The Accomplice: The Silent Partner

by Marcus Galloway

  “The hell if I know.”

  “If you go to Alice, she’ll probably toss a share your way as well. After what she won tonight, she owes it to you. And don’t look so down in the mouth, either. Both of those men we played tonight will most definitely be seeking us out at the Bella Union. That,” Doc said with a wolfish grin, “is when the real fun will start.”

  Lifting his chin to pull in a breath of fresh air, Doc nearly filled his lungs before coughing and then hacking it up loudly. The fit subsided quicker than usual and when it was through, Doc fished in his pockets for a handkerchief.

  “Seems like the mountain air is doing you some good,” Caleb pointed out.

  “Either that or the whiskey.” Doc squinted down at the money in Caleb’s hand. “Another payday like that and you should be able to stake yourself in a game for a change.”

  “That’s just the thing. I don’t know if I should get into another game.”

  “Then stick with the arrangement as is. The two of us still work well enough together to make it profitable all around. One of us may even save up enough to get back into the saloon owner’s game again.”

  Caleb looked down at his own boots and grumbled, “I don’t know if I want that, either.”

  “It’s been a long night and I’m feeling more tired as this conversation wears on.”

  “I want to earn my own money doing my own kind of work,” Caleb explained.

  “I thought that’s what we were doing.”

  “That’s what you’re doing. Ever since my luck turned, I’ve been steering the right folks your way and keeping the wrong ones from getting too close.”

  Doc laughed under his breath as he removed his hat and ran his bony fingers through dark blond hair. “I don’t exactly need an angel on my shoulder.”

  “You sure about that?”

  Doc stopped so he could scowl directly at Caleb without running the risk of tripping over something or someone on Main Street. “Yes. I believe I am sure about that. Why do you ask?”

  “Because sometimes it seems like luck’s the only reason you haven’t been shot dead yet.”

  “You care to try yours?” Doc asked in a voice with more than enough of a steely edge to raise the hackles on the back of Caleb’s neck.

  Caleb squared his shoulders to Doc and stood toe-to-toe with him.

  Doc no longer seemed like a man who’d spent the better part of his last several years being eaten alive by disease. The Georgian dentist stood tall and glared at Caleb with eyes that would have been at home in any predator’s head.

  “Most of the trouble that comes our way could have been dodged if you weren’t so anxious to catch it,” Caleb said.

  “Are you blaming me for your losing streak? I’ve had my share of them, so you’ll take yours like a man.”

  “It’s not about the cards,” Caleb explained. “It’s about the fights and the threats and knocking on death’s door so many times that it’s starting to lose its appeal.”

  Doc shook his head. “It’s not losing anything. You’re not the first one to get into a scrape, Caleb, and don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy your last one just a little bit.”

  As much as Caleb wanted to step up and tell Doc he was wrong, he simply couldn’t. Drunk or not, Doc was way too good at sniffing out a bluff.

  “And don’t tell me you miss running that saloon of yours,” Doc continued. “The Busted Flush was a hell of a place. It probably still is, but you’d still be there if you wanted to keep riding that rail. Folks do what they want to do.”

  “Sometimes they just use the cards they’ve been dealt.”

  “If that was the case, I’d be laying with my feet up in a sickbed right about now. More likely, I’d be in a coffin.”

  “It’s easy to be optimistic when you’re riding high, Doc.”

  And in the blink of an eye, the edge in Doc’s voice was gone. He let out a breath, which was more of a ragged wheeze, and then draped an arm over Caleb’s shoulder. Doc continued walking down Main Street and dragged Caleb right along with him. “I know all about losing at cards. Why do you think I went to school all those years to learn my proper trade? Every man needs a solid place to fall.”

  “I can’t pull teeth for a living, but there is something else.”

  “Here it is. Finally!”

  “I may be taking part in a job that could lead to more money than I’ve seen in a while.”

  Doc let out a sputtering laugh. “That’s not saying much.”

  “Yeah, but this could have some long-term advantages.”

