Showdown in Badlands

by Shorty Gunn

  Showdown in Badlands

  Businessmen Edward Chambers and Rolo Mackenzie have settled in the mining town of Peralta, with the aim of buying up abandoned gold mines to search instead for silver. When the Goss brothers and their bullying father begin to cause trouble, Rolo and Edward decide that it’s time Peralta had a sheriff and appoint hired gun Ben Dickson as the town’s marshal.

  When the Goss boys steal some silver ore and flee to the town of Fool’s Gold, Dickson proves himself ruthless in tracking them down. But the brothers are desperate men, and Dickson knows that a desperate man is a dangerous man. And he reckons without the vengefulness of the boys’ father, Vernal Goss, who is hell-bent on a showdown.

  Showdown in Badlands

  Shorty Gunn

  ROBERT HALE

  © Shorty Gunn 2016

  First published in Great Britain 2016

  ISBN 978-0-7198-2207-0

  The Crowood Press

  The Stable Block

  Crowood Lane

  Ramsbury

  Marlborough

  Wiltshire SN8 2HR

  www.bhwesterns.com

  Robert Hale is an imprint of The Crowood Press

  The right of Shorty Gunn to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him

  in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  Chapter One

  The Grand Palace saloon right in the middle of the growing mining town of Peralta, catered to the great (if anyone great ever actually came through town), near great, ranchers and fifteen-dollars-a-month cowboys who could rub elbows with men of a different breed. Edward Chambers and Rolo Mackenzie were not cowboys. Far from it. The two were businessmen who resembled unmatched book ends. Chambers stood an even six feet tall, roundly built, with a ruddy-faced complexion topped by a shock of curly red hair. Mackenzie was a full half foot shorter, almost boney in appearance, with thinning black hair even though he was only thirty years old and dark, penetrating eyes.

  Both had come to Peralta with enough money to begin quietly buying up old gold mining claims which the owners had either abandoned or were convinced were played out. Those pick-and-shovel prospectors were at least half right. The wrong half. The first sudden discovery of gold that started a rush to the timber-lined community gave Peralta its first shout of notoriety. But the shout turned into a mere whisper when surface gold proved too little and too far between. When the easy surface colour was cleaned up in creeks and streams, a few diehards who hung on to their claims went down into quartz-hard ground with hand tools, dynamite, sweat and broken backs trying to find a new source of yellow iron. They never did. Chambers and Mackenzie began their selective buying spree with two things in abundance: a quiet determination to purchase as many claims as possible, and a thorough education in mining geology. They knew the thick grey sludge cussed by the miners that had been clogging up rockers and box riffles was actually high-grade silver ore most others had no knowledge of. While people laughed at the worthless ground the two were buying up, the mine men felt they were on the trail of a fabulously rich motherload of silver, one they thought might rival the mighty Comstock Lode.

  This evening both men worked late in their office going over paperwork and mining claims maps. Finishing late, they decided to have a quick drink before going home even though it was not their habit to stop at the Grand Palace. It was just a convenient few doors down from their office, so they stepped inside.

  ‘I’ll have a brandy,’ Chambers ordered as the barkeep, a bald-headed man with thick black sideburns and an enormous handlebar moustache, nodded, reaching under the counter.

  ‘Make it two.’ Rolo held up a pair of fingers.

  ‘You do wash the glasses, don’t you?’ Chambers half kidded the server.

  ‘Inside and out,’ he replied, pouring two brandies from a new bottle. ‘I’ll leave it up top in case you two gentlemen want a second.’

  At the end of the bar, four brothers leaned on the big oaken top watching the mine men in disgust. Their rough, heavily bearded faces, threadbare clothes and mud-splattered boots made it clear they were not men of wealth, position, or had ever been close to either one. In fact the Goss brothers, Elwood, Virgil, Emmett and Ike, had a reputation for being the exact opposite. They rarely talked to anyone in town except family members, viewing everyone else with dark suspicion. The entire family held a special hatred of the way Chambers and Mackenzie had suddenly come into town buying up most of the land around their dilapidated horse and cow ranch. Just one canyon over, the mine men had sunk a new shaft so close they could hear the muffled thud of dynamite and sometimes even feel the ground shake beneath their feet.

