Dead Man's Revenge

by Colby Jackson

  “To hell with him. Just get word to my wife about what you’re doing to me.”

  “Not my job,” Tolliver said, locking the cell door.

  That had been an hour ago. Tolliver was, Blaylock figured, sitting out in his office, chair tilted back, feet up on his desk, feeling right proud of himself. Blaylock was a little disgusted at the thought. He’d considered Tolliver a kind of ally, if not a friend. He’d thought Tolliver understood what Blaylock was trying to build for himself at Rancho Diablo.

  It didn’t look as if that was the case, though. When it came right down to it, Tolliver was like all the rest of the people, ready to believe the worst about the stranger in town, no matter what the evidence to the contrary was.

  Sitting on the hard bunk, Blaylock had plenty of time to think about what had happened in McCarthy’s office before the fighting had started. There had been a conversation, but there was something more going on. It was as if McCarthy’s words hadn’t really meant what they’d appeared to mean, or as if there was something more behind the words being said. The editor had been lying, all right, but what had he been lying about? And what was all that business about ghosts? McCarthy had made fun of Gabby’s talk of haints, but then he’d assured Blaylock that ghosts did exist and were walking the streets. It didn’t make any sense.

  Unless . . . .

  The more Blaylock thought about it, the more sense it started to make to him. He jumped up and went over to the cell door.

  “Tolliver!” he called. “Come in here!”

  Tolliver took his time about it, but he showed up in a minute or so. “What’s the trouble, Blaylock? Bedbugs biting you?”

  “They haven’t had a chance yet. You’ve got to let me out of here.”

  “Don’t tell me that you’re afraid of a few bedbugs, a tough fella like you.”

  “I don’t give a damn about the bedbugs! I know what’s going on, and I have to put a stop to it.”

  “I know what’s going on, too,” the marshal said. “You’re trying to get out before McCarthy comes in to file charges on you.”

  “He’s not going to do any such thing. It was self-defense. Turley is the one who attacked me, after McCarthy threw a pry bar at me. If you ask Turley, he’ll testify to that. I wasn’t to blame for any of it.”

  Blaylock hoped he was right about Turley. He had the impression that while the pressman would fight for his boss, he probably wouldn’t lie for him. If that was the case, and if Turley backed up Blaylock’s story, then Tolliver would have to let him go.

  Tolliver, however, didn’t seem inclined to do anything for Blaylock. “So you want me to go ask Turley if he should be locked up in here instead of you?”

  “McCarthy’s the one who should be locked up if anybody should. Besides, there’s more to it than that.”

  Tolliver leaned against the wall opposite the cell door as if he were bored. “You going to tell me about it?”

  “I know why McCarthy’s been putting all that stuff and nonsense about Dockett in his paper. I know why he’s been stirring up trouble for me.”

  “Like I said, are you going to tell me about it?”

  “Dockett isn’t dead. He’s here in town.”

  Tolliver took a step away from the wall, a look of disbelief on his face. “I don’t think so. Somebody would’ve seen him.”

  “He could’ve sneaked into town. McCarthy’s seen him.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I’m sure of it. He said some things today that couldn’t mean anything else. I think he might be with Dockett right now, telling him what happened today.”

  “What did McCarthy say?”

  “I don’t have time to explain it all. You’ll just have to trust me. For God’s sake, Tolliver, you know me. We might not be the best of friends, but you know I’m not a killer or even a rowdy who’d attack somebody in McCarthy’s office.”

  “Maybe not, but McCarthy’s story’s not the same as yours. I need to hear his version.”

  “Weren’t you listening to me? McCarthy’s probably with Dockett right now. Dockett’s after me and my family, and McCarthy’s helping him. We have to stop them.”

  “Are you saying you think Dockett’s here in town now?”

  “I don’t know that he’s here. Didn’t he have a place outside of town? McCarthy might be meeting him there, for all I know. He might have been there all along. Has anybody been out there? Have you checked on him?”

