Brothers in Arms

by Philip McCormac

  ‘Watch out behind you, cowboy!’ he yelled and swivelled round in his chair pulling at his own Colt as he did so.

  Everything happened at once. The cowboy went for his iron. His opponent pulled his weapon also. Both fired instantaneously and missed. All around them the onlookers were throwing themselves to the floor or rushing to get out of the way of the stray bullets.

  The cowboy dived to the floor and was immediately out of the line of fire from the man he had accused of cheating. Joe saw the man’s companion level his pistol at the crouching cowboy. He fired instinctively and saw the man jerk and turn away. Then a shot smashed into the back of his chair. Wood splintered and sprayed into his face. Joe swung around and saw the man with the goatee beard lining up for another shot at him. He thumbed a quick shot at the gunman as he slid from the damaged seat to crouch beside the cowboy. Shots were being fired indiscriminately at the two men cowering on the floor.

  ‘Thanks friend,’ the cowboy panted.

  Joe’s answer was to curse vehemently as a bullet ploughed a furrow along his arm.

  ‘Goddamn it,’ he swore and rolled away hoping to find refuge from the bullets under his own table.

  With a quick twist and a kick he overturned the table. Risking a quick look around the side he fired a couple of shots towards the gunman. The man’s cronies were joining in and more bullets were coming Joe’s way.

  ‘Hell, how did I get involved in this?’

  He heard a grunt and glanced across at the cowboy. The youngster was clutching a hand to a bloody shoulder.

  ‘In here!’ Joe yelled and fired a couple of more shots in the direction of the gunmen.

  His hammer clicked on an empty shell.

  ‘Damnit.’

  He lay on his side and quickly began to reload from his belt. There was a groan nearby. It came from the cowboy. Joe could only see the lower half of the youngster. The legs kicked out and then went ominously still.

  ‘Fella, you all right?’ Joe called.

  There was no answer. The cowboy remained motionless. Joe guessed the cowboy was out of the action. Bullets thudded into the woodwork of the table. He glanced round looking for some escape from the dire situation he now found himself in. Nothing obvious presented itself. With his freshly loaded Colt he poked a cautious head over the top of the table. Bullets thudded into the table and buzzed past his exposed head. The cardsharp’s cronies had joined in the fight and Joe was well outnumbered.

  He dropped back to the floor and thumbed a few shots in the direction of his assailants. Desperately he searched round for a way out of this impasse. He eyed the table behind which he crouched. Suddenly he saw a possibility.

  ‘The round table,’ he grunted.

  Grasping a sturdy leg he began to rotate the table. There were yells of frustration from his attackers. The barrage of shots seemed to intensify. Joe could feel the table shuddering at bullets thudded into the wood.

  ‘Don’t let the goddamn sonofabitch get away!’

  The table came to a halt as it came up against the solid construction of the bar. Joe took a deep breath reached over the table and without looking emptied his Colt into the saloon. Almost as the hammer struck the last shell Joe leapt up and flung himself on to the top of the bar.

  He rolled across the polished wood surface. Abruptly he reached the other side and was over and falling. He could hear bullets smashing into the glass bottles lined up behind the bar. At the end of the bar he saw the door. On hands and knees he scrambled towards this. Not knowing if it was locked or not he took a chance and flung himself at the door.

  For a few breathtaking moments the door held. Bullets were now tracing a pattern on the door panels. Then the door opened under Joe’s frantic pushing and he fell through. From a prone position he kicked the door shut and quickly scrambling to his feet ran down a gloomy passageway. Another door barred his way. Joe threw his not inconsiderable bulk at the door. After the second attempt his shoulder burst the door open and Joe was outside and fleeing down an alleyway.

  Some minutes later he was crouching inside an old outhouse. Trying to quieten his breathing, he strained to listen for sounds of pursuit. He heard shouts in the distance but the disturbance seemed well away from his refuge.

  ‘Damn me,’ he muttered, ‘it seems every time I get in a card game I end up in trouble.’

