Endsville

by Harlan Finchley

  His eagerness to please confirmed that Endsville didn’t get many visitors. With the liquor being rough and the meat having more fat and gristle than meat, Jesmond doubted that would change.

  Two hours had passed and the sun was edging down to the horizon when Cresswell left the bar. He dallied beside Bodie to examine him before he moved on to sit with Jesmond.

  “It’ll be dark soon and we’ve rested here for long enough,” Cresswell said. “It’s time to move on.”

  “We can wait a while longer.” Jesmond said. “I’ve seen no sign of trouble.”

  “I want to leave before there’s trouble. Marcel didn’t come here and that proves he sold us out. That means the marshal knows our plans, including that we intended to head here.”

  “There could be plenty of reasons why we haven’t found Marcel yet.” Jesmond raised a hand when Cresswell started to object. “But it is mighty suspicious and we shouldn’t wait around for the marshal to find us.”

  Jesmond waited until Cresswell nodded and then turned to Bodie to silently note their other problem. Cresswell sighed and then leaned forward.

  “We can’t head to High Pass now,” he said out of the corner of his mouth. “So we have to find somewhere else to hole up, and that means we’ll need to cover a lot of ground quickly.”

  “If you and the others want to ride on ahead, do it, but I’m staying with Bodie.”

  Cresswell smiled and turned to the bar, suggesting he had already discussed the matter with Yardleigh and Flynn. Then he pointed at the saddlebags that Jesmond had propped up against a table leg, but before they could debate what they did with the money, Bodie rocked his head to the side.

  “If there are decisions to be made, I’ll make them,” he said, his voice weak and pained.

  “So what’s your decision?” Cresswell said.

  “I formed this gang and only I can disband it. With all the trouble we could face in the coming days, we stay together.”

  “You barely made it here, and now we have no idea where we’re going or how long it’ll take to get there.”

  “Which is why I make the decisions. I’ll find us somewhere to stay where the law will never find us.”

  Bodie strained to move, but he stayed where he was. So he used a hand to push down on the bench and lever himself up to a sitting position. Then he sat hunched over favoring his injured side. His pained expression said that no matter what he claimed, he would struggle to reach a place of safety, never mind lead them there.

  “Hoyt may have fixed you up, but you’re in no state to lead us.” Cresswell gestured at Jesmond. “That doesn’t mean we’ll abandon you. Jesmond will—”

  “Jesmond won’t do nothing but follow my orders, and those orders are that we’ll stay together and I’ll lead us all to somewhere safe, which is something only I can do.”

  Cresswell scraped back his chair and stood up. “Are you saying I’m not good enough to lead this group?”

  Bodie raised his head. “I’m saying someone sold us out and it’s looking most likely that it was Marcel, but back before we came into town you were the only one defending him, and I ask myself why.”

  “I just told Jesmond that I’ve now accepted what Marcel did,” Cresswell snarled. He pointed an angry finger at him. “So if you’re suggesting I’m in league with Marcel, you’ll take that back or I’ll undo the fixing up Hoyt did to your side.”

  “Even injured I can still—”

  “Quit arguing, you two,” Jesmond snapped. “The pain isn’t helping you think straight, Bodie, and right now we all need to talk plenty of sense.”

  Cresswell shook his head and Bodie muttered something under his breath. Then Cresswell turned to the bar where Yardleigh and Flynn both sighed, their resigned expressions suggesting they had hoped this matter would be resolved without their getting involved. With quick gestures they downed their drinks and came over.

  “I reckon both Bodie and Cresswell are right,” Flynn said. “We stand a better chance if we stay together, but Bodie’s not fit enough to travel far. So we find somewhere close by and sit things out until Bodie’s fitter.”

  Jesmond nodded while Bodie stayed impassive, but Cresswell turned to Yardleigh, who lowered his head and shuffled from foot to foot before with a shrug he spoke up.

  “We should split up,” he said. “Cresswell explained why. Jesmond can stay with Bodie and they can follow on after us.”

  “If you and Cresswell want to go, then go,” Flynn said. “I’d sooner stay with men I can trust.”