  Tolliver thought it over. “I haven’t checked, and as far as I know, nobody else has, either. You said he was dead, and I believed you. Hell, as many men as you’ve killed, why would I doubt it?”

  Blaylock gripped the bars of the cell door in frustration. “Look, can you afford to take a chance that Dockett’s not alive? What if he slaughters my family while you have me locked up here. Can you live with that?”

  Tolliver looked uncertain for the first time.

  “Let me out,” Blaylock said. “Let me go out to Dockett’s place and see for myself if he’s there. You can do that much for me. If McCarthy still wants to prosecute me after this is all over, then I’ll come back here and let you lock me up again. You have my word on it.”

  “I’d have to go with you,” Tolliver said. “To be sure you don’t run off somewhere.”

  “You know better than that.”

  “Yeah,” Tolliver said. “I do. I’m just using that as an excuse. If you’re right, I need to be with you.”

  “So you think it’s possible?”

  “Anything’s possible where Dockett’s concerned.” Tolliver shook his head. “I’ll go get the key.”

  #

  They stopped at the livery stable to get Blaylock a horse, and then they went by the newspaper office. Tolliver wanted to talk to Turley.

  The pressman wasn’t eager to talk, but Tolliver persuaded him. “If you don’t tell me what happened,” the marshal said, “I’ll put you in a cell with Blaylock and let him get it out of you.”

  Turley’s fingers moved toward his nose but stopped short of it. “What do you want to know?” he asked.

  “I want to know what happened here,” Tolliver said.

  Turley told him, and the story was pretty much the same as Blaylock’s.

  “Mr. McCarthy said Blaylock might try to hurt him,” Turley concluded. “I think a man should fight his own battles, but Mr. McCarthy pays me, and I need the work.” Turley looked at Blaylock. “I thought I could get it over with quick and that would be the end of it.”

  “You were wrong,” Tolliver said. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier.”

  Turley was still looking at Blaylock. “Because he broke my damn nose, that’s why.”

  “Where’s McCarthy now?” Blaylock asked.

  “He doesn’t tell me where he goes. I’m just the hired help.”

  “Did he come back here after I was arrested?”

  “No. I haven’t seen him.”

  “What about Dick Dockett?”

  “Dockett?” Turley looked away. “He’s dead, ain’t he?”

  “I used to think so,” Blaylock said. “Not now. He’s been here hasn’t he.”

  “I haven’t seen him.”

  Blaylock took a step toward Turley. “Tell the truth.”

  “That’s the truth. I haven’t seen him.” Turley made the mistake of turning to look at Blaylock. He saw his face. “All right. All right. But I didn’t see him. That’s honest. I did come by one evening for something I’d forgotten, though. I came in through the back door, and I heard Mr. McCarthy talking to somebody. It could’ve been Dockett.”

  “Could’ve been?” Tolliver said.

  Turley shrugged. “Like I said, I didn’t see him. From what Mr. McCarthy said, it might’ve been him.”

  Blaylock was losing patience. “What did he say?”

  “I couldn’t hear all that well. The door was closed. Something about the paper and what Mr. McCarthy should be writing.”

  “And that’s all?”

&
nbsp; “That’s all. It wasn’t any of my business. I got what I needed and left.”

  “What do you think?” Blaylock asked Tolliver.

  “I think you might be right,” the marshal said. “How many men does Dockett have with him, assuming he’s really there.”

  “There were only two left last night.”

  “That’s all right, then. Let’s ride out to his place and see if he’s really back.”

  “I guess we can do that,” Tolliver said.

  #

  Dick Dockett sat back and listened to Mitchell McCarthy tell what had happened in his office that afternoon.

  “Tolliver’s got Blaylock in the jail,” McCarthy said. “I don’t know how long he’ll hold him. You’d better make a move quick if you’re planning to. I’m tired of all this sneaking around, and I’m tired of trying to defend you in my newspaper. Blaylock’s no fool. He’ll figure out that you’re still around. You need to disappear, start over somewhere. If you come back, the whole town’s going to wonder if you’re really the saint I’ve said you are, and it won’t take them long to figure out you’re not, especially if you get rid of Blaylock.”

