by Frank Callan
‘What? Cal Roney? Isn’t that the man who killed Mr Gibbs’s lady wife?’
‘Charlie, if you have any feelings for me, believe me when I say that Roney is not the man this town thinks he is. The death of Mrs Gibbs was entirely accidental.’
‘Tell that to Mr Gibbs!’
But they went to the jailhouse and there was Ben, who had been expecting a second attack since the aborted gunfight. He had been busy shoring up the walls and reinforcing the window frames. When his sister and Charlie arrived he was anxious. She could see that he couldn’t sit still. He explained that it was eatin’ him, this expectation that Kenny would come back. ‘He’ll be here, and this time, I reckon he’ll be ready to stop whoever helped me last time. He’s no fool, and he wants me out of this office and preferably in the graveyard under six feet of dust.’
‘Ben, Ben, listen to me,’ Emilia said soothingly, as her brother sat at his table, checking his pistol, swinging the chamber round and wondering who else might come through his door.
‘Emilia, you shouldn’t be here. You know what the threat is here. You need to be gone – and you, Charlie. You ain’t no fighter. Get back to your press.’
‘There is no press, Ben . . . but I see you’ve read our last edition?’
‘I have, and it’s damned foolish. You’re provoking a sleeping lion there, you and your fool of a boss.’
Emilia was struggling to grab her brother’s attention, and finally she had to put a hand on his chin, hold his face still and say, ‘Ben, I know who saved you yesterday, you hear? It was Cal Roney!’
‘Cal Roney? You’re saying Roney was here? . . . and, and . . . that he fired that shot?’
‘Listen, brother of mine, and listen good: Cal Roney has saved your life twice in the last week . . . he was the man who jumped from the horse! You have looked into his face and not recognized him.’
Ben Stile’s jaw had dropped in astonishment. ‘Well, I ain’t been so stuck for words since . . . well, since you turned down this young man standing here! You mean to say that. . . ? Oh, I see, he was your patient . . . the man you . . . hell, where is he now?’
Emilia was unsure whether Ben was planning to shoot Cal Roney or to shake his hand. She could see by his face that mixed emotions were battling for his attitude to the news. He tried to find some words, but failed twice to make any sense.
‘Ben, it’s the truth. He was my patient. He told me all about the past. . . you know he didn’t mean to kill Mrs Gibbs, don’t you? Be honest.’
‘Tell that to Octavius. Sonny Gibbs will not change his mind about his wife’s death. He’s been brooding on revenge ever since Roney walked out of that courtroom.’
‘Yes, but I’m asking you, Ben. Is Roney a murderer?’
Ben thought for a minute, then looked her in the eye and said, ‘No, course not. It was crossfire. But sister, I swore I would help Gibbs if ever we got the chance to do anything and I said I would do what the law failed to do . . .’
Charlie cut in then, ‘Are you saying, Mr Stile, that you are above the law?’
‘I’m saying that sometimes a man has to make up for the law’s shortcomings. . . Roney was reckless, and the same applies to any man who has no care with his weapons. . . but hell, if Kenny finds out that Roney’s here. . . I mean, most of Wyoming wants the man dead. Roney killed one of the Kenny hands that day. The Kenny boys, if they find out who he is, they’ll tear him apart. Then there’s Gibbs. . . Sonny Gibbs will be loading his gun if he’s found out . . .’
Both Emilia and Charlie assured Ben that nobody else in town knew about Roney. ‘The three of us here, Ben . . . only we know.’ As she said this, Emilia suddenly recalled what Cal had said that morning. ‘Oh God! He said he was going to Blood Creek. Why would he go there?’
‘Makes no sense,’ added Ben, ‘There’s just that young couple out there, and their uncle, the soldier with the wooden leg. Why would he be going there?’
‘Not just to share a coffee and some memories,’ Emilia said. ‘He’s from this place, Ben . . . a way along the river . . .’
Ben knew, and he told the tale of the massacre at the Roney homestead. ‘I’ve known that for years, of course. . . we all know that’s why young Roney turned out a rebel. His aunt tried her best with him, school an’ all . . . but he went bad. He was always a handful of trouble, that boy . . . and now he’s saved my skin twice! Who would believe that, sister?’
