Sundown Comes Twice

by Art Isberg

  ‘You’re not, huh? Looks like you don’t gamble on horse races and now cards, either. You aren’t going to live much longer around here, being scared of everything. This ain’t Chicago, you know. You better figure that out real quick.’

  ‘I’ve done my share of gambling, and then some.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like, staying alive.’

  Cayce threw his head back, laughing out loud. When he finally stopped, he stared hard at Judd. ‘You must think you’re a real hard case, huh, cowboy?’

  ‘Takes a smart man to know his limits,’ Kincade suddenly cut in.

  ‘You stay out of this. No one asked you what you think!’

  ‘That’s not what I said,’ Judd answered.

  ‘Then what in hell are you talking about?’

  Judd stood at the table looking down on Sloat, while the crowd of men who had gathered, silently watching the verbal sparring, wondering how far it would go before Cayce did something about it.

  ‘You gonna sit down, or not?’ He finally demanded an answer.

  ‘No. I’m not in this game. Get someone else.’

  Sloat wasn’t used to anyone standing up to him like this, but there was something in Miller’s cool resolve that made him uncertain if he should push it any further, at least for right now. He glanced at Kincade and the other man sitting at the table. Neither said a word. Taking in a long, slow breath, Cayce poured himself another drink. ‘If everyone is too scared to sit in, I guess we’ll play three-handed. Deal them cards, Kincade.’ He shot one more long look at Miller, making it clear who he was talking about.

  Back at the bar, Judd was finishing his beer when a man with his hat pulled low over his face looked furtively around the room, before edging closer. He began talking in a low whisper, surprising Judd by his sudden presence.

  ‘You better not mess with Sloat and his bunch, mister. He’d kill you for a lot less than what you just said to him.’

  Miller turned, sizing up his uninvited guest. One quick look was all it took to see he appeared nearly destitute. His floppy hat barely hid a thin, unshaven face thick in dark stubble. His jacket, shirt and pants were dusty and frayed at the edges above a pair of boots with soles worn nearly through. Most noticeable of all was his entire outfit. It looked to be an old business suit of some kind.

  ‘Why are you telling me something I already know?’ Judd asked.

  ‘Because I saw you when you rode in. I know what happens to strangers who cross Sloat like that.’

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘They just up and disappear one day. No one ever asks why or where they went.’

  ‘Disappear?’

  ‘Yes, Sloat and his men kill them and get rid of the bodies. Probably down some canyon, where the wolfs can feed on what’s left. You’re new around here. You don’t know how things really are. When you rode in you insulted Sloat by not betting on him. I knew right off there’d be trouble between you two. He’s not going to forget that. I know what I’m talking about. You better listen.’

  Miller studied the shorter man’s tired face and pleading eyes. ‘You have a name?’

  ‘I’m Lee Hollis.’

  Judd stuck out his hand. ‘Judd Miller,’ he glanced around the room to be sure no one saw them shake.

  ‘We can’t talk in here. You got someplace to stay?’ Hollis asked.

  ‘No, not yet. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Because you can’t stay in Hang Town. Sloat will find out where you’re at and do something about it. I’ve got an old mining shack several miles from here. If you want, you can stay there for a while. . . .’

  ‘I might take you up on that. I’ll finish this beer, and we can get out of here.’

  ‘No, no. Not together. I’ll go first, and you wait five minutes, then come out. I’ll be a few doors up the street.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The shadowy figures of the two riders left town with Hollis in the lead riding a mule, and Judd behind, under a night sky ablaze with diamond-bright stars that seemed so close they could almost reach out and touch them. The narrow trail started steadily downhill, skirting steep drop-offs against vertical rock walls. A full hour later, Judd began to wonder if his new friend actually had a cabin at all, until Hollis finally pulled to a stop, pointing up a narrow opening in the rocky wall.

  ‘My place is right up here,’ he kicked the mule ahead. Minutes later they reined to a halt in front of the shadowy outline of the tin-roofed structure.

  ‘You can unsaddle your horse, and put him out back. There’s a small fence to keep my mule in, too.’

