Fugitive Sheriff by Edward Massey

Author:Edward Massey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gale, Cengage Learning
Published: 2019-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 25:

AUGUST 26, 1883

Uncle Frank and Sheriff Simms and their hostage started early morning and travelled two full days with one short night to arrive at the turn-off, Rock Springs to the right and Coalville, three days’ ride, to the left.

“Will you be okay with this bloke by yourself?” asked Uncle Frank.

“Sure. He don’t bother me.” Sheriff John Willford looked at Albert Hopt, not tall enough to reach Luke Willford’s shoulder or Uncle Frank’s chin. “He’s a puny little thing, except when he’s shooting a pistol at an unarmed man.”

“You’ll make sure he doesn’t escape?” said Uncle Frank, question-statement.

“Don’t worry. He won’t.”

“That is my worry.” Uncle Frank turned away from his nephew and spoke to Hopt. “This is not too complicated. You got a knot on your head, but you’re not dead. That’s good. Where you’re going, they’ll either shoot you or hang you. That’s bad. If you go back without trying to get away, you’ll get there alive. That’s good. If you try to get away, you’ll get there dead. That’s bad.” He paused for a moment and leaned in close. “Get my drift?”

Hopt nodded. He understood. Uncle Frank had posed the limits of the sheriff’s restraint and, at the same time, had given his permission.

Sheriff Simms kept Hopt in handcuffs, and, at night, he set a twist hobble on Hopt’s feet. Having but one length of rope, he tied Hopt’s horse to it as well. Two birds with one stone, how Daedalus got the feathers. Where did that thought come from? His mother, teaching him to read. He made a mental note to visit her with news of Hopt’s capture.

Sheriff Simms and his prisoner arrived at the fairgrounds about lunchtime. He had to find Woodside to take Hopt to the jail, and Uncle Frank’s warning would mean nothing to Hopt if left alone. Simms looked around the fairgrounds for an idea. He took Hopt into a stall and tied the length of rope to one ankle, around two of the posts, and back down to the other ankle. With his hands cuffed behind him, if Hopt was smart, he could take his comfort in the hay.

“You ain’t gonna leave me like this, for Christ’s sake,” said Hopt.

“You’re right.” Sheriff Simms took a bandanna from his hip pocket and tied it around Hopt’s mouth.

The sheriff mounted Indigo. Before he left, he surveyed the fairgrounds. He could see Hopt’s horse in one stall, nothing else. For the moment, Hopt lay still, and the sheriff could hear nothing. A bad risk to take. One more precaution—take the horse. The sheriff attached the reins to a rigging dee on his saddle. Taking the route up east of town allowed him to avoid Main Street. The detour took ten minutes to ride to the jail instead of five. It added to the risk with Hopt, but Simms recognized he had returned to his life of choosing between the risks of the hunted and tasks of the hunter. He had been gone two weeks.

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