Kelly called out to the men in the saloon. “You in there. Enough bloodshed. I don’t know how Jim got shot, maybe he brought it on himself. But right now, I just want the three of you out of Blue Creek. If you and me can make a deal, there won’t be nobody else gettin’ shot, and you can go free.”
“You must think we ain’t got no brains a’tall,” Wick called back.
“Hear me out,” Kelly replied. “You’ve got me over a barrel. I can’t rush in there without gettin’ shot. And if you try to make a run for it, I’ve got your horses and everything you left on ’em. Like I said, all I want is for you to get outta this town. I’ll give you your horses and hold my fire if you’ll agree to jump on ’em and ride. Whaddaya say?”
“And every man in town with a rifle shootin’ at us,” Wick came back. “That don’t sound like no good deal to me.”
“Look out the window,” Kelly said. “I’ve already sent everybody to the other end of town. There ain’t gonna be nobody left but me and one man. I need him to bring up your horses.”
“Is that so?” Wick returned. “Who’s the other man?”
Kelly pointed to Perley, standing behind him.
“That’s that crazy fool with the red bandanna,” Red whispered, standing at the other side of the window. “He won’t cause no problem.”
“Whaddaya wanna do?” Wick asked, turning to consult with his partners. “We might be able to hole up here for a long time.”
“I’d just as soon get the hell outta here,” Blackie said. “I don’t like bein’ boxed up like this.”
“I reckon that goes for me, too,” Red followed.
“All right. We’ll take our chances,” Wick said, then called out to the sheriff again. “All right, Sheriff. We’ll go peaceful, but I wanna see those three horses standin’ right there in front of the saloon. I don’t wanna see a damn soul on the street but you and that feller with our horses, and I wanna see that shotgun on the ground behind you. Is that agreed?”
“That’s agreed,” Kelly said. “I’ll send Perley to get your horses.”
Wick watched as Perley trotted back toward the stable. He told Blackie and Red to get ready to make a dash for the horses on his signal. When they were all set, he said, “I aim to put a bullet into that fat sheriff as soon as I’m in the saddle.”
In a few minutes, Perley appeared, leading the three horses up from the stable. He positioned them right in front of the saloon and walked over to stand beside the sheriff.
“It’s all clear,” Kelly sang out and laid his shotgun on the ground behind him.
Very cautiously, Blackie opened the door and stood just inside while he looked up and down the street. He told his partners that there was no one in sight but the two standing across the street, so they eased out the door to join him.
“Don’t shoot till we’re in the saddle,” Wick reminded them. “You ready?”
He got two ready responses.
“All right. Go!”
They charged toward the horses, all three leaping into the stirrups on the run only to land violently on their backs when the saddles slid upside down and ended up under the horses’ bellies. The frightened horses bolted wildly, causing more confusion as Perley and Kelly drew their pistols.
“All right!” Kelly barked. “On your feet and hands in the air!”
Stunned from the surprise, all three outlaws took a few moments to collect their senses before slowly getting up from the ground.
“Better do as he says, boys,” Wick said. “Looks like we’ve been double-crossed. Just don’t crowd me.”
Recognizing his signal to spread out, Red and Blackie climbed to their feet, stepping to the side as they raised their hands in the air.
The sheriff walked around behind them to relieve them of their weapons, leaving Perley to watch them.
Nothing could have pleased Blackie and Red more, having already formed an opinion of the fool who had waved the red bandanna in the general store. Adding to their confidence, it was three against two, in their favor. Almost as if on signal, both reached for their weapons when Kelly stepped behind Wick. With reflexes quick as a rattlesnake, Blackie reached for his Colt .45, his target Perley. Red spun around to draw on Kelly.
It was over in a fraction of a second with Blackie dropping to his knees, a bullet in his shoulder, his pistol on the ground, and Red collapsing with one round in his side. His pistol had never cleared the holster.
It was debatable who was the more shocked, Wick or the sheriff.
