by Chad Cull
“So you think you can take Morgan Slate’s place?” Stacy Merritt chided. She was seated in a stuffed chair in the living room, across from Carlin, who had been given a straight back kitchen chair. Zeke Austin lounged on the settee.
Jace Carlin had explained to Stacy and Zeke that he had come to the Diamond 8 to offer the services of his gun. He was sorry that he had deprived her of her hired gun by killing Morgan Slate. He had told her of his falling out with Duncan Holt and his desire to get his own ranch back. He emphasized that they had a mutual enemy in Duncan Holt and it would be advantageous to both of them to work together. He failed to mention Jenna Holt’s offer and how close he had come to murdering her husband and his subsequent abuse of his horse.
“I can replace his gun. Yes,” he said not sure if there was actually a relationship between Stacy Merritt and Morgan Slate that went beyond employer and employee. “And it won’t cost you anything. I’ll work for free. I just want to get my home back.”
“You think I make a practice out of hiring gun men?” Stacy asked, then answered her own question. “Well I don’t. I don’t like killing.
“I don’t either,” Jace stated.
“You don’t?” It wasn’t a question. She raised her brow.
“No,” Jace said flatly, but it sounded hollow to himself.
Stacy was thoughtful for a moment, then turned to Zeke as if for a comment. “Might as well work together,” Zeke advised. “It just might work out.”
She turned back to Jace. “Alright, bu no killing unless I approve. You understand that?”
“That the same arrangement you had with Slate?”
“Yes. And until you came along, he never had to use his gun.”
“What about Randy Poole?” Jace asked.
“What about him?
“You mean Slate didn’t kill him?”
“No,” she snapped. “I don’t know who killed Randy Poole. I assumed Duncan Holt had something to do with it.”
“Why would he do that? Randy worked for Holt. What reason would Duncan have to have to kill one of his own men?”
“I don’t know. To blame it on me I suppose.”
“Well to tell the truth,” Jace said. “I sided with Holt, not just because I thought he was my friend, but because I was told that Randy was killed by Diamond 8. That made you the bad guys right there.”
“Who told you that? Amy Parker?”
“Yes. Why would she lie about it?
“I’m sure she believes it. Will Parmalee has been sparking Amy ever since Randy Poole’s death. He’s in Duncan Holt’s pocket and of course he would blame it on us.”
“I guess I’ve been wrong about a lot of things,” Jace mused. “I’m sorry I ever sided against you.” He didn’t look at Stacy as he said it and she didn’t respond either.
Seconds ticked off silently with no words spoken until the stillness was broken by the sound of hoofbeats approaching outside. By the sounds of it, a fairly large group of riders were approaching. Muffled sounds from the guards outside could be heard. The hoofbeats silenced and there was a rapping on the door. Cal Dwire was shouting, “Miss Merritt! Miss Merritt! The Sheriff and a posse are outside.”
She swung the door open. Cal’s arm was still raised and his fingers still fisted for pounding on the door. He stepped back quickly as Stacy Merritt pushed past him. Zeke
Austin followed, putting his hat on as he went. Jace trailed slowly behind them in the shadows.
“What’s going on, Sheriff?” Stacy demanded as she approached the mounted group of riders.
“We’re looking for Jace Carlin,” Will Parmalee said. “He murdered Duncan Holt tonight.”
Jace froze in his tracks. He was several paces behind Stacy and Zeke and still in the shadows. He faded back slowly and slid around the corner of the ranch house and pressed his back against the wall, in deeper shadow, where he could listen. His pulse began to race. Duncan Holt dead? Had he actually shot the man without realizing it? No! What was happening? How could this be?
“What….?” Jace heard Stacy start to stammer. “That’s impossible. Carlin may kill in a stand up fight, but not murder.”
“You’re barking up the wrong tree, Sheriff,” Zeke Austin put in. “The boy just doesn’t have it in him to out and out murder.”
“You’re wrong there,” Parmalee said. “He waited on a ridge above the trail to town and ambushed Holt when he rode by in his carriage.”
Jenna, Carlin thought to himself. She must have told Parmalee about the plan. “I don’t believe it,” Zeke scoffed.
