The Marshal's Daughter Read online

  ‘Young men? Oh, you mean the knaves.’

  ‘Knaves?’ Esther Hammond laughed. ‘Is that what they call them? What about those older men with beards, how are they called?’

  ‘They are the kings. Keep your voice down, Esther. Folk are staring at us.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ declared the tipsy girl, ‘Let them stare. I am surely worth looking at or wouldn’t you say so?’

  Chris Turner sighed. Picking up with the marshal’s daughter had seemed a fine joke at the time, but the whole thing was now wearing decidedly thin. He had lost his home, was on the run and stuck with a girl who, for all her religious upbringing, struck Turner as being more full of devilment and sheer mischief than any young woman he had ever met in his life. As he tried to ignore Esther’s chatter and concentrate on the cards, Chris Turner could not help but feel that he might have taken a wrong turn somewhere over the last week or so.

  Chapter 3

  The fact was, Marshal Hammond had no very clear idea of how he was to track down his daughter and the boy who had, as he saw the case, led her astray. After leaving his things in the room which he had agreed to pay for on a daily basis, Hammond thought that he could do worse than roam around the town a little and see what was what. He had not been to Wichita for some years and the place had changed greatly from his recollections of it and not for the better, either.

  To Jeremiah Hammond’s eye, long practised in the detection of wickedness and sin, the busy streets of the town had the appearance of a regular Sodom or Gommorah. At every street corner there were taverns and the sidewalks were crowded with women who behaved in lewd and unbecoming ways. It was an object lesson in what a town could descend to if there were not strong men in charge who set a watch upon Sabbath breaking and the intemperate consumption of ardent spirits. Thank the good Lord that Linton was not like this.

  So depressing did the marshal find Wichita that he resolved to have an early night and begin his search in earnest the following day. Having decided this, he headed back to the boarding house where he was staying.

  The old Chinaman opened the door for Hammond and then, to the marshal’s surprise, invited him to share a pot of tea. This promised to be such a novelty, that he found himself agreeing.

  When they were settled in the back room, under the scrutiny of the statue of Confucius, Mr Chang said, ‘What brings you to our town, sir? I see that you are a policeman.’

  For some reason, Hammond found himself telling Chang about his quest to find his daughter and return her to face justice in Linton. The old man said nothing, but after hearing the tale, stood up and fetched a book from a little bookcase on the other side of the room. He said, ‘Analects of Kung Fu Tse. Very like your Jesus. Said much the same things.’

  Jeremiah Hammond was not about to allow this heathen to compare the Lord’s teaching with that of some Chinaman from the ancient past and so he said, ‘I’m sure that is not so. Our Lord’s teaching was all new, you know. Nobody had ever thought like him before.’

  Mr Chang seemed amused at this and said, ‘Sum up your lord’s teaching for me.’

  ‘Well, I guess that what it came down to was: do unto others as you would be done by. Yes, I think that pretty well sums the case.’

  The Chinaman nodded his head in a pleased way. ‘Yes, yes. Same that Kung Fu Tse said, only five hundred years before your lord. He said, ‘Do not do to others what would anger you if it were done to you’. Same thing, I think. Only many years before your lord.’

  In the normal way of things, Hammond found talk of this kind irritating and a little disrespectful to the Lord, but there was something about the old man which invited trust. He said to him, ‘Well Mr Chang, you might have a point there and no mistake. I will allow that there is some similarity. But I’ll warrant your Confucius had nothing to say about the present case – that is to say of me hunting after my daughter for the sake of righteousness. My Bible sets the matter out for me clearly, but how would your “Master” have tackled the problem?’

  The old man gave him a very strange look. Then he said, ‘Why sir, Kung Fu Tse was asked this very thing. He gave a good answer to it as well. Would you like to hear what he said?’

  It was on the tip of Jeremiah Hammond’s tongue to say, ‘No, I don’t care what some dirty foreigner said about the business’, but he felt that this would be discourteous and also maybe a little cowardly. He had, after all, asked the question. He said gruffly, ‘Well, well. What did your “Master” say then?’