  Once inside the shack, Hollis lit a coal oil lamp that illuminated the single room. Miller was surprised to see how neat and comfortable everything seemed to be, the exact opposite of his new-found friend. A thick coloured blanket was spread over the single spring bed, alongside a small table covered in a red-and-white checkered oil-skin tablecloth. Plates, glasses, knives and forks were neatly stacked on a shelf along one wall, next to boxes containing all manner of food and supplies. A small, pot-bellied stove sat in the middle of the room with a table nearby. Atop it was a stack of old newspapers, next to a pair of thick leather saddle-bags with the name ‘Well’s Fargo’ etched across their front.

  ‘I’ve got some coffee, if you’d like a cup?’ Lee suggested.

  ‘I won’t say I couldn’t use it, if you want to make it.’

  Hollis fed the pot-bellied stove with kindling until it sprang to life, popping and crackling cheerily, and beginning to warm the ice-cold room. It took only minutes for the coffee pot to begin a boiling hiss.

  ‘This is quite a place you’ve got for yourself,’ Judd said. ‘How did you find it?’

  ‘Actually, by accident. Years ago they had word of a gold strike up here, but there isn’t an ounce of gold in these volcanic mountains, and they left just as fast as they came. I guess someone took the time to build this old place. I’m sure glad they did. I had a horse and the mule when I first came up here, but the horse broke his leg on a rocky trail and I had to shoot him. Now all I’ve got is the mule, but he works good enough, probably even better than a horse. More surefooted.’

  ‘How long have you been up here?’

  ‘See that calendar?’ Lee pointed to the numbered sheet hanging on the wall. ‘I mark off every day, just to keep some kind of record. I’ve been here a little over eight months. Like most men in Hang Town, I can’t go back down into the flats where I used to live. All that’s waiting for me down there is a trial and a jail cell. How about you? Everybody up here is running from something. What’s your story?’

  ‘It’s too complicated to get into. The difference is, I’m going back. I just don’t know when, right now.’

  ‘I guess you know that Hang Town is the last stop on the outlaw trail. It’s like an armed camp of men all willing to shoot it out with any law that tries coming up here – so they don’t. It would take an army to overrun it.’

  Judd eyed Hollis thoughtfully before speaking again. ‘I wouldn’t take you for a bank robber or a hold-up man.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Then why are you here?’

  Lee didn’t answer for a moment, thinking over how far he should go explaining anything. After a long pause he rubbed the back of his neck with both hands and began telling his story.

  ‘I used to run a Wells Fargo stage stop down in Tonopah. Just me and a teenage kid to handle the horses when they came in. My wife took sick bad, and the doctor said it was cholera. I needed a good doctor in the city, but didn’t have the money to get her there. I handled a lot of cash each week when shipments of money in coins and some gold dust came in. I got so desperate to save her life, I went back after locking up the office one night, and took all the cash I could carry in those two saddle-bags over there. I put Adeline in our buggy and took off as fast as I could. But she died on the trail two days later, in my arms. After that I couldn’t go back, so I’ve been here ever since. I’m not a killer like those men in
Hang Town. I never put a gun on anyone. I don’t even carry one, now. The crime I committed was done without firing a single shot. Maybe in the eyes of law it’s just as bad. I don’t know.’

  ‘The “law” can mean a lot of different things to different people, depending on who is wearing the badge. I’ve seen there’s as many crooks with a star pinned on their chests as there are real lawmen. I learned that the hard way, when my brother was murdered by someone like that. He was a decent kid, just beginning to get somewhere in life. I’m not even sure why it happened, but I mean to find out if it’s the last thing I ever do. I’m going back to get that answer. Someone is going to pay for what was done, even if I have to kill to get it.’

  Lee stared back at Judd, sensing from the determination in his voice that he meant every single word of it.

  ‘I thought for a while about going back to Tonopah, but I couldn’t face those people who had put their trust in me. Besides, Wells Fargo never closes a case. Not ever. They’d see to it I was sent to prison. Looks like we’re both in a fix, don’t it?’

  ‘For now maybe, yes. But that won’t last forever. Things can change, and people can too.’

