It was almost dark when Allie arrived in Arkmore. She wanted to talk to Sheriff Dan Harmon, but was tired and decided to wait until the next morning. Hoping she wouldn’t attract attention, she got a room at the Arkmore Hotel and ate at the hotel’s restaurant. She went to her room and stayed there, still in angst over her meeting that day with Swift Current…
Monday, June 13…
Allie slept a little late the next morning; the sun was high into a bright, warm sky by the time she arose and ate breakfast at a nearby diner. While she was eating breakfast, she noticed a man, professional-looking in a grey suit, white shirt, and black string tie, casting occasional glances at her. Banker written all over him and he’s fixing to come talk to me…Allie was correct on both accounts.When Faye Fontenot finished his meal, Allie was still eating. The banker wiped his mouth on his napkin, dropped some money on his table, and came over to where the Lady Ranger was sitting. His smile was pleasant enough. “I’m sorry to bother you, but do you mind if I talk to you for a minute?”
Allie immediately didn’t like him, but Allie immediately didn’t like almost everybody she met, so she didn’t hold that against the man. “Have a seat,” she said, waving at the chair across from her. And then she continued eating.
“Thank you,” Fontenot said, and then introduced himself. “You’re, uh, Allie Summer, aren’t you? The ranger who is going to help us solve our…problem?”
Allie added a little more dislike to Fontenot. She didn’t like politicians, diplomats, or people who beat around the bush. “If you mean, ‘am I going to try to help you find the people who have been killing the ranchers around here,’ then, yes, that’s what I’m here for.”
Fontenot chuckled. “Yes, I guess that’s what I meant. I just want you to know that I—and the whole community—appreciate you coming. Sheriff Harmon is a good man, but this one is way over his head.” Allie’s “like meter” for Fontenot dropped some more. Attacking the local law didn’t sit well with her. I’ll make up my own mind if Harmon is incompetent or not, thank you. Fontenot went on, “We’ve heard good things about you and we think if anybody can catch these scoundrels, you can.”
Allie was bored. She hated this kind of sycophantic, pandering slobber because it was usually so insincere. Either that, or it was…sycophantic, pandering slobber. “Well, I’ll do the best I can, Mr. Fontenot.”
The banker continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I can’t tell you how important it is for you to stop these murders. People in this area are getting very nervous and some are already talking about leaving. Do you understand what that would mean, Ranger Summer?”
“Well, it means you wouldn’t make as much money, right?”
“Well, of course, but the whole valley would be affected. If people left and others did not come in because of their fear, then that would affect every business here. Our whole economy is based on ranching and farming. Everything would dry up if those two things stopped.”
“I see,” Allie said, and worse than that, the bank would close and you might have to go out and get a real job…
“So,” Fontenot said with a smile, “the sooner you can find those killers, the better off the entire territory will be.”
“That’s what I’m paid to do, Mr. Fontenot.” Allie was finished with her meal and tired of listening to Fontenot. She gave him a smile that was as fake as she could make it. “I need to go see Sheriff Harmon, and get started tracking down those killers. Like you said, the sooner I can find them...”
She was being her condescending worse, but if Fontenot noticed, he didn’t show it. He stood up. “Permit me to buy your breakfast,” he said, and put some money on the table. And then, with a smile, he said, “and perhaps, when this matter is concluded, you will permit me to buy you dinner.”
Allie wanted to throw up. I’d rather have dinner with a rattlesnake… Giving him a wide-eyed, perplexed stare, she replied, “What matter?”
Fontenot’s smile dropped a little, but he caught himself. “The matter of these criminals being caught.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” Allie responded. “How stupid of me. I’ll get right on it,” and she pushed past him and left the restaurant. She stood on the boardwalk for a moment, squinting, letting her eyes get adjusted to the bright sunlight. Arkmore needs some paint, she thought as she looked around, but other than that, it wasn’t a bad looking town. Some newer buildings, rather clean, and Allie could see some quaint homes down the street in the distance. It was a town worth saving.
So, she headed for the sheriff’s office. And trouble…
“I knew it! I knew she was lyin’! That dirty, stinkin’ Indian whore turned ‘em loose!” Tyree Turner was standing outside Sheriff Dan Harmon’s office, talking to the lawman. He was beside himself.