  Mr Chang turned the pages of his book until he located the right passage. Then he read it out. ‘The Governor of Sheh said to the Master, “In our village we have an example of a straight person. When the father stole a sheep, the son gave evidence against him”. Kung Fu Tse answered, saying, “In our village, those who are straight are quite different. Fathers cover up for their sons and sons cover up for their fathers. In such behaviour, straightness is to be found as matter of course”.’

  As the evening wore on, Esther Hammond became increasingly wild, until Turner hardly knew what to do with her. Worst of all was where she insisted on ‘helping’ him to place bets at the faro table. She had not the least idea of odds or counting the cards and wanted to put money only on particular cards of which she liked the look or felt were somehow lucky. She kept up a constant commentary which drove any other thoughts from Chris Turner’s head and made it impossible for him to think what he was about.

  ‘I love this whiskey,’ said Esther. ‘Do you like whiskey? The Bible says that, “Wine is a mocker and strong drink is raging”, but I do not find it so. Mind, I am inclined to agree with that passage in Scripture which holds that it “Biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder”, but I do not think that a bad thing. Chris, Chris, bet on that card, that red one with the beautiful lady.’

  ‘Esther, both the Queen of Hearts and the Queen of Diamonds have already come and gone. It would be throwing money in the gutter. For God’s sake hush a little and let me think what I am doing.’

  ‘Who do you think you are, telling me to hush? You think that you are my father? You damned well hush!’

  At this point, one of the men at the saloon who were employed to watch out for trouble came over and spoke quietly to Chris. When he had gone, Esther said, ‘What did he want?’

  ‘He said that if you do not watch your language and quieten down, then they will throw us both out into the street. Now let me think about the next bet, because we are down to ten dollars.’

  Esther was shocked to hear that all their money seemed to have evaporated so rapidly. The time had simply flown by and she was unaware of the fact that she had actually spent over three hours in the saloon. The miracle of it was that they still had a cent left after all that time. Even now, the girl could not remain silent for more than a few seconds. Chris Turner became flustered, put down two five dollar bets and promptly lost them both. The pair now had not a penny to their names.

  Neither Esther nor Chris were in the best of moods after leaving the Lucky Strike. They bickered about who was to blame as they walked back to their room, vainly trying to apportion the blame for the loss of their money, as though this would somehow ameliorate their situation. It was the girl who came up with the idea of carrying out another robbery. After all, the last one had been easy and successful enough.

  ‘I don’t know, Esther,’ said Chris Turner. ‘I would like to think this over for a spell.’

  ‘What’s to think over, you noodle? We have not the wherewithal to pay for our breakfast tomorrow, something must be done.’

  ‘Knocking over the office at the depot was one thing. I used to work there; I knew where the cash was. How the hell am I supposed to find a place like that here in a town that we don’t know?’

  ‘Why does it have to be an office with a cashbox? What about finding somebody carrying a lot of money? If it’s a drunk man, then you will only need push him over and then take his wallet. Don’t be such a girl!’

  To be fair to Esther Hammon
d, she would not have talked in this way had she not been drinking heavily, something to which she was unused. Having broken free of her gloomy and forbidding home, she did not aim to be forced back there for want of a few dollars cash money.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Turner doubtfully.

  As ill luck would have it, at just that very moment one of those who had also been playing at the faro table walked past the couple. To say that the fellow ‘walked’ past is perhaps exaggerating the case to a degree. It would be more accurate to say that he weaved and staggered by, apparently just about able to remain on his feet. Esther nudged her companion. ‘Look there, he is just the one.’

  There seemed to be something in what she said, thought Turner, as he watched the drunk threading an uncertain and erratic path across the road. He was heading towards a darkened alleyway, probably, thought the boy, with the intention of making water there. He made a sudden decision. ‘Stay here,’ he hissed at the girl, running after the fellow.