  Silence reigned for several moments until Bodie smiled grimly making Cresswell face up to Flynn.

  “What are you saying, Flynn?” he demanded. “Because it sounded to me as if you agree with Bodie that Marcel wasn’t the only one to sell us out.”

  “I didn’t say that.” Flynn set his hands on his hips. “I just mean someone talked to the law, so we now know we can’t trust each other. That man could be Marcel, but then again it could be any one of us. So the best thing is we stay with the people we know well, and you were the last one to join us.”

  Cresswell chuckled. “At least you’ve got the guts to say the words.”

  Cresswell gestured at the saddlebags, making Flynn turn his head. Then he took a step forward and launched a scything blow at Flynn’s face. The punch knocked Flynn a pace to the side before he righted himself and then with a snarl he faced up to Cresswell.

  Bodie shouted at them to desist, but they ignored him. Jesmond started to add his own voice to the call for calm, but the words died on his lips when Yardleigh advanced on him. Unlike Cresswell, his movement was slow and possibly reluctant.

  “There’s no need for us to fight,” Jesmond said.

  Yardleigh nodded and spread his hands, making Jesmond turn to the fight, but Yardleigh’s action had been only a ruse and he lowered his head and charged forward. Jesmond had been prepared for deception and with a neat sideways move he evaded Yardleigh’s lunge and then slapped his hands on his opponent’s back and helped him on his way.

  Yardleigh hit the table and folded over it. Then the table rocked before tipping over and spilling Yardleigh to the floor. The table then landed on Yardleigh’s back. So when Yardleigh extricated himself from the furniture and stood up, his eyes blazed and he advanced on Jesmond with determined paces.

  Jesmond beckoned him on and then raised his fists. Yardleigh took two long paces and drew back his fist, but before he could throw a punch, the other fight intervened when Flynn delivered a blow to Cresswell’s jaw that sent him staggering backward until he knocked into Jesmond.

  Jesmond pushed Cresswell away, but Cresswell stomped a foot to the floor, stilling himself, and then swung around with a fist whirling. The blow clipped Jesmond’s chin knocking his head to the side only for Yardleigh to step in and punch his cheek with a blow that knocked him the other way.

  Jesmond shook himself and barged Yardleigh away before facing up to Cresswell only to find Flynn taking a leap at Cresswell and landing on his back. Flynn’s weight bent Cresswell over, but his opponent steadied himself and tried to shake him off.

  With Flynn rocking from side to side as he tried to tip Cresswell over, their scrambling progress knocked them into Yardleigh, who shoved them away toward Jesmond. Then a wild kick from Flynn accidentally clipped Jesmond’s thigh and he went down on one knee.

  As he was close to Cresswell’s legs, he kicked off from the floor and slammed into his knees, knocking both men over on to their backs. Then Jesmond stopped caring about who he hit. With his arms and legs whirling in a berserk action, he crunched a few blows into faces and stomachs, and he got just as many in return.

  With his head down and with his legs entangled around someone’s chest, he rolled toward the bar and upended another table. Then he scrambled along in the other direction, seeking clear space.

  A gunshot tore out, but Jesmond ignored it as he’d finally freed himself from the fight. He turned around, finding that in the chaos Flynn and Cresswell wer
e now on their knees trying to wrestle each other to the floor while Yardleigh was remonstrating with Wickham, who must have tried to break up the fight.

  Jesmond got up and advanced on Flynn and Cresswell, but another gunshot ripped out. This time he turned to the sound to find that Bodie had fired up into the ceiling.

  “That’s enough!” Bodie shouted.

  Flynn and Cresswell still struggled, but then with a flinch they both appeared to come to their senses. Yardleigh slapped Wickham on the back and then turned to Bodie with his hands raised.

  “A fight’s been a long time coming,” Jesmond said. “I hope that’s cleared the air.”

  Cresswell grunted in an uncommitted manner before shoving Flynn aside and getting to his feet.

  “It might do, as long as nobody accuses anyone else again,” Cresswell said.

  “And it might do, as long as nobody talks about splitting up again,” Jesmond said.

