The Dead Town

by J. R. Roberts

  “Yeah, let’s take a look,” one of the posse said.

  Clint pulled Deadly aside.

  “We don’t need everybody stomping around in there.”

  “Gotcha.” Deadly turned and said, “Everybody stay where you are. Adams and I are gonna take a look.” He looked at Lastings. “You stay here, too.”

  “Fine with me,” Lastings said. “I’ve seen more than enough.”

  Clint and Walter Deadly moved into the rubble of the burned out house. They found the two females Lastings mentioned. The house had been a large one, with several rooms. As they moved about, they found other bodies—another female and two male who both appeared to be small children. There were also a lot of empty whiskey bottles lying about.

  They could tell that the clothing of the third female they found had been torn off of her.

  “Looks like they took over this house, got drunk, probably raped the women, and killed the men,” Sheriff Deadly said.

  “And a couple of boys,” Clint added.

  Deadly put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “I want these men, Clint.”

  “I feel the same way,” Clint said, “but it looks like we’ve got some graves to dig first.”

  “That’ll hold us up,” Deadly said, “but there’s no way to avoid it.”

  “Let’s get everyone on it,” Clint said. “It’ll go faster that way.”

  Deadly walked back to the posse and called out that everybody was going to have to start digging some graves. He told Lastings to water all the horses while the rest of the posse was digging. He included Gloria in the grave digging.

  Clint kept walking through the rubble, showing the posse members the bodies of the two boys they had found.

  Once they’d carried all the bodies out and laid them on the ground with the two men, they started digging graves—seven of them.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  After they buried the seven family members, the posse went back to their horses. The men drank from their canteens, then refilled them at a nearby well. Clint, Deadly, and Gloria stood off to one side.

  “They spent some time here,” Clint said. “They might have been trying to work on that lame horse, but finally gave up and just took what horses these people had.”

  “After torturing, raping, and killing them,” Gloria said.

  “There were two little boys in there.”

  “I know,” Clint said.

  Deadly looked at the sky.

  “If we push, we can still make Cottonwood tonight,” he said. “We might come up with some more information there.”

  “You know the sheriff there?” Clint asked.

  “I don’t,” Deadly said, “but I’m sure Zack Poulson must’ve known him. If he knew Zack, he’ll want to help.”

  “We better get moving then,” Clint said.

  Miller Lastings came over and said, “Sheriff, some of the men want to turn back.”

  “Already?” Deadly said, looking at Clint.

  “This is what happens with posses,” Clint said. “They’ve seen what the Pettigrews can do. They have families back in town.”

  Deadly rubbed his jaw. “Guess I can’t blame them then.”

  “Well, I can,” Gloria said. “It’s because they have families that they should stay with it. They’re just . . . cowards.”

  “I’ll talk to them,” Deadly said.

  As he walked away with Lastings, Gloria said to Clint, “He’s gonna let them go?”

  “He can’t make them stay with the posse, Gloria,” Clint said.

  “Anybody who tries to turn back should be shot,” she said.

  “I guess I’m glad you’re not wearing the badge here,” Clint replied.

  “Don’t you agree?”

  “No, Gloria, I don’t,” he said. “I really don’t want to be in a posse with a bunch of men who don’t want to be there.”

  “I . . . I guess you’re right.”

  Deadly came back.

  “Four of them are turning back,” he said. “The married ones.”

  “That figures.”

  “Two more will quit when we get to Cottonwood, I think,” Deadly said. “The kid will stay, and probably Lastings. We’ll end up a posse of five.”

  “When we tell the people in Cottonwood what happened to this family, maybe we’ll get some volunteers,” Clint said. “They’ll probably know who this family was.”

  “Yeah,” Deadly said. “Probably.”

  “Maybe the sheriff and his deputies will come along,” Gloria offered.

  “Well,” Deadly said, “we won’t know until we get there, and we won’t get there if we stand here yapping away. I’ll get ’em mounted.”