“There was a witness who saw it all,” Parmalee retorted. “His wife was in the carriage with him.”
Damn that cold hearted bitch! Jace cursed to himself. When Jace failed to do the job, she must have decided to do it herself and blame him for it.
“And you’re taking her word for it?” Zeke said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she did it herself.”
“That’s nonsense. She’s pretty distraught. She’s staying in town with the Shaw’s right now until she can settle down. Besides, it’s not just her word alone. We found Carlin’s rifle on the ridge where he waited in ambush.”
Zeke started to say something, but Parmalee interjected. “And yes I’m sure it’s his rifle. It’s got his initials carved in the stock and I’ve seen him with it many times. What more proof do we need?” It wasn’t a question demanding an answer.
What a fool he had been to leave the weapon behind, Jace told himself. Then he thought. But the bullet in Duncan Holt had not come from his rifle. Surely when the bullet that killed him didn’t match with his rifle, he would be in the clear.
“Besides,” Jace heard Parmalee say. “The rifle had one round gone and the weapon had been recently fired. The bullet that killed Holt came from a Winchester rifle.”
Damn! Jace thought. His rifle had been used to kill Duncan Holt. But how was that possible? How could Jenna have gotten hold of his rifle? She couldn’t. She must have had an accomplice. Someone to use as a back up if Carlin failed to do the job. Jenna was smart, he thought. She knew he couldn’t do the job, and she wanted to set him up for the blame, anyways.
“What made you think he’d be here?” Jace heard Stacy ask.
“You were seen talking to him in town today. With Morgan Slate gone I thought you might have been trying to hire Carlin as his replacement.”
“Best you don’t try to think, Sheriff,” Stacy snapped sarcastically. “That doesn’t appear to be your forte.
“Fort-tay?” Parmalee looked perplexed.
“Don’t try to figure it out, Sheriff. It’s too big of a word for you anyhow. It’s got all of five letters.”
“Don’t get smart with me, Missy,” Parmalee said with annoyance. Then his tone became hard. “Well? Is he here or not?’
Stacy and Zeke both cast a furtive glance over their shoulders into the shadows behind them. Jace was nowhere to be seen. They both jerked their heads back to face the Sheriff and his posse. “No. Of course not.” Stacy was emphatic, but a hint of nervousness was in her voice.
Parmalee noticed the uneasiness and the glances toward the house. Deliberately he swung his right leg high, swinging it over his mount’s back and slowly, but deliberately stepping down from the saddle. “Then you shouldn’t mind if we just look around,” he said. He handed the reins to the man sitting his horse next to him. “Sim,” he said, not even looking at the man. “You stay here and hold the horses. Bill, Ed you come with me. The rest of you men spread out. Search the barn, corrals, and bunkhouse. If he’s here, don’t let him get away. Don’t be afraid to shoot if you have to.” He was already pushing Stacy Merritt and Zeke Austin aside and striding along the walk toward the front door. He drew his pistol and held it high.
Jace rolled further back into the shadows, keeping close to the ranch house wall and moving toward the back of the house. He could hear Will Parmalee’s boot steps and chinking spurs louder as he came close
r to the front door.
The door was still ajar and the Sheriff kicked the door open with the flat of his right foot. He burst through the doorway, waving his Colt back and forth. His eyes darting in unison with his pistol and seeking out any trace of movement.
At the same time, Jace scurried to the rear of the building and ran along the back wall to the other side of the ranch house.
Stealthily, he crept along the side wall toward the front corner of the ranch house. This side of the house was not in as much shadow as the other side and Carlin knew he could be spotted, even from a distance. He bent low and pressed close to the wall. He peered around the corner and saw the posse men spreading out searching the place. He saw one lone rider still atop his horse and holding the reins of the other horses.
He waited several moments until he saw some of the men enter the barn. His heartbeat throbbed dully in his head and perspiration beaded on his forehead, dripped down his cheek and off his chin. His mouth felt dry and his hands were moist and clammy. He had to make his move now and take his chances.
He lurched around the corner of the house. Taking long running strides as fast as he could push himself. With a leaping lunge, he threw himself forward and sideways, landing astride the lone rider’s horse behind his saddle, landing heavily and startling the horse. The rider, taken by surprise, started to twist in the saddle, but found himself pushed mightily from the saddle to land spread eagled on the ranch house lawn.