While they recovered, Perley picked up the .45 Blackie had dropped, then drew Red’s pistol from his holster. “Better take his gun,” Perley reminded Kelly, whose hand was still hovering over the weapon in Wick’s holster.
Coming out of his shock then, Kelly took Wick’s pistol, still cocking an eye in Perley’s direction, not sure what had just happened, since he had not been in a position to witness it.
“You gonna lock ’em up?” Perley asked, since Kelly had still not spoken.
“Yeah, I’m gonna lock ’em up,” Kelly replied, his mind finally in the present. “Those two are gonna need some doctorin’, though.” He looked at the two wounded men, concentrating on Red. “Him, especially. It’s a good thing Reverend Penny decided to come back.”
Misunderstanding, Perley said, “I don’t think he’s hurt that bad. I didn’t have much choice when he turned sideways to shoot you.”
“No, I didn’t mean that,” Kelly quickly informed him. “We ain’t got a doctor yet. Jenny Penny can do a little doctorin’ if it ain’t too serious.” He paused to think a moment, remembering Jim Squires inside the saloon. “We ain’t got an undertaker, either.”
Now that the shooting appeared to be over, a few spectators began to emerge from the various points of refuge they had taken minutes before. Soon there were plenty of hands willing to help the sheriff transport his prisoners to the single cell behind his office. It would be their home for the long wait before a U.S. deputy marshal could be summoned to come take them to trial. Kelly sent a young boy to ride out to tell Jenny Penny she was needed.
With plenty of people to help the sheriff, Perley went to round up the three horses that had bolted. All three had stopped at the upper end of the street and were standing calmly. They came willingly when Perley took each one by their reins and righted the saddles.
During his directing of the volunteers, the sheriff managed to cock an eye in Perley’s direction, watching as Perley righted the saddles on the horses and tightened the cinches. He couldn’t help a moment’s speculation as to what kind of man Perley Gates really was. Still somewhat confused by the incident that had just occurred, the only explanation was the wounding of the two outlaws had been done by Perley’s hand. Marvin Kelly had heard a saying once. You can’t judge a book by its cover. He had read very few books in his life, but he understood the meaning of the quote, and it certainly applied to Perley Gates. Kelly was sure of one thing—that he might not be alive had it not been for Perley.
Before turning to follow the crowd to the jail, he couldn’t resist calling out to him. “Don’t forget to tighten up those cinches.”
“I won’t,” came the reply. Perley tightened the cinch straps and led all three back to the saloon.
CHAPTER 5
Since Blue Creek had not developed to the point where it had an undertaker, Frank Mosely and Leonard Porter volunteered to dig a grave for Jim Squires on a shallow rise east of the town. Perley offered his services as well, and a handful of folks—Jim had no family that anyone knew about—attended Jim’s burial Sunday morning before church. No one actually said anything over the body, but Reverend Penny said that he would devote a good portion of his sermon to remembering the saloon owner. Among those at the actual burial, the most concerned appeared to be Gussie Beatie, which seemed natural to Perley. She would be the one most directly affected. Her concern was her livelihood, and from her point of view, she was the logical person to inherit the saloon.
After Squires was
retired to his final resting place, she announced the new management of the saloon and a name change to Gussie’s. The only question came from Porter and his concern that Gussie didn’t have the financial means to run the saloon after its present supply of libation was spent.
“Don’t you worry yourself about that,” Gussie assured him. “My financial situation is in fine shape, and I plan to hire a cook and bring in a couple of ladies to please the customers.” No one raised any more questions. The general consensus was that she would try and ultimately fail, then someone would take it off her hands.
After the altercation with Wick Bass and his two partners the evening before, a party of the town’s merchants, led by Sheriff Kelly, searched the saloon from top to bottom. The purpose was to find any operating cash Squires might have hidden away in the building somewhere. The search was fruitless. There was no money to be found and no hidden safe. Gussie participated in the search, often complaining of damage to the premises in some cases when it became too aggressive.
Acting in his official capacity, Sheriff Kelly decreed, “All right. We’ll turn the deed over to you and let you run it. But if it gets run down, we’ll close you down.”