  When Doc looked back at Caleb, he studied him carefully. “Sounds promising. Just so long as it’s not some half-witted scheme put together by one of the crazed miners scurrying through this camp.”

  “He’s not crazed, but he is a miner.”

  “Those fellows may have good intentions,” Doc warned, “but they don’t have the reliability to back them up.”

  “Funny words coming from a professional gambler.”

  “Point taken. Proceed.”

  “The man’s name is Creek Johnson,” Caleb said as he rubbed his hands together and walked alongside Doc. “He’s got a claim that may get taken out from under him and he needs someone to back him up. For the job, I get a percentage of the profits and possibly a very lucrative partnership of my own.”

  “I’m no miner, but anyone who lives around here knows that most claims aren’t worth much. A percentage of not much is even less.”

  “This one’s valuable enough to fight over,” Caleb replied. “That always means something. Even if it’s not, I’m sure we can figure out a way to come out ahead where all these tempers are flaring and all this money is being tossed around. Gold or not, these men got to have enough to buy up land. Since they’re not flat broke, they must be carrying at least some cash around with them.”

  Doc nodded and licked his bottom lip. “Another good point. Sounds like an endeavor with some potential.”

  “I should be able to handle myself, but I may need someone to watch my back. You spend a lot of time in saloons . . . almost as much as the miners who come to town when they’re not working their claims. You could listen for a few things. You could possibly move your game to another saloon if I find out there might be someone there worth listening to.”

  Still nodding, Doc said, “That shouldn’t be a problem. Fresh blood is good in any game. Is that the only sort of backing you may need?”

  “Do you still have that gun I gave you?”

  Doc flipped open his coat to reveal the pearl-handled .38 that hung under his arm.

  “Gussied it up a bit, I see,” Caleb said as he tapped the pistol’s handle.

  “Doesn’t affect my aim.”

  “Which, I hear, has slipped since you’ve taken to drinking whiskey as if it was water.”

  Doc shrugged, closed his coat, and straightened his lapels. “I can hit a man sitting across from me at a poker table. That’s mostly all I require. If I ever find myself dueling in the street, I’ll find a shotgun.”

  “Think you could find one if I run afoul of some crazed miners?” Caleb asked.

  “Sure. That is, unless there’s a good game being held at one of these new saloons you’re forcing me to try.”

  Despite Doc’s words, there was no mistaking the look in his eyes. He would back Caleb’s play.

  “All right, then,” Caleb said as an excited fire built up inside of him. “Let’s see if I can leave this town as something other than a bouncer.”

  4

  The next morning, Caleb was up and eager to start his newest endeavor. Having lost the need to get up at sunrise, he found it more than a little difficult to drag himself out of a perfectly warm bed and into the bitter cold of a Deadwood morning. Dragging Doc from the comfort of his room at the Grand Central Hotel was another matter entirely. Breakfast consisted of warm mush and bacon. He’d barely tasted his first cup of coffee before Caleb spotted the reason for getting up so early in the first place. A few mi
nutes later, Caleb and his guide were in their saddles and putting the mining camp behind them.

  Creek Johnson rode a lean mustang and rarely kept to a single trail for very long. Just following Johnson was enough to give Caleb a lesson in riding through rugged country. The horse Caleb had bought was meant as nothing more than an alternative to buying stage or train tickets, and the animal was already starting to wheeze worse than Doc on a bad day.

  “How much farther to get to this claim of yours?” Caleb asked.

  Johnson looked over his shoulder and shook his head dismissively. “We’re almost there.”

  “You said that a few miles back.”

  “I was right then and I’m even righter now. You’ll catch sight of my spot as soon as we clear these trees.”

  Before Caleb could gripe any more, his horse carried him through the most recent tangle of sharp branches and into a clearing no more than a dozen square yards in size. When he saw Johnson climb down from his saddle, Caleb asked, “This is it?”

  “Sure it is. That river’s coughed up more’n enough to be promising.”