  Cresswell tensed before providing a sharp nod and that encouraged Flynn to murmur that he agreed. Yardleigh moved forward to nod to them all, but Bodie didn’t change his stern expression.

  “This ends here,” he said. “We fight others, not ourselves. If anyone disagrees with my decisions again, we’ll all go our separate ways.”

  Everyone turned to Cresswell, who sneered while gesturing around the saloon room.

  “I’ve had enough of Endsville,” he said. He stomped a pace toward the door and then turned to Bodie. “Provided that’s all right with you?”

  Bodie smiled and with that everyone got ready to leave. Bodie told Yardleigh and Flynn to fetch their horses, while Jesmond took it upon himself to pay Wickham. He collected a handful of bills from a saddlebag and headed to the bar.

  Jesmond counted a few dollars on to the bar. Then he noted the upturned tables and the broken glasses, so with a smile he put down half of the handful.

  “Please accept that for your hospitality and for the damage,” he said.

  “I’m much obliged,” Wickham said. He headed behind the bar and gathered up the money. “Please come back to Endsville again one day.”

  “We can’t return,” Jesmond said, and then dropped the rest of the money on the bar and laid a hand on it. “Because we were never here.”

  Wickham smiled, so Jesmond raised his hand and turned to the others.

  “It’s time to leave,” he said.

  Cresswell nodded while Bodie gingerly raised himself from the bench. Then he set about wrapping the last clean dressing around his chest. This time Jesmond didn’t offer to help. He figured that Bodie’s attempt to care for himself was a sign he felt fitter, but Bodie struggled to tie the bandage while still holding on to the dressing, so Jesmond moved on to help him.

  “Wait!” Wickham called making Jesmond turn. He waved the money at them. “You’re not going nowhere yet.”

  “We’re not paying you no more,” Jesmond said.

  “You’ve not paid me nothing yet,” Wickham declared before hurling the bills at Jesmond. “These bills are fakes. The money’s not worth the paper it’s printed on!”

  Chapter Six

  “THE MONEY LOOKS REAL to me,” Jesmond said, holding a bill up to the light.

  “Let me see,” Cresswell said, barging him aside to gather up the scattered bills.

  Cresswell examined the money with the same confused expression that Jesmond guessed he was displaying before they turned to Bodie, who stalked toward them. Bodie’s untied bandage dropped to the floor and his gait was more assured than at any time since he’d been shot. He took a bill from Cresswell and then waved it at Wickham.

  “What makes you think this is counterfeit?” he demanded.

  “I know the difference between real and fake,” Wickham said. “You must have made even more mistakes than you thought.”

  “What do you know about our mistakes?”

  Wickham waved at the bar and then at the table that Jesmond had been using.

  “You’ve been talking about your problems for the last two hours.”

  “We sure have,” Bodie snapped. “And I’ve had enough of this day and of this town and of you.”

  He stormed two long paces, his injury seemingly forgotten about, and reached over the bar to grab Wickham’s collar. Then he drew him forward so that Wickham bellied up to the bar.

  “You can threaten me all you like, but that money isn’t getting more real,” Wickham said with defiance.

  “I’m obliged for the offer.” Bodie drew his gun and slammed the barrel up under Wickham’s chin. “If I can’t be sure you’ll not tell anyone we were here, I’ll have to buy your silence another way.”

  Wickham’s eyes flicked down to the gun. He gulped.

  “If Marshal Dobson comes here, I won’t tell him nothing.”

  Bodie narrowed his eyes. “How do you know about Dobson?”

  Wickham winced. “Like I said: you’ve been talking plenty.”

  “We have, but I’ve been lying over there with nothing else to do other than listen. My men have talked about the law and about lawmen and maybe even about a U.S. marshal, but nobody’s mentioned Marshal Trent Dobson, until you just did.”

  When Wickham didn’t reply, Jesmond thought back. He reckoned they hadn’t spoken in detail about their concerns as they had discussed them beforehand, so he nodded and Cresswell backed him up by striding to his side.

  “I don’t trust him,” Cresswell said. “Kill him, Bodie.”

  “So shall I end your worthless existence, or will you tell me what you know?” Bodie said. He dragged Wickham forward and then winced. “Make up your mind quickly because I’m in a whole heap of pain and it’s making my trigger finger ache.”