‘Your words do not describe the patient I’ve had in my care, Ben. People change. Even you, maybe?’
Charlie was standing there, wondering how he could help, and when Ben said the only way to find out what was going on was to ride to Blood Creek, Charlie offered to go, and so Emilia followed. ‘What? Ride with a woman and a pen-pusher? Charlie, stay here and take care of my sister.’
‘You’ll have to stop me, Ben,’ Charlie said, defiantly, ‘I want to be there, and you’ll need your sister if you’re hurt. I don’t want her to go either, but it makes sense to have her along.’ Charlie’s argument made sense, though his instinct was for his woman to stay safe.
It had now occurred to Ben Stile that if the true identity of the man who had taken the bullet for him was to be known, then Gibbs would be after him, Eddie Kenny would aim to gun him down, and after that the whole town would want him punished, because his name was etched into the memory of them all, and what he had done way back in the dead years was now so much a piece of history that time had judged him and found him guilty.
Out at the Double T, Eddie Kenny and Jake were in the Den and they had plenty to talk about. Eddie was feeling more and more like the general out in the field, applying some tactics in his own theatre of war, which was now stretching from the Platte at its western bend across to Long Corral. But he was now acknowledging that there was something else, or somebody else, at work against him. Whoever had saved Ben’s hide had been one hell of a shot, and Jake was worried about that. It was nagging him that maybe the people in Long Corral had brought in a couple of real shooters, professionals.
‘Eddie, who could it have been . . . the shooter? There’s nobody in that town supports old Ben Stile. His own sheriff has run off with his legs quaking, right? So who fired that damned shot? It was inches from shattering my hand! The bullet smashed into my revolver and it almost broke my finger. It’s sore as a chapped backside, and I want to know what we’re up against.’
‘Now cool off, brother. I told you the direct way was the best,’ Eddie responded, ‘We go back and we take him with the entire jail . . . dynamite, boy, dynamite!’ He was thinking about little brother Jim out at Blood Creek, and how that should be resolved by sun-down. Then there was the matter of the hotel, and that was the day’s other target.
Eddie carried on, ‘Now, Jakey, to the main business. Every night except Sunday the paperman and his Heath partners get together for a card game or two in the back room of the Heath. Now, first, Gibbs is right now makin’ me boil. We buy his paper, and look what he does . . .’ He took the Informer from the table and tossed it across to Jake.
‘This is some kinda crime, Eddie! He’s telling lies about us. There’s a legal type of word about this . . . great big lies, I reckon. Take him to court. He’s even lyin’ about Pa, from years back. Who does this fat man think he is? He’s as ugly as a burnt boot and he thinks he’s somebody!’
‘Jake, goin’ to court is too dark tie and smart coat for me. No, he’s your responsibility. There’s this card game, right? Now, you’re gonna disturb the game by shootin’ some lead into Gibbs’s fat head. The only thing is, we need to wait for the jailhouse business. We can’t do both in one afternoon. What would Pa do?’
Jake looked up at the portrait of his father and said, ‘Take care of the writer man tonight, then the jail first thing tomorrow. But no, I reckon we do the blast and then I’ll take care of the Heath idiot who stands in our way.’
‘Sure. You got the boys to do that sign yet? I want it ready by the end of the week. Kenny Corral is a much better name fo
r the place. I want that up at the road end, you understand, brother?’
‘Yes, as you say. We’re doin’ it now.’
‘Fine. In a few days’ time, this will all be done, and we’ll have a little celebration, with the sign there, telling the world that it’s Kenny territory and that we kick around the others, the little folk, right? Get to it, Jake.’
Eddie was left alone with his thoughts, and he was bothered by just one thing: the Heath brothers and their hotel. It was a fine place. Ideally, he would like them to run it for him. They needed to be on his side. They were not on his list of dead men. The question was, how to keep them as his workers, not his enemies? Shooting dead their friend Gibbs was the way to train them. So they would have to stay, but by fear. He was skilled at manufacturing that. Fear, he often told himself, came out of the Double T as successfully as the steers heading for the buyers hungry for meat and profits.