“Fair enough,” Gussie replied. “That’s all I ask.” She had operating capital that no one suspected.
Working for Jim Squires for the past year, she had become quite attuned to his habits and tendencies, one in particular. She noticed that he’d had a tendency to develop a case of the trots every time a large shipment of whiskey came in. She had found it unusual that it struck him every single time, so, being naturally nosey, she decided to see for herself.
When a shipment arrived one day from Ogallala, she’d waited until Jim excused himself to visit the outhouse, then snuck around behind the toilet. Peeping through a crack between the boards, she’d seen him remove one of the boards in the outhouse seat and take out a metal box hidden there. On her next visit to the outhouse to satisfy her own urges, she’d pulled the box out and discovered a great sum of money.
Knowing that money was there, she was more than confident that she could operate the saloon. There would be no more cooking for her, and no more wrestling with unwashed cowhands. She decided to find a new place to hide her money, however, in case anyone else was prone to peek through the outhouse cracks.
* * *
When the burial was over, Lawson Penny invited everyone to attend his church service to follow in an hour. Most of those who came to see Jim Squires put in the ground assured him that they would be there. Perley, having already promised he would come, also told Penny that he’d be there.
Since he planned to start out for Ogallala as soon as the service was over, he went directly to the stable to saddle Buck and load his two packhorses. Anxious as always when he had to leave his packs unguarded, he was relieved to find his belongings undisturbed. He was about to leave the stable when Marvin Kelly came by, riding a gray horse.
“You gonna go to church?” Kelly asked when he pulled up beside Buck and the other two horses.
“Yep,” Perley answered. “I told the preacher I’d be there.”
“Looks like you’re loadin’ up for a trip a lot farther than the church,” Kelly said.
“Reckon so,” Perley replied. “I plan on startin’ out for home as soon as Penny says the final amen. I’da been gone yesterday if I hadn’t promised I’d go hear him preach.” He tightened the rope holding the pack on his grandpa’s paint pony and retied it. “How ’bout you? You goin’ to church?”
Kelly shook his head thoughtfully. “I reckon not. I’ve got prisoners to watch, and with almost everybody goin’ to church, I’d best stay and keep an eye on the town.” He smiled. “With the new owner of the Blue Creek Saloon openin’ up today, I wouldn’t want her to get robbed on her first day.”
“I got an idea that Gussie’s got starch enough to operate that saloon,” Perley said.
“You know, Perley, this town is raw as a newborn calf right now, but it’s growin’ faster ’n a puppy on buttermilk.” Kelly got around to the real reason he had sought Perley out. “There’s already eight farms within five miles of Blue Creek, and there’s gonna be more merchants comin’ in to take care of their needs. And there’s gonna be a need for more ’n one man to maintain the peace.” He paused, then went on. “After the way I saw you handle that .44 you’re wearin’, I know I could sure use a man like you as my deputy.”
The offer took Perley by surprise, and he had to pause a few moments to think how to respond. “I really appreciate the offer, Sheriff, but I’m already overdue back home in Texas, and I expect the family’s beginnin’ to wonder if I’ve met with bad luck. Besides, all I’ve ever known is workin’ cattle and I reckon that’s my callin’.” He said that even though he would be happy if he never roped another cow for the rest of his life. In one sense, he was not that anxious to get back to Lamar County, Texas, but he knew Blue Creek was not the place he was meant to land. Besides, he was saddled with the responsibility of transporting forty pounds of gold dust to the Triple-G.
Kelly nodded his understanding and reached down to extend his hand. “Thanks again for your help and good luck to ya.”
Perley shook his hand and replied, “Same to you, Sheriff, and good luck to Blue Creek.”
Kelly wheeled his horse and called out in parting, “If the preacher ever raises enough money to get that church of his built, maybe we’ll attract more Christian folks.”