  The river Johnson was so proudly pointing toward was currently a rough stretch of frozen water that was more crooked than some of the roots sticking up from the hardened ground.

  “It ain’t much in this time of year,” Johnson admitted, “but all them kinks and turns make for some mighty fine panning spots. And them rocks over there,” he added while walking toward a cluster of boulders about a foot shorter than he was, “is where the real money comes from.”

  Grudgingly, Caleb climbed down from his horse’s nearly broken back. In his mind, he was thanking himself for asking for most of his fee in advance. He was also figuring out a way to describe this scene to Doc so that he didn’t come out as an idiot who believed another crazed miner.

  “What’s so good about those rocks?” Caleb asked. “Is one of them made of gold?”

  Johnson was at the largest of the rocks by now and he looked back at Caleb with a gnarled grin on his face. “Not hardly. Come over here and take a look for yerself.”

  Since he’d already come this far, Caleb went a little farther.

  Squatting down and lifting up a thick canopy of branches, Johnson pointed at the rock again. “Go on and have a look.”

  Caleb thought he’d seen a few bad winters when he’d lived in Texas, but he’d never felt his bones ache or hear his knees creak as badly as they did now. The very notion of squatting down next to Johnson was so unappealing, he considered heading back to town right then and there.

  “This’d better be good,” Caleb grunted as he hunkered down to look at what was under the branches. The moment he caught sight of what the branches had been covering, Caleb needed to grab onto the rock for support. Only part of the reason for that involved him nearly losing his footing against the frozen soil.

  “Holy shit,” Caleb muttered. “Is that what it looks like?”

  Johnson nodded like a proud poppa. “There’s a cave under there that puts the river to shame.”

  Caleb leaned forward a bit to get a closer look at the cave Johnson was talking about. Although it wasn’t much bigger than a small animal’s den, there was more than enough gold in the walls to catch the light from outside and reflect it back at him. “How far in does that go?”

  “Don’t know yet. I’ve barely been able to wriggle in there and dig some of that gold out to make certain it was the genuine article.”

  “And?”

  Johnson nodded. “It was. But, like I said before, getting in there is the rough part.”

  Caleb pulled back the canopy a bit more and discovered most of the opening to the small cave had previously been covered by the branches. After hunkering down to get an even closer look, Caleb figured a man might have to crawl on his belly like a snake if he was to get into the rock with enough room to bring a small pickaxe.

  “How much gold do you suppose is in there?” Caleb asked.

  “Hard to say. The stuff on the walls is the only stuff we can see from here and I think a lot of that’s dust. The good news is that the cave goes in quite a ways before heading down.”

  “You got in there enough to tell all that?”

  Johnson winced at the very thought of that. “Hell no, but I got in far enough to pour some water and watch it flow. From what I could hear, this may just be covering a cave that’s a hell of a lot bigger than this.”

  Letting out a low whistle, Caleb listened for an echo. He heard just enough to lend credence to Johnson’s words. Caleb pushed off of the rock with one hand so he could climb back to his feet. As his hand slipped under the canopy, he was able to see the branches hadn’t fallen there naturally, but had been woven like a rough kind of quilt and laid there to hide the rock.

  Caleb glanced around and didn’t see anyone else in the area. He took a step back and let his arm hang just enough to put his pistol within easy reach. “Do your partners know about all of this?”

  Johnson nodded. “Yeah. That’s what’s got me worried. Soon as we found this spot, the others got real quiet and started disappearin’ on me. I got an offer to sell my share of the claim and when I refused, they disappeared again. A friend of mine down at the Nuttall Saloon said he saw one of my partners meeting with a gunman by the name of Mayes.”

  “Mayes? That name sounds familiar.” Caleb didn’t have to think long before he snapped his fingers and added, “He’s supposed to run with Dave Rudabaugh.”

  “I heard that might be the case, but I wasn’t so quick to believe it. You think it’s true?”