  “You’re saying you’re going against me, are you, McCarthy? I know too much about you for you to try that. I set up that saloon deal for you with Deuce Russell. He wouldn’t take it kindly if you backed out on that.”

  McCarthy wiped sweat off his upper lip. “I’m not going against you, and I’m not backing out on the saloon deal. I’m just afraid things are going to hell around here. It seems as if Blaylock’s harder to get rid of than you ever thought.”

  “I’m going to finish things tonight. If he’s in jail, that’s even better. In fact, it’s perfect. We’ll get rid of his family and his friends, and he won’t be there to stop us. Him? Hell, we won’t touch him. He’ll have to live the rest of his life thinking about what I’ve done to him.”

  McCarthy didn’t think Blaylock was likely to do much thinking. He was the kind who’d go after Dockett even harder than Dockett had come after him. Once the killing started, did it ever stop?

  “You get back to town,” Dockett said. “I got things to do here, things you don’t want to know about.”

  “That’s God’s truth,” McCarthy said. “I wish I’d never gotten myself into this mess.”

  “You did, though.”

  “Yeah,” McCarthy said. “I did.”

  #

  The Bensons, Lane and Willie, liked the idea of going after Blaylock.

  “He’s daughter’s kinda cute,” Lane said. He was the bigger of the two, a bit over six feet tall and so hefty that he could make a stout horse groan. “I like a redhead. You reckon we could have some fun with her?”

  “Wife’s not bad, either,” Willie said. “What you plan to pay us?”

  Dockett didn’t like the Bensons any better now than he ever had. In fact, he liked them even less than before. He was sorry he had to stoop to using such trash, but sometimes a man had to lower his standards.

  “How much you think you’re worth?” he asked.

  “Me and Lane together, we can do as much as any three other men. So we’d need a good bit.”

  “Damn right,” Lane said. “This Blaylock’s a hardcase, too, from what we’ve heard about him. Hard to kill and even harder to take down in a fair fight.” He nudged his brother with an elbow. “Not that we’d give him a fair fight, right Willie?”

  “Right,” Willie said. “As for how much we’re worth, it might depend on what you want us to do. Is there any killin’ involved?”

  “I won’t lie to you,” Dockett said. “There could be.”

  “Good,” Willie said. “I like killin’.”

  Lane hit him in the upper arm. “Shit, Willie, you oughtn’t have said that. Now he’s going to try to short us.”

  Dockett grinned. He was starting to like the Bensons better. Sure, they were trash, but they had their good points.

  “I won’t short you,” he said. “If we get rid of Blaylock and his family, I’ll make it worth your while. I hear he’s got a lot of money hidden in the house. You can have it all.”

  Dockett hadn’t heard any such thing, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to give the Benson boys a little more incentive.

  “That’s on top of what you pay us?” Willie said.

  “That’s on top.”

  “I hear those fellas who work for him ain’t no slouches when it comes to shootin’,” Lane said. That one called Tucker, he’s deadlier’n a Brazos cottonmouth.”

  “And then there’s those kids,” Willie said. “They all got bible names. It ain’t exactly right to kill people with bible names. We’d need extra pay for that.”

  “You’re forgetting about Gabby Darbins,” Dockett said. “You could probably kill him with a rotten stick.”

  “Crazy old fool,” Willie said. “We’ll do him for free.”

  Lane hit him in the arm again.

  “Hell, Lane, stop doin’ that.”

  “We ain’t killin’ anybody for half price,” Lane said. “Much less for free.”

  No, Dockett decided, he didn’t like the Benson boys any better than he had to start with. He kind of hoped something bad would happen to them at Blaylock’s place. Maybe he could even arrange it.

  “Full price,” he said. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of you boys.”

  “You’d better,” Lane said.

  “Count on it,” Dockett said.

  13

  It was getting late in the afternoon. The pines cast long shadows across the trail.

  “Time for chickens to start roosting,” Blaylock said, thinking about the man who’d invaded his coop the previous night. “We need to get to Dockett’s before dark.”