  “Five of us,” Gloria said to Clint. “That’s plenty. There’s only four of them.”

  “Four killers,” Clint said. “The kid and Lastings, they’re not killers.”

  “And the sheriff?”

  “Not really,” Clint said, “but he’s wearing the badge, so he’ll do the job.”

  “So that leaves you and me.”

  “Don’t kid yourself, Gloria,” he said. “You’re no killer.”

  “But I’ll kill them,” she said.

  “Yes,” he said, “I know you will. Come on, let’s get mounted up.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  The posse rode into Cottonwood after dark. Deadly gave Miller Lastings his horse to put up in the livery and told the posse members to get themselves a meal and some place to stay.

  “Is the town paying for the rooms?” one of the posse members asked.

  “Pay for your own damn room!” Gloria snapped.

  “You got no call to talk to me like that,” the man said.

  “Oh no? We’ll see if you ride out with us in the morning,” she said, “then I’ll decide if I have a right to talk to you like that.”

  “Pay for the room, Lee,” Deadly said. “You’ll get your money back when we get back to Cold Creek—your room and your meal.”

  “Okay, Sheriff.”

  “Hey, kid, what’s your name?” Clint asked the youngest member of the posse.

  “Me? I’m Caleb, Mr. Adams.”

  “Caleb, take this money,” Clint said, “and take my horse to the livery, will you? Make sure he’s well taken care of.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Don’t try to pet him, or ride him,” Clint warned. “He might take a finger off.”

  “Uh, yessir.”

  “Then you and Gloria go and get something to eat.”

  “Wha—me and Gloria?”

  He pulled the boy aside.

  “I just want you to look out for her, okay? Keep her out of trouble. I’m going to go with the sheriff to talk to the local law.”

  “Uh, okay, sure, yessir.”

  “Good. Here.” He gave the boy Eclipse’s reins. “Wait for Gloria.”

  He went over to her.

  “What are you doin’?” she asked.

  “He’s just a kid,” he said. “Keep an eye on him. I think he’s going to stay with us.”

  “Me keep an eye on him, right?”

  “That’s right. Here.” He gave her some money. “Get yourself a room and something to eat. I’ll see you later.”

  He caught up to Deadly, who was heading for the sheriff’s office.

  “What’d you do?” Deadly asked.

  “I got the two of them to watch out for each other.”

  “Not a bad idea. She seems to be getting a little hot under the collar.”

  “Yeah,” Clint said, “maybe babysitting will help cool her off.”

  Cottonwood was clearly a larger town than Cold Creek. In fact, it was the biggest town Clint had seen since getting to Minnesota.

  “Yeah, it’s the county seat,” Deadly said, when Clint mentioned that.

  “Is there a marshal here?” Clint asked.

  “Just the sheriff,” Deadly said. “His jurisdiction is the whole county.”

  “So if the Pettigrews were here, why didn’t he do s
omething?”

  “They didn’t break any laws here,” Deadly said. “In fact, they’re not wanted in Minnesota—at least, they weren’t. They will be now that we found that massacred family.”

  Clint had his doubts, since nobody had actually seen the Pettigrews kill the family and burn their home, but he didn’t say anything to Deadly. And he suddenly had a bad feeling about getting help from the county sheriff.

  THIRTY

  When they entered the sheriff’s office, there were three men there—one behind a desk, the other two in front. They were all wearing badges.

  “Help ya?” one of them asked. His badge said “Deputy.”

  “I’m lookin’ for the sheriff,” Deadly said.

  “That’s me,” the older man behind the desk said. “Sheriff Cal Shepherd. Boys, give these gents some room.”

  The two deputies backed off. Clint and Deadly could have sat, but they chose not to.

  “I’m Walter Deadly,” Deadly said, “sheriff over in Bedford.”

  “Bedford?” one of the deputies said. “Ain’t that nothin’ but a mud hole?”

