Shooting For Justice, G. Tilman [best historical fiction books of all time .txt] 📗

her soon-to-be grandfather in law hugged her!” Israel Pope commanded to his lovely new wife.

“Sarah, my boy and I built this cabin ourselves. He was only about twelve then but could swing a mean axe. Was before he had to worry about keeping his hands in shape for fast gun handling. You done anymore shooting, John?”

“Yessir. A few on the way back to Washington in a robbery and three conspirators trying to kill the president. One was a suicide if anybody asks. The others were justified shootings.”

Israel Pope, in his mountain man days and since, had amassed a long list of kills. He understood there were bad men and sometimes killing them was required. What he worried the most about with his grandson was the growing newspaper coverage. Notoriety led to wannabes. Wannabes were usually people who had big ideas and little skills. People like the Kid Taos fellow from their Cheyenne case. Sometimes they got lucky. Which was a source of worry to the grandfather.

“This talk you and I need to have. Is it just us? Or a family pow-wow?” Israel asked Pope.

“Family for sure. We have some big decisions and sure would appreciate your and Millie’s advice.”

“Let’s hold it for just after dinner. We’ll talk on full stomachs,” Israel said.

Pope and his grandfather put Caesar out in the small pasture. The big horse ran and frolicked like a colt, Scout behind him barking in support.

“It’s sure nice up here, Grandpa,” Pope remarked.

“I like it better than the ranch. I promised I’d leave you the ranch. Do you really want it?”

“It’s about the only home I remember. But soon it’s going to be all settled in around it. You are certainly welcome to sell it from my standpoint. Assuming you and Millie would rather live up here,” Pope said.

“I may have mentioned there’s another hundred acres of woodland adjacent to this seventy-five acres,” Israel said.

“I remember you said there was some available land. I don’t remember if you said how much.”

“What if I sold the ranch and bought the land here. I would leave the whole hundred seventy-five acres to you. Of course, Millie could live here, looked after, the rest of her life.”

“Grandpa, I’d look after Millie without any type agreement. We both love her. Besides, then, she’d be all I have left of you.”

“I had to spill it out, boy. But I already knew the answer. It’s how you were raised.”

“Have you talked about this with her?” Pope asked.

“I have. She’s good with it. She saw you in action saving the girl she damn near raised in San Francisco. The one who is planning on stealing you away from Sarah.”

“She actually is a sweet kid. I don’t want to hurt her feelings but have to be real careful what I say to her.”

“Yep.”

“Sonny, was this part about the ranch and up here in any way related to your visit?”

“Yessir. It is partially related. We have some marriage and job things for our pow-wow.”

“While we are talking, I reckon I’m ready to tell you more of my story before I took over raising you. There’s a part I left out. Millie knows it. After dinner, you will, too.”

Dinner was venison stew with doughy rolls fixed in a Dutch oven. Millie capped it off with a mixed berry pie from fruit she and Israel gathered.

Sarah retrieved the black coffee pot from the fireplace and topped their mugs.

“First off, Sonny, tell us as much as you can about the case you resolved in Washington,” Israel said.

“The president of Wells Fargo was summoned to Washington. Once there, the attorney general and the secretary of war—Abe Lincoln’s son—asked to borrow us to investigate and make a threat against President Arthur go away. He came back and met with our boss, Hume, who you both know from the Mattie Lane kidnapping.”

“Two good things came out of the kidnapping,” Israel said. “You got the young lady back safely and I met and stole their housekeeper!”

“You did. And we all benefitted when Millie joined the family,” Sarah said. “And, the young lady is still sending love letters to John,” she added unnecessarily.

“Well, of course she would. I’m a couple years too old for her,” Israel said breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Pope said nothing.

“Sarah did a lot of research and we came up with a number of folks who might have a legitimate grievance against Arthur. A big worry was it might be an illogical nut group. They would have been virtually impossible to find. One of our primary suspects, a New York politician and probable crime boss, became our most valuable resource.

“We finally narrowed it down to a small dissident group of communists. Sarah went undercover and confirmed them. I interrogated the leader harshly and he sang like a robin in spring. He prompted me to hit him. The throat punch killed him. We staged a suicide. Of course, nobody but the four of us know about it. The police in Scarsdale investigated and bought the suicide without question.

“Knowing who and how the attack on the president was going to happen, we used the New York politician to set up a meeting with the two remaining shooters. Neither knew their friend was already dead.

“I told them, I was a deputy US marshal and they were under arrest for conspiring to kill the president. They both pulled and I killed them on the spot. Right in front of a former US senator. He knew the police sergeant who was first on scene and recounted the incident. I filed a report at police headquarters the next morning. We came back to Washington and attended the event where the shooting was supposed to occur. It looked like we eliminated the threats. We ducked out of town to protect Sarah from an amorous president.”

“I concur except for the last. I could have handled him. John also left out I had to kill a couple of attackers in New York City. Probably just thugs,” Sarah added.

“Sounds like you two