“That’s what I thought, red man,” Rudabaugh sneered. Resting his gun casually upon his shoulder, Rudabaugh pulled in a breath and spat in Caleb’s face. “That’s for shooting my friend,” he grunted.
While offering his free hand to the redhead, Rudabaugh said, “Come on, Brad. Let’s go see how that pretty lady’s doing.”
Brad hissed in pain as he took the hand Rudabaugh offered and was hauled to his feet. The wound in the redhead’s hip was slick with blood, but looked more like a deep scratch than anything else. After a few assisted steps, Brad was practically shoved to one of the horses tied up next to the stagecoach platform.
Rudabaugh kept his gun moving between Caleb and Doc. Once he was in the saddle, he took the reins and got his horse moving to the nearby trail. “Hope you folks enjoyed the show,” Rudabaugh said to the petrified onlookers huddled upon the platform. With that, he rode away. Brad had lost most of the color in his face and had broken into a cold sweat after climbing into his own saddle, but managed to follow close behind Rudabaugh.
Before the thunder of those hooves could fade, Caleb had holstered his gun and rushed over to help Doc. By the time he got to where Doc had stumbled, Caleb found the Georgian was already on his feet.
“Do you really think he’s got Alice?” Caleb asked.
Doc dusted himself off and looked around at the others standing nearby as if praying he could shoot one of them. By the time he looked back at Caleb, the rage in Doc’s eyes hadn’t even begun to fade. “I don’t care if he got his hands on Alice or is just spouting off. I want that animal dead. You hear me, Caleb? Dead.”
12
Caleb and Doc circled back toward Deadwood using a trail they’d found when they’d rushed out the last time. Actually, they’d found something only similar to a trail. It was a stretch of land that cut through the trees and led toward Deadwood—barely wide enough to accommodate a horse and only widened out in a few spots here and there. But Doc didn’t much care how treacherous the trail was. It led toward Deadwood by way of Creek’s relinquished claim, and that was all he cared about.
The night was cold enough to freeze the sweat in a man’s boots. Although there was a half-moon visible in the starry sky, the darkness was thick enough to keep most prudent folks in their homes or close to a crackling fire. Since prudence was the farthest thing from their minds, Doc and Caleb rode slowly and never took their eyes from the trail.
After finding the river that snaked toward the claim, the two men tied off their horses and struck out on foot. They kept their feet moving just slow enough to feel the irregularities in the ground that they couldn’t see. Dressed in battered riding clothes and an old jacket, Doc was nothing like the finely dressed gentleman that had left Deadwood. His eyes were narrowed and filled with purpose. His guns were worn in plain sight so he could get to them at the first hint of trouble.
Caleb was too focused to be so angry. Whenever he thought about Dave Rudabaugh, he could feel the blood boiling in his veins. Since he was given the task of keeping them both on track and not getting lost in the Black Hills, Caleb did his level best to try not to think about the outlaw. Considering the company he kept, that wasn’t such an easy task.
“If that son of a bitch is foolish enough to show his face, I’ll be more than happy to put a bullet through it,” Doc snarled.
“He’ll be there,” Caleb replied. “Dave wanted that gold too badly for him not to show up. I just didn’t know you cared for Alice so much.”
Doc didn’t even flinch. “She’s a hell of a gambler and knows how to look out for her partners. She may have pulled a few trick plays, but she’s never done anything to deserve being handled by the likes of that pig.”
“Trick plays, huh?” Caleb asked. “Is that the new word for cheating?”
It took a moment, but the grin eventually found its way onto Doc’s face. The gesture only managed to curl one end of his brushy mustache. “Tricks of the trade, my friend. Every professional has them.”
“I guess card shears are less imposing than those tooth extractors you used to wave around.”
“And they extract a hell of a lot more money, too.”
The partners took a few more steps along the stream before both of them instinctively slowed down and stopped.
“This isn’t far from where I found that rifleman,” Doc said.