  Their father, Vernal, was crippled for life in an accident when the brake on a heavy freight wagon he was working on gave way, the wheels running over him, crushing both legs. He had to be lifted by the boys every morning out on the front porch, placed in a chair with a heavy blanket over his legs. He’d howl and cuss every time another dynamite charge went off. If Vernal was demanding and mean by nature, he became almost unbearable after the accident. The boys suffered his abusive explosions of temper and so did his white-haired wife Hattie, who had to wait on him day and night. The entire family attributed most of their misery to the mine men who were now standing just twenty feet away from the brothers in the Palace. Ike, the oldest, wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to vent his anger on the pair.

  ‘What kind of a real man would drink girlie slop like that!’ He turned to his brothers, his voice loud enough to be heard throughout the big room.

  ‘That’s about what I’d expect from a pair of dirt diggers,’ Elwood chimed in, glaring down the bar. ‘They’d probably choke on a real whiskey.’ He followed up with a forced laugh.

  Rolo and Edward turned, facing the brothers. They’d seen the four when they came in, choosing to ignore them on purpose. ‘We’re not bothering anyone in here, including you. Why don’t you try acting like civilized men instead of backwoods fools?’ Mackenzie answered back, as Chambers tugged at his sleeve, shaking his head to warn him not to go any further.

  ‘Civilized men?’ Ike parroted, straightening up. ‘Why would we want to act like you two? You send men down into the ground then bring them up dead in ore carts from breathing poisoned air. Is that what you two call civilized? I’d call that pure murder. You two ought to be hung for it!’

  ‘Don’t waste any more time talking to them.’ Chambers leaned close, whispering to his partner. ‘It’s only going to lead to trouble we don’t need. Come on. Drink up and let’s leave.’

  Mackenzie nodded but couldn’t let Ike get in the last word in front of everyone listening. ‘We offered you and your family a fair price for your place and you refused to sell and make some real money for once. Why complain now because your neighbours did? You had your chance and didn’t have enough brains to take it.’

  ‘Who you callin’ stupid?’ Ike exploded, stepping away from the bar, his hand going down, gripping the pistol, pulling it up. ‘Take it back or I’ll spill your guts all over this floor!’

  Rolo lifted both hands, palms up. ‘I’m not armed. Don’t do something you’ll get yourself hung for. There’s twenty people in here who’ll swear to it at a trial.’

  Ike’s beady eyes darted around the room and back to Mackenzie. That’s when he saw the bartender straightening up from behind the counter with a 12 gauge shotgun, levelling the ugly scattergun on him.

  ‘Don’t pull that six gun, or I’ll fill you up with buckshot, Ike. You and your brothers go on and get out of here. Don’t come back until you can control yourselves. I’m not going to have a killing in here over you, your brothers, or anyone else. Move it!’

  Ike eyed the barkeep with the same rage he
had Mackenzie. Virgil grabbed him by the shoulder. ‘Come on, Ike. Let’s go. It ain’t worth gettin’ killed over. Our time will come on these two.’

  The brothers herded Ike toward the front door as customers parted, giving them a clear exit, but not before Ike shouted one last threat.

  ‘I’ll be remembering you pulled that scattergun on me. Don’t think I won’t!’

  As the room settled down and talk resumed again, the barman turned to Rolo.

  ‘Don’t turn your back on him or his brothers. Ike’s half crazy. Always has been. He’ll try to get even with you. You better know that. The whole bunch of them up there in that broken-down ranch are all the same. Vernal, their father, is the worst of the bunch because he encourages the boys to always pick a fight with anyone for any reason.’

  ‘I think I’ll have a second brandy.’ Rolo let out a long sigh of relief, leaning back on the bar. ‘That’s about as close as I want to come to being shot.’