It was time to do what he did best: send a threat their way, plant some fear in their hearts, down to their bones. The best threat was to know that they had watched their friend die and to reflect that they might be next in line for a casket.
After watching Jim and Coop dithering and worrying about the effects of drink, and aware that these two were heading for the homestead with aims that were far from benevolent, Cal gave Bella a dig in the sides and headed for the man he was supposed to be arresting: Cy Felder. His mind had been off that subject for a while, but now he was trying to concentrate on the reason why he was out there in the first place. There was a robber to be brought to trial. Likelihood was that he was holed up in this place with some like-minded criminals, and they wouldn’t ask before they shot at you. The trick was to play a waiting game, to watch and learn, then strike.
When he came near the house, he was heard, and it was Sedge Gulley who came out to greet him. Cal noticed the halting walk of the older man. He had decided to play his hand indirectly, and not to burst in, announcing he was the law, and that he was there for Cy Felder.
‘Now stranger, who am I seeing here?’ Sedge asked.
Cal pulled up and offered a smile, coming over real friendly and easy. ‘You’re looking at a weary rider, on his way to Casper. I could use some chow if you could be so kind.’
From behind Sedge came Lizzie, and she heard Cal’s words. ‘Now mister, course we can feed you . . . come on in. We were dishing out breakfast.’
In no time Cal was sitting down with all three of them in the house, and Cy had shaken his hand. Naturally they had seen his bandage, and the bruise on his forehead, and he was soon explaining that. ‘Oh, I ran into a man who wanted to take my horse. We had a confrontation.’
‘You got some medical skills, mister . . . what was your name?’ Cy asked, always wary.
Cal had his false name ready, as he did before, ‘William Boldwood, heading for Casper, looking for work. I been on the drives and I’m looking to settle into something that does not involve fussing over steers night and day and sweating so I live with a rash and a burning throat.’
They laughed at that, and Sedge recognized the real thing. ‘You speak from experience, Mr Boldwood. I was cook for many a drive, and I know the life well.’ Cal complimented him on his cooking – and everything was going to plan. They believed him. Cal was biding his time, deciding on how to do the arrest. Meanwhile, there was Lizzie, and she would capture any man’s heart, he thought. She and Cy held hands during their breakfast, and they spoke and acted like a happy married pair, talking about the day’s work. Cal decided to pry a little.
‘Mr Felder, you aiming to stay here?’
‘We came here, just wed, aiming to go further, maybe Montana, but we like this place. It’s a new start for us. To tell true, Mr Boldwood, we had a hard time of it when we started out . . . poor and sick. It’s been hard, but then it’s the same for all of us. That was the notion we had, but it’s getting hot around these parts.’
Cal was struck by this, and also when Lizzie put her arm around Cy and said, ‘This man has been a wonderful husband, I have to tell you. He would do anything for me, and for our dear friend, Sedge, hey, our beloved cook?’ She playfully kicked Sedge’s legs under the table, and he laughed. Cy changed his attitude a little, as if he thought Lizzie was saying too much. But Cal pushed a little harder, disguising his curiosity under the pretence of innocence: ‘Well, I never had a wife, but I wouldn’t want to see her go short. Money greases the wheels of matrimony, my aunt used to say!’
They laughed again. Sedge told Cal that he had the right attitude. ‘Best of luck in Casper, Mr Boldwood.’ As he stood up to shake his hand and then get back to work outside, Lizzie said, ‘Say, you’re not in a rush to leave, are you Mr Boldwood? You could stay in the little barn. Do you think, Cy?’
Cy looked doubtful at first, but then softened and agreed. ‘Yeah. Why don’t you do that, and to earn your keep you could help around here – but then I think you’re looking a bit sick with that wound there.’
‘He can help me in the kitchen,’ Sedge said, ‘Lizzie can help with the fence. In fact Mr Boldwood, you know, my life as a cook on the trails made me quite a medical man. Oh yeah, a cookie has to have treatments ready for the results of his food when we have belly aches!’ He laughed at his own joke. ‘Seriously, Mr Boldwood, I do have something to help with the wound you got under that wrap. How about it? I’ll tend your wound, and you help with cooking dinner?’
