Brothers in Arms

by Philip McCormac

  ‘Hell, I bin through Bull Run and Gettysburg but I never seed anything like this. You fellas bin fighting a war up here?’

  ‘Seems like it,’ Butch answered.

  He was unaware of his bizarre appearance. His face was encrusted with blood and bits of brain that had splattered over him when Jessica shot the bandit about to kill him.

  ‘I’m supposed to pick up a wounded man. Met the sheriff on the way up. Told me where to come. You got some prisoners to bring back also?’

  Suddenly he spotted the body hanging from the tree.

  ‘Goddamn it, you fellas bin hanging the prisoners already?’

  Joe released Jessica and waved his good arm around the camp.

  ‘It was these fellas as started the hanging. We were to be next in the hanging queue.’

  The groan when it came took them all by surprise. Butch snatched the rifle from Jessica. After experiencing the toughness of the bandit leader he did not want to face another of the gang no matter how badly wounded he might be. Joe was moving across the campsite searching for the person who had made the distress sound.

  ‘Here,’ he called.

  It was Dave the first man Butch had shot while trapped beneath the blinded leader. He was curled on his side holding his stomach. Blood soaked the front of his shirt.

  ‘Help me,’ he moaned.

  Joe knelt beside the wounded man.

  ‘Hang on there fella we got a wagon here to take you to town. The sawbones will take care of you.’

  ‘Jeeze Joe, you think we gonna help this trash after what they did to Frank?’

  Joe turned round and stared at his companions.

  ‘Butch what the hell you talking about! That’ll make us just as bad as them. We ain’t killers by choice.’

  Joe frowned as he saw the cowboy winking at him.

  ‘Maybe if he tells us what happened at Empire Fastness Way Station and why they come out here to kill us we might just help him.’

  Joe turned back to the wounded man.

  ‘You hear that fella. You ready to confess?’

  ‘Help me, I don’t know nothing.’

  ‘We’ll cut down Frank and string this galoot up in his place.’

  ‘No, no… I’ll tell you everything when you get me to the sawbones.’

  ‘Get that rope!’ Butch snarled. ‘He ain’t gonna tell us nothing.’

  He reached down and grabbed the man’s collar and started to haul him towards the trees.

  ‘Hang on there fella,’ the wagon driver protested. ‘I don’t want to be no party to no hanging.’

  ‘Look the other way, then!’ Butch growled.

  ‘Please don’t… I’ll tell you everything.’

  ‘What happened at Empire Fastness Way Station?’

  ‘Miller’s wife ran off with a fella as wanted to set up a bank in Brimingdam. He had a lot of money with him on the coach that was the start-up stake. Miller told us where to go. We were to kill the banker and bring back Miller’s wife and the money. I had nothing to do with the killings. I just stood lookout. I though it was gonna be a robbery. I didn’t want no part in the killings.’

  Butch grabbed the outlaw by his shirtfront.

  ‘There was another female - a young girl. What happened to the girl?’

  ‘Charlie took a fancy to her. He wanted her for himself. She’s back at the cabin with Mrs Miller.’

  ‘Hang on there,’ the wagon driver interjected. ‘You fellas talking about Mr Miller what owns about all of Coventree?’

  ‘The very one, fella. He sent these killers out to finish us off so as we wouldn’t testify against him.’

  ‘Well, I’ll be danged! Mr Self-Righteous Miller.’

  The driver pushed his hat to the back of his head.

  ‘Well I’ll be danged!’

  30.

  They loaded the bodies in the wagon. Under protest the wounded outlaw was put inside with his dead buddies.

  ‘Just be thankful, fella we aren’t like your pards. Otherwise you’d be hanging from that cottonwood just as you hung our friend.’

  ‘We can’t carry Frank into Coventree in the back of that meat wagon. Those coyotes ain’t fit to ride in the same vehicle.’

  It was Butch who suggested they bury their old friend in the valley.

  ‘He was a man as roamed free. He wouldn’t have wanted to be buried in no town cemetery. Surely he would be happier lying out here in this lonely valley where he met his end.’