  Hattie Goss, Vernal’s wife, lit the lantern over the dinner table as her sons carried Vernal in from the front porch, carefully lowering him into his chair at the head of the table. The four boys glanced at each other trying to decide if they should tell their father what happened in town at the Grand Palace. Hattie brought over a large kettle of soup, filled with a few thin scraps of meat. She ladled out Vernal’s portion first; he glared down at the meagre provender, then up at her, scowling in displeasure.

  ‘Is this all the meat you can put in here? There’s hardly enough to feed a man!’

  ‘It’s all we have, Vernal. If the boys can kill a buck we could have some venison. Right now we don’t have much else.’ She avoided his cold stare.

  ‘There’s no bucks to kill around here any more,’ Emmett growled. ‘With them dynamite blasts going off all the time they ran all the deer outta here.’

  ‘Yeah, them mine men have wrecked everything,’ Elwood spoke up. ‘They even tried to buffalo Ike, in town this afternoon.’

  The boys glanced at each other fearing Elwood’s big mouth would get them all in trouble but it was too late. They had good reason to worry as Vernal turned to Ike with a withering stare.

  ‘What’s your brother talking about, Ike? Who tried to buffalo you? I want to hear it all.’

  ‘They pulled a shotgun on me – or it wouldn’t have happened like it did.’ He looked up at Elwood, avoiding his father’s icy stare.

  ‘I said who pulled a shotgun on you? What are you talking about? Give me a name!’ Vernal’s voice rose to a vicious snarl.

  Ike slowly explained what happened at the Grand Palace, and the bartender’s role in it. By the time he finished, Vernal’s lips were quivering in rage as beads of sweat broke out on his wrinkled forehead.

  ‘You let them fools do that to you? Where were the rest of you boys?’ He looked around the table. ‘Why didn’t you back your brother up, like I always taught you?’

  ‘We couldn’t do nothin’, Paw. With that scattergun on Ike, the barman would have cut him to pieces,’ Elwood tried to explain.

  Vernal slumped back in his chair closing his eyes for a moment, his jaw set tight in rage. He’d had about all he could take because of the mine men since they’d come to Peralta, and what they’d done buying up everything around him. What happened to Ike was the last straw. No one could push around the Goss family without paying a price. Chambers and Mackenzie were the ones who would pay it now.

  A week had passed since the altercation at the Grand Palace. Rolo and his partner sat in their office, working at separate desks. Rolo took a break, turning to Edward.

  ‘Don’t you think it’s time Peralta had some kind of law?’

  Chambers looked up from the map he was studying. ‘Well, now that the town is starting to really grow, that might be something for folks around here to think about. Up until now they settled things on their own.’

  ‘Yes, like the Goss brothers. Pull a gun and pull the trigger. I think it’s time those days came to an end. We’ve got a solid business going here and more people and money will want to come in. They won’t if it gets around that this is a wide open, lawless town.’

  Chambers thought a moment before answering. ‘Having a full-time lawman might be something folks could consider, but I also know a lot of people living outside town might not be that eager for it. They still live by the law of the land.’

  Rolo rested his chin on his hand, thinking over the exchange. ‘That could be, but I still say Peralta is ready for it. Why don’t we see if we can generate some interest by talking to other businessmen? Let’s see if they’re willing to contribute money each month to pay a decent sheriff’s wages.’

  Edward smiled at his partner’s enthusiasm. Rolo always thought people had a streak of decency in them, no matter how much they seemed the opposite. He wondered if the face-off in the Grand Palace had anything to do with Rolo’s sudden suggestion to bring in a star man. His partner was a decent, hard-working man who always thought principles were important. That’s one reason he joined him in this business venture of theirs. If he wanted to try for law in Peralta, then he was on board to help him.