It was the perfect opportunity for Cal to stay and watch them a while before he made his move. Sedge knew a lot about treating wounds. Over the years, as a trail cook, he had picked up any number of remedies, as cowboys were notorious for their injuries, diseases and general complaints. Sedge was as useful as a medical man for most ailments.
Cy was not entirely satisfied, and felt a shiver of suspicion about the visitor, but said nothing to Lizzie. They got to work on some timber, both working a saw at first, but Lizzie’s eyes kept going to the road. When she heard cracks and breaks in the undergrowth up the slope towards the house, she decided to open up. ‘Cy, we need to get back to the house. . . I saw some men on the road. . . maybe they’re after something . . . come on!’ No sooner had they taken a few steps than shots rang out and bullets bit the dust a few feet from them. They went down into cover.
The shots had alarmed Cal and Sedge, and Sedge had grabbed his rifle and squatted by the window, while Cal went for his pistols, pulling them out ready for action before he sat beside Sedge. ‘I left my rifle in my saddle,’ Cal said, ‘Out there in your stable with my horse.’
Out in the cover of the cottonwood trees, Jim and Coop were not agreeing too well on what to do. Jim had wanted to steal into the nearest building and wait for a victim, but Coop was for an all-out attack.
‘Now, kid, that’s the way I always did it. That’s how your pa and me went about things, see?’
‘I promised Eddie we would take the place. I promised we would make some bodies and bury them. Problem over. Now look at us, standing here in the open, with at least two gunmen in that shack over there.’
Before they could utter another word, a shot rang out and a bullet chipped the bark next to Jim’s head. They both scrambled down into the earth where they crawled like reptiles. ‘That’s three gunmen, Coop. How many more do you reckon?’ He was given no answer. Coop just tipped up the front of his hat and gave an almost toothless smile. ‘Let’s just rush the place, Jim!’
‘No. We wait till dark. This has to be a slow job, now.’ They moved back and took deeper cover, and as they settled, they saw two figures move like jack rabbits across from the scrub to the shack, in a split second.
‘That’s four gunmen, Coop. Are we staying?’ Jim’s willpower was weakening.
Inside the shack, the defenders crouched around a corner, sitting on the floor. Sedge, speaking from wide experience, asked the obvious question, and then answered it. ‘What do we do now, folks? I say we sit this out, and make them nervous.’
It was natural for Cal to take charge. He had always done
that, way back to his army days, and on the trails. As a Pinkerton man keeping his cover, he played a role to some extent, but the commander came through. ‘Look, first, who could they be out there?’
Cy had his answer ready. ‘Mr Boldwood, I need to tell you this . . . the law is after me. I robbed a bank. It was a very foolish thing to do, but we were desperate. Lizzie and me hadn’t eaten for three days and beggin’ achieved nothin’. I know that’s wrong. But the fact is I stole a few hundred bucks and the bankers back in Cheyenne and Laramie, they joined up and I’d guess they got the Pinkertons on my trail. Out there, my money’s on them being two detectives.
‘And you know what,’ Cy went on, ‘I heard when I was in town that there’s a curse on this place . . . a hex. Story is that a man went loco here and slaughtered everything he loved. His mind went so mad he was bitin’ himself. That’s why it had its name. He threw the corpses in the water and then shot himself in the head. That’s what I heard. He was called Cary. But I came here anyways, ’cause I didn’t believe that old wives’ tale . . . but you know what? I’m wonderin’ about it now!’
‘They’re just two rustlers taking a chance,’ Lizzie said.
Cal’s brain was working overtime, and he almost broke into a sardonic laugh with the irony of his position. He didn’t want to admit it, but his heart was softening towards these two young people. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I was told about this place when I was a kid . . . I know about Cary and his island. My pa told me there was a curse. It all stemmed from Cary, holed up in there, wanting to be alone.’
The more Cal looked at the married couple, the more he thought about Emilia. Women had never figured in his life because he had never made room for them. But his time being nursed had forced him to look at a beautiful woman, to get to know her a little, and he was now sensing that he wanted to be with her. Strangely, Sedge, who was a wise and perceptive man, was conscious of something in Cal because he asked him, ‘So you grew up not far from here . . . did you settle here, have a family?’