Denver Draw (19 page)

Bat, Butler, and Doc discussed what they should do when they got back to Denver.

“We got a dead policeman and two more handcuffed,” Bat said.

“We’re going to have to explain that.”

“Maybe,” Doc said, “I shouldn’t even go back. They’re liable to put me back in a cell.”

Bat looked at Doc.

“I came all this way to get you out, legally.”

“With a phony warrant?” Doc pointed out.

“Okay, so it had to look legal,” Bat said, “but if you run now they’ll hound you.”

“He’s right, Doc,” Butler said. “It’s got to look legal.”

They were camped right outside of Denver, would be riding in the next day. The two policemen, Mallon and Benson, were off to one side, having been fed and told to turn in. They were still cuffed from behind and slept fitfully, but at least they were asleep. No one wanted their input.

“I don’t want to go back into a cell,” Doc said. “I may never come out.”

Butler looked at Bat.

“You and I still have rooms at the hotel,” he said. “We can put Doc in one.”

“And what do we do about those two?” Bat asked, indicating the sleeping men. “They’ll talk.”

“Not if they don’t know where Doc is.”

“We got to explain a dead lawman,” Bat said. “You and me, we gotta stay out of jail.”

“Mallon killed Daly,” Butler said.

“The man’s got three bullets in him.”

“Okay,” Butler said, “let’s think this through. How can we all get off the hook and not go to jail?”

Bat and Doc said it at the same time.

“The governor.”

“Right,” Butler said. “So we’ve got to get Oliver James to talk to the governor, while we stay out of sight.”

“Not to toot our own horn,” Bat said, “but how do you expect me and Doc to stay out of sight?”

“We’ll sneak you into the hotel,” Butler said.

“And who goes to see the lawyer?” Bat asked.

“I do.”

“What if you’re picked up?”

“I’ll still get to see my lawyer.”

“They’ll put you in a cell,” Doc said.

“Better me than you, Doc,” Butler said. “In your condition, you know?”

Doc shook his head.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Doc said. “Risk your freedom, your life. Bat risking his badge.”

“I’m gonna give it up anyway, after this.”

“Still,” Doc said, “I should probably just light out—”

“This will work, Doc,” Butler said. “We got all night to plan it out.”

“And what do we do with them?” Doc asked. “And the dead one?”

“We’ll figure that out, too,” Butler insisted. “All we’ve got to do is put our heads together.”

“And make more coffee,” Bat said. “I’ll take care of that.”

While Bat put another pot of coffee on the fire to boil—coffee being something everyone took on the trail with them, even if they weren’t anticipating that they were going to camp—they continued to discuss their options.

“We could hold these two until we get our freedom,” Doc said.

“Trade them you mean?” Bat asked.

“Sure, why not?”

“Because they can charge you for that,” Butler said. “We don’t need any more charges.”

“What if one of us just stays here with them while the others go into town?” Bat asked.

“Who stays?” Doc asked.

“You,” Bat said.

Butler didn’t like that idea. There was no guarantee Doc would still be there when they came back.

“I think we have to put this in the lawyer’s lap,” he said.

“That lawyer?” Bat asked.

“He’s got a reputation in Denver,” Butler said, then added, “at least, he did.”

“You think he can figure a way out?” Doc asked. “A way I don’t have to go back to jail?”

“I think he’s our only way out,” Butler said. “He’s the one that’s going to have to go to the governor.”

Bat looked at Doc, who shrugged.

“He did all right by me over the past few days.”

“All right, then,” Bat said. “We leave it to the lawyer. But I’ll talk to him, and you fellas stay in the hotel.”

“What about these three?” Doc asked. “We can’t have them runnin’ their mouths—especially Mallon—until we get things settled.”

Butler looked over at the forms of the two sleeping men and the one dead one.

“How about I go in first, then?” he suggested. “You two stay here with these three. As soon as I talk to the lawyer and learn something, I’ll come back out.”