  Now if Esther Hammond had not been pretty well liquored up that night, then things might perhaps have taken a very different course. But there it was, she had been drinking steadily for hours and was not likely to do as she was bid by a boy her own age. She followed Chris Turner into the alleyway, just in time to see him give the drunk man a shove and make a grab into his pocket.

  It was shadowy and dark in the space between the buildings and so all that Esther really saw was the struggle between the two men. She and Turner had picked altogether the wrong mark for this sort of game, because the man they were attempting to rob was a soldier on leave and although drunk as a fiddler’s bitch, he was still more than a match for the half-hearted efforts of a seventeen year-old boy to rob him.

  From what Esther could see, the tables had been turned and now the man had caught Chris in a bear hug and was shouting, ‘Thief!’ at the top of his voice. Lamps were being lit in a room overlooking the alley and if they were not careful then she and Chris would both be caught and sent back to Linton – a thing she was prepared to take any steps to avoid. So it was that Esther Hammond looked round for a weapon and found leaning against a wall, a broken broom handle. Although she could not have known it in the darkness, the wooden rod had split almost lengthways, leaving a sharp point about the size and shape of a knife at the other end from that which she was holding.

  Esther was not really scared, although she was definitely determined not to go back home. The last week or so had been one long exhilarating adventure and her purpose was just to continue in this way for as long as she could. Anything, rather than the deadly dull and sanctimonious life in which she had been raised. So when she snatched up that broom handle, her only intention was to help her friend escape from the pickle into which he landed. She gripped the broom handle firmly, moved forward a few paces and then jabbed it hard into the back of the man who was holding Chris and hollering blue murder. As she shoved it forward, a window was thrown up above them and a women leaned out with a lamp in her hand. She called out, ‘Hey, what’s going on down there? There are folk here who wish to sleep, you know.’

  Thinking over the incident later, the thing that stuck in Esther’s mind was how easily that broom handle went forward. She had braced herself, expecting it to bang into the fellow’s back as she pushed it at him, but there had been no resistance at all. Although she did not find this out until later, the reason was that the sharp end had slid right through the man’s kidneys and then on into his bowels. It had been as effective as a knife.

  As soon as the man let go of him, Turner pushed him to one side and made to leave him lying there. Esther said, ‘Get his wallet, Chris.’ He reached again into the man’s pocket and plucked out the heavy billfold that he found there. Then he and Esther ran into the street, leaving the woman with the lamp to grumble about the behaviour of drunks in the neighbourhood and then go back to bed.

  After speaking to the owner of the boarding house before going to bed, Jeremiah Hammond felt vaguely unsettled. It was not his custom to discuss religion with non-believers, but something about the old Chinaman had made him trust the man. He wished now that he had not, because he had been disturbed by that story about his Confucius. Whenever his faith was in need of restoration, Hammond found that a few passages of Scripture generally acted as a tonic and so he sat on the bed and opened his Bible at the part of Deuteronomy he had been reading on the train to Wichita. ‘If any man has a stubborn and rebellious son who will not obey his mother and father, then they shall take him to the elders of the city.’ He read on, ‘Then all the men of the city shall stone him to death.’

  It was these verses that had told the marshal that he was on the right track when he had sworn out that warrant for Esther. This is just precisely what the Lord would have him do. He flicked on a few pages and then came to another verse which he studied carefully. ‘I the LORD your God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children.’

  Suddenly, Hammond felt as though he could not breathe. Surely this could not be right, to punish children for what their fathers had done? He went over to the window and opened it. The cool night air revived him somewhat, but he was still a little giddy and faint. In the whole course of his life, this was the first time that he had read the Good Book and not known straight away that it was the word of God. Was it really right to execute a boy for being stubborn and rebellious? Where was the justice in punishing children for the sins of their fathers? Standing there at the window, Jeremiah Hammond felt as though the earth itself were no longer solid and dependable. If he could not lean upon the word of God, then what hope was there for him? His entire life had been founded upon the teachings of this book and now, due only to a chance conversation with some foreign heathen, he had been stricken with doubt. Well, it would not do. He knew that the Devil lay in wait with this very end in mind. It would take more than this to divert Marshal Jeremiah Hammond from the path of righteousness; that was for sure.

