Crooked M Killings

by Frank Ellis Evans

  As he entered the main street he slowed his horse almost to a standstill and he searched again for any vantage points where one of Cassidy’s men could be hiding. There were too many to cover so he rode down the middle of the street until he arrived at the house belonging to Frank and Margy.

  He knocked lightly on the door and Margy appeared. She looked grey and worried and glanced nervously over Reuben’s shoulder before ushering him into the house.

  She sat at the big table and related what had happened since Sal’s departure. She had had Deputy Sheriff Tom James with her for most of the day questioning her about Sheriff Tucker’s death. Margy had explained to them that Sal McIntyre was just a paying guest, no more and no less. She had never seen the woman before and the likelihood was that she would never set eyes on her again. As soon as she closed the door behind the deputy, the undertaker had called and removed the body, leaving the blood stained floor and wall for her to clean as best she could. It was a gruesome, gruelling task. Her hands were shaking and Reuben could see that she was near to breaking point. Frank appeared from the garden, where he had been burning the carpet and he started fussing round his wife like a mother hen, looking worried, shocked and confused.

  Reuben owed them an explanation even though Sal had told Margy what had led up to the killing but when he tried to speak she waved his faltering words aside.

  ‘No need to explain, Mr Kane. It’s done. I guess I understand the whys and wherefores. A man like Tucker was an affront to human decency . . . but it’s in my home.’ Her voice faded away and Frank held her in his arms, trying to quell her shaking as she sobbed violently.

  They sat round the table and talked. Reuben wasn’t sure if he should tell them what Sal’s plan was but after a while Margy seemed to calm down and he told her what was happening and hoped that Sal was right when she had told him that the couple could be trusted.

  ‘So if anyone asks, just stick with your story – which is true – that you don’t know where she’s gone but you guess she’s hightailed it after murdering Tucker.’

  The old couple nodded in unison, still clutching each other closely as if they were one person.

  Reuben nodded, not knowing what to say.

  ‘Can you tell me anything about the deputy sheriff, Frank?’

  Frank pressed some tobacco into the bowl of an ancient pipe before standing up.

  ‘Come outside into the garden, Reuben. I never smoke in the house. Margy cain’t abide the smell of tobacco.’ He nodded towards the door and Reuben followed him out into the small garden which fronted on to the street. The remains of the carpet were smouldering, giving off an acrid smoke. Frank lit his pipe, tapping the burning tobacco embers before nodding in the direction of the sheriff’s office.

  ‘You see the sheriff’s office over the street?’

  ‘I see it.’

  ‘Well, the feller sitting on a barrel whittlin’ is Deputy Sheriff Tom James. He’ll be in charge now that Tucker’s dead.’

  Reuben pretended to glance along the street but in reality he only had eyes for the deputy sheriff. Tom James was a big, bulky man with a thick, black beard. Leaning against the wooden barrel was a Winchester rifle and tucked into his belt, unholstered, were two hand guns, the makes of which Reuben couldn’t identify from this distance.

  ‘What can you tell me about him, Frank?’

  Frank blew a small cloud of tobacco smoke and a rich aroma of good quality tobacco drifted past Reuben.

  ‘He’s a Cassidy man through and through. Too stupid to do anything off his own bat but totally loyal to Cassidy. The Winchester’s his weapon of choice and I’ve never heard of him using his sidearms so I suspect he ain’t fast or accurate – but I could be wrong. He’s strong as a bull and beats up on people jest fer the hell of it. He’s killed a few in his time but as far as I’m aware never in a fair fight. Him ’n’ Tucker were the perfect pair. Sadistic, no compunction and totally immoral.’

  ‘They sound like ideal companions for Shep Cassidy.’

  ‘Too true.’

  ‘Thanks, Frank. And are there any others apart from Cassidy, Robinson and Coulson that I ought to know about?’

  ‘Not as far as I’m aware, Reuben. But they’re pretty formidable. Ruthless. Not an ounce of decency between the whole damn bunch of them.’ He prodded the carpet with his boot, causing a shower of sparks which fell harmlessly to the ground, then he looked at the small vegetable patch, deep in thought.