“And bring somethin’ to eat?” Doc asked.

“I liked it better when we were going to the hotel,” Bat said.

“Can you figure a way to get the two lawmen into the hotel as well?” Butler asked.

“Like you said before,” Bat answered. “We sneak in.”

“What about the dead one?” Doc asked.

“We leave him here, cover him with rocks so the critters don’t get him. Come back for him later.”

“Bat?”

“I’m for any idea where we eat,” Bat said.

“Hot food,” Doc added.

“Then I think we’re all voting for the hotel,” Butler said. “We’ll leave at dusk, sneak into town and into the hotel, and then I’ll go and see Oliver James. Agreed?”

They all agreed and, while there was still a few hours of darkness, turned in.

Early the next morning they all rode in to Denver, but rather than go in altogether. Butler went in ahead to get a head start with the lawyer, Oliver James.

“I’m registered at the hotel,” Bat said. “I’ll just walk in, and let Doc and the other two in the back way. We’ll take them to my room.”

“Here’s the key to my room,” Butler said, tossing it to Doc.

“What about you?”

“I’ll just tell them I lost my key. They’ll give me another one.”

How they used the two rooms was up to them. Butler mounted up, said he’d see them later, and headed for Denver.

Butler rode directly to the office of Oliver James. He left his horse outside, in front of the building, and went in, hoping the lawyer was there. He was.

“Jesus,” James said when Butler entered. “Where the hell have you been? Where’s Masterson? And Holliday?”

“They’re in a safe place.”

“You got him back?”

“Yes,” Butler said, sitting down in front of James’s desk, “but it wasn’t easy.”

“Did you break any laws?”

“Uh, yeah, possibly a few,” Butler said, “but one great big one…”

By the time Butler finished his story, Oliver James had both hands over his face.

“Is that it?”

“That’s all of it.”

“One dead policeman?”

“Yes.”

“And where are the other two?”

“Safe.”

James dropped his hands.

“What do you expect me to do with this information, Butler?” he asked.

Butler said. “Just get us a meeting with the governor so we can explain everything that happened. We can’t explain it to the local law, they won’t believe us.”

“And what makes you think the governor will?”

“Two reasons,” Butler said. “Bat is a lawman.”

“And?”

Butler shrugged and said, “Because he’s Bat Masterson.”

When Butler returned to the hotel, leaving his horse in the livery, nobody in the lobby gave him a second look. Only the desk clerk acknowledged his presence, and that was just with a friendly nod. He was already on the second floor when he remembered he didn’t have a key. Rather than go downstairs he went to his room and
knocked on the door. It was answered by Doc Holliday, who was holding a glass of amber liquid.

“Hope you don’t mind,” he said. “I’m drinkin’ your whiskey.”

“I don’t mind, Doc,” Butler said, closing the door behind him. “In fact, I’ll have one with you.”

He poured himself a drink similar in size to Doc’s and asked, “Where’s Bat?”

“He’s in his room with the local lawmen, makin’ them comfortable. Did you talk to the lawyer?”

“I did,” Butler said. “He shined me on for a while when asked about the governor, but the fact of the matter is he’s already got an appointment to see him.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Can we all go?”

“That’s the plan,” Butler said.

“So all we have to do is live through this next day and night and we got it made. Nobody goes to jail.”

“Well,” Butler said, “you won’t go to jail, because you had nothing to do with killing that third policeman. That was me and Bat.”

“And Mallon,” Doc said. “Don’t forget Mallon. Who’s to say which bullet killed him?”

“That’s true enough,” Butler said, “but either way, you’re in the clear. Once Bat’s warrant is recognized, that is.”

“This don’t seem fair,” Doc said. “You fellas come to help me, and now you might be in trouble.”

“We just need some cooperation from Mallon.”

“Why him and not the other man?”

“Because Benson was unconscious when Daly was killed. The only ones who can say what happened are
the four of us. We need a story we can all agree on.”