  When they got back to the little room they were staying in, Esther and Chris lit the lamp and just sat there for a space, out of breath and horrified at the turn of events. It was Esther who broke the silence, saying, ‘Well, at least you got his wallet in the end. Let us see how much there is in it.’

  Turner felt shaky and sick. He had made sure that he was going to be caught by the police when that fellow began shouting like that. It was strange how he had just relaxed his grip and Turner had been able to push him to the ground. Even now, he had not worked out what had happened. He reached into his jacket and took out the fat billfold. Then he dropped it in disgust.

  ‘What ails you?’ said Esther. ‘You are a regular butterfingers. Here let me look.’

  ‘No!’ Turner almost shouted. ‘Don’t you see? Look closely at it.’

  The girl picked up the wallet and found that it was sticky. She held it to the lamp and realised that the leather was slippery with blood. Perhaps she was less squeamish than Turner, because she just remarked, ‘That is strange. I wonder how come there is blood. Are you hurt or something?’

  ‘It’s not my blood. Don’t you see, it is his. What the hell happened back there, Esther?’

  ‘Nothing happened. I picked up a stick or something and pushed him with it. Then he let go of you. It is nothing to do with us. He must have injured himself earlier. Listen, we must make sure that none of the blood gets on the bills or we will not be able to use them.’

  Chris Turner was staring at the blood and then lurched over to the washstand, where he was violently and abundantly sick in the china basin. ‘I wish, I wish. . . .’ he said over and over again.

  ‘What do you wish, you baby?’ said Esther.

  ‘I wish I’d never picked up with you, Esther Hammond, that’s what I wish. There is something not right about you. You are colder than anybody I ever met before in my life and I wish I was back home with my folks, not stuck here with you.’

  Esther was hardly listening to the boy’s complaints. She was sorting through the contents of t
he wallet with growing excitement. ‘Chris, there is nearly eight hundred dollars here. This should keep us going for some while, I reckon.’

  ‘Eight hundred? You must have counted it wrong. Let me see.’

  But Esther Hammond was right. The wallet was crammed with money and as long as they exercised a little caution, they would not need to worry about running out of funds for at least a month or two. So great was the relief of this, that Turner forgot to be vexed with the girl and they put out the lamp and climbed into bed together.

  It was Jeremiah Hammond’s invariable custom to pray before sleeping, but tonight he found that the words simply would not come. All he could think of was not the words of Scripture, but the look on the faces of people when they heard that he was pursuing his own daughter with a view to bringing her to justice. His deputies, his own sister, the man in the marshal’s office here in Wichita and that newspaper man; all had stared at him as though he was some rare freak of nature. Mr Chang had been more polite about it, but it was clear that even he was appalled at the idea of a man bringing in his own child like this.

  It was while he was thinking this over that it gradually dawned on the marshal that his motives for being so ruthless about the matter were not just about his love of justice and determination to do his duty. He had been shamed by the look in his deputies’ eyes. Esther had shamed him and he wanted her to pay for that, rather than the robbery or assault on some night watchman. He was not following some duty at all; he was seeking revenge upon his child for making others feel superior to him. With this disconcerting realization, Hammond turned out the lamp and got into bed, neglecting for the first time in his adult life to pray to the Lord before sleeping.

  Chapter 4

  For the next three days Marshal Hammond tried hard to find his daughter. He learned that Delano was cheaper and less salubrious than Wichita and concentrated his searches there, but to no avail. The frustrating thing was that he did not even know if Esther was in this area. For all he knew to the contrary, she and Chris Turner might have stayed on the train and travelled on to Dodge City or even Albuquerque. It was just a feeling that he had, that she was somewhere nearby.