The Legend of Perley Gates

by William W. Johnstone

  “No, ma’am, I reckon not,” he replied. “I’m ready to get some sleep. We’ve got a little bit farther to go than I figured, so we’ll get an early start.” That said, he retired to his bedroll several yards from theirs, as was his custom.

  “Well, if that ain’t somethin’,” Stella remarked to Liz. “I was sure he’d be wantin’ a ride tonight. What the hell’s wrong with him?”

  “Like I told you,” Liz said while she climbed into her blankets by the fire. “He ain’t likely to think about bein’ with a woman unless he sees one in church or somewhere and he thinks he wants to marry her.”

  “Dumb as a fence post,” Stella said as she crawled under her blanket. “I’ll be damn glad to get to Cheyenne tomorrow.”

  * * *

  All was peaceful until late in the early hours of the morning, when Perley was awakened by the same evil that had cramped his bowels earlier. He lay there grimacing for a long while, hoping the demon would settle down and let him go back to sleep. When it became apparent that wasn’t going to happen, Perley folded his blanket back and carefully got to his feet, pausing only for a quick look toward the women. When it appeared they were both sleeping, he grabbed his rifle and hurried to the bushes near the creek again.

  Thinking she had heard a noise, Stella opened her eyes and listened. She then turned to look toward Perley’s bedroll in time to see him heading into the bushes. She turned back on her side to go back to sleep, but started thinking about the shy young man who felt it necessary to hide deep in the bushes just to pee. A wicked grin formed upon her face as a mischievous thought occurred to her.

  Being as quiet as she possibly could, she got up from her blanket and tiptoed away from the fire, which was now little more than glowing coals. Satisfied that Liz was fast asleep, she hurried toward the creek bank after Perley. Behind her, Liz raised her head, having awakened as well. A wicked grin, matching the one on Stella’s face, parted her lips, and she thought, She sure as hell hates to lose that dollar. Then she lay her head down and went back to sleep.

  Behind a large laurel bush, with his back toward a cottonwood tree, Perley did his business. On the other side of the bushes, he heard Buck whinny and was immediately concerned that one of the women was up. Fearing she might stumble into the same spot he had picked, he hurriedly grabbed his pants and pulled them up, with no time to button the flap on his underwear. Before he could button his trousers, he heard her call out playfully.

  “Purrr-leeee,” she said. “I know you’re here.”

  Her voice seemed to come from only a few yards away from him. There was no time to button his trousers. He dropped to the ground, hoping she had not seen him, at the same time hearing the thud of the arrow when it struck the trunk of the cottonwood.

  Not sure what he had heard until he looked behind him and saw the arrow sticking in the tree, he reacted then the only way he could. Grabbing his rifle, he rolled over and over on the ground, trying to spot his assailant. At the same time, he was concerned for the woman who had called out his name, but it was so dark there among the trees he couldn’t determine where anybody was. And then, it came again.

  “What’s the matter, Perley,” she called. “Are you bashful?”

  Recognizing the voice as Stella’s, he yelled, “Stella! Hide!”

  As soon as he spoke, another arrow came whistling his way, to disappear harmlessly into the thick branches of the laurel. Holding his trousers up with one hand and his rifle in the other, Perley moved quickly to another tree. He crouched behind it, still trying to locate his attacker, reasonably certain that he was only one man.

  He almost groaned aloud when he heard Stella call out again.

  “You want me to hide?” she teased. “All right, I’ll play your little game, but don’t be too long.”

  “Stella, damn it, shut up and hide! There’s an Indian in the bushes with us!”

  Still convinced he was playing a little game with her, she grinned and started to reply. Before she could speak, she felt her head jerked violently back and the cold knife blade against her neck. In the next instant, she felt the bite of the blade and knew she was about to die. She dropped to the ground, never hearing the sound of the Winchester or the cry of death before Gray Wolf fell beside her.

  It was only a matter of seconds before Stella blinked her eyes open, and the image she saw was that of Perley pulling up his pants and buttoning them. Confused at first, she was aware of a stinging sensation on the side of her neck, and she suddenly remembered what had happened just before she fainted. Her hand went immediately to the cut on her neck, and she gasped when she came away with blood on her fingers.