  Wickham opened his mouth, but then his gaze darted past Bodie’s shoulder and he relaxed. Bodie didn’t react to the obvious ruse, so Jesmond turned, and then frowned.

  “Bodie, we’ve got trouble,” he said.

  Cresswell turned to the door, and Bodie shuffled around ensuring he kept his gun thrust up against Wickham’s skin. Rosemarie had left the stable for the first time and she was now standing in the doorway with a rifle leveled on the bar.

  “Take that gun off him,” she said with quiet authority.

  “There’s three of us and one of you, little lady,” Bodie said.

  “That won’t matter none to you when you’re spilling your last drop of blood on the floor.”

  “And it won’t matter none to you when I blast your brother away.” Bodie shook Wickham’s collar making Wickham bleat with concern. “One way or the other we’re getting answers before we leave Endsville.”

  Rosemarie took a short pace into the saloon. “We’ve got none to give other than what Wickham told you. We scrape a living here and some of the people who pass through are as desperate as you are. Some even have saddlebags filled with money and they talk about the law. We hear everything, but we listen to nothing, so if Wickham’s heard about Marshal Dobson, he must have heard it from you.”

  Bodie nodded and relaxed his hold of Wickham’s collar.

  “Are you saying you won’t tell him about us if he comes here?”

  “We won’t say nothing to nobody, unless whoever is asking the questions has money. Then we’ll tell him everything, whether you’ve paid us or not.”

  “I’m obliged for your honesty,” Bodie said with a laugh.

  Jesmond thought about this. Then, moving slowly, he reached into an inside pocket. Rosemarie tensed, but Jesmond withdrew the few dollars he’d had on him before the raid.

  “If that money isn’t good enough for you, maybe this is,” he said, throwing the bills on the bar.

  “It sure is,” Wickham bleated, although he ignored the money.

  With a snarl Bodie released Wickham and lowered his gun.

  “In that case, we’re leaving,” he said.

  In response, Rosemarie lowered her rifle and Bodie straightened up. His jaw bunched as he registered distress for the first time in a while. Despite the tenseness of the situation,
Jesmond collected the dropped bandage.

  He busied himself with covering Bodie’s raw side while Cresswell gathered up the strewn money and stuffed it back in a saddlebag. Cresswell examined the bills, but he said nothing, although Jesmond reckoned that later they would have another round of arguments about Wickham’s claim.

  When Jesmond had completed his work, the three men left the bar with Cresswell carrying one saddlebag and Bodie dragging the other along. Bodie kept his gun drawn as they moved across the saloon room, and when they reached the door, Rosemarie backed away to give them room to leave.

  Bodie slipped outside first and then Cresswell, while Wickham still loitered behind the bar and eyed them with concern. Then Jesmond followed the others outside with Rosemarie at his heels.

  It had been a while since Yardleigh and Flynn had gone to the stable, and presumably something they had said had encouraged Rosemarie to come to the saloon. Accordingly, they stayed on the saloon side of the main drag where they could keep an eye on Rosemarie, but long moments passed without any sign of the men returning. Then the sun dipped behind low cloud on the horizon making the three men turn to each other.

  “It shouldn’t take them this long to collect our horses,” Cresswell said.

  “Agreed,” Bodie said. He gestured at Jesmond. “Go and find out what they’re doing. Then tell them to stop it and get out here.”

  Cresswell turned toward the hill they had come down to reach the town, while Bodie faced Rosemarie, who still had a tense posture despite the lowered rifle. Jesmond hurried on, now as eager as Cresswell was to leave the town, but when he approached the stable neither man was visible in the darkened interior. He stopped in the doorway.

  “We’re leaving, so hurry up,” he called.

  He waited, but the stable was quiet. As the light level was dropping, he let his eyes accustom to the gloom, revealing that the interior was even quieter than he’d expect. When he’d overcome his surprise, he turned around.

  “Yardleigh and Flynn aren’t here.” he called to Bodie. “And neither are the horses.”

  Bodie snarled and advanced on Rosemarie. “What have you done with them?”