  He pushed out spent shells and reloaded then sat quiet while he thought out his next move. The hullabaloo seemed to have died down and Joe eased out of his hiding place and warily made his way back to the street.

  ‘Well I ain’t made much progress with my enquiries,’ he mused. ‘I guess by now they’ll all be waiting down at the livery. Let’s hope the others have had better luck than me.’

  18.

  Jessica sat at the kitchen table. The wood surface was scrubbed almost white. She sipped from large mug of coffee. On the table in front of her was a plate of cookies. Looking around her Jessica reckoned the kitchen of the big house was bigger than the whole of her old house where she had lived with her father and mother.

  An obese, black woman worked at a huge iron stove. She hummed gently to herself as she moved pots and skillets around with a dexterity born of long experience. Occasionally she would glance at the young girl and smile at her. Jessica looked up with some relief when the door opened and Ruth came in.

  ‘Those friends of yours robbed the stage and murdered the passengers. Geraint says they even brought with them the things they stole and wanted to sell them to Master Miller.’

  Jessica was staring with some puzzlement at her new friend.

  ‘When were they taken to jail?’

  ‘Just about an hour or so back. Geraint reckons they’ll hang.’

  ‘That can’t be right. We were told the men as did the robbery had come here to see Mr Millar. Those same men came by our ranch and murdered my ma and pa. Butch and Frank ain’t no robbers. This is all a terrible mistake. What am I gonna do? They are the only friends I got.’

  ‘Your ma and pa murdered – oh my! Geraint says the master is looking for a young girl as is runaway. Is that you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jessica said in a low trembling voice. ‘But I ain’t no runaway. I don’t know why they’re saying that.’

  Before she could continue the door opened and the master of the house walked into the kitchen. Two men accompanied him – the same two who had helped take Butch and Frank prisoner.

  ‘Well, well, isn’t this fortunate – the young runaway. We’ll have to keep you safe till your parents come to collect you.’

  Jessica made a quick dash for the door. The cook saw her coming and stepped in front of her. Jessica cannoned into the woman. The cook was much softer than the wall of the house but just as immoveable. Jessica was stopped short and a pair of meaty arms wrapped round her. Struggle as she might there was no escaping that embrace. The two male servants took hold of her and began the task of dragging the kicking, struggling girl from the kitchen.

  ‘Come along now, miss,’ Miller said, ‘Your ma and pa are out of their minds worrying about you. They’re desperate to have you back in the bosom of the family.’

  ‘It’s a lie,’ she yelled as she fought her captors. ‘My ma and pa were murdered. Butch and Frank were looking after me.’

  Despite her struggles she was taken upstairs and locked in one of the bedrooms. As the door was slammed closed she flung herself against it and banged and kicked at the solid wood.

  ‘Let me out. You can’t keep me here.’

  But the door remained closed and at last she desisted. Like a trapped animal she paced the room looking for a way out. She tried the windows but they were locked and at last she sat on the bed and wondered what was going to become of her. She had no idea why the story was being put out that she was a runaway. As she desperately rummaged about for an explanation a remark made by Frank came back to her.

  ‘He said I was a witness to murder,’ she said aloud, and pondered on the possibility that this had any bearing on her
treatment.

  *

  The livery looked deserted when Joe entered by the main doors. Then there was a movement from inside. A man moved out from one of the stalls.

  ‘Hello, is that you Butch?’ the ex-carpenter called.

  ‘No it ain’t Butch. You a friend of his?’

  To late Joe noticed the gun in the man’s hand.

  ‘What the hell’s this, mister? I want no trouble. I’m just looking for some friends of mine. We were supposed to meet up here. Why the gun?’

  ‘Jess, I reckon this one of them rannies the boss told us to round up,’ the man called.

  Joe heard a movement behind him.

  ‘Okay mister, just shuck your gun. We’re taking you down the jail.’

  ‘Jail!’ Joe protested. ‘What the hell am I supposed to have done?’