  “Wait a minute,” the other deputy said, pointing at Deadly. “You’re the undertaker there, right?”

  “That’s right,” Deadly said, showing his badge, “undertaker and sheriff.”

  “Undertaker and sheriff,” one of the deputies repeated, and the two young men started nudging each other.

  “Okay, you two, out,” Sheriff Shepherd said.

  “Hey, Sheriff—”

  “Go on, get out and make your rounds.”

  The two men picked up their hats, and were still nudging each other and laughing as they went out the door.

  “You should teach your deputies some respect,” Clint said. “If not for the man, for the badge.”

  Shepherd, a man in his fifties who had kept himself in good shape, looked at Clint. “And you are?”

  “I’m Clint Adams,” Clint said, “but that doesn’t matter. Sheriff Deadly here has some business to discuss with you.”

  “Business?” Shepherd said. Then recognition dawned. “Hey, you’re the Gunsmith.”

  “That’s right,” Deadly said, “he’s the Gunsmith, and he’s ridin’ with me and my posse.”

  “Posse?”

  “From Cold Creek.”

  “Cold Creek? Sheriff Poulson with you?”

  “Zack is dead.”

  That stopped the sheriff in his tracks.

  “Zack Poulson is dead?”

  “Him and his deputy. I sent a telegram asking you about the Pettigrew gang?”

  “Pettigrew gang,” Shepherd repeated. “I never heard of them. There were some men in town named Pettigrew a couple days ago, but I had no paper on them. And they didn’t break any laws while they were here.”

  “There’s a family lives about twenty-five miles north of here? You know them?”

  “The Forresters? Sure. Husband, wife, four kids.”

  “There was seven people.”

  “Oh yeah, the wife’s brother. He lives with them, too.”

  “Lived with them,” Deadly said. “They’re all dead, and their place was burned to the ground.”

  “Dead? All of them?”

  “Yes.”

  Shepherd looked at Clint. He nodded.

  “Killed by the Pettigrews?”

  “Yes,” Deadly said.

  “Witnesses?”

  “They were all dead.”

  “Then how do you know these men did it?”

  “I know.”

  “Look . . . Sheriff . . . you can’t just know, you have to be able to prove it.”

  “Well, when my posse and me catch ’em, I’ll prove it. But I need your help.”

  “My help? How?”

  “Did you talk to them while they were here?”

  “Briefly, just to find out what they were doing in town, how long they were staying.”

  “And how long was that?”

  “Just overnight.”

  “Any idea where they were headed?”

  “South,” he said. “They wanted to get away from the cold.”

  “Look,” Deadly said, “they killed the Forresters, they killed Zack Poulson and his deputy—”

  “And you have witnesses to that?”

  “Well . . . no. They also killed the bartender, who would’ve been a witness.”

  “Then you’ve got nothing on these men that you can prove.”

  “They killed a family in Kansas,” Clint said.

  “When?”

  “Years ago.”

  “Then they’re wanted in Kansas,” Shepherd said, “not here.”

  “You and your deputies can ride with us,” Deadly said.

  “I can’t leave here.”

  “Then you can loan me your deputies.”

  “They can’t leave either. Besides, these Pettigrews are over the border by now. You can’t go after them.”

  “But I am,” Deadly said. “Zack was my friend, and that family deserves to be avenged.”

  “There, you see?” Shepherd said.

  “See what?”

  “You don’t know what it means to wear that badge,” Shepherd said. “Our job is not about vengeance, it’s about justice.”

  “Then they deserve justice.”

  Shepherd leaned back in his chair.

  “You should go back to Bedford, Mr. Deadly,” Shepherd said. “Go back to being an undertaker. I’m sure you’re very good at that.”

  “You’re not gonna help at all?”

  “Why should I?” Shepherd asked. “You’ve got the famous Gunsmith at your side.”

  “You’re not really one to be telling Sheriff Deadly his job, Sheriff.”