“Explain yourself, Tyree,” Harmon said. So far, all that Turner had asked the sheriff was if a ranger had brought in four Indian cattle thieves yesterday. Harmon had obviously replied in the negative.“We caught ‘em red-handed, Sheriff. Four of ‘em. Leading some o’ Les Nicholson’s cattle. Stealin’ ‘em. They’s obviously the ones who had been rustlin’ cattle lately and since they was four of ‘em, it’s just as obvious they’s the ones been murderin’ white folks.”
Harmon didn’t say anything, but he didn’t disagree, either.
“We caught ‘em and was about to hang ‘em, and then come tell ever’body. But then, some woman comes ridin’ up. Said she was a Ranger. Horse manure. She was a Injun. One of them savages we caught said she was his cousin. Well, we wasn’t expectin’ no trouble and she got the drop on us. Blowed my hat clean off my head. Set them murderin’ redskins free and they’s gonna kill again!” He was shouting by now, and then…
He saw Allie walking towards the sheriff’s office.
“There she is! Injun whore…” he said, and started to pull the gun on his hip.
He was slower than molasses compared to Allie, of course. She kept walking towards Turner and Harmon, calmly pulled her gun, and shot Tyree’s hat off again. “You threaten me one more time, mister,” she said, “and next time, I’ll aim four inches lower.”
Turner gritted his teeth in anger. “Where’s them murderin’ cattle thieves we caught yesterday? You set ‘em free, didn’t you.”
Sheriff Harmon thought it was time he stepped in, before somebody got hurt. “Tyree, I know this woman, and indeed, she is a territorial Ranger. Her name is Allie Summer.” He spoke to Allie. “You’ve met Tyree Turner, Ranger Summer. He’s just made some serious accusations about you. I’d like to hear your side of the story.”
Allie replaced the cartridge in her gun and holstered it. By this time, a rather sizeable number of people had gathered around. “Well, he may have the basics correct—from his perspective. I was heading this way yesterday and ran across this man, and three of his friends, about to hang four people. I think you know, Sheriff Harmon, that taking the law into one’s hands is frowned upon by the justice system of this country.”
Harmon turned to Turner. “She’s right, Tyree. Lynching people without a trial is a crime. Murder. You know that.”
“Lynchin’ murderers ain’t no crime, Sheriff,” Turner replied. “We caught them fellers stealin’ Les’s cows.”
“Cattle theft and murder are two different things,” Allie replied. “And you have no evidence those are the four killed the white ranchers.”
“They was four of ‘em,” Turner replied. “Sheriff, how many Injuns was in those groups that killed the Britz’ and them others?”
Dan looked at Allie. “Four.”
“Same ones, had to be,” Turner answered with a smug look on his face. “We was just doin’ our civic duty. They ain’t a jury in this territory that would convict us of murder and you know it.”
He was right about that and Harmon and Allie both knew it. “Let’s get back to what happened yesterday,” Dan said. “Ranger Summer, Tyree says he and his friends caught these…Indians…leading away a few of Les Nicholson’s cows. That’s cattle stealing, even if there is no direct evidence that they were the ones involved in the murders. I think you did the right thing preventing the lynching. But where are the cattle thieves? Did they escape?”
Allie paused before answering. She was on very thin ice. Then she said, “I sent them back to the reservation.”
Turner threw up his hands and made a sound of utter disgust. There was some murmuring from the crowd that had gathered round. “Why did you do that?” Harmon asked, his face hard.
“I talked to them, Sheriff Harmon. I’m convinced they aren’t the murderers. Yes, they admitted to stealing cattle, but they also told me that the government was providing them very little to eat on the reservation and they only stole the cattle they needed to survive.” Allie looked around at the crowd—a hostile crowd, to say the least. “How many of you would condemn somebody for stealing food to keep your family from starving?”
It was weak, and Allie knew it, and she wasn’t getting much sympathy from the mob. Any sympathy she did have evaporated when someone from the crowd asked, “Where’s your proof that they don’t have enough to eat? You’re an Indian. Of course you’re going to believe what another Indian tells you.”
There were a couple of “yeah, yeah“ comments in response. Sheriff Harmon then asked Allie, “You say you’re convinced they aren’t the murderers. How did they convince you?”
“I know them,” Allie said, “and I know they aren’t murderers.”
That didn’t sway anybody. There was more hostile murmuring from the crowd. “Every Injun is a thievin’ murderer,” a voice cried out.
That made Allie very angry and she turned towards the crowd. “We will never have peace in this territory if you people keep having that kind of attitude. You talk like that, steal their land, and then wonder why the Cheyenne hate your guts.”
Her words didn’t simmer the throng down much. Dan looked around and made a motion with his hand to silence the people. “Ranger Summer, were those Indians…kin to you?”