* * *
The Sunday service went a little longer than Perley expected, but then they always did, as far as he was concerned. It was different, since it was outdoors under a partly cloudy sky, but Jenny played her organ and Penny led the singing. Perley, using an overturned bucket behind the congregation for a seat, tried to join in but could never find the right key. It seemed the hymns were either too high or too low, but every once in a while the tune would pass through his range. When it did, he’d hit it hard for the few notes he could reach, till it passed on through. Nobody seemed to notice.
Sitting behind the worshippers, he was surprised to see several farm families in attendance as well as Leonard Porter and his family, Willard and Ellie Spence, and the postmaster and his family. Perley had to admit, it was a spirited meeting, but at the end of it, no collection plate was passed around. Contributions were left on a small table beside Jenny’s organ. When Perley went up to shake Penny’s hand and say good-bye to him and his wife, he realized the congregation was generous in their offerings. Although there was only a pitiful bit of money, the table was overflowing with vegetables, hams, a couple of chickens, eggs, meal, and other edibles. Lawson and Jenny shouldn’t starve, he thought. But it looked doubtful if they could ever raise enough money to build a church.
“Look around you, Perley,” Penny said. “These are solid people, good, God-fearin’ folks. We’ll build this town and we’d like to have young men like you to help us build it.”
“’Preciate what you’re sayin’, Reverend, but I reckon my callin’s back home in Texas, and I expect I’d best get started in that direction.”
They walked with him back to the clearing where his horses were waiting with the other horses and wagons.
As he stepped up into the saddle, Jenny thanked him for showing up at that campsite on the North Platte. “You’re the reason Lawson and I came back to Blue Creek, and in spite of what you say, I believe you’re more of an angel than you let on.”
Unable to hide the embarrassment her comment caused him, Perley mumbled a quick good-bye and wheeled Buck back toward the little town. The couple stood and watched him for a few moments before turning back to the tent.
“Too bad he couldn’t stay for supper,” Jenny said.
Later, when the sun was setting close to the horizon and the last of the people had started toward home, Lawson and Jenny took stock at the table of offerings.
“The folks have been mighty generous, just like always,” Penny said as he poked through the food left for them. “Two dollars and tw
enty cents,” he announced after counting the cash. “It ain’t much, but it’ll go to the buildin’ fund. Sometimes there ain’t any money.” He paused then and asked, “What’s that in the cloth next to that ham?” He picked it up, surprised by the weight. Untying the corners of the cloth, he stared, confused by the little pile in the middle of the cloth. “What in the world?” It suddenly struck him. “Honey,” he exclaimed. “Bring that lantern!”
Caught in his excitement, she hurried to him, holding the lantern. “What is it?”
“It’s gold!” Penny cried, “pure gold dust! Look at that!” He pulled the corners of the cloth together again and hoisted it. “It must weigh four or five pounds.” He looked at his wife, whose eyes were bigger than saucers, and announced, “It’s our church!”
“But, who?” Jenny could not believe it. “And why didn’t they say anything about it?”
“I don’t know.” Her husband laughed. “The Lord moves in mysterious ways.” He grabbed her by her hands and began to dance around in a circle. “I ain’t one to question good fortune, but I ain’t sure there ain’t an angel by the name of Perley Gates.”
* * *
Feeling none too angelic, the angel Perley made his way along the North Platte river trail. In fact, he was suffering a twinge of conscience for spending part of his grandpa’s fortune that wasn’t his to spend. It was thirty miles to Ogallala and he was getting a late start. Still, he planned to reach the thriving cow town in time to get supper at Ogallala House, the town’s fancy hotel. The hotel’s dining room was famous for its fine food, and he felt that he deserved one good meal before the long ride home to Texas. Although it troubled him that he had given Lawson Penny about four pounds of the family’s gold dust, he justified the gift as one that his grandpa would have approved. It was a small portion of the approximately forty pounds, and since he was the only one who knew how much was in the original treasure, they’d never know the difference. It seemed of small importance to the Gates family in the long run, but it was enough to build Lawson Penny’s church and then some. He could imagine the smile on Penny’s face when he saw his church rise up from the ground. The thought brought a smile to Perley’s face, as well.
A Reason to Die Page 8