“Ah, ya’ve a wee daughter. A greater blessin’ can’t be had.Oh, a son is a fine thing, but a daughter is somethin’ special.” The man’s eyes seemed to twinkle in the dim light.
“I’m glad to meet you both and better know my neighbors,” Edward said. “I wish I could invite you to sit for a while and enjoy the evening, but as you can see, we don’t have much in the way of furniture.”
“It’s not a problem. I can’t be stayin’ long. The mornin’ comes too early as it is. We just wanted to let ya know we’re here if ya should need us.”
“That is a comfort and an answer to prayer,” Edward admitted.
“Ah, so yar a prayin’ man. Good, good. I am meself, and it does me heart good to know ya are as well.”
Marybeth relaxed a bit, knowing Melody and her father would be just steps away. “Edward will be working the evenings and nights patrolling the town, so he’s right: you are an answer to prayer.”
Clancy smiled. “We’ll not let harm be comin’ yar way, me girl. The meanest scallywag in town knows better than to bring trouble around me doorstep.” He looked to Edward. “I’ll be keepin’ an eye out for yar family along with me own.”
“Thank you. I’ll do the same for you,” Edward promised.
Marybeth noted the older man’s build. He had large, firm hands and broad shoulders, but otherwise looked lean and able. No doubt he was well-muscled from working for the railroad and enduring regular fights, as Melody had mentioned.
“We’ll be gettin’ along just fine, me boy. Have no fear. Between me and yarself and the good Lord, we’ll have no trouble at all.”
“Oh, and, Marybeth, I’m going shopping in the morning. If you and Carrie want to join me and some others, that wouldbe fine. Or I would be happy to pick up some things for you if you’d rather.”
“Another answer to prayer.” Marybeth had wondered what they were going to do for food. “If you don’t mind, I’ll make a list and give you the money to shop for me. What time should I have it ready?”
“Nine is early enough. I have other chores to see to first.” Melody headed for the tent flaps. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
9
The next couple of days were devoted to learning his job as deputy. Edward found it a bit overwhelming. Evansville was a settled place and, compared to Cheyenne, had relatively little crime. Cheyenne, it seemed, had something happening every minute of the day.
There were the difficulties with con men trying to rob people of their last cent, soiled doves selling themselves and often stealing what they could on the side, and men who just seemed born to fight.
Fred showed him how he managed certain situations, telling Edward that often it would be up to him to judge the situation and decide not only on the crime but also the punishment. For lesser offenses, Fred usually wrote his own style of ticket. He would fine the person fighting or the one who damaged property, for example, and give them a piece of paper stating how much they were to pay and by what date. He would sign and make the offender sign, giving each of them a copy and record of the offense.
Edward didn’t like the idea of having to do that. It seemed simpler to just haul the man in, but as Fred pointed out, most men would rather pay the fine than be marched out severalmiles to Fort Russell in order to serve time. There, the men would be put to work building barracks and other buildings. Fred said the army was working at double speed to get all their soldiers housed indoors before the blizzards started up. Besides, Cheyenne needed the money in order to provide amenities to the community, and so far, jail fines and license fees were about the only way they were getting money in their coffers.
Hearing a commotion, Fred motioned Edward to follow him into Lucky Bill’s Saloon and Bordello. This area of town was often called the hog ranch, a gathering of seedy establishments particularly designed to free soldiers and railroad workers from their weekly pay. It was the worst of “Chicago,” Fred had explained. It was here that the meanest of men drank and fought and the most corrupt of women did the same.
Overhead was an arrangement of lanterns that hung just low enough to shed light on the gambling tables, but high enough that no one could reach them and pull them down to throw. There were roughly crafted plank-board tables where men stood to play the roulette wheel or blackjack and other tables where poker was the focal game. Poorly made stools were all that passed for chairs—if a man had the luxury of one at all. Most stood.
“I’ve never seen anything like this place. Whoever heard of standing to play cards?”
“The chairs always go first in the fights,” Fred said as they worked their way over to what seemed the source of the problem. “Can’t get them fixed or replaced fast enough.”
“What’s going on here?” Fred asked, pushing two men aside. At the center of the confrontation were the Garlow brothers. Hank had just put his fist into another man’s face. Edward could see that they were, as Fred had told him, the bottom of the barrel.
“You stay out of it, lawman. We’re settlin’ things just fine without your interference,” Hank said, still holding his victim by the collar. Emory had his man pinned against a tent pole.
“Hank, you know I can’t let you go on beating this man. Let him go and tell me what happened.”
Hank looked at his brother, and for a minute Edward worried they were going to come after him and Fred. Instead, the twosome dropped their holds on the men and came to face Fred. Edward kept his hand on the butt of his revolver. He often found that when dealing with particularly difficult men, this was usually enough to dissuade careless action.
“They cheated us,” Hank declared. “Dealt off the bottom.”
“I saw it too,” Emory said in support of his brother.
“No one was cheating you,” another man chimed in. Several other men agreed with him.
“Well, it seems to me you’ve done all you could to convince him that such action was not in his best interest,” Fred replied.