  “It’s not much farther,” Tolliver said.

  He reined in his horse. Blaylock did the same.

  “You hear that?” Tolliver asked.

  Blaylock nodded. “Somebody’s coming.”

  Tolliver turned his horse’s head to the right and put his heels into its sides. The horse moved toward the trees. Blaylock peered down the trail for a second before following.

  “You think it’s trouble?” he said when he joined Tolliver in the trees.

  “I think we might as well find out,” Tolliver said. “No use running up on Dockett out here when we can surprise him.”

  A squirrel chattered in a tree above them and jumped to another tree, shaking the branches and scaring a bird that flapped and fluttered away. A pinecone fell to the ground somewhere behind them. And then Mitchell McCarthy rode into view.

  Blaylock looked at Tolliver as if to say I told you so. Tolliver just shrugged.

  When McCarthy arrived in front of them, Tolliver rode out of the trees.

  “Where you been, Mitchell?” he said.

  McCarthy was so surprised that he almost fell off his horse. When he recovered himself, it was clear that he wanted to run or hide or both. There was nowhere for him to go, however, because Tolliver was too close, and Blaylock was right behind him.

  “You shouldn’t go off like that and leave me locked up in the jail,” Blaylock said. “There’s bedbugs, and it smells bad.”

  “Food’s bad, too,” Tolliver said. “You’re lucky you got out before supper.”

  “So you can see I’m a little bit peeved,” Blaylock said. He sat back in the saddle and pulled his Smith & Wesson. “Maybe more than a little peeved. Truth to tell, I’m damn mad about it.”

  “How mad are you?” Tolliver asked.

  “Mad enough to shoot a big hole through your friend McCarthy here.”

  “He’s not my friend,” Tolliver said. “Not since he turned out to be a liar and scoundrel.”

  McCarthy sat through this conversation with his mouth hanging slightly open as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. He never quite looked at either Blaylock or Tolliver, but now his eyes were focused on Blaylock’s revolver. It was quiet in the twilight. Tolliver’s mount pawed at the ground.

/>   Finally McCarthy started to say something. Nothing emerged but a dry croak. He swallowed, cleared his throat, and tried again.

  “I never lied to you, Marshal,” he said.

  “Sure you did. You lied about what happened in your office. Blaylock never jumped you. You made that up.”

  “I said he threatened me. Hell, look at him. He’s threatening me right now.”

  “Can’t say that I blame him.” Tolliver looked back down the trail. “Where you been, anyway?”

  McCarthy opened his mouth, closed it.

  “Well?” Blaylock said. “How’s your old partner Dick Dockett doing these days?”

  “You know about him?” McCarthy asked.

  “I figured he was around. You gave it away in your office.”

  “It’s true what I said. There are people who are too damned mean to stay dead, and Dockett’s one of them. He’ll kill me, too, when he finds out I’ve given him away.”

  “Not likely,” Blaylock said. “We’re on our way to see him now.”

  “I . . . I wouldn’t advise that.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Look, I never wanted to get involved with Dockett. He’s done me a few favors, and I’ve tried to do some for him, but I never meant for it to go this far.”

  Blaylock didn’t believe him, but he didn’t bother to say so. “How far do you mean?”

  “He’s hired the Bensons. They’re going after your family tonight.”

  Blaylock didn’t know who the Bensons were. He looked at Tolliver.

  “Bad pair of brothers. Do anything for a dollar. Even kill somebody, I figure.”

  “We’ll have to stop them, then.”

  “I guess we will,” Tolliver said.

  “There are five of them,” McCarthy said.

  “And three of us,” Blaylock said.

  McCarthy looked appalled. “Surely you don’t think that I . . . .”

  “Surely I do.”

  McCarthy spread his arms, keeping a grip on the reins with his right hand. “But I’m not even armed.”

  Tolliver pulled his rifle from the boot tied to his saddle. He hefted it, then tossed it to McCarthy, who grabbed for it with his left hand and almost missed. He managed to catch it by the barrel.