“You, me, and Bat can say Mallon did it,” Doc offered. “Shot his own man three times.”

“That would be a lie.”

“So?”

“The lawyer says we’ve got to get through this with as few lies as possible. Me, I think we can get through it with no lies.”

“None?” Doc asked.

“None.”

“You’re an optimistic man, Butler.”

“I’ll talk to Mallon,” Butler said. “Make him see that cooperating with us is best. The three of us could pin this on him. I’ll make him see that. To keep that from happening he’ll agree with whatever story we come up with.”

“Suicide, then,” Doc said.

Butler laughed, knew Doc was not serious, and said, “I think we’ll have to do better than that.”

Butler left Doc in the room to go and talk to Mallon and Bat, but before he left he said, “Hey, I forgot. I got this for you.”

He pulled the derringer from his boot. Doc had removed the gun belt he’d gotten from one of the policemen. He said it wasn’t comfortable.

“Thanks,” Doc said, accepting it.

“I was going to slip it to you in your cell, but…”

“That’s okay,” Doc said. He stuck it in his vest pocket, where it fit nicely. “I used to have one just like it. It’ll keep me from feeling naked until I can get my own gun back.”

Doc was pouring himself another drink as Butler left the room to walk down the hall. When he knocked on the door Bat answered.

“How’d it go?”

“We’ve got an appointment with the governor tomorrow morning.”

“Already? That lawyer works fast. Come on in.”

As Butler entered he saw that Bat—like Jennifer—had gotten himself a two-room suite.

“They in the other room?”

“Trussed up nice and tight, gagged, lying next to each other on the bed.”

Butler told Bat how Oliver James had already been working on seeing the governor, so they’d lucked out.

“So the governor’s expecting the lawyer, but he’s gonna get all of us.”

“Including those two,” Butler said, using his chin to indicate the men in the other room. As he had done with Doc, he told Bat that they needed to come up with a story and have Mallon back it.

“Makes sense,” Bat said. “The other guy was out cold.”

“So let’s untie Mallon, bring him in here and see if we can get him to cooperate.”

“Between us,” Bat said, “I’m sure we can make him see the light.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

They went into the other room, grabbed Mallon, carried him out to a chair, and then untied him and removed his gag.

“You men are gonna pay for this,” Mallon gasped.

“Mallon,” Bat said, “we got a proposition for you, and you better listen good.”

“I ain’t about to do nothin’ for you,” Mallon said. “You killed a lawman.”

“Did we?” Butler asked. “Or did you?”

“The way I’m gonna tell it—”

“It’s gonna be three against the word of one,” Bat said, cutting him off. “Now, you wanna listen or talk? Because this is gonna benefit all of us.”

Mallon looked stubborn, but then said, “Okay, I’ll listen.”

When Bat Masterson, Doc Holliday, and Tyrone Butler entered the governor’s office with Oliver James they really had no way of knowing for sure if Perry Mallon was going to back their play. All they could do was wait and see.

They were all ushered into the presence of Governor Frederick Pitkin, who stood behind his desk as they came in.

“I want you gentlemen to know that I feel bamboozled by this…this turnout. It was my understanding that I would be meeting with Mr. James today.”

“It’s not Mr. James’s fault, sir,” Bat Masterson said. “He didn’t know that we’d be here, either.”

“Mr. Masterson, I want you to know that it is only on the strength of your reputation, and the fact that you happen to be a Colorado lawman at the moment, that I agreed to see you all. Please, find seats.”

At that moment the door opened and a man stuck his head in.

“Sir, the chief of police and the district attorney are outside as well.”

“Tell them both that I will see them after this meeting.”

“Sir, they insist that what they have to say impacts this meeting.”

“Governor,” Bat said, “I really think that your decision in this matter should rest solely on the facts, and not on what the chief of police and district attorney might have to say.”