  ‘Reuben, I know how you feel. I really do. But I don’t think that you an’ Sal would have much chance against them. In fact, unless something mighty strange happens, I don’t think you have any chance at all.’

  Reuben shot Frank a sardonic smile.

  ‘Me neither, Frank. Me neither. Snowballs in hell would have more hope. Problem is, Sal’s going in, with or without me.’

  They stood in silence for a while, watching the smoke curl up from the rug.

  ‘Tell me, Frank, do you know where any of them spend the night?’

  Frank tapped his pipe on the fence before answering.

  ‘Robinson will be in the Crazy Lady. He drinks there most nights till he’s drunk then chooses himself a saloon girl for the night. Up the stairs. Last room on the left. Number 4. Cassidy and the others’ll be at the big house on the right at the end of the street past the Crazy Lady. There’ll be two men hanging around. Hell, I’d forgotten all about them. They’re Eli Brown and Bill Pierce. Those two stay up all night in the Crazy Lady jest in case someone decides they want to ventilate Cassidy, if you understand my meaning.’

  Reuben pricked up his ears. Two more to be dealt with.

  ‘What do you know about Brown and Pierce?’

  ‘Hired killers. Arrived here from nowhere about a year ago. Most of us thought they was on the run from the law. Still do. Anyway, they arrived and Cassidy hired them as bodyguards. Both use Colts as weapons of choice. Both got a name for being accurate and deadly.’

  ‘How will I recognize them?’

  ‘They usually arrive at the sheriff’s office about this time every day. If you sit outside, you’ll see them.’

  Reuben and Frank sat on the bench just down from the sheriff’s office, looking for all the world like two friends enjoying a smoke and relaxing. When two men rode up to the office and hitched their horses to the rail, Frank nodded. Reuben watched them, absorbing every detail.

  ‘Taller one’s Brown,’ Frank whispered.

  When he had seen enough, Reuben raised himself slowly from the bench and ambled back to where his horse stood patiently waiting. He mounted and nodded at Frank.

  ‘Unless I can persuade her to see sense we may be here tomorrow.’

  ‘Is there nothing I can say or do to convince you to give it up? If you refuse to come mebbe she’ll see how crazy it is and give up on the idea. You ’n’ Sal don’t—’

  ‘I know. We don’t have a chance. You’re right, Frank. But I sure as hell don’t think Sal will listen and it’s even surer that I ain’t going to let her come alone.’

  The conversation was interrupted by Margy, who appeared in the doorway with a canvas bag.

  ‘Food. You’ll need it. Pie, bread and bacon. Now get on with you and get to that woman.’ She turned abruptly and went back into the house without waiting for thanks. Reuben didn’t have the heart to tell her he’d already got some provisions. And Margy’s pie sure smelled good.

  Reuben rode slowly out of town, watched by Frank. The old man stood at his doorway, watching the receding horseman until he was almost lost from view. He felt a hand on his shoulder and realized that his wife had joined him.

  ‘Damn it, Margy, if I was thirty years younger I’d be riding in with them tomorrow.’

  ‘I know, Frank. And I’d probably damn well join you to free our town of this scum.’

  Reuben finally disappeared from view into the hills. Frank heard Margy’s whisper from behind him.

  ‘Good luck, Reuben Kane. And God speed.’

  John Daw
son was sweeping the sidewalk and he paused and waved, smiling at Frank and Margy. He put down his brush and crossed over to them.

  ‘Mornin’, Frank. Mornin’, Margy. You feelin’ OK after the happenings?’

  Frank tried to smile but was only partially successful.

  ‘No, we ain’t. I don’t rightly know what to say, John. It’s all still . . . well, I don’t know what to say.’

  Dawson nodded sympathetically.

  ‘It’s surely a terrible thing to have happened in your house, Frank. Say, would you like to come over to the store, both of you, and have a break?’

  ‘That’s kind of you, John,’ said Margy. ‘But we have to clear up. It’s not every day someone’s murdered in your house.’

  ‘Murdered? More like exterminated.’ Dawson’s voice was angry and tense. ‘You don’t murder rats. You exterminate them. And Tucker was a murdering rat. Jack Farrow was a good friend of mine. I heard how that bastard murdered him in cold blood. He was . . .’