  Hollis sipped at his coffee cup, thinking over Judd’s remarks. He was already certain his new friend would somehow right the wrongs that had been done to him and his brother. For his own situation, he didn’t have the kind of grit it took to change much of anything. It was best he just took what came. Lee Hollis was no hell-for-leather cowboy with vengeance in his heart and a cross-draw six-gun. He wished he was, but wishes were like smoke up a winter chimney.

  Since Judd’s night-time run from Red Bluffs, Cyrus Toomey had been working hard trying to get the Miller property rights transferred into his name, legal or not. Westin Carlyle, Red Bluffs one and only judge, was leery of Toomey’s efforts, even though both men were long-time friends both publicly and privately. The more Toomey demanded a paperwork change, the more Carlyle resisted on the grounds that any legal record change would put him in jeopardy if those records were ever questioned. The good judge had no wish to give up fine clothes, a splendid home and profitable law practice on the side, to end up in a territorial prison for record tampering and outright fraud, friends or not.

  ‘Listen to me, Cyrus. This isn’t some simple line change with a name, or crossing a few Ts. These land records are subject to a much broader review, if they’re ever brought into question and challenged. And that’s especially true if Miller ever shows up here again to challenge them. Both you and I could end up in prison for something like this. Now, if Miller could be proven dead, and he had no other family, that might cast a new light on the whole thing, but not where things stand right now.’

  ‘He’s got to be as dead as his brother is. Bass and my posse chased him all the way south of here nearly a hundred miles, clear down to desert country. The whole bunch of them barely made it back alive, that country is so bad. How much more proof do you need than that?’

  ‘What I need is either a body, or a coroner’s report, if there’s any sort of town to make one in.’

  ‘There isn’t any town out there. All it is is rattlesnakes, poison water, and cactus twenty feet tall. It’s a no man’s land. No one is ever going to find what’s left of him, after the coyotes get done. Can’t you understand that!’

  Carlyle massaged his temples, closing his eyes for a moment as he searched for an answer. After a long silence he looked up with a sigh. ‘There might be another way to open this land deed up, if he never returns to claim it. I believe there is a time limit on something like this, until someone is considered dead, and the property can go up for public action, if no family members come forward. I’d have to go to my law books, but I think it takes several years, and a public notice has to be printed in newspapers.’

  ‘I don’t have years. The Western Cascade railroad people have already begun making serious inquiries about bringing a new line through here. They want to go even farther west. That Miller property is something they need, to do that. The cost of changing plans to go around it is more than they are willing to spend. I’ve seen their proposal on their site maps. I’ve got to have that deed in my name, and I mean in any human way possible, legal or not!’

  Judd stayed out of sight at Lee’s hidden cabin for the next ten days while Hollis made two trips into Hang Town for food and some supplies. Lee was smart enough to time his arrival right after sundown when long shadows of evening were creeping up canyon walls and he’d be least noticed. The first trip in he went unnoticed, but on the second, two of Sloat’s men saw him loading his mule in front of Gant’s Feed Store.

  ‘Hey,’ Jackson Keller elbowed his pal, ‘ain’t that the little man who tried to help that cowboy . . . what’s his name, Miller?’

  ‘Yeah, sure looks like him, all right. Cayce’s been asking about the both of them, too.’

  ‘He sure has. We better tell him about this. Let’s move while he’s still in town. Sloat will want to have a little talk with him, for sure.’

  Cayce Sloat rushed out of Rickert’s with Keller and Harper at his side. ‘Where did you see that little rat?’

  ‘Up by the feed store.’ Keller pointed up the street into darkening shadows.

  ‘C’mon. I don’t want him to get out of town before I get my hands on him!’

  The three men ran up the street until they reached Gant’s. ‘Where is he?’ Sloat demanded, turning to look up and down the street. ‘You two sure it was him?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure. Who else rides a mule into town?’ Jackson snickered, side-eying his boss.

  ‘I’ll run up the street and look around the corner,’ Harper volunteered, taking off with his chaps slapping at his legs. ‘He can’t be very far away!’