  ‘I guess we can contribute some money if you want. Others might join us too. After all, we are making good money with the mining except for having to freight the ore all the way down to Marysville, for crushing and smelting. The price of mercury down there doesn’t help either, but right now we have no other choice. It’s a four-day round trip no matter how we do it. And it might be a good idea to have some protection when John Standard is hauling silver bars and money back up here too. I’ve also been thinking we’re going to have to work out a better plan to sell our silver in Nevada. The silver mining around Carson City is supposed to be getting big and we can save money if we find a buyer there.’

  ‘I’ve thought about John handling all those bars and money too. I know it’s dangerous, but John is certainly not a man to be pushed around by anyone. He’s got a solid reputation, that’s for sure. Having some law here also helps that idea.’

  ‘Have you ever considered hiring a guard to ride with him when he goes down to Marysville? As this town grows, not everyone coming here is going to be an angel. The talk of big money always seems to bring trouble in with it.’

  ‘Let’s talk to John about it when he gets back. I’d like to know what he thinks. He’s the one who has to carry all the bullion and cash.’

  John Standard sat atop the big freight wagon pulled by four strong horses, urging them up the steep slope leaving Marysville. It was a long, slow climb back to Peralta, one he’d made several times before. At fifty-one years old he had a solid reputation as a deft hand when it came to horses and freighting. In his younger years he’d driven stage coaches in southern Colorado, where he garnered the name ‘Shotgun John’ for the deadly double barrel he always carried up in the coach boot. Rumour had it he’d used the scattergun on more than one occasion and never been robbed of a single nickel. He was a quiet man who never talked about those early years. He let his reputation do the talking for him. He was hauling timber for shoring up the mines when he met Chambers and Mackenzie, who hired him away from his employer. He also knew all too well that the silver ingots and money he was instructed to bring back each trip were goods to be protected at all costs. His trusty double barrel was still kept rolled up in a blanket under his seat, but he’d never had any occasion to use it. At his age he knew he wasn’t as fast or agile as he was at twenty-five or thirty. Knowing it was there was comforting. He secretly hoped he’d never have to use it again. That’s one of the reasons why on this return trip he’d decided to leave Marysville as the long shadows of evening spread their fingers across the rolling flatlands instead of daylight. The road was empty now and cooling nighttime temperatures were easier on the horses. He liked driving under a sky full of diamond-bright stars with a cool breeze on his cheeks. John pulled his jacket collar up higher, urging the horses ahead, working his fingers deeper into his gloves. He’d always thought it odd that nighttime hours pass
ed faster than the same length of time during the day. From one to five during daylight hours always seemed to be a slow crawl but at night it flew by. This night was no different as the miles steadily slipped away behind the wagon, climbing higher as the horses blew, straining at the traces. The peaceful quietness was comforting as the big freighter rattled on.

  Dawn was just a crimson slash along the eastern horizon when the freight wagon topped another high ridge. John pulled the horses to a stop giving them a much-needed breather. He stood stretching out some of the kinks, arms above his shoulders, when suddenly a rough voice rang out from murky shadows alongside the trail.

  ‘You just keep them arms right up there over yer head, if you know what’s good fer you. And don’t try for that scattergun under the seat, neither!’

  John could barely make out the shadows of four riders emerging from tall brush toward the wagon. He’d never been held up freighting for the mine men and he didn’t want to start now. But four pistols levelled on him was the worst kind of odds to go up against. He knew if he was going to act it had be fast, right now, or not at all. He chose now. Suddenly dropping to his knees he dove for the shotgun, trying to unravel it from the blanket as six guns exploded and bullets tore into him, their flashes lighting up the dawn sky. He fell forward on to the floorboards moaning in pain, unable to move yet still semi-conscious.

  ‘Git up there and open that cash box!’ Ike shouted to Virgil. ‘Emmett, you get in back and get some of them silver bars too. Hurry, we ain’t got all night!’

  ‘The box is bolted to the floor!’ Virgil yelled, rolling Standard out of the way.

  ‘Then shoot the lock off, you idiot. Do I have to tell you everything?’

  ‘These silver bars are way too heavy for us to carry very many.’ Emmett dumped several at the back of the wagon.