Caleb nodded. “And that means the claim is just ahead. I don’t think anyone else is here yet. You think Creek is anywhere about?”
After pushing aside some of the bushes, Doc dropped to one knee and drew the .38 that hung under his left arm. “No,” he said while checking the rounds inside the .38’s cylinder. “Even if we did know where he went, there’s no need to bother him.”
Caleb watched Doc for a few more seconds before furrowing his brow and fixing a hard glare upon Doc. “How much gold did you and Creek get?”
“Why ask that now?”
“Because Rudabaugh’s under the impression there was a ton of it and so was Creek. In fact, Creek was pretty convincing when he told me there had to have been more under those rocks than what could be split into a few pouches.”
Doc smirked, holstered his first .38, and drew the second one. “That’s funny,” he said while checking the rounds in that pistol. “After all the jobs we’ve done together, you still get worried about being cheated out of your share.”
“What about that time in Cheyenne?”
“An honest mistake,” Doc quickly replied.
“All right, then. If you only have as much gold as I already handed over, how do you think Rudabaugh is going to react when that’s all he gets? He’s expecting one hell of a big strike.”
“Oh, he’ll be stricken all right,” Doc said as he hefted one .38 in each hand. “At least ten or twelve times.”
Even though the sunlight had been fading, Caleb saw Doc as if he was looking at him under a clear, afternoon sky. “You’re not planning on handing anything over.”
“Never was,” Doc said. “And don’t worry about the gold you gave away. I’m certain that horse’s ass will have it on him when he comes to meet us here. We can take it off whatever’s left of him.”
Just then, the sounds of branches snapping and hooves crunching against the cold ground announced the presence of several approaching riders. Doc and Caleb crouched down behind the thick tangle of branches and studied the clearing. In the nearby spot that had once been Creek Johnson’s legal property, a trickle of water ran beneath cracked layers of ice. The pile of rocks had been disassembled and scattered around to reveal a shallow, empty hole.
“So you just want us to go in with guns blazing?” Caleb asked.
“What else would you suggest?”
After taking a moment to think, Caleb replied, “I don’t know. After all the talk I heard from Creek, I thought he’d stashed more of that gold around here and told you about it while I was locked up.”
Doc chuckled under his breath and peeked through the tangled branches in front of him. “Seems like you have a bigger optimistic streak in you than I’d thought. Either that, or you’ve spent too much time around these miners.”
The approaching horses were getting close enough for a few of the riders’ hushed voices to be heard. Caleb’s hand went to the pistol at his side and drew it. He didn’t need to check the gun to know if it was loaded. The .44 was as much a part of him as the fingers wrapped around its grip.
“So is there a plan?” Caleb asked.
Cocking his head slightly, Doc pondered that question for almost a full second before answering, “We let that smug jackass think he’s got the upper hand until the first opportunity comes along for us to prove him wrong.”
“Since you’re so riled up, why don’t you lead the way and I’ll stay back to cover you?”
Doc’s entire body was coiled like a spring and his eyes were fixed upon the clearing, waiting for the first sight of Rudabaugh or his men. “Fine,” he said.
“What about Alice?”
Caleb held his gun at the ready and listened to the approaching horses. The hooves sounded so close that he knew he should be able to see the gunmen at any moment. Before the first horse’s nose emerged from the shadows cast by the trees across the clearing, Doc stepped out from his cover.
The Georgia-born dentist shrugged his shoulders to loosen his coat from around him. Flexing his fingers and arms, Doc let out a slow breath to prepare himself for what was to come.
Despite what he’d agreed to before, Caleb didn’t like the way the horses had slowed down to mill about within those shadows. Knowing better than to think Doc would back down or retreat into some better cover, Caleb stepped out from his own spot to stand at Doc’s side.
Shooting a quick look at Caleb, Doc nodded and then squared off with the trees.
“What’s the matter, Dave?” Doc said under his breath. “Are you stupid enough to think we hadn’t spotted you yet?”