  ‘From what we can make out, you and your pals robbed the stage at Empire Fastness Way Station and killed every man, woman and child. We got your buddies down in the jail right now. We gonna string you up along with your murdering pals. Now do as Jess says and shuck that hardware.’

  Joe had one taste of Western justice and that was enough to last him a lifetime. He knew there was no way he was going back to jail.

  ‘I reckon you got me dead to rights.’

  As he spoke he reached for his Colt as if about to give it up.

  ‘Careful, no false moves.’

  Joe pulled his Colt and at the same time threw himself into the opening of the empty stall. Guns blasted as the men who had apprehended him fired a fraction too late. There was a scream from one of the men.

  Joe risked a peek over the wall of the stall. The one he reckoned was called Jess was sitting in the straw clutching a revolver against his chest. An ominous red stain was spreading over his shirt. Joe quickly turned his attention to the first man. He was staring at his sidekick with a shocked look on his face. His pistol hung limply from his hand.

  ‘Goddamn it Jess, I never meant…’

  ‘Drop that pistol!’ Joe yelled and fired over the gunman’s head.

  The man jerked with shock and tore his eyes from his wounded companion.

  ‘Drop it now!’ Joe shouted. ‘You’re a dead man if you don’t.’

  The gun thudded to the floor. Cautiously Joe stepped out from the stall.

  ‘See to Jess,’ he ordered.

  While the man stumbled forward to the wounded Jess, Joe collected the discarded Colt. He tucked it in his waistband. As he stood up the first attacker made a grab for the Colt still clutched in Jess’s blood-covered hand. Joe swore and instinctively fired. The bullet hit the man in the side of the head and he toppled over. For a few moments his legs kicked at the straw covered floor and then the all movement ceased. Jess was staring at his dead companion.

  ‘Jeeze, you killed him.’

  Joe stalked forward.

  ‘Everyone in this godforsaken town is goddamned trigger-happy. I just had to shoot my way outa the Good Eva Arcadia because I tried to help a cowboy in trouble.’

  He crouched down in front of the wounded man trying his best to ignore the body of the man he had just shot.

  ‘Let me have a look, Jess.’

  Dark blood was oozing from the centre of the man’s chest. Joe looked round for something to staunch the bleeding. The only thing that came readily to hand was the dead man’s bandana. He opened the blood-saturated shirt and pushed the wadded cloth inside.

  ‘You need a doctor, Jess. I’ll get someone to help you. But first tell me why you were lying in wait for me.’

  ‘Go to hell! You just shot Louis. I ain’t telling you nothing.’

  Joe sighed and sat back on his heels.

  ‘In that case there’s no hope for you. I won’t fetch no doctor. So there’s a good chance you’ll bleed to death. Anyways I can’t see why you so loyal to a fella as just shot you.’

  ‘Damn you to hell! We work for Mr Miller. He told us they’d tracked down the men as robbed the stage and murdered all those people. We were to be on the lookout for a young girl that was running with them. She ran away from home and her ma wants her back.’

  ‘Louis here said my friends were in jail,’ Joe said. ‘Who accused them of the robbery?’

  ‘Listen mister this is hurting real bad. Get that sawbones. I don’t want to die in no stable.’

  ‘Just answer my questions. Who accused them of the killings at Empire Fastness?’

  ‘Mr Miller did. He caught them when they went up his place to try and sell the stolen goods. His men got the drop on them and marched them down the jail. He told me and Louis to look for her. We figured she would be coming back to the livery.’

  ‘This Miller fella, where’s his place at?’

  ‘Big house… south of town… can’t miss it. Got fancy pillars and big gardens…’

  The man’s voice faded and his head slumped forward.

  ‘Jess, Jess.’

  Joe felt for a pulse.

  ‘Damn - if this ain’t the goddamnst unhealthiest town. Couple of fellas dead in the saloon and now two more in the livery. The sooner I can figure a way to bust Butch and Frank outa jail and find Jessica the soonest we can shake the dust of this damned place.’

  19.

  For reasons best known to himself the liveryman did not come to investigate the shooting. He may well have thought it prudent to keep well clear of such incidents. The livery was far enough from the main township for the gunshots to have been missed so no one else came to investigate.

