Six Guns at Solace

by John Davage

  Harvey rolled over in the dirt, scrambled to his feet and ran for cover behind a bush, pulling his .45 from the holster under his frock coat. He rarely carried a firearm, but had felt the need of one before confronting Eli Pike. Much good it had done him at the ranch, he’d reflected as he’d driven away. Now, however, it might be all that was between him and a bloody death.

  Instinctively and without taking aim, he fired twice – and was astonished to see that luck must again have been on his side. One of his bullets seemed to have found its mark on the outlaw as the latter staggered and fell. Harvey scrambled to his feet and stumbled towards the buggy. But this time his luck ran out. Ray eased himself up from the ground, lifted his Winchester and fired, then fell back into the dirt. His bullet blew a hole in Harvey’s forehead.

  Clay’s hand was shaking. He reholstered his .45, swallowed the bile in his throat and jumped from his horse. He slithered down the slope to Ray and saw the older man’s face drained of blood. Clay dropped to his knees beside him.

  ‘Garrod got lucky with his shot,’ he said.

  ‘No, kid,’ Ray said, choking on the words. ‘Garrod . . . couldn’t shoot straight to . . . save his life.’ His clouded eyes stared straight at Clay, his voice weakening by the second. ‘But you can . . . an’ you did. Right?’

  Clay avoided the dying man’s eye. ‘Yeah,’ he admitted eventually. ‘Couldn’t let you tell Eli about Meg.’

  A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of the other man’s mouth as he spoke.

  ‘Should’ve guessed . . . you’d have to finish me off to keep me quiet . . . You need to . . . get your sister away, kid, afore Eli finds out the truth . . . an. . . .’

  His face creased with a sudden spasm of pain and his eyes opened wide for a second before freezing into a sightless stare.

  ‘Sheeit!’ Clay swore. ‘What am I gonna tell Eli?’ He looked down at Harvey Garrod’s body. ‘Gotta do somethin’ about him, too. An’ the horse an’ buggy. Can’t just leave things as they are.’

  The temptation was to simply ride off somewhere, as far away from Eli Pike and the Lazy O as he could get. But high-tailing it meant abandoning both Meg and Becky, and somehow he just couldn’t do that.

  So he had to clean things up here, and go back.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Eli Pike poured himself a shot of whiskey, then passed the bottle to Nate. They sat on either side of the table ruminating over the bank robbery and how things had gone wrong. They still hadn’t counted the take from the raid.

  Becky had gone to bed soon after her pa had left the ranch, overcome with feelings of despair. Would her father get help and come back? But who would help him? He had told nobody in Solace of her predicament, she was sure of that.

  ‘How much money did you get from Garrod’s safe at the hotel?’ Eli asked Nate. ‘You never said. An’ I’m guessin’ it was more’n the few dollars Garrod planned for you to take, right?’

  Nate shrugged. ‘Few more, yeah. He tried hidin’ it, but not very well.’

  ‘So how much?’

  ‘Coupl’a hundred dollars.’

  Eli gave a short laugh. ‘It’s OK. You can keep it. You prob’ly earned it, layin’ that trail for the posse to follow.’

  He stopped at the sound of a fast-approaching rider and both men rose from the table. Minutes later, Clay burst through the door.

  One look at the youngster’s face told Eli something was wrong. ‘Where’s Ray?’ he demanded.

  ‘Dead. Garrod managed to get him with a lucky bullet,’ Clay told him, and gave a fictitious summary of the events at Checker Pass, excluding his own part in the proceedings.

  ‘Hell an’ damnation!’ Eli slammed a fist down on the porch rail.

  ‘At least Garrod won’t be doin’ any talkin’,’ Nate said.

  ‘What’re we gonna tell Becky, Eli?’ Clay asked.

  ‘What I was plannin’ to tell her,’ Eli said. ‘That you an’ Ray went after her pa to try an’ calm him down. That he pulled a gun on you an’ Ray shot him in self-defence.’

  ‘She gonna believe that?’

  ‘If anythin’, it’ll sound even more believable now Ray’s dead,’ Eli said. ‘Did you leave the bodies at the Pass?’

  Clay nodded. ‘Pulled ’em into the mesquite an’ covered ’em with brush,’ he said, trying to keep his voice steady. ‘Thought it best not to bring the bodies back in case I got seen. An’ it was too dark to bury ’em. Anyways, didn’t ’ave nothin’ to bury ’em with. Hid Garrod’s buggy well off the trail. Be a while afore anybody finds anythin’.’