“Thank you for that, Mr. Masterson, but I do know how to do my job,” Pitkin said. To his man he added, “Tell them later.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now,” Pitkin said as the door closed, “which of you gentlemen will present this case.”

Oliver James cleared his throat. He wasn’t happy, but he had finally agreed that Bat should do the talking.

“Sir,” he said, “we’ve agreed amongst ourselves that Mr. Masterson should present our case.”

“Very well.” Pitkin turned his attention to Bat and said, “But first I’d like to be introduced to the other men in the room.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Bat said. “This is Tyrone Butler, a friend of both Doc Holliday’s and mine. This is a Denver policeman, Perry Mallon. And, of course, Doc Holliday.”

Mallon looked away, Doc looked directly at the governor with bloodshot eyes. He had just suffered a coughing fit before they entered the room. Butler thought this would work in their favor. Doc looked awful.

Bat produced his warrant and set it on the governor’s desk, then proceeded to tell the man that when he arrived with the warrant the prisoner—Doc—was gone, having been whisked away—“kidnapped”—in the mid
dle of the night, by Denver police who were intent on handing him over to lawmen from Arizona.

“What happened to the Arizona lawmen?” Pitkin asked.

“They would not go along with it, Governor,” Bat said.

“To their credit,” James inserted.

“Mr. Butler and I went out to bring Doc back,” Bat said, and here was where the story got dicey.

According to Doc, Daly, the dead policeman, went crazy, tried to kill Doc, even tried to kill his own colleague, Mallon. This was not far from the truth.

“We all fired at the same time, sir,” Bat said. “We have no way of knowing if all three bullets killed him or, if it was one, whose it was.”

Pitkin looked at Mallon for the first time.

“Is this true, Officer Mallon?” he demanded.

All eyes were on Mallon, waiting for his answer.

“Yeah—yes, sir, that’s how it happened.”

Pitkin picked up the warrant and read it carefully.

“Robbing a stagecoach in Pueblo, Colorado?” he asked. “Shooting a man?”

“Yes, sir,” Bat said. “Pueblo wants him bad.”

“This would seem to supercede any warrant sworn out here in Denver,” Pitkin said.

Mallon started to say that the warrant he’d arrested Bat on was from Tombstone, but then shut his mouth.

“Officer, do you have anything to say?” the governor asked.

“No, sir.”

“Do you have any idea what your boss, Chief Coolidge, wants with me today? Or the D.A.?”

“To tell you the truth,” Mallon said, “I’ll bet they’re gonna say I took Doc Holliday out of his cell my own self.”

“When in fact?”

“When in fact I was ordered to.”

“I could bind you all over for trial of the death of Officer Daly,” the governor said, “but since you all agree on your story I’m not going to do that.” Pitkin handed Bat the warrant. “Marshal Masterson, the prisoner is yours. Do me a favor and get him out of Denver.”

“My pleasure, sir.”

“That’s it?” Doc asked. These were the first and only words he had spoken.

“Unless you have something else to add, sir?” Governor Pitkin asked.

“Oh, no, I’ve got nothin’ to add, sir,” Doc said. “Thank you.”

“I don’t know why you’re thanking me, Mr. Holliday,” Pitkin said. “The marshal here is going to take you right from here to Pueblo.”

“I just don’t like Denver, Governor,” Doc said. “Too many people trying to do me harm.”

“All the more reason you should leave, sir.”

“Yes, sir,” Bat said, before anyone else could speak, “we’re leavin’.”

“All of you?”

“All of us,” Bat said.

“Hey,” Mallon said, “I got a job—”

“Mr. Mallon,” the governor said, “the chief and the D.A. are coming in here next. By the time I’m through with them, I don’t think you’ll have a job. Do you?”

“Uh, no, sir.”

“Like I said,” Pitkin finished, “I suppose you’ll all be leaving Denver.”

“Yes, sir,” Mallon said.

“Just as soon as we can, sir,” Bat said.

“Then, I think we’re done here,” the governor said.