Showdown in Badlands

by Shorty Gunn

  Her face flushed at his rebuke. ‘I am sorry. Delbert is right. I’ve got plenty to do in the house. Enjoy your stay, Mr Dickson. I’m certain my husband will do an excellent job for you. If you’re still here at noon, I’ll bring both of you something to eat too.’

  The afternoon sun touched the jagged line of timber tops behind Peralta, when Ben Dickson stepped outside Delbert Combs’ wood shop, testing his new leg. He paused, hands at his side, relaxing as Combs came to the door surveying his handiwork.

  ‘Well, how does the new leg feel?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ll let you know in a moment.’

  Dickson stood stock still before suddenly pulling his pearl-handled six-gun, crouching slightly, testing his balance. The move was so fast and smooth it took Combs completely by surprise.

  ‘I’d say it feels all right. You did a good job.’

  Combs didn’t answer for several seconds as his mind raced about this unusual man he’d made a new leg for. He’d seen what he thought was a courteous customer with a serious disability turn into a man who measured his new balance and speed by pulling a a big Colt. Something his wife had mentioned earlier came back to him.

  ‘You told Amanda you were a hunter, didn’t you Mr Dickson?’

  ‘I did at that.’ Dickson turned back to the wood worker, sliding the .45 back in its holster.’You didn’t exactly say what it was you hunted, did you?’

  ‘No, I did not out of respect for her sensibilities.’

  ‘Would you be . . . a man hunter? You mentioned riding out to the Goss ranch when I finished with your leg. Most folks around here know they’re nothing but trouble.’

  ‘I am. I carry a marshal’s badge to back me up wherever I go.’

  Delbert eyed the tall man, thinking something over. ‘Seems quite a while back, I heard the name Ben Dickson before. He lived way down south near desert country. I didn’t connect it with you until I saw you pull that fancy pistol of yours. Are you one and the same, Mr Dickson?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Combs. Now tell me what I owe you for this superb job you did on my leg, and I’ll be on my way out to the Goss ranch.’

  By the time Dickson walked down to the livery stable to saddle his horse, the Goss brothers were already miles away, well up into the mountains riding fast on a narrow trail threading its way higher through thick timber. Ike led with Emmett right behind him and Virgil farther back, trying to encourage Elwood to keep up. His bullet wound was bleeding again and the throbbing pain in his stomach was so excruciating all he could do was lean low and hang on to the saddle horn, as Virgil pulled his horse by its reins. As they neared another ridge top, Ike turned, yelling back, ‘What’s holdin’ you up, Virgil? We can’t slow down now!’

  ‘Elwood can’t keep up. He’s real bad off. We might have to stop and give him a rest.’

  ‘I ain’t stoppin’ for no one. We gotta keep goin’ as hard as we can. If he can’t keep up, cut ’em loose. He’ll have to catch up to us later. There might be a whole posse comin’ after us. I’m gonna ride through the night just to be sure we stay ahead.’

  Virgil looked back at his brother, head down, eyes closed. He was torn between staying with him or obeying Ike’s order.

  ‘Elwood . . . Elwood, can you hear me? I’m going to have to let you make your own way, understand? Let your horse follow us. You won’t have to lead him. Just give him his head. I’m sorry, brother. I don’t have no choice in this. I’ve got to keep up with Ike and Emmett. We’ll all meet in Fool’s Gold, tomorrow. You have to hang on until then. Try, brother, just try.’

  Virgil kicked his horse away higher until all three riders disappeared up the trail, reaching top country half an hour later when they pulled to a halt, giving the horses a blow. The guilt of leaving his brother behind still plagued Virgil.

  ‘Elwood isn’t going to make it. Maybe if he does catch up we should tell him to try and get back home where at least Mom can doctor him some,’ he suggested, looking to Ike and Emmett for support.

  ‘He can do what he has to, but we ain’t waitin’ for him. He went and got himself shot, and I ain’t gonna slip my neck through a hangman’s noose pullin’ him along with me so someone can catch up to us. Those badlands Paw talked about are someplace over these mountains past Fool’s Gold. We don’t even know how far. He said maybe a hundred miles or more from home. If we can get there ain’t no one going to follow us that far. That’s the only real chance we got and I ain’t losin’ it over Elwood or anyone else. Now let’s get kicking!’