  ‘The horses?’ Eli said.

  ‘Turned the horse from the buggy loose. Brought Ray’s back with me. Brought his saddle and guns back, too.’

  Eli nodded slowly, thinking. ‘You did good, kid. Reckon I’ll get Cord Lewis to get rid of the bodies tomorrow. He an’ a couple of his men. Cord’ll pay ’em to keep their mouths shut.’

  Clay could feel Nate’s eyes on him as he told his story. Why was he looking suspicious? Surely he didn’t think that he, Clay, had killed Ray?

  I’ve got to get away, he thought.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mid-morning the following day, after a hard six-hour ride from Solace, Tom was riding up the main street of Weslake.

  A quick survey of the town’s buildings identified the sheriff’s office, and he made his way there. He was dismounting from his horse by the hitch rail when an old-timer who was sitting in a chair on the boardwalk spoke to him.

  ‘If’n you’re lookin’ for the sheriff, he ain’t there,’ he said. He was building a smoke, and barely glanced at Tom. ‘Rode out of town with Jed Dell an’ Harry Tiler. Didn’t say where they were goin’, but reckon they were on Pike business.’

  ‘Pike business?’ Tom queried. ‘You talkin’ about Eli Pike?’

  The old man nodded. ‘The very same. Pike came to see Cord earlier. Saw ’em talkin’ together. Cord an’ his buddies left soon after.’

  ‘Cord?’ Tom said.

  ‘Cord Lewis, that’s the sheriff.’ He gave a derisory snort and finished making his cigarette. ‘Well, that’s what he calls himself. “Pike’s yes-man” ‘d be a better description.’

  ‘Any idea where they were headin’?’ Tom asked the garrulous old-timer.

  ‘Nope. Don’t ask questions no more. Healthier that way, ’specially where the Pikes are concerned. Although there’s only one Pike to worry about now, which is somethin’ of a blessin’ for the town.’

  ‘Only one Pike?’

  ‘Yep. Silas is dead.’

  Tom digested this new piece of information.

  ‘Anyway, thanks,’ he said. ‘Guess I’ll stable my horse. There a livery near here?’

  The old-timer nodded towards the other end of the street. ‘You plannin’ on stayin’ awhile?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Tom said.

  ‘Where you from?’

  Tom laughed. ‘Thought you didn’t ask questions.’

  The old man scowled. ‘Jus’ curious. Name’s Smokey Harrison.’

  ‘Tom Walsh,’ Tom told him. ‘From Solace. We had us a bank robbery an’ I’m followin’ up a lead.’

  ‘You the law there?’ Smokey asked, noting the absence of a badge on Tom’s shirt.

  ‘Deputy sheriff,’ Tom admitted after a moment.

  ‘Kinda strayed outside your jurisdiction, ain’t you, kid?’

  ‘Guess I have,’ Tom said.

  Smokey’s eyes narrowed. ‘Bank robbery, you say. Anybody get hurt?’

  Tom nodded. ‘Bank teller an’ the manager.’

  ‘Dead?’

  Tom hesitated. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘But I’d be glad if’n you’d keep that bit of information to yourself.’

  Smokey Harrison puffed on his cigarette and looked thoughtful. ‘Let me see if I can figure this out,’ he said. ‘You had a bank robbery. The “lead” you mentioned brought you to Weslake where the Pike gang hang out. So it’s likely you reckon they’re responsible – an’ I ain’t gonna
argue with you.’

  ‘Go on, old-timer,’ Tom said.

  ‘Maybe you have a witness – or had a witness, but he’s dead now,’ Smokey continued, after puffing on his cigarette. He studied Tom carefully before a half-smile spread across his face. ‘Yeah, he’s dead but you want Eli Pike to think you’ve got a live witness. That about right, lawman?’

  Tom smiled. ‘You’re no fool, Smokey.’

  ‘Jus’ ’cause a fellah’s old, don’t mean he’s dumb,’ Smokey said. ‘Truth is, I was a lawman myself once. It’s the smart kinda ploy I’d have thought up, too.’ He nodded towards the empty sheriff’s office. ‘But if you were hopin’ to get some help from him in there, you’re gonna be disappointed. Cord Lewis is little more than Eli Pike’s lackey.’