Allie looked at him, anger still on her face, pausing before answering. Now it became very, very quiet in Arkmore. A dog barked, that was it. Allie replied, “One of them is a cousin of mine, yes.”
Once again there were unfriendly noises from the people gathered round. “I think she needs to be lynched, Sheriff,” somebody said.
Dan became angry. “We’ll have none of that talk, do you hear me? This is Allie Summer, and she is the finest Ranger in the territory. She has brought more criminals to justice than any 10 lawmen combined, and that includes me. I’m sure she felt justified in what she did. Now, you people go home. Tyree, thank you for your report. I’ll take care of matters from here.”
Nobody moved for a few moments; all eyes were on Allie. She was tense, ready for anything. It was Tyree Turner who spoke, and when he did, his voice was low and menacing. “This…woman…freed them savages yesterday, Sheriff Harmon. If any more cattle goes missin’ or any more white folks git kilt…” He left that hanging and looked at the sheriff. “We’ll have your badge, too, Harmon.” He stalked off and soon the crowd dispersed, still muttering and murmuring and giving Allie an assortment of most unpleasant looks.
Dan and Allie watched them go, and then the sheriff said, “Ranger Summer, can I talk to you further in my office?”
Allie breathed out audibly and followed Harmon into the office.
After he shut the door, Harmon leaned back against his desk, crossed his arms, and looked at Allie. “Do you want to explain yourself, Ranger Summer?”
“I did what I thought was best, Sheriff Harmon. That’s what I’m paid to do.”
“You are paid to bring outlaws to justice. You were right to keep Turner from hanging them, but those four Indians, by your own admission, were stealing cattle. Your responsibility was to bring them to jail. You did the same thing you accuse Turner of—you took the law into your own hands.”
Allie stared at the sheriff. “We all have to make judgments at times, Sheriff Harmon. How many times have you decided not to jail someone who had, technically, broken the law?”
“Ranger Summer, we are talking about cattle theft and murder here, not some drunk who gets into a brawl in a saloon on Saturday night. Six whites have been killed and we know that four Indians have done it. From all sign that I’ve been able to see, the same four Indians. Can you absolutely swear that those four yesterday are not the ones who killed those white ranchers?”
“I don’t believe they are, Sheriff Harmon.”
“Then, at best, you still should have brought them in for suspected cattle theft and let the courts decide innocence or guilt, freedom or restraint. That wasn’t your decision to make.”
Allie said nothing. There was really nothing to say. Harmon was right and she knew it.
Harmon turned and walked behind his desk. “Ranger Summer, when I asked Captain McConnell for help on this matter, he said you were his best, that you would be the best in this situation because you are part-Cheyenne. I pointedly asked him, though, what you would do if you discovered that the perpetrators of these crimes were indeed Cheyenne Indians, and especially if they came from your own family. Which is apparently the case. Captain McConnell assured me that you would do your job, regardless. I trusted him. And you. But I think you failed to do what you are hired to do. You have convinced me that your loyalty to your family and people is greater than your loyalty to the law of this territory. It’s a dilemma, I grant you that, and I would be torn, too, if I were in your shoes. But given that circumstance, I think it would be better if some other Ranger were given this assignment. I’m going to wire Captain McConnell and ask him to have you removed from this case. Thank you for the excellent work you have done, in the past, for the people of this territory, and I am sure your efforts in the future will be equally successful. As long as your own people aren’t involved.” With that, Harmon sat down, took a pencil and paper, and started writing something. He was obviously dismissing Allie from his presence.
Allie was staggered. “Sheriff Harmon, I can still help—“
Dan looked up. “I don’t want your help, Ranger Summer. I’m sorry, but I don’t trust you. Not in this circumstance. This is too personal for you. I do sympathize with you. Nobody should be asked on an assignment where their family might be involved. I’ll ask Captain McConnell to send me someone who would not be…emotionally… involved. Thank you for coming. Now, please, I have work to do.”
Allie stood there for a few moments, squeezing her fists in anguish. She could understand the sheriff’s position entirely. Cattle thieves—at best that’s all Swift Current and his friends were—needed to be in jail, and any other lawman would have brought the Indians to town yesterday and handed them over to Harmon. But Allie hadn’t done that. Because…Swift Current is family…She left the sheriff’s office without another word.
She knew what McConnell would say, too. She hadn’t done her job.
He would tell her to return to Port Station.
But fate took a hand. And probably saved some lives, though it cost a few, too.