At first, Caleb was certain it would only be a few more seconds before Rudabaugh either charged into the clearing or took a shot at them. Since there wasn’t any gold in sight, his money was on the former.
But the longer it took for Rudabaugh to show himself, the more nervous Caleb got. That nervousness grew when he heard more horses stomping through the bushes around to his left.
“There’s a lot more than two of them,” Caleb whispered.
Doc nodded. “I know. And they’re flanking us.”
The shapes they’d already spotted stayed in the shadows. Since the other horses were closing in like a noose around him and Doc, Caleb raised his pistol and aimed at what he thought was the closest of the shadows.
“Come on out where we can see you,” Caleb demanded. “And do it quick.”
One dark figure rode forward, but it wasn’t Dave Rudabaugh. It wasn’t even the redhead who’d been called Brad. The man was familiar to both Caleb and Doc, but was the last one they’d expected to lead the others into the clearing.
“You both came,” Samuel said in his shrill, twanging voice. “How convenient.” Shifting in his saddle, Samuel looked back at the other riders and shouted, “I found them!”
As Caleb watched, more horses drew closer. It wasn’t until then that he realized the rest of those horses had been circling the clearing rather than closing in on it directly. Although Caleb had been mistaken to think the horses were coming at him before, they were now all most definitely approaching the clearing.
“Where’d you go, Sam?” asked one of the riders.
“Over here! There’s a clearing. I think it’s that Injun who escaped.”
“You heard the man,” Bullock shouted from just beyond the clearing. “Let’s bring that prisoner back to where he belongs!”
Caleb was frozen to his spot.
Doc swore under his breath as he backed away from the trees. “That son of a bitch double-crossed us,” he snarled.
At least half a dozen horses were coming into the clearing near the pile of charred rocks. When they tried to retrace their steps, Caleb and Doc made another unsettling discovery.
“They’re closing in from behind us,” Caleb said.
Doc gritted his teeth and added, “From this side, too.”
And as he frantically searched for a way out of that clearing that didn’t involve charging through an armed posse who had something to prove, all Caleb could see was the slender figure sitting in his saddle, looking on with a smug grin on his face.
Waiting until Bullock and the other men were coming up next to him, Samuel announced, “I told you they’d be back here, Mr. Bullock. Maybe you should shoot them before they try to get away with my gold.”
“First thing’s first,” Bullock said. “Round ’em up, boys!”
Those words brought the rest of the posse closing in on the clearing from every side that a horse could navigate. When he looked at Doc, Caleb knew the gambler was one bad decision away from ending his days of coughing up blood in a blaze of glory.
Since he didn’t want to take his chances on another Deadwood trial or spend another night in that stinking shack, Caleb only had one choice.
“Come on, Doc! Follow me!” Caleb said as he turned and bolted toward the frozen stream.
Doc watched for a moment, right along with the rest of the men invading that clearing. The sight of Caleb running at full speed toward a sheet of half-frozen, half-cracked ice was more than enough to bring a smile to Doc’s face.
“Oh, this ought to be fun,” Doc muttered as he ran toward the stream as fast as his legs could carry him.
The clearing erupted with gunfire of all makes and models. Pistols of different calibers barked and spat hot lead at the two men fleeing toward the river. Shotguns sent waves of thunder through the air and tore apart tree trunks while chipping away at fallen rock. Fortunately, most of those shots were taken in a hurry before the men pulling the triggers could get a good look at their targets.
As he ran, Caleb ignored the panic gripping him like a cold, iron fist clamped around his stomach. He tried not to think about the bullets hissing past him or the pain that sparked in his ankles, knees, legs, and arms as he charged onto the fragile ice. The truth of the matter was that he hadn’t actually planned on making it to the river before getting caught or killed.
Although Doc had followed Caleb to the edge of the stream, he stopped and turned so he could draw his second pistol. Caleb’s voice was swallowed up by the roar of gunfire as Doc pulled his triggers and fired into the nearby clearing.