Carlin pushed himself forward into the seat of the saddle taking up the reins, at the same time loosing the reins of the other horses. He whipped his mount around and kicked him forward into the bunch of other horses. He kicked at them with his feet still in the stirrups and let out whoops and yells to startle them into dispersing and running off.
At the sound, men came running out of the barn and bunkhouse. Others came running across the barnyard and Will Parmalee followed by two other men came running out of the house. Parmalee fired quickly without taking time to aim, but the bullets whined close near Carlin’s head. The other men followed suit and opened up with a volley of shots.
Carlin had already spun his horse around and kicked him into a gallop, following the running horses through the ranch’s gate. The posse men came running after the man and horses, still firing as they ran until they too passed through the gate. They halted and kept firing for a few moments until they realized that Carlin was already too far out of pistol range.
Will Parmalee, held up his left hand as signal for his men to stop firing. He slammed his pistol angrily into his leather holster as he peered into the darkness, barely seeing the disappearing shadows of the running horses. Carlin had veered off from the frightened herd and headed north. “There’s horses in the corral, men. It’ll take a while to saddle up and he’ll get a good lead on us. But we’ll still get him.”
It took an hour for Jace Carlin to reach Contention Springs. He had deliberately headed north away from the Diamond 8, knowing that when the posse was remounted they would head that way after him. They wouldn’t expect him to circle back and head east toward town. As he approached town, it was already mostly in darkness as many of the establishments had closed down for the night. Even the two saloons were dark and quiet. Even with this much darkness, Carlin dared not chance being seen, so instead of riding directly into town, he circled wide, skirting the the main road and approached the town once again, but this time from the west.
As he came close to Russ Shaw’s place, he guided his horse off the main road and came in behind the house. He noticed a faint flickering of light through a side window, indicating that someone was still up this late at night. In a stand of cottonwoods behind the house, he dismounted and tethered the horse to a young tree that had not yet grown thick. Swiftly and silently, he approached the rear of the house, climbed the rickety steps of the back porch and crept toward the back door. Loose boards creaked beneath his boots. Carefully, slowly, he pulled on the screen door. The top screen was loose and hanging down from an upper corner. The spring twanged lightly as it stretched with the opening of the door. Carlin gripped the back door’s knob. It turned readily. Luck was with him. It was not locked.
As quietly as he could, he slipped through the doorway and closed the door behind him. He was standing in an alcove. It was dark here, but light from the living room and kitchen filtered through enough that he could see coats and hats hanging on the wall of the alcove. He could hear voices from the other room. They were low and he couldn’t make out what was being said, but he did recognize Jenna Holt’s voice among them.
Jace stepped forward out of the alcove. He had his gun out pointing at the Shaws and Jenna where they sat in their chairs. His eyes were cold and hard. The conversation ended abruptly as they saw the gunman step forward out of the shadows. Carlin remained silent.
“I suppose you’ve come for me,” Jenna said haughtily. “First you kill my husband. Now you’ve come to finish me too.”
“You’re right, Jenna,” Jace said. “I’ve come for you, but not to kill you. I’m taking you to Will Parmalee and you’re going to tell him who really did kill Duncan.”
‘What’s he talking about?” Russ Shaw said gruffly, staring at Jenna. He was still sitting in the same chair as he was during Carlin’s first visit.
Jenna drifted her gaze away from the old man and glared at Jace.
“Go ahead, Jenna,” Jace prodded. “Tell him how you plotted with me, to kill your husband for you. And when I didn’t do it, you found somebody else to do it for you.”
“You’ll never prove that,” Jenna retorted. “Besides, nobody’s going to believe you. A hired killer.”
“We’ll see about that,” Jace said. He came forward, pulled out a straight backed chair, sat in it and leaned his head back against the wall behind him. “Right now I just want everyone to be calm and patient. We’re going to wait right here until Will Parmalee and his posse gets back. Then, I’m taking you in, Jenna.
“You never were very bright, Jace.” Jenna laughed.
*****
Chapter Nine