  Reaching the corner he saw Hollis up ahead just starting down the trail heading out of town. ‘Hey you, hold up a minute!’ he shouted, without breaking stride. Lee looked back, instantly fearful anyone could recognize him. Instead of stopping, he urged his mule ahead, kicking it in the ribs to make it go faster. Harper saw he was trying to get away and quickly pulled his pistol, firing a sudden shot over Lee’s head, forcing him to pull to a halt. Catching up with the little man, he yanked the reins out of his hands.

  ‘Someone wants to have a talk with you,’ he fought to catch his breath. ‘And don’t you try . . . to run away from me again.’

  ‘I gotta’ get on home. It’s already dark.’ Hollis protested.

  ‘You ain’t “gotta” do anything, but what you’re told. Sloat wants to talk to you.’

  ‘I’ve got nothing to say to him.’

  ‘That’s what you think. C’mon. He’s waiting for you. If you’re smart, you’ll answer anything he asks you.’

  Harper led the mule back into town where Cayce and Killer were leaning on a hitching rail, waiting for them. ‘Get down,’ Cayce ordered, grabbing Lee by his jacket collar, roughly pulling him out of the saddle. ‘I been hearing that cowboy pal of yours might be staying at your place. Is that so?’

  Lee’s eyes widened, staring up at Sloat without blinking. For a few agonizing seconds he was too scared to answer. Sloat shook him like a rag doll, demanding he answer him: ‘Talk, or I’ll beat it out of you!’ he threatened.

  Lee swallowed hard, Cayce’s strong, whiskey breath nauseating him, as the big man pulled him even closer. ‘I don’t know . . . nothing about him.’ He finally got the words out, trying to pull back.

  ‘You don’t, huh? I say you do, and there’s going to be hell to pay if you don’t start talking. Where’s this shack you live in? I’ll go there and look for myself. And you’re coming with me.’

  Hollis was trapped, and knew it. Maybe he could still lie his way out of it. ‘He only stayed with me a couple days, and then rode out.’ He tried an alibi, praying it would work.

  ‘Rode out to where?’

  ‘He didn’t say. He just said it was time to move on, and left.’

  ‘You’re a yellow liar!’ Cayce pulled up his six-gun and swung it dow
n hard across Lee’s head, knocking him to his knees; the gash instantly started bleeding profusely, soaking the matted hair under his hat. Before Lee could catch his breath from the sudden blow, Sloat kicked him hard in the ribs, doubling him over on the ground, leaving him struggling to catch his breath. ‘I said, where is this shack of yours, and this time I better get an answer, or I’ll give you some more of this!’

  Hollis slowly rolled over, face up, gasping for breath, the three men standing over him looking down. ‘Have . . . mercy . . . Sloat. I don’t know . . . nothing more.’ His voice was barely a whisper.

  ‘Have mercy?’ Sloat laughed out loud, booting him in the ribs again. ‘You either tell me or I’ll kick you to death, right here in the street. And no one is going to try to help you, either. Now spit it out!’

  Keller began to wince as the beating grew worse, until even he thought his boss meant to kill the little man right where he lay. ‘Hey, Cayce, I think I might know where that cabin of his is,’ he reached over, grabbing Sloat by the shoulder. ‘There’s a little side canyon about a mile down the trail out of town, where someone told me they did some mining years ago. I’ll bet that’s it. If you keep kicking him, Harper and me will have to drag his carcass out of town someplace and bury him. Why don’t we ride down there and have a look-see for ourselves? Why wear your boots out on him?’

  Sloat was sweating, breathing heavily from all the exertion. He stopped, grabbing the hitching rail for support, trying to regain his breath. Looking down on Hollis, he gave him one last boot in the ribs, before straightening up again.

  ‘All right. We’ll do that, after I’ve had a drink, and caught my breath. There’s something about that cowboy I didn’t like from the start. He could be a bounty hunter, or maybe even a lawman in disguise. The sooner I take care of him, the better. Let’s go.’

  ‘What about him?’ Harper looked down on Hollis, rolled up in a ball moaning pitifully.

  ‘Let the little rat lay there!’ Sloat wiped his sweaty face with the back of his shirt sleeve. ‘He ain’t going anyplace for a while. Hell, he might never get up at all!’ His sinister laugh echoed up and down the darkened street.