  ‘So I’ve heard,’ Tom said.

  ‘Tell me somethin’,’ Smokey said. ‘Did any of the gang get killed in your bank robbery?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Tom said. ‘One did.’

  Smokey nodded slowly. ‘Figures,’ he said.

  ‘How’d you mean?’

  ‘Silas Pike’s funeral’s later today,’ Smokey said. ‘Word is, he was killed in an ambush by some renegade Indians out near Checker Pass coupl’a days ago. Horseshit! Ain’t been an Indian in this territory for years. But you don’t question Eli Pike. Not if you wanna stay healthy.’

  ‘Interestin’,’ Tom said. ‘Where’s the funeral gonna be?’

  ‘Boot Hill.’ Smokey said. ‘Half a mile outside of town, headin’ north. You plannin’ on puttin’ in an appearance?’

  ‘Reckon I might at that,’ Tom said.

  ‘Watch your back,’ Smokey told him. ‘Eli Pike don’t like strangers. Tends to shoot first an’ ask questions after.’

  ‘I aim to be extra careful,’ Tom said.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Carrie Green watched Meg as she finished serving the woman who had come in for a length of calico and some ribbon. Although the girl was her usual polite self, she seemed preoccupied – worried even. After the woman had left and the store was empty of customers, Carrie walked across to the door, turned the key and pulled down the wicker blind.

  Meg looked at her in surprise. ‘Are we closing?’ she asked. It was mid-day.

  Carrie came back and leaned her elbows on the counter, looking at her niece. ‘Chester’s gone for his haircut,’ she said. ‘And now we’ve the place to ourselves for a while, Meg. So, are you going to tell me the truth about how your dress got torn? And please don’t insult my intelligence with that story about a hitching rail and a nail. Chester may have swallowed it, but I haven’t.’

  Meg’s face coloured.

  ‘You went into the bank, didn’t you?’ her aunt persisted.

  After a moment, Meg nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘So tell me what happened. One of those varmints tear your dress?’

  There seemed no point in denying it, so Meg nodded again. ‘He . . . touched me.’ She put a hand on her breast.

  Carrie Green nodded slowly, as if finally having had her worst suspicions confirmed. ‘Oh, my darling!’ she said. ‘What did you do . . . I mean, how did you stop him from. . . . ?’

  ‘Clay stopped him,’ Meg said, softly. She was suddenly relieved to be able to tell someone. The lie she had been giving out had weighed heavily on her conscience.

  ‘Clay?’ Carrie gasped. ‘Your brother? He was part of the gang?’

  ‘He seemed to be,’ Meg admitted.

  Carrie was silent for several moments as she digested this astonishing piece of information. But the more she thought about it, the less astonishing it appeared.

  ‘Clay was always a burden to my brother Matthew. Wild and wayward, and in all probability responsible for Matthew’s declining health and premature death. That’s Chester’s opinion, too.’ She put a hand on Meg’s arm. ‘So, what did Clay do to stop the man. . . ?’

  ‘Shot him,’ Meg said quickly. ‘And . . . and then he shot Howie Clark when Howie pulled a gun on him.’

  Carrie closed her eyes. ‘Have mercy on us,’ she said.

  Tears sprang unbidden into Meg’s eyes. ‘And now Tom’s gone to Weslake hoping to mete out some kind of justice on the Pike gang. Which will include my brother. Except that Tom doesn’t know he’s my brother.’

  ‘And if they meet up, Clay won’t know Tom’s your fiancé,’ Carrie said.

  ‘Which makes everything even worse,’ Meg said, sobbing.

  ‘Maybe somebody should put both of them in the picture,’ Carrie said.

  Meg stared at her. ‘Who?’

  ‘Sheriff Wickes. You’ve got to tell him what happened at the bank.’

  ‘I . . . I can’t!’ Meg said.

  Carrie put a hand on Meg’s arm. ‘You’ve got to go and tell him exactly what you’ve told me, my dear. The whole story.’

  ‘But . . .’

  There was a rattling at the door as someone tried to enter. Carrie frowned and went across. She lifted the blind an inch or two before unlocking the door.

  ‘It’s Chester,’ she said. ‘And when he hears what you’ve got to say, I know he’s going to agree with me.’

  Meg sighed and put her head in her hands.

  Twenty minutes later, sitting across from the sheriff in his office, Meg once again recounted her story.