  There was a feeling of great loss among the three friends as they stood over the grave mound.

  ‘Can anyone say a few words?’

  Each looked hopefully at the other. Finally it was Joe who took in upon himself to speak the funeral oration.

  ‘Frank old-timer, you were a true friend. Somehow I feel you grabbed the sticky end of the spoon when you joined up with Butch and me. Well, old-timer you’re at rest now. We’ll miss you, Frank. Rest in peace.’

  It was a sober party that rode away from that place of death. The meat wagon led the way followed by Joe, cradling his arm in a sling put there on the insistence of Jessica.

  The ex-carpenter was reflecting on the path that had led him to this place and the bloodletting that seemed to dog him since he had accidentally killed the cardsharp back in Hinkly.

  ‘Once the killing starts it seems to take on a life of its own,’ he muttered.

  Behind him rode Jessica huddled low in her saddle, her young spirits weighed down by the brutal events of the last few days. She had seen her parents slaughtered by the brutal gang of killers. The banker Miller had imprisoned her in his big house. Back in the valley she had buried a man she considered a friend. She had also killed her first man back there. She was the one most thankful to be leaving that valley of death behind.

  Butch came last in the procession. The cowboy had tried to wash clean the blood and debris of the killings back in the valley. His clothes still bore the traces of blood and brains that had splattered him during their fight for survival in that fateful place.

  He had set out on this quest because he had promised a dying man he would rescue his sister. Much blood had been spilt that terrible day at the way station. Now the blood-crazed killers had paid the price for their crimes. They lay together in death as they had been in life within the wagon taking them to Coventree for burial.

  ‘Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord,’ he muttered.

  It still left the task of locating the cabin Dave had told them about and freeing the young girl and Mrs Miller.

  ‘Miller,’ he muttered. ‘Granville Aloysius Garrett Miller,’ he repeated the name as he remembered the banker had said it. ‘A grand name. It should look good on his tombstone.’

  Well his job was almost done. The law would take care of Miller. He had more or less carried out his promise to the dying man back at the way station. They had only to find his sister and free her.

  ‘We have waded through much blood to get to this day. I am tired of killing. I want to hang up my guns for good and all. I’ll get me a little spread – run a few cows,’ he muttered.

  Then he was minded of the ten-year sentence hanging over him and he knew he could not easily realise his dream of the quiet life.

  It was gone noon when they rode into Coventree. The laden wagon braked in front of the sheriff’s office. The sheriff came on to the boardwalk when he heard the riders approach. His face took on a puzzled expression when he saw the riders accompanying the wagon. Sudden recognition dawned and he grabbed for his pistol.

  ‘Goddamn it, you got gall coming riding in here.’

  He looked with some wonderment at the driver of the wagon.

  ‘Well done Bert, looks like you brought in the gang all by yourself.’

  The three riders sat their ponies too exhausted to protest. It fell to the wagon driver, Bert to come to the rescue.

  ‘Herbert, you put away that there pistol. You’re pointing it at the wrong people.’

  A crowd was gathering. They stared with some
curiosity at the newcomers.

  ‘Hell, Bert,’ the sheriff protested, ‘those are the fellas as busted outa jail and shot up Mr Miller’s house.

  ‘Herbert, you ain’t got the brains of a gnat. These fellas were the ones as was wronged. The man you want on the end of that gun is Miller - Granville Aloysius Garrett Miller. He employed that band of cutthroats to kill and rob. They’re all in the back here. All dead excepting one and he’s confessed to everything.’

  It was too much for the lawman. His jaw gaped open and he stared in disbelief at the wagon driver.

  ‘You crazy or something, Bert,’ he said uncertainly.

  ‘No I ain’t crazy. If anyone’s crazy it’s that pompous, no-good hypocrite as lives in that big house and puts on airs and graces for the benefit of us ordinary folk. If you won’t take my word for it then question that half-dead fella as we brought in. He’s the one remaining member of the gang and he’ll tell the truth of it.’

  The pistol in the sheriff’s hand never wavered.

  ‘Bert you been eating locoweed.’