  When he realised he was not going to be disturbed Joe helped himself to the dead men’s weapons. He was about to hide the bodies inside an empty stall when an idea began to take shape. His next move was to go outside to the corral and saddle up their mounts. Concealing the two pistols that had belonged to the dead men inside his coat he mounted one of the horses and rode back to town. He soon spotted the sheriff’s office and steeling himself for another shootout he breezed inside.

  The sheriff of Coventree was a handsome florid individual. The traces of his fine features were being submerged in fat that good living and indolence brought to some men as they slid into middle age. He looked up from the newspaper he had been reading when Joe walked in.

  ‘Howdy, sheriff, you in charge here?’

  ‘Well, can you see anybody else in here?’

  ‘Sheriff, I don’t know what kinda town this is but I just rode in and was about to put my horse in the livery when I got the dangest shock. There are these two dead bodies lying there. I tell you man, I lit outa there as fast as my horse could take me.’

  ‘The hell you say! What’s got into this town! Earlier on there was a shooting down at the Good Eva Arcadia. Damnit, if this goes on I’ll take early retirement.’

  The sheriff stood and belted on a holster.

  ‘Come on fella; show me where these bodies are at.’

  ‘Sheriff I ain’t going back there no how. I’m heading for a good stiff drink. I ain’t used to finding dead bodies. Where would be a safe place to go for a quiet drink?’

  ‘Damnit man if they’re dead they can’t hurt none.’

  The sheriff frowned suddenly.

  ‘You wait here till I investigate this. I may need you as a witness.’

  Grabbing his hat the sheriff walked out slamming the door behind him. Joe blinked in some bewilderment at the success of his ploy.

  ‘Just shows the simpler the plan the better.’

  Rummaging round in the desk he found a bunch of keys. Mixed in with the keys were a couple of spare badges. With a grin Joe pinned one on his coat.

  There were two prisoners in one cell and Butch and Frank in a separate one. They all looked up as Joe entered. Grinning widely the big man sauntered up to the cells.

  ‘You them dangerous criminals what I gotta take out for hanging?’ he said impishly.

  ‘Joe!’

  ‘Sure as shooting, it’s good old reliable Joe Peters,’ Joe boasted.

  He unlocked the cell door.

  ‘Have you
any last requests afore I take you out and hang you?’

  The cowboy was out of the cell and hugging his partner.

  ‘How the hell did you wangle this?’

  ‘Butch, I’m the brains of this outfit and don’t you forget it. Come on.’

  He handed out the pistols. Frank and Butch grabbed one each and they all headed out to the front of the jail.

  ‘We’ll go down the livery,’ Joe instructed the released prisoners as he mounted his horse. ‘But be careful. The sheriff is down there. We may have to grab him to keep him from raising the alarm.’

  The sheriff was in deep discussion with the liveryman when the three fugitives walked into the stables with drawn guns. The sheriff quickly gave in without a fight.

  ‘Goddamn you fellas are headed for a hanging,’ the lawman spluttered as Butch relieved him of his side arm.

  ‘What we gonna do with them?’ Butch asked.

  ‘Why don’t we take him back down the jail and lock him in,’ suggested Joe. ‘That way no one will find him for a while. Give us a chance to go down this Miller’s place and get some answers.’

  ‘Hell,’ Frank crowed, ‘I ain’t never put no one in jail afore. I been slammed up myself a times but this’ll make a welcome change.’

  ‘Sheriff, we’ll walk down the jail together. We’ll have guns on you all the time we’re walking. You want to live to enjoy your retirement you walk like you are escorting us and not the other way around.’

  It was agreed that Joe would go on to the Miller place and when Butch and Frank had the sheriff safely locked up they would all meet up at the banker’s mansion.

  ‘I reckon that coyote owes us a few answers. On your way back bring the horses,’ Joe instructed. ‘They’re all saddled and ready to go. We’ll meet round the back of this Miller’s place.’