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

“What’s new, Bill,” Pope asked his chief deputy.

“Nothing yet, Sheriff. I expect a few wanted posters to come in with the noon mail. Nothing of interest worth your reading in the reports from the three night deputies.”

“What do you think of the probability of the town paying for a night marshal and letting us deputize and supervise him? We’re a peaceful place, but there still is the more than occasional drunk, mugging and the like. It would keep this office open all day. He could stay here and make maybe four rounds a night,” Pope said.

“I think we’d have a chance at it. If not, the county is pretty pleased with you and the office over the smuggler thing. They’d probably approve another deputy or two to cover it as a fallback position,” Isakson said.

“I’ll catch the mayor at his general merchandise later and see what he says. He’ll probably whine about budget. Maybe he will be right. If he seems sincere, I’ll take it up with the county commission. You think we’d need two to cover it, Bill?”

“I do. What with illness, family issues and the like. One deputy could do it most of the time, freeing up the second to be another patrol deputy until needed.”

“Sounds like a good solution. I may just pass on the mayor for now,” Pope thought aloud. His chief deputy agreed. This was his third sheriff since signing on as a deputy twenty years ago. All had been good. This one, Pope, was affable but much younger. He might have some basics to learn. He showed a lot of potential, the older man thought.

Pope went to the supervisor and presented his idea. He got approval for one additional deputy as long as the rest of the commission went along. One beat what he had now. The new one would cover nights and he would have to pull one off night patrol to cover when he was not available. Or cover it himself. Or split it with Isakson. Either way, it was doable. The commission would meet and hopefully confirm it in two weeks.

In the meantime, Pope would check with his chief deputy and quietly with other deputies to see who a good candidate might be.

He thought about Martha Lane, then dismissed the idea. With the night deputy position, she would not have to patrol on horseback alone. She would have to manhandle frequent drunks back to the lockup. She would not have any backup. While deputies on patrol did not have backup either, ones did while in town. Their backup was either the chief deputy, the sheriff or both. Just not late at night when predators prowled.

It seemed a distant option to him. With neither Pope nor Sarah at Wells Fargo anymore, he did not have to worry about repercussions from Joe Lane.

He was more worried about whether any nineteen-year-old, male or female, could handle the job alone.

Pope walked by Sarah’s new office just as she was coming out the door with her coat on and a leather satchel in hand.

“Off detecting? I was going to buy you lunch,” he said.

“Not today. I have to go to Sausalito and check on one of Harry’s old clients. See you at dinner,” she said as she swung a long leg over Kate’s back and settled in the saddle.

“Your shotgun holster is empty.”

“I know. But fear not, husband. My shotgun is in the satchel with my notebook. Right with me in case of a gunfight while eating lunch on the harbor,” she replied with a smile.

He shook his head and walked off as she rode out of town.

Bill Isakson got back from the post office at one o’clock. The ferry with the mail had been late.

As he and Pope were reviewing new wanted posters together, they heard shots.

Pope grabbed his coat and carbine. Isakson grabbed his coat and a long-barreled shotgun. They both went out the door carefully.

The shots came from the area of one of the town’s banks. They moved down sidewalks on opposite sides of the street at the same pace.

Three men with rifles ran out of the bank. They saw the two lawmen and aimed. Bill Isakson fired a load of buckshot. The distance was too great, and it knocked up dust in the street. Pope sought a barrier. He found it in the form of a water trough. Dropping to his belly, he aimed around it as the three sent a barrage of shots towards both lawmen.

Pope aimed his carbine, but a man who had been shopping at the feedstore ran in front of him and he could not fire.

The chief deputy let go another load of buckshot, but to no avail at the distance.

The three jumped on their horses, a black, and two duns, and rode off as fast as possible.

“Bill, check for wounded in the bank. I am going after them! See if you can round up a posse once the bank is taken care of!” Pope yelled.

He sprinted down the street to Caesar and mounted. He always had a couple night’s water, coffee, jerky and the like in his saddlebags, so he did not have to stop as he took off in hot pursuit.

Pope started off a quarter mile behind. The robbers’ horses were as fast as Caesar, or faster. What they did not have was his endurance.

The chase became five miles, then ten. The robbers were slowing as they pushed their horses hard.

Pope reached back in his saddlebag and put a box of cartridges in his coat pocket. They were .44-40s, so they would fit his Colt revolver and his and Winchester carbine both.

The three hit a point in the road where the left was a steep rock covered slope, and the right had a copse of trees. They dismounted.

One set up at the top of the slope between a large rock. The other two positioned themselves behind trees.

Pope grabbed his canteen and dismounted. He sent Caesar