  ‘Dang and blast you to hell, Sheriff Dumb-guts, I’m telling you the right of it,’ Bert spluttered. ‘That maverick up at that big house has been hoodwinking us folk ever since he arrived here.’

  ‘Bert if you don’t stop that language I’m gonna slam you in jail for abusing the law. Now you take that wagon down the morgue.

  ‘Lonnie,’ the sheriff called over his shoulder, ‘collect these fellas’ hardware. Then help me escort this bunch of owlhoots down to Mr Miller and settle this once and for all.’

  There was nothing for it. The sheriff’s deputy took charge of their rifles and pistols.

  ‘Right you fellas and you too missy, climb down from them horses and let’s go visiting. Lonnie and I are right behind you. Try and make a run for it and we’ll blast you outa your saddles.’

  31.

  Geraint opened the door to the sheriff’s knock. He stood in the doorway almost blocking the entrance with his huge bulk.

  ‘Geraint, tell Mr Miller we done caught us those escaped jailbirds.’

  A wide smile broke across the black man’s face. He stepped back from the door.

  ‘Master will be pleased, Mr Sheriff. Take them down the kitchen. I’ll fetch Master Miller straightaway.’

  The sheriff and his deputy shoved Butch and Joe and Jessica down the hallway and into the kitchen. The fat cook was working away at her stove. The smell of the cooking almost overwhelmed the senses of the three captives. They hadn’t eaten anything for a couple of days.

  ‘Goddamn, if your cooking don’t smell good.’

  Butch offered his most beguiling smile to the black woman. His charm was somewhat spoiled by the blood and brain smeared on his face and hair. The woman stared nervously at the people crowding inside her kitchen.

  ‘Don’t take no notice, Edna,’ the sheriff assured her. ‘The only food these fellas will be having is prison fare.’

  The door opened and in swept Granville Aloysius Garrett Miller.

  ‘Sheriff, you caught the miscreants. I do admire your courage and fortitude.’

  The lawman straightened his shoulders and preened in front of the banker.

  ‘I told you we would catch them. They’ve cooked up some sort of tale about you hiring some hard cases to rob and murder for you. I thought it best to bring them down here and let them confront you directly.’

  Miller frowned at the three prisoners.

  ‘You did right, sheriff. Where are the men I sent to bring in these desperados?’

  The sheriff shuffled his feet and looked discomfited. Before he could reply Butch spoke up.

  ‘Your pet hounds are down at the morgue. Only one of them survived. It was him as told us about your cosy little arrangement with those killers. Couldn’t stand your wife running away with someone. Had him sliced up to teach her a lesson.’

  Miller’s face tightened.

  ‘Is he right, Sheriff about those men being dead?’

  ‘Sure thing, Mr Miller. Bert brought them back in his wagon. Those gunnies told me you gave them leave to bring in these escaped jailbirds. Ordered me to take my posse back to town. Next thing we know your hired hands is brought into town in the back of a wagon, deader than a bunch of hogs in the slaughterhouse. If they’d a left me to it they might be alive now.’

  ‘Your choice of expression is expressive if a little lacking in delicacy. I can see we have here some very dangerous men. And most brazen too, coming into town with an absurd story about my honesty. What to do with them is the problem.’

  ‘You might as well confess now, Miller.’

  Joe was perching his backside on the back of a chair trying to ease his injuries.

  ‘It’ll all come out at the trial,’ asserted Butch.

  ‘Trial, I can hardly try myself. I happen to be judge in this here town. Sheriff, I suggest you leave these men in my charge. I will conduct an investigation into their crimes. When my enquiries have been concluded satisfactorily I will return them to your jurisdiction.’

  ‘Ain’t that a little irregular, Mr Miller?’

  The lawman frowned as he spoke.

  ‘These are dangerous men. They should be behind bars.’

  ‘Let me remind you, sheriff, the last time these people were behind bars they walked free. I can’t risk the same thing happening again. I suggest you go down the lockup and gather extra deputies. Take them in Good Eva Arcadia and buy them drinks. Tell them the drinks are on the house. Come back in an hour or so with your deputies and we’ll escort these killers to the jail. That way there is less risk of them absconding again.’