  “Rudabaugh usually sticks close to Texas and New Mexico. I grew up there and owned a saloon in Dallas, so I’ve heard plenty about him. Seems strange for a man like him to come all the way up here.”

  “I don’t know if Rudabaugh is here or not,” Johnson said, “but some of his friends sure are. The man who told me all this ain’t got much of a reason to lie.”

  Still thinking like a saloon owner, Caleb thought about what Johnson had said. The Nuttall Saloon wasn’t far from the Bella Union and it wasn’t exactly known as being the cultural center of Deadwood. Since the place wasn’t even safe enough for Doc to play there on a regular basis, it could have been a second home to anyone who rode with the likes of Arkansas Dave Rudabaugh.

  Even with all of those things seeming to hold water, something else was still bothering Caleb. “Why show this to me?” he asked.

  Johnson blinked once, but didn’t seem surprised by the question. “I thought you should know what you’re getting into.”

  “And you’re not worried that I might try to make a move of my own?”

  Having presumably kept one hand in his pocket all this time for warmth, Johnson moved that hand just enough to show he was holding his gun and aiming it at Caleb. “I ain’t too worried, but I am rethinking my choices as far as gun hands go.”

  Caleb smirked and nodded at the fact that he’d had a fast one pulled on him for a change. He then showed Johnson a move that was plenty fast enough to earn back some respect. Not only did Caleb draw his pistol, but he had enough time to slap the other man’s gun away.

  “Well, now,” Johnson sputtered in openmouthed surprise. “Seems I was right to come to you after all.”

  “Maybe. What makes you so certain I won’t just put a bullet in you so I can chip this gold out as I please?”

  “I already got men gunning for me, remember? If I don’t find someone halfway trustworthy to watch my back, I’ll be dead before sundown today. If it ain’t you that’s pulling the trigger, it’ll be one of my partners or Lord only knows who else. Besides, us two can get that gold out, but one man won’t get so far. If you harm me, you’ll just need to bring in more men who’ll get ideas of their own.”

  Caleb stared a hole through Johnson’s skull before slowly lowering his gun. “You still willing to cut me in on this as one of your partners?”

  “That was if things go wrong and my old partners go through with trying to get rid of me.”
/>   “Would you be so worried about hiring someone to cover your back if that wasn’t already the case?”

  “I suppose not.”

  “And if your partners truly are siding with known killers,” Caleb added, “I doubt they’re planning on letting things pan out quietly.”

  Despite the fact that he was still holding his hands up and afraid to make a move, Johnson grinned and said, “I was pretty much thinking along those same lines.”

  “Then why not cut through the bullshit and get to business?” After dropping his gun into its holster, Caleb extended that hand to Johnson. “Make me your partner right now.”

  Johnson’s background as a miner shone through when he straightened up and shook Caleb’s hand as if he was signing the Declaration of Independence. His eyes took on a sharp glint and his jaw set into a straight, solid line. “Partners.”

  “It’ll be fifty-fifty, Creek,” Caleb warned. “I won’t have it any other way.”

  “We’ll split it right down the middle. Hell, that bumps up my percentage anyhow.”

  Under most other circumstances, Caleb would have asked for something a little more binding. But it was plain to see on Creek Johnson’s face that nothing else, legal or otherwise, would have held up as much as that handshake. Once the deal was sealed, Caleb looked toward the small hole in the nearby rocks.

  “Now how the hell do you intend on getting that gold out of there?” Caleb asked.

  “I’ll be picking up a load of dynamite later on today. Should be enough to take out enough of this rock so all’s we got to deal with is a hole in the ground.”

  “What about the gold I can see inside of there?” Caleb asked with a wince.

  Creek waved that off like he was shooing away a fly. “I ain’t going through all of this to settle for dust. There could be a goddamn mother lode down that hole.”

  “Or there could just be a family of rabbits.”

  Although he thought about that for a second, Creek didn’t consider it for much more than that. “No man gets rich by settling for the first thing he sees. I been mining long enough to know that dust leading back into rock like that is pointing toward something a whole lot better.”