  ‘Your brother?’ Floyd said, after she had finished.

  Meg nodded.

  ‘You’ve never mentioned that you had a brother,’ Floyd said.

  ‘I . . . I thought it best not to,’ she said. She looked directly at Floyd. ‘Especially not to a sheriff, seeing that Clay was wanted by the law and his face is probably on one of those law dodgers in your desk.’

  ‘An’ especially as you’re plannin’ to marry my deputy,’ Floyd said.

  Meg’s face coloured. She nodded.

  ‘But how did your brother get hooked up with Pike’s gang?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Meg said. ‘And now Tom’s gone after Clay and the others without knowing who Clay is.’

  ‘Then your aunt’s right. I reckon somebody’d better go to Weslake an’ tell him, otherwise you could end up with a dead brother. Or a dead husband-to-be.’

  Floyd rose from his chair and looked at the clock on the wall behind his desk. ‘If I leave now, I should be there by nightfall.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Tom stabled his horse at the livery, then took a room at the Weslake Hotel. Afterwards he found a café and ordered a plate of bacon, beans and potatoes from the Chinese waiter. He washed this down with three mugs of strong coffee, then built himself a smoke.

  He was conscious of being eyed with curiosity by the handful of other diners, and at the star-shaped badge Tom had decided to pin back on to his shirt. He gave friendly acknowledgement to their glances but none seemed anxious to make his acquaintance.

  A little before two o’clock he looked out of the café window and noticed a small, slow-moving procession of people following a black wooden hearse, pulled by a black horse and bearing a coffin. The mourners walked behind it, led by a tall, lean man, somewhere in his thirties, with a heavy drooping moustache. Eli Pike, Tom presumed. He’d seen the man’s image on a law dodger. Walking a step or two behind Eli was a young woman and three more men. Tom couldn’t see the woman’s face, which was shrouded in a drooping hat and black veil, but he sensed something familiar about her gait.

  He waited until they were at the edge of town before leaving the café and following them up a sloping path to the graveyard. He saw Smokey Harrison watching him from his chair on the boardwalk.

  Tom stood amongst the gravestones, a short distance from the little gathering, as the preacher performed the burial ceremony. He watched Eli Pike, the young woman, and the two men next to her. A little to one side was Cord Lewis, the sheriff, easily identified by his badge of office. The two men next to the girl, Tom guessed, were Eli Pike’s associates. One, the meanest-looking, with a face devoid of any expression and wearing a brown riding duster and black hat, was about Eli Pike�
��s age. The other, a short, stocky fellow, was a good few years younger, probably not yet twenty. Tom wondered which of these had shot Howie and the bank manager?

  One other thing puzzled him. From the accounts given after the robbery, one or two Solace townsfolk had been able to give rough descriptions of the three men who had ridden away, one of whom seemed older than the other two. So where was he? Back at Pike’s ranch?

  The coffin having been interred and the last few words spoken by the preacher, the little group turned and began walking back down the path towards the town. The preacher remained at the graveside, as if wishing to disassociate himself from any further proceedings.

  As he watched them, Tom saw the young woman lift the veil away from her face – and felt a jolt of recognition.

  Becky Garrod!

  What in blazes was she doing with the Pike gang? Wasn’t she supposed to be with some aunt up north? That was the story Harvey Garrod was telling at any rate. Did the Solace hotel owner know his daughter was mixed up with a bunch of desperados? Surely not. Although . . . the hotel robbery. . . .

  A thought struck Tom like a lightning bolt. Could Harvey Garrod have been part of the decoy plan?

  The little group was suddenly level with Tom, and he stepped forwards.

  ‘Howdy, Becky,’ he said.

  The phalanx of mourners came to a halt, each individual staring at the interloper. Becky looked both startled and fearful. She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again as Eli put a hand on her arm. He looked first at Tom’s face, then at his badge, then at his face again.

  ‘You know this lawman, Cord?’ he asked, his gaze remaining on Tom.

  ‘Nope, Eli,’ the sheriff answered. ‘Never seen him afore.’

  ‘Becky?’ Eli asked.

  When the girl replied, her voice was an unsteady whisper. ‘His name’s Tom Walsh. He’s deputy sheriff at Solace.’

  Eli affected an interested expression. ‘That so? What brings you to Weslake, mister deputy? An’ what’s your interest in my brother’s funeral?’