  The lawman’s face brightened.

  ‘You say the drinks are on the house?’

  ‘Take as long as you like in there, sheriff. Tell your men to drink up. It’s all at my expense.’

  As he was talking the big black man Geraint and another servant entered the room. They were armed and stared with hostile eyes at the captives.

  The kitchen door to the outside opened and the young black girl who had befriended Jessica entered. She had paid the penalty for her kindness with a flogging. Now she stopped just inside the door. A look of fear came over her when she saw the crowd of men. She was carrying a basket of newly harvested vegetables. After a glance in her direction Miller’s men ignored the girl.

  ‘Sheriff, don’t bother to come back for us,’ called Butch. ‘We’ll probably be murdered. Then Miller will cook up some tale about us being killed while trying to escape.’

  At a nod from Miller a man stepped forward and smashed his rifle into Butch’s face. The force of the blow drove the cowboy back against the table. Only the sturdy construction stopped him from going down.

  ‘Goddamn you, fella, I’ll kill you for that!’ Butch yelled.

  Blood dripped from a gash in his forehead. The guns in the room pointed at him and prevented him carrying out his threat. The cowboy had to content himself with glaring balefully at Miller.

  ‘See sheriff, we have the situation under control.’

  Miller smiled reassuringly at the lawman while at the same time taking his arm and guiding him towards the door.

  ‘Remember, take your time, and tell Max to serve you from my own personal whiskey bottle.’

  It was slick and it worked. The sheriff was safely out of the way and would be busy for the next couple of hours swearing in his deputies and getting them liquored up at Miller’s expense.

  When the banker turned his attention back to the trio of dirty, bloodied and exhausted people in his charge he had a self-satisfied smile on his face. The smile did not reach his eyes as he stared at his prey.

  ‘You people have caused me enough trouble. You’ve killed off my band of gunmen, the Lord only knows how. Those men were the best in the business. I would offer to take you into my employ in a similar role but I have this feeling in my gut you would refuse to work for me. I get the distinct impression you don’t like me. Every time we meet it seems to lead to violenc
e. You’ve put my schemes at risk by spreading nasty tales about me. Now just how to dispose of you so that fool of a sheriff will believe my version of events?’

  32.

  Miller walked over to Jessica and gripped her chin in his hand. She flinched back from him and he backhanded her. With a gasp she almost fell. Miller grabbed a handful of her shirt pulled her forward again. It was too much for Butch. In spite of the man covering him with his rifle he threw himself forward.

  The rifle swung and once more Butch was struck on his injured head. It was a vicious strike and Butch went down half rolling under the big kitchen table. Waves of dizziness swept over him and he groaned as he came to a rest on his back. He pulled himself over and attempted to rise on to his hands and knees. He could hear Miller still talking, ignoring Butch’s attempt to get to him.

  ‘It was fortunate I discovered you were a witness to the murder of your parents. Even though the men who did the deed are dead you might just persuade people to believe the killers were in my employ. I can’t have such slander mouthed about. It might ruin my good name. But you have given me an idea.’

  Butch was on his hands and knees. He saw a pair of feet on the other side of the table. They belonged to the young servant girl, Ruth. She had put her basket on the table and the heaped vegetables shielded her actions. She dropped the knife she used to peel and chop and using her foot edged the blade towards the man crouching under the table. Butch blinked in disbelief then quickly reached out and covered the knife with his hand. He began the laborious task of crawling from beneath the table.

  ‘I think we will all take a trip out to the old Corley place. That’s where my wife is being held hostage. Sheriff Johnstone will believe me when I tell him that in my anxiety to rescue my wife I made you take me to where you were holding her. During the rescue you attacked me and my servants had to kill you. Unfortunate, but would save us all a lot of bother.’

  Joe was glaring at the banker, aching to get his hands on him. Geraint’s bulk loomed beside him grinning at him and almost willing him to do something foolish. The big black man had seen his fellow servant bludgeon Butch to the floor and was aching for similar violence against his captive. He was holding a large Navy Colt with the muzzle aimed at Joe’s midriff.