction. “Well,” said Wilson, “What news?”

“As far as Crawley’s debt to you is concerned, he does not deny what you say and engages to settle up with you five days from now.”

Wilson’s face lit up with pleasure. “Does he by God, that makes for good listening. Anything else? Out with it Bob, I can tell that that is not the whole story.”

Reluctantly, Farrance told the other of the gunfight in the saloon and killing of Crawley’s man.

“Strikes me,” said Wilson, after he had heard about this latest episode, “Strikes me that you were urging me not to take part in any violent acts and now here you are having killed a man yourself. It is a strange thing.”

“It was planned. Crawley set his bully on me to see if he could get out of paying. I don’t think that will be the only game he is up to.”

“Yes, I have already thought on this, before hearing about your little adventure. I have told the owner of that stable where our horses are lodged that we might want the use of his hayloft this night.”

“Did you now?” said the colonel, “That was right cunning of you, Ikey. Meaning, I suppose, that we might not be safe in that room over the saloon this night?”

“Not safe? Not safe? Our lives won’t be worth a wooden nickel if we sleep there tonight. That was already most likely the case, but after you killing that man, it is a racing certainty.”

“I fear that you are right,” said Farrance sadly, “I was hoping to sleep in a proper bed again tonight. That night out in the open has done my bodily constitution no good, no good at all. I dread the prospect of sleeping on a hay bale. Still and all, there is nothing to be done about it. We had best smuggle our things out of that room without being observed.”

So it was that at the advanced age of sixty three, Colonel Robert Farrance, late of the Union Army, found himself sleeping rough in a hay loft, as though he were a young boy out on the spree. As for Ikey Wilson, it was nothing to him. The hay loft was a good deal more comfortable than some of the places he had slept since being released from prison and he was quite content with such lodgings for the night.