  “It ain’t bad,” Perley assured her, “but it woulda been. He’d started to cut your throat, but I saw him just in time. The cut ain’t no longer than an inch or so, and it ain’t deep. We’ll have to clean it up and put some grease or somethin’ on it. Like I said, he just started to cut your throat. He didn’t have time to finish.”

  “I swear, I thought it was you that grabbed me. Where did he come from?” Stella asked as he buckled his belt. “And why were your pants down?”

  “I suspect he was one of those three Indians that have been trailin’ us all along.” He answered her first question and ignored the second, thinking she should be able to figure that out. “I don’t know why he was by himself.”

  Then it occurred to him—where was Liz? At once concerned for her safety, he said, “Come on, we’ve gotta see if Liz is all right.”

  He helped Stella to her feet and they ran back to the camp, where they found Liz hunkered down behind her saddle, her Colt .44 in her hand.

  When Stella saw her, she immediately wanted an explanation. “What the hell were you doin’ back here when we were in the bushes with that wild Indian? Why didn’t you come to help us? That damn Indian almost cut my throat.”

  Liz took a minute to holster her pistol and get on her feet. “I got ready to shoot the first son of a bitch that came after me once I heard that shot. I didn’t see any use in jumpin’ in the bushes just ’cause you two were runnin’ around in the dark. I mighta got killed”

  Stella shuddered when she thought about how close she had come to dying. “If it hadn’t been for you, I’d be dead right now,” she said to Perley.

  “If you hadn’t called me, I might be dead right now,” Perley said, thinking of the arrow that struck the tree at about the same height as his belly would have been had he not dropped to the ground. “You kept callin’ out to me, but in the dark back there I couldn’t see you, and I was tryin’ to get you to be quiet and hide. And I reckon that’s the only reason both the Indian and me found you. I had to shoot fast, else he was fixin’ to open up your throat. I was afraid I might hit you instead of him.” He shrugged. “If I hadda hit you, I reckon it woulda beat gettin’ your throat cut.”

  “Well, I guess that’s one way of lookin’ at it,” Stella replied sarcastically. “But I guess I still owe you my life. Is there any way I can repay you?”

  “Huh,” Liz grunted. “You don’t ever give up, do ya? Why don’t you just go ahead and give me that dollar? Ain’t nobody gonna do nothin’ for the rest of this night.” She drew her .44 and checked to make sure there was a round in every cylinder. “I know I ain’t gonna sleep no more tonight. There were three of those Indians, and I ain’t sure the other two ain’t sneakin’ around this camp somewhere.” She holstered her pistol. “Come on, I’ll see if I can come up with something to bandage that cut on your neck.”

  “I think I’ll stay awake,” Perley said. “I don’t know why, but I think that one came after us all by himself. He musta left his two friends, else we’da had arrows flyin’ all around us. It ain’t gonna be that long till sunup anyway—might as well bring this fire back to life.”

  * * *

  As he had guessed, there was no further incident during the remaining hours of darkness. And when the early morning light began to dissolve the heavy shadows under the trees, he went back to the spot where S
tella was attacked. The body of Gray Wolf was lying where it had fallen, the knife close beside it and his bow a few feet away.

  Perley stood for a long moment, staring at the corpse of one who had come to kill him and the women. Hostile savage or not, he was a man, and Perley had taken his life. He had never killed anyone before, and the feeling of it was one he hoped he would never experience again. Being totally honest with himself, however, he could not say that he had had a choice. The Indian was in the process of slitting Stella’s throat. “Well,” Perley finally said, “I hope that’s the last we see of those three.”

  He then pushed a few yards farther through the bushes and saw the arrow in the tree and, after another look, realized that Stella had indeed saved his life when she caused him to drop to the ground. Walking up to stand before the tree, he found that the arrow was even with his chest.

  He went back to the previous site and knelt down to take a closer look at the body. The single round he had fired had struck the Indian in the side of his head. He tried to picture the shooting again and realized that he was lucky he had not hit Stella. It was so dark, the angle was not the best, and there was very little margin for error. He shook his head as if to clear the picture. Then he thought of his brothers and the many shooting competitions they’d had between the three of them, both hunting and target shooting. Perley always won. He didn’t know why—he was just a better shot, with a rifle or handgun.