  Vernal Goss barely slept after the boys left and Hattie retreated to the bedroom, burying her head in the covers, crying quietly so he couldn’t hear her. She’d pleaded with Vernal not to send Elwood with his brothers, but he wouldn’t listen to her. He never listened. She was wracked with fear she’d never see Elwood again – maybe none of the boys. Her frail body lay in bed, thinking about all the misery her mule-headed husband had visited on the entire family. She was certain he’d be the death of them all sooner or later and there was nothing she could do to stop him. His sudden shout made her jump.

  ‘Hattie, get yourself in here and help me try to get to my feet. And stop that blubberin’ too. I can still hear it!’

  She came into the room, drying her eyes as he waved her closer.

  ‘Where do you want to go, Vernal?’

  ‘Out on the front porch. Help me up.’

  ‘It’s freezing cold outside. Why go out there, Vernal?’

  ‘Because if someone is comin’ here, I want to face them out there, not in here. Now stop askin’ stupid questions and try to help me up.’

  Hattie struggled with getting her arms under him, barely able to keep herself upright pulling him out of the chair as he wove unsteady on dead stumps. Vernal grabbed the chair with one hand for support, wrapping the other over her shoulder as they stumbled out on to the porch. After retrieving the chair, Vernal dropped heavily into it with another demand.

  ‘Get me a good blanket and my shotgun too. I’m spendin’ the night right here in case someone is fool enough to show up and wants some double barrel trouble. Then get yourself back inside and close the door. Don’t open it unless you hear me callin’ for you.’

  Dickson rode slowly through the night, knowing if the Goss brothers were at the ranch, he’d be facing more than just one gun. He’d already made plans for that. That’s one reason he chose to show up after dark. Nighttime was his ally. It gave him cover and masked any fast moves he might have to make. He knew the boys and the old man were not face to face gunfighters like others he’d faced in the past. They were back shooters and alley ambushers. That gave him another important edge, plus the dynamite he carried in his saddle-bags made the odds closer. Whatever happened he was either bringing those boys in with their bodies roped over horses, or at the end of his shotgun.

  Dickson pulled his horse to a halt at the edge of the canyon across from the old ranch house, quietly studying the scene for several moments. No lamplight flickered through darkened windows, no horses were tied out front. He pulled his short-barrelled shotgun out of its scabbard, resting it across his lap before easing his horse forward again down the steep canyon-side hill.

  Vernal Goss had stared into the night a long time thinking about his sons and how far away they might be by now. He’d never admit it out loud, but he knew his plan to ambush and kill Ben Dickson had ended up being a disaster. He kept trying to excuse its failure, convincing himself if the boys had done what he’d ordered none of this would have happened in the first place. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became was he was right. It was all the boys’ fault, not his.

  As time passed and the night grew colder he wondered who, if anyone, would be riding out to confront him. If there was going to be a gunfight he was ready for it. He was sick and tired of being a hopeless cripple who couldn’t help himself and always needed the boys or Hattie to do everything for him. All he had left was his maniacal pride that no one dared walk on the Goss name and get away with it. He
’d made that stick, cripple or not. If there was going to be a shootout maybe even death wouldn’t be so bad, considering the way he’d had to live all these years since the accident. If he went down shooting, at least town people would say he died like a real man.

  His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of a horse’s hooves coming slowly up the hill toward the house. He pulled himself straight up in the chair, wiping his eyes, thumbing back both hammers on the shotgun, peering into the dark, trying to see who it was. The shadowed image of a horse came closer. He lifted the shotgun to his shoulder, his finger tightening on the trigger.

  ‘Whoever you are, stop right there or I’ll blow you out of that saddle!’ Vernal’s shout shattered the night as he leaned closer trying to get a better look, the horse stopping only yards away. That’s when he realized there was no one in the saddle.

  ‘What the hell?’ He lowered the shotgun, squinting harder at the strange sight.