  Frank noticed Deputy Sheriff James in the street and put his hand on Dawson’s arm.

  ‘Quiet, John. You don’t want another rat to overhear what you’re saying. Could be bad for your health. Terminally bad, you might say.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Plotting

  Sal was sitting on the rickety veranda of the old hut where she had a good vantage point to spot anyone approaching on the dusty track. Her Winchester was cradled on her lap and she tensed as she spotted the approaching horseman but when she recognized him she ran out to greet him.

  Reuben dismounted wearily then unhooked a parcel from his saddle and dumped it on the veranda.

  ‘A present from Margy. I guarantee it’ll taste better than the beans I brought.’

  After demolishing a large portion of the food hamper, they sat for a while enjoying a convivial silence, drinking a whiskey or two and enjoying the remnants of Margy’s pie. When she had finished, Sal sat on the veranda, holding her knees and frowning. Reuben noticed her lips move on a couple of occasions, as if she was about to speak then thought better of it. When it happened for the third time he turned and faced her.

  ‘Something’s bothering you, Sal. Care to tell me afore we call it a night?’ He watched her troubled face and fell silent, waiting for her response. She took a deep breath and pursed her lips, as if she had just made a monumental decision.

  ‘If you think it’s hopeless, Reuben then you can ride out. I’ll not think any the worse of you and no one else would either. You’re not a fool and you know the odds.’

  She looked at the ground to avoid eye contact and Reuben rolled and lit a cigarette and inhaled a lungful of smoke before replying.

  ‘We’re in this together, Sal. We need to sit and plan and rehearse then go over every tiny detail in our minds so we know precisely what we are doing when tomorrow arrives.’

  Sal looked at the ground and then she nodded slowly.

  ‘Thanks, Reuben. I was hoping you’d say that.’ The relief in her voice was marked. ‘So how do we go about planning? I’m a stranger to this sort of thing and I don’t even know where to start.’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t say that exactly. You seem to have started already. Anyway, as I see it we gather together all the information we know then we try to forecast what they will do. We’ve got to give ourselves as much of an advantage as we can. I’ve seen the town and there are quite a few places where they might hide. If they know we are coming then they have an even bigger advantage and to be honest, our chances then are slimmer than a hobo’s wallet.’

  ‘As I said, Reuben, if you—’

  ‘We know we’ll have to face six of them,’ he interrupted. ‘At least six of them. There’ll be Cassidy and Robinson, Abe Coulson, Tom James and the two hired bodyguards, Eli Carson and Bill Pierce. It’s Cassidy, Coulson and Robinson that we want to eliminate. They are the best killers. The others are just followers. You know what Cassidy and Robinson are capable of and you also know that Coulson’s just about as good as a man can be with a gun. You’ll know the three of them by sight so that gives you a split second advantage over them cos they mightn’t recognize you at first, especially with what you’ll be wearing. The others we need to nail simply because they’ll kill us if we don’t kill them first. Dog eat dog. Or in their case, rat eat dog.’

  ‘That all seems logical. If we . . . hey, what d’you mean they won’t recognize me cos of what I’ll be wearing? Why ain’t I going dressed like this?’

  ‘We-ell,’ Reuben drawled, with a faintly embarrassed smile, ‘I reckon they’ll be looking fer a woman dressed like yore dressed. When they see you you’ll stick out like a sore thumb and be an easy target. Then I got to thinking what would happen if they didn’t see you – or at least didn’t recognize you. It might give you a couple of second’s advantage. So I brung you these.’

  He tossed a parcel on to the ground in front of her and she opened it slowly. It contained a gingham dress, a pert little bonnet and a parasol.

  ‘I cain’t wear . . .’

  ‘Hold fire, Sal. Afore you start complaining just think about it. I walk up one side of the street and you on the other. You’ll just look like a woman on her early morning walk to the store. They’ll never look twice at you. By the time they realize you’re there you’ll be blazing away at them.’

  The logic was irrefutable and Sal nodded, then she began to laugh and was joined in her merriment by Reuben. When eventually they fell silent she wiped her eyes and smiled at him.’Where d’you get ’em? I guess someone might have noticed if you’d gone to the store.’