  His thoughts were interrupted then when he heard Liz calling him. He took another look at the body and wondered if he should bury it or not. It was only for a second, before he decided, I’ll leave it. No sense in cheating the wolves and the buzzards out of a meal.

  “Me and Stella decided we’re gonna have breakfast this mornin’ before we start out again. That all right with you? ’Cause if it ain’t, we’re wastin’ bacon that’s already in the pan and a full pot of fresh coffee.”

  “Don’t make no difference to me,” he replied, “if that’s what you ladies want.”

  “We figured the danger’s about over, since you shot that Injun last night,” Stella said. “And if it ain’t but about half a day’s ride, there ain’t no real hurry from here on in.”

  “And you’ve about starved us to death every day, waitin’ for the horses to get tired before we can eat breakfast,” Liz informed him.

  “Oh,” Perley muttered. “I reckon that’s just a habit from drivin’ cattle—start ’em early, then stop at noon to let ’em eat.”

  “So now we find out we’re no better’n cattle,” Liz said. “Whaddaya think about that, Stella?”

  “I believe we’ve been insulted,” Stella said. “He don’t think we’re ladies at all. We ought not let him eat with us.”

  He knew he was being teased. They were having a little fun at his expense, but he still could not help blushing. And the more he blushed, the more it encouraged them to keep it up. They were obviously feeling free of worry now that Cheyenne was so close. They kept it up for a little while longer before Liz said the bacon was going to burn black if she didn’t take it off the fire. She served it up with some hardtack soaked in the grease, almost spilling Stella’s when Stella placed a dollar in her hand. It caused them both to laugh, puzzling Perley.

  * * *

  They were not as close to Cheyenne as Perley had figured. Still, they caught sight of the buildings of the bustling town in the late afternoon. Perley was surprised by the size of the town and the number of buildings more than two stories high. Especially impressive were the Union Pacific Railroad depot and the magnificent Inter-Ocean Hotel, which they rode by on their way to the Cattleman’s Saloon. The saloon was across the street from Dyer’s Hotel, a two-story building with considerably less magnificence than the Inter-Ocean. According to Stella, who was bubbling with excitement to be back, the hotel was built by an Irishman named Timothy Dyer, and many of his customers frequented the Cattleman’s.

  Perley was still tying the horses at the hitching rail in front of the saloon when Stella, with Liz in tow, hurried inside to announce her return. He paused to take a look around him at the many people on the street and decided the town was too busy to suit him. Good thing I ain’t gonna be here that long, he thought, then gave Buck a pat on his neck and stepped up onto the boardwalk.

  Inside, the saloon was doing a brisk business for an afternoon, but he spotted Stella and Liz in an animated conversation with a short bald man sporting a black handlebar mustache. At about the same time, Stella spotted Perley and waved him on over.

  “C.J.,” Stella said when he walked up, “this is Perley Gates. He’s the man who brought Liz and me back from Ogallala. Perley, this is C. J. Tubbs. He’s the bartender here.”

  C.J. extended his hand while looking Perley up and down. “What was the name?”

  Never surprised by the question, Perley shook his hand and replied, “Perley Gates.” He noticed Stella’s expectant grin, but C.J. made no comment about his name, prompting Stella to resume her conversation with the bartender.

  “Where’s Ed?” she asked. “Is he in the office?”

  C.J. said that he was, so Stella said that she was going to take Liz back there to meet him. “Pour Perley a drink on me. We’ll be back in a minute.” She didn’t wait for Perley’s response as she grabbed Liz by the hand and led her to a door behind the bar.

  “She’s really somethin’, ain’t she?” C.J. commented as he poured Perley’s drink. “I’m glad to see her back here. I thought she’d gone for good. How ’bout you? You fixin’ to stay in Cheyenne for a while?”

  “Nope,” Perley answered. “I expect I’ll be headin’ out in the mornin’. All I agreed to do was bring Stella and Liz to Cheyenne; then I’m headin’ south to Denver.”