  The tiniest squeak on the porch boards behind him was instantly followed by the icy feel of shotgun barrels pressed hard against the back of his head. Ben Dickson leaned closer, whispering in his ear.

  ‘Lift that shotgun of yours up real slow by the barrels with one hand. If I see two coming up you won’t even have time to blink!’

  The old man jerked convulsively, caught by complete surprise. The steel tubes pressed harder against his shaggy white hair. Vernal lifted the scattergun over his shoulder until Dickson took it.

  ‘That’s better. Now where are those bushwhacking boys of yours? I want a straight answer and I want it quick.’

  ‘They . . . ain’t here you back stabbin’ bastard!’

  ‘If I go in the house and find them, I’m going to dynamite this place to pieces for lying to me. Then I’ll take all five of you into town. By now people in Peralta will be ready to hang the whole bunch of you.’

  ‘I said they ain’t here and they ain’t!’

  ‘Then where are they?’

  ‘They’re . . . off someplace. I don’t know where. Git that damn shotgun off the back of my head!’

  Dickson straightened up, lifting the shotgun before walking around to face the old man. ‘You keep your mouth shut and don’t make a sound. I’m going in. You better hope I don’t find any of them.’

  ‘My wife Hattie is the only one inside and she’s asleep. Leave her alone. She don’t know nothin’ anyway.’

  Dickson eased the front door open cautiously, stepping inside, standing for a few moments as his eyes adjusted to the dark. In meagre light he made out the glassy reflection of a coal oil lamp sitting atop of the fireplace mantel. Crossing the room he removed the lamp chimney, lighting the wick. The soft glow lit the shabby room, exposing a hallway leading further into the house. He started down it over creaking floors until coming to the first bedroom on the right. Quietly twisting the knob he stepped inside, lifting the light with one hand, levelling the shotgun with the other. Blankets lay scattered across the floor. Over against one wall a broken down dresser with most drawers pulled out was empty. The unkempt bed was empty too. He exited the room, tiptoeing to a second door on the opposite side of the hall. Stepping quietly inside, the lamp lit a pair of bunk beds on the wall. Scattered clothes were piled on the empty beds and several shelves were also in disarray. It was clear the Goss boys were gone and had left in a big hurry. He exited the bedroom, stepping outside to see a final closed door at the end of the darkened hall.

  Dickson paused a moment, quietly turning the handle, stepping inside, shotgun levelled on what the lamp light revealed. Under a pile of blankets at the far end of the room, a form moved slightly followed by the sound of uneven breathing. Easing forward one slow step at a time he crossed the room. At the bed he slowly lifted the covers only to see an old, grey-haired woman with a wrinkled face moaning something as she tried to open her eyes to wake up.

  ‘Vernal . . . how did you . . . get in here?’ She sleepily pulled herself up on one elbow, shielding her eyes from the sudden light with her other hand.

  ‘I’m not Vernal. My name is Ben Dickson. I’m a US deputy marshal looking for your sons. Where are they? If you don’t give me a straight answer I’ll take your husband into town and lock him up until I find them. Answer me.’

  Hattie closed her eyes, slowly shaking her head in confusion. She didn’t know what to say or who this demanding voice behind the lamp light was. ‘Where is . . . Vernal?’ she finally asked.

  ‘He’s out front without the shotgun he meant to use on me. I want to know where your boys went. It’s clear they left here in a hurry, and it had to be sometime tonight. Tell me the truth or your husband can hang for trying to have them kill me. I know all about that. Now talk.’

  Cornered and confused, she didn’t know how to answer. The demands came too fast. Lifting both hands she closed her eyes, cradling her head in despair. Dickson knew she was his best chance to get the information he needed. He decided on one more tactic to break her. ‘If I can take your boys without a gunfight, I will. But know that sooner or later I’m going find them with or without your help. If I have to do it on my own, it will go harder on them and your husband too. You can still save them if you tell me what you know and right now.’

  She took in a long breath, trying to calm herself. Tears began running down her face knowing what fate her entire family might be in for. She’d tried to tell Vernal not to go ahead with his wild plans to kill Dickson, and now it had all fallen apart and come to this. If Vernal wouldn’t try to save her sons, then she was the only person left who could. She couldn’t hold out any longer.