The stream was only four or five yards across, but that didn’t mean it was easy going. Every one of Caleb’s steps was a struggle to keep from skidding too far ahead and falling on his ass or stomping down too hard and punching his leg through the ice. No matter how hard he tried, Caleb still knocked several holes into the frozen crust. As luck would have it, he was able to pull his boots out of the holes he’d created and launch himself onto the opposite bank before finally losing his balance.
Caleb twisted around to land on his side. As he hit the cold, hard-packed ground, he was firing his gun into the trees.
Doc, on the other hand, was a sight to see.
Even as he fired both guns at once, Doc still wasn’t making enough noise to cover his raucous laughter and almost maniacal hollering.
“Come on across!” Caleb yelled. “I’ll cover you!”
At first, it seemed as if Doc hadn’t heard what Caleb said. Before Caleb drew enough breath to repeat himself, he saw Doc turn around to face the stream.
As soon as Doc stopped firing, Bullock and the others rushed toward him like a wave of thundering hooves intent on crushing him into dust. Still hesitant to kill Bullock or any of his men, Caleb fired over their heads. He still kept his aim low enough to let the posse know he meant business.
Judging by the look on Doc’s face, he may have been running through an open field on his way to a picnic. A wide smile was plastered underneath his mustache, and he raced toward the already cracked ice without any fear of what might happen if he took one misstep.
Caleb winced as he saw Doc rush onto the ice. Then again, it wasn’t the time to take things slow. Letting Doc do his best to get across the stream, Caleb kept firing until the hammers of both of his pistols slapped against the backs of spent rounds.
There was a moment of deathly calm as the posse realized Caleb’s firing had stopped. In that short space of time, Caleb heard Doc’s voice as he scrambled past.
“Come on,” Doc wheezed. “What the hell are you waiting for?”
Keeping his comments to himself, Caleb got to his feet and backed away from the stream. His hands were already going through the motions of reloading his pistols and his eyes were fixed upon the approaching posse. What he couldn’t believe was that Bullock and the rest of those men had come to a stop.
“Goddammit!” Bullock shouted. “We need to get across!”
Caleb looked down at the water an
d saw that most of the ice had been shattered by the two sets of boots that had stomped over it. Although one more man could have possibly inched his way across, there was no way in hell a single horse could take a step onto what remained of the frozen surface. Since the horses had already come to a stop, they couldn’t exactly jump across from where they were standing.
Still surprised that he was alive, Caleb backed away until there was suitable cover between him and that stream. After that, he swallowed his pride, turned tail, and ran. Even though he never liked to run from a fight, it felt pretty good this time around. Judging by the smile that was still on Doc’s face when Caleb caught up to him, the Georgian was thinking along those same lines.
13
Despite getting tripped up at the stream, Bullock and his posse didn’t give Caleb and Doc much of a head start before getting back on their trail. Unfortunately for the riders, Caleb and Doc didn’t need to get too far into a thick mass of shadow-enshrouded trees before they were out of sight. And once they were out of sight, they might as well have been picked up and swept away by the hand of God.
The darkness was an inky curtain that only got thicker as the minutes turned into hours.
The ground was frozen too solid to hold any tracks.
What little noise Caleb and Doc made before finding a good spot to hide was covered up by the wind whistling through bare branches and the rumble of anxious hooves against the earth.
Before too long, it was just too cold for men to be out fumbling in the dark so far away from camp. Once he and his men started to lose feeling in various extremities, Bullock signaled for them to head back to Deadwood.
The lawmen grumbled among themselves and a few even wanted to continue the search. One of the most vocal of that particular group was the man who’d pointed the finger at Caleb in the first place.
“We can’t just let them go!” Samuel said. “After all they did, you’re just going to let them go?”
Bullock’s voice was a distinctive snarl that was easy enough to distinguish from the rest. “I didn’t let anyone do anything,” he said. “I did the best I could, but the fact remains that we don’t have any jurisdiction much farther outside of camp.”
The Accomplice: The Silent Partner Page 12