  “Denver?” C.J. replied. “I’da figured you’d be headin’ to Deadwood like most of the other strangers in town.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Deadwood?” C.J. replied, finding it hard to believe there was anyone who didn’t know. “Up in the Black Hills where the gold strike is.” He kept staring at Perley then, expecting him to react. When he didn’t, C.J. went on to bring him up to date. “That’s all most folks are talkin’ about around here, goin’ to the Black Hills to strike it rich. Folks are comin’ from Denver to head up that way, too. If I was as young as you, I’d most likely join ’em. A feller came through town a little while back, headin’ up there with a whole wagon train of people. Most of ’em was sportin’ ladies. They’ve even set up a stagecoach line from Cheyenne to the Black Hills—the Deadwood Stage.” He shook his head in wonder. “I can’t believe you didn’t even know about it.”

  “I’ve been outta touch,” Perley said. “I came up from Texas with a herd of cattle. I only stayed in Ogallala one night, and nobody was talkin’ about a gold rush—at least, not where I was. After that, I was on that trail between there and here.”

  C.J. shrugged. “Well, I expect you’ll hear plenty about it now.” Then, changing the subject abruptly, he asked, “Is Perley Gates your real name?”

  Perley had wondered when he was going to get around to that. He very patiently told C.J. the story behind his name, which led to the reason he was going to Denver.

  “So, you’re lookin’ for your grandpa, huh?”

  “That’s a fact,” Perley replied. “But I reckon I’ll have to drop off two horses at the stable. They belong to Liz and Stella, so I guess that’s what they’ll wanna do with ’em.”

  “There’s two stables in town now,” C.J. said. “The closest one to here is Tom Tuttle’s.” He pointed to a tall man at the end of the bar, talking to two other men. “That’s Tom right there, the tall feller. You can tell him what you wanna do right now.”

  “Much obliged. I believe I will.”

  * * *

  While Perley was making arrangements with Tom Tuttle to board the two horses the women rode in on, they were talking with Ed Freeman, the owner of the saloon.

  “Well, I can’t say as how I’m surprised to see you,” Free
man remarked. “I told you you’d be comin’ back here. What happened to that gambler you run off with? Is he back, too? ’Cause if he is, I’ve done told him he ain’t welcome to run his game here.”

  “I was always plannin’ to come back to the Cattleman’s,” Stella lied. “I thought you knew I was just goin’ to Ogallala for a visit.” She flashed a wide smile for him. “Charley ain’t comin’ back. I cut him loose. I don’t know where he headed after he left Ogallala and I don’t give a damn. Anyway, I talked Liz, here, into comin’ back with me. She was one of the most popular girls workin’ in the Cowboy’s Rest, so I knew you’d be tickled if I brought her with me.”

  Freeman took a long look of appraisal at the sizable woman dressed in men’s clothes before he responded to Stella. “What made her so popular? She looks like a mule skinner or a cowhand to me.”

  “You ain’t seen me in my war paint,” Liz said, speaking for herself now. “I clean up pretty good. I was robbed of all my clothes, and Stella and me had to run from Indians on the way here. We thought it best to try to make me look like a man from a distance.”

  Not certain he was hearing the true version of the story, Freeman commented. “You look like a man up close to me.”

  “When I get cleaned up and in some decent clothes, you’ll see a helluva difference,” Liz said. “I’ve had a lotta men pay good money to jump in bed with me, and I ain’t ever had one jump outta the bed.”

  “She’s tellin’ you the truth,” Stella said. “You’ll see. Liz will sell a lot of whiskey for you.”

  “You’re lucky you hit me at the right time,” Freeman replied dryly. “Lottie Beale got married last month.”

  “You don’t say,” Stella responded, genuinely surprised. “That bashful farmer with one bad eye, I’ll bet.”

  “That’s the one,” Freeman said.

  “See, I knew you needed me and Liz. I’m glad we got here when we did so we can keep you from losin’ any business.”

  “Ah, hell, all right.” Freeman gave in, although he was still a little hesitant. “We’ll see how it goes for a while, but damn it, you sure better not run off without so much as a ‘kiss my ass’ like you did before.” He took another hard look at Liz. “And get her fixed up in some decent clothes so she at least looks like a woman. Ain’t nobody using your old room upstairs, so I reckon the two of you can share it.” They started to return to the barroom when he thought of something else. “You’re gonna have to get along with Cora. She’s been the queen around here ever since Lottie Beale got married.”