  ‘My boys . . . went over to Fool’s Gold. That’s all I know about it.’

  ‘How far is that from here?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve never been there. I only heard Vernal tell the boys to go there. It’s over the mountains someplace to the east. If you find them, tell them I prayed for them to come home safe and not use guns anymore. Tell them I want them to set things right with the law.’

  Dickson stared down at the emotionally-drained old woman. He knew he’d gotten as much as he could out of her. Exiting the room, he could hear the sounds of her crying all the way down the hall. Once out on the porch he stopped briefly to confront the old man.’I know where your boys are going and I’m going after them. When I get back if I hear you laid so much as one hand on your wife, I’ll come back out here and beat you within an inch of your life, cripple or not. Remember what I said. I mean every word of it!’

  Vernal’s hands gripped the chair in bone-white defiance, but he wasn’t done yet.

  ‘You shoulda killed me when you had the chance, ’cause I’ll kill you if you ever show your law-dog face around here again!’

  ‘You just might get that chance. I’ll look forward to it. You’ve already caused enough misery and murder to everyone including your own family. Your time is done, old man, and I’ll end it for you without a second thought.’

  Chapter Five

  Dickson rode back into town, stabling his horse and checking on the packer. He’d need both early tomorrow when he rode out after the brothers. A short night’s sleep at Birdie Lee’s boarding house was all he’d get and maybe a little information from her. She seemed to know everything about everyone in town, maybe she’d also know something about Fool’s Gold too. Rolo and Edward were already closed up this late so he’d leave a note on their door telling them he was going after the brothers and where. They were both paying the bill to bring the murderers back to face justice. He wanted to let them know why he wouldn’t be back in town for a while.

  Reaching the boarding house he was surprised to see Birdie still up, working in the kitchen. ‘Why would you want to go way up there at this time of the year? That high country around Fool’s Gold can get early snow about now,’ she questioned, cocking her head.

  ‘It’s business, madam. Do you know where the trail starts here?’ He wasn’t about to go into details with her but Birdie suddenly had another worry and it wasn’t about the way to Fo
ol’s Gold.

  ‘If you’re leaving, you won’t be needing your room anymore. You couldn’t get up there and back before your rent would be due again.’

  ‘I’m keeping my room, and I’ll pay you for two weeks in advance. That way you won’t have to worry about your precious money. And I still do not want anyone going into my room while I’m gone. Do I make myself clear on that, Miss Lee? Now can you direct me to the trailhead to Fool’s Gold, or not?’

  Birdie stiffened for a moment at being talked to like a child, but recovered quick enough. ‘I’m told it’s only a horse trail. It’s too rugged and not wide enough for wagon travel. It starts out just outside town. There’s an old weathered signboard marking it. I hear it’s a good two days’ ride just to get there. Does that answer your question, Mr Dickson?’

  ‘It does madam. I’ll be up and gone before you so I’ll pay you now for the room.’

  True to his word, next morning Dickson rode down the quiet streets of Peralta, to darkened store fronts and empty boardwalks. Only the light from the Palace and a smaller gambling house across the street cast a faint glow on to the street. Beyond the last buildings he found the wooden sign pointing up into shadowed timber. Urging his horse up the trail he pulled the packer behind him.

  An hour later as dawn came over the land, he rode out on to an open saddle clear of timber. Looking far down the canyon he recognized the tiny structure that was the Goss ranch situated on a steep-sided hill. Hattie’s admission that her sons had ridden for Fool’s Gold made even more sense now with the trail passing so close above the old house. Ahead, the trail continued to climb into thick timber gaining elevation. He pulled his jacket collar higher against the morning chill before pulling deerskin gloves tighter over his hands. At least Birdie was right about something. Fall was coming fast to this high country.

  Ike, Virgil and Emmett kicked their horses hard all that day, weaving in and out of dog-hair timber. Every time Emmett looked back to see if Elwood was in sight all he saw was an empty trail, worrying him even more about his brother’s fate. ‘Why don’t we give the horses a breather and see if Elwood can catch up?’ he shouted to Ike in the lead.