Read Online Murder at Thumb Butte by James D. Best - Free Book Online
Authors: James D. Best
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instructions and retreated to the wall. “You need to explain what happened so I can get you out of here. Let’s start at the beginning: Why did you stay downstairs in the saloon? I thought you went down for a bottle to take back to your room.”
“ When I walked in, I was treated like a hero. Before I knew it, I had three full shot glasses in front of me. I’d blame others, but hell, I wanted to celebrate too.” Sharp looked at his hand and gave it a shake before rubbing it again. “I’d dreamed about punchin’ that cheatin’ bastard for years.”
“ When did you leave?”
“ Hell, I don’t know. I was drinkin’ for a couple hours. By the time I walked out, I was lucky to move under my own power.” He alternated between rubbing his forehead and his hand. “I remember climbin’ those damn back stairs. I had to take each step careful-like while holdin’ tight to the handrail.”
“ What else do you remember?”
“ Not much. I recall a bunch of men roustin’ me out of bed. I was too drunk to resist, so I guess they just led me over here to this cell. Woke up pukin’ a few hours ago, an’ that jailer told me I was under arrest for the murder of Elisha Campbell—way out at this Thumb Butte, for God’s sake.”
“ Did you go to Thumb Butte last night?”
“ Hell, I don’t even know what it is.”
“ That big outcropping we saw on the way into town. It’s about a mile away.”
“ I couldn’t have traveled a mile. I barely made it out of the saloon.”
“ Jeff, it doesn’t look good. Your rifle was lying next to the body of a man you threatened to kill earlier in the evening. A bullet had been fired into the back of Elisha Campbell’s head.”
“ Shit.” Sharp looked worried, but I could see that his thinking was still muddled from over-drinking. He sat still for a time until he said, “I need three things. A damn good lawyer, an alibi, an’ a cup of hot coffee. Can ya get ’em for me, Steve?”
I must have been mistaken about his mental state, because that list was anything but muddled. “I’ll get you the best lawyer in the territory, but the other two might be more difficult.”
“ Bribe that son-of-a-bitch jailer. I need to get a clear head. Then talk to people that were in the saloon last night. Ought to be plenty to testify I was fallin’-down drunk. I never could have gotten out to some butte.”
“ Jeff, did you lock your door when you went down to buy that bottle?”
“ Ya know I didn’t. Ya was standin’ right there. I meant to be right back.”
“ And your rifle?”
“ Yep, in my unlocked room the whole time I was drinkin’ myself under the table.”
“ I think someone wanted Campbell dead, and you provided a handy scapegoat.”
“ Handy an’ stupid.” Sharp leaned over the chamber pot as if to puke again, but then jerked back up straight.
“ I need a fourth thing: Can ya kindly pay someone to empty an’ clean this damn chamber pot?”
“ I’ll take care of it.”
He looked up at me with forlorn eyes. “What d’ya think?”
“ I think we’re in a strange town. If this goes to trial fast, we may not have enough time to discover the real story. We need help.”
“ Joseph?”
“ Joseph.”
Chapter 12
Another two dollars secured Sharp an endless cup of coffee and a clean commode, so I ran over to the Western Union office to send a message to Captain Joseph McAllen of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency.
My next stop was the second floor of the courthouse: the governor’s office. A secretary behind a carved mahogany desk guarded the governor’s closed office door. As I approached, he stood and raised a hand to stop my progress. He was a young man, probably early twenties, impeccably dressed in a three-piece suit that was obviously tailored in the East. I, of course, was dressed like a cleaned-up ranch hand.
“ Good morning. I’d like to see Governor Frémont. My name is Steve Dancy.”
“ He hasn’t arrived yet, and
“ When I walked in, I was treated like a hero. Before I knew it, I had three full shot glasses in front of me. I’d blame others, but hell, I wanted to celebrate too.” Sharp looked at his hand and gave it a shake before rubbing it again. “I’d dreamed about punchin’ that cheatin’ bastard for years.”
“ When did you leave?”
“ Hell, I don’t know. I was drinkin’ for a couple hours. By the time I walked out, I was lucky to move under my own power.” He alternated between rubbing his forehead and his hand. “I remember climbin’ those damn back stairs. I had to take each step careful-like while holdin’ tight to the handrail.”
“ What else do you remember?”
“ Not much. I recall a bunch of men roustin’ me out of bed. I was too drunk to resist, so I guess they just led me over here to this cell. Woke up pukin’ a few hours ago, an’ that jailer told me I was under arrest for the murder of Elisha Campbell—way out at this Thumb Butte, for God’s sake.”
“ Did you go to Thumb Butte last night?”
“ Hell, I don’t even know what it is.”
“ That big outcropping we saw on the way into town. It’s about a mile away.”
“ I couldn’t have traveled a mile. I barely made it out of the saloon.”
“ Jeff, it doesn’t look good. Your rifle was lying next to the body of a man you threatened to kill earlier in the evening. A bullet had been fired into the back of Elisha Campbell’s head.”
“ Shit.” Sharp looked worried, but I could see that his thinking was still muddled from over-drinking. He sat still for a time until he said, “I need three things. A damn good lawyer, an alibi, an’ a cup of hot coffee. Can ya get ’em for me, Steve?”
I must have been mistaken about his mental state, because that list was anything but muddled. “I’ll get you the best lawyer in the territory, but the other two might be more difficult.”
“ Bribe that son-of-a-bitch jailer. I need to get a clear head. Then talk to people that were in the saloon last night. Ought to be plenty to testify I was fallin’-down drunk. I never could have gotten out to some butte.”
“ Jeff, did you lock your door when you went down to buy that bottle?”
“ Ya know I didn’t. Ya was standin’ right there. I meant to be right back.”
“ And your rifle?”
“ Yep, in my unlocked room the whole time I was drinkin’ myself under the table.”
“ I think someone wanted Campbell dead, and you provided a handy scapegoat.”
“ Handy an’ stupid.” Sharp leaned over the chamber pot as if to puke again, but then jerked back up straight.
“ I need a fourth thing: Can ya kindly pay someone to empty an’ clean this damn chamber pot?”
“ I’ll take care of it.”
He looked up at me with forlorn eyes. “What d’ya think?”
“ I think we’re in a strange town. If this goes to trial fast, we may not have enough time to discover the real story. We need help.”
“ Joseph?”
“ Joseph.”
Chapter 12
Another two dollars secured Sharp an endless cup of coffee and a clean commode, so I ran over to the Western Union office to send a message to Captain Joseph McAllen of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency.
My next stop was the second floor of the courthouse: the governor’s office. A secretary behind a carved mahogany desk guarded the governor’s closed office door. As I approached, he stood and raised a hand to stop my progress. He was a young man, probably early twenties, impeccably dressed in a three-piece suit that was obviously tailored in the East. I, of course, was dressed like a cleaned-up ranch hand.
“ Good morning. I’d like to see Governor Frémont. My name is Steve Dancy.”
“ He hasn’t arrived yet, and
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