  ‘They belong to Margy’s sister. Margy said she left them there after her last visit and she’s about the same size and build as you.’

  Reuben still had grave misgivings. He knew that they were choosing the wrong time and the wrong battle ground but Sal was immovable. He knew that her motives weren’t good ones in terms of tactics. She was being driven by the desire to avenge her husband. Reuben pleaded with her, giving her every argument he could think of to persuade her to postpone her mission but by the time he lay down on the floor near to where Sal lay on the creaky old bed he knew that her mind was set and he could do no more.

  His mind juggled with the facts as he knew them. They had six pistols, including those taken from the Davies boys by Sal, and four Winchester rifles. They were all loaded. Cassidy may or may not know – and his bet was on the former – that they were coming for him. Even if he didn’t know, the odds were still stacked overwhelmingly in Cassidy’s favour.

  He could hear Sal’s rhythmic breathing and realized that she was asleep. His mind was whirling, weighing every alternative for the morrow but then his eyes felt tired and within minutes Reuben was asleep too.

  An hour or so later, Sal opened her eyes and tried to remember where she was. She had been dreaming of Ed. In her dream they had both been working on the ranch and enjoying a fruitful day of labour before coming into the house for supper. When she woke she lay there for a moment, hoping that it was all true and that it was the horror of the past few days that was a dream. As she lay there, listening to the deep regular breathing of the sleeping Reuben, reality, unbidden and unwanted, came creeping back. Sal knew that she would probably walk to her death in just a few hours but she felt no fear, only a desire for what she hoped was justice but what she suspected was revenge. Knowing that the denouement was almost upon her she felt a strange, inexplicable wave of contentment for the first time since the awful moment when Shep Cassidy had arrived at her ranch.

  Her ranch! For the first time since leaving it, she wondered what had become of the Crooked M. She was sure that Roy Gregory and the boys from the Lazy Gopher wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her home, but for the first time, she began to feel homesick. She wanted to return to the place which she and Ed had tended and nurtured. Then her mind drifted back again to that awful day and she felt nothing but a desire to dispense justice, or indeed vengeance to Shep Cassidy and his murderous gang.

  Sal
had been thinking more about Abe Coulson in recent times. It was strange how he’d come back into her life. She’d still not been beaten to the draw by anyone else and somehow, in the back of her mind, she knew that she would have to face up to Coulson one last time. That would be the final act. The decider.

  She crept silently from the room and stood outside looking at the vast, starry sky. It could – very likely would – be her last night alive. The first signs of light were beginning to show on the horizon. Reuben had agreed that they would go to Redwood at dawn, before Cassidy and his gang had surfaced.

  The names of her protagonists drifted repeatedly and relentlessly through Sal’s mind. Shep Cassidy. Abe Coulson. Tom James. Crazy Pete Robinson. Eli Carson. Bill Pierce. Any one of them would take great pleasure in killing her later in the day if they were given any chance. And she had to admit to herself, she would take satisfaction in killing them and finally achieving justice for her husband.

  When dawn came they drank hot, strong coffee and ate some bacon before setting out for Redwood. It would be light when they arrived in the town, although the townsfolk wouldn’t have surfaced. They had arranged that on their arrival in town they would dismount and walk along the covered walkways which would afford them some cover from anyone hiding in an upper storey window. Sal, in her dress and bonnet, would walk on one side of the street and Reuben on the other. Reuben said he was fairly confident that they wouldn’t be expected. He didn’t fully believe what he said. Neither did Sal.

  The sky was beginning to pale as they rode on in silence and Reuben couldn’t stifle the foreboding which he felt. He still wasn’t sure how he’d respond in a gunfight with Sal at his side. He knew that his feelings for her were growing more intense, even though he also knew that he could never have her. Being at her side in a deadly gunfight when he felt what he felt for her was a dilemma which he hadn’t foreseen. Would he forget all the rules and instead try to ensure her safety? Would she freeze again and be a liability rather than an asset? She was a complication. For a moment he even considered the possibility of forcibly removing her guns and taking her horse and riding on to Redwood alone but it was stupid idea.