  “And who are you to try to tell me mine, Adams?” Shepherd demanded.

  “Two lawmen have been killed,” Clint said. “Don’t you think that deserves a little rule breaking?”

  “I don’t break the rules,” Shepherd said. “I don’t even bend them.”

  “I find that very easy to believe.”

  “You come at me with some evidence, and you’ll see me do my job.”

  “Thanks for your help . . . Sheriff.” Deadly turned and left, with Clint following.

  “I may run against that son of a bitch in the next election,” Deadly said with feeling.

  “I’ll move here just to vote for you,” Clint said. “You want to get a steak?”

  “A steak and a beer.”

  “Let’s find a place.”

  They were still looking when they saw Gloria and the kid sitting in the window of a small restaurant.

  “Want to join them?” Clint asked.

  “Why not?”

  They went inside and walked to the table. The window bothered Clint, so he sat down so that he could see out clearly.

  “What happened?” Gloria asked after the waiter took Clint and Deadly’s order.

  “You want to tell them?” Clint asked Deadly.

  “No, you tell them,” Deadly said. “I get madder the more I think about it.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  “So he’s not gonna help,” Gloria said. “That’s no big surprise. I’ve been running into that attitude ever since I started hunting them.”

  “It doesn’t sound fair,” the kid said.

  “Nothin’ is fair, Caleb,” she told him. “You have to learn that.” She looked at Clint and Deadly. “So what do we do now?”

  “I know what I’m gonna do,” Deadly said. “I’m gonna track those men until I catch them.”

  “I’m with you, Sheriff,” Gloria said.

  “So am I,” Caleb said. From the way he was looking at Gloria, Clint thought he knew why he was sticking around. Clint only hoped the kid wouldn’t shoot himself in the foot . . . or worse.

  “If we can find Lastings, I think he’ll stick with us, too,” Deadly said.

  “Better find him before he gets too drunk,” Caleb said.

  “Why?” Clint asked. “What do you know?”

&n
bsp; The kid shrugged.

  “I know that Lastings likes to get drunk at night,” he said simply. “You’ll find him where there are girls, and whiskey.”

  “You better go and find him, Caleb,” Clint said. “See if you can convince him not to get drunk.”

  “We’ll want to start out at first light,” Deadly said.

  “What about the others?” Caleb asked, getting to his feet.

  “I’m pretty sure it’ll just be the five of us,” Deadly said. “Unless somebody else wants to turn back?”

  “Not me,” Gloria said.

  “Me neither,” Caleb said.

  “Go,” Clint said to Caleb.

  “If Gloria comes with me, we can keep each other out of trouble.”

  Clint looked at Gloria.

  “Why not?” she said with a shrug. “It’s somethin’ to do.”

  She left the restaurant with Caleb happily following her.

  “The kid’s in love,” Deadly said.

  “He’s going to be disappointed.”

  “Aren’t we all when we fall in love?”

  “At one time or another, yes.”

  The waiter brought them their steaks and they attacked them with gusto.

  “Let’s get a drink,” Deadly said as they left the restaurant half an hour later.

  “Why not?”

  They started toward a saloon they could see from their vantage point.

  “Posses,” Clint said. “I’ve never been part of one that just got the job done. There’s always something.”

  “It’s much easier dealing with the dead,” Deadly said. “They just lie there and wait for you to be finished with them.”

  “You could do what Sheriff Shepherd suggested, and go back to Bedford and just be an undertaker for a while.”

  “I intend to do that,” he answered, “after we catch the Pettigrews.”

  They reached the saloon and entered. It was mobbed, but they were able to find elbow room for two men at the bar. When they each had a beer, they turned to take in the scene. The room was very large, with high ceilings and very ornate furnishings. There were at least half a dozen girls working the floor. There was a piano in the corner, but at the moment no one was playing it.

  “You can’t blame the sheriff,” Clint said. “He does need evidence to act.”