Nemesis

by L. J. Martin

  I laughed again, and shoved my way through the front door, with Thorne on my tail, which was a good thing as now the rest of the riders had gathered and some of them carried long arms, including a double barrel coach gun or two.

  We mounted up, I snatched up the Winchester, and the judge quickly shook the traces and headed for the poplar lined lane. I kept an eye over my shoulder, not wanting to take a Winchester slug between my shoulder blades. Dillon seemed to have forgotten his manners, and hadn’t accompanied us out.

  “Well, that was fine as a light Spring rain…just fine,” the judge said.

  I laughed. “About like I thought it would go. You’d have probably gotten a supper invite, had I not been along.”

  “And you’d probably had gotten horsewhipped, had I not been along.”

  “Odds are it would have gone worse than that for me. I owe you supper, for all the trouble.”

  “Got to prepare for trial tomorrow, presuming my witnesses came in on the train, but I’ll let you owe me.”

  “Done. So who was the other fella, the young fella, out in the hall with Cavanaugh?”

  “Seth somebody. Another of the Lazy Snake riders.”

  “Carried his six shooter mighty low on the hip for a cowhand.”

  The judge shrugged. “That’s all I know about him, except…the fact is, he’s Dillon’s nephew, why?”

  “Just a’wonderin’,” I said, shrugging. Dillon’s nephew, now that was a revelation, or would have been had Lizzy not filled me in.

  “What’s he doing here,” I asked, not quite ready to drop the subject.

  “Like I said, I don’t know much about him. Seems like a nice young man. His mother, Dillon’s youngest sister, sent him out for a year or so before he goes to college.”

  “How long’s he been here?”

  “Most of a year, I guess.”

  So he would have been here when they rode on my sister’s place. She named him in her journal as only ‘Seth’ but as being there before, and old Ignacio named him as being in the bunch who did the heinous deed, so he was on the list. Young or no.

  “So, what now?” the judge asked.

  I was quiet for a long moment, wondering how much I could actually trust the judge. Finally, I said, “Well, I guess that’s up to the Lazy Snake boys. I don’t believe for one minute that Rico was there on his own. What the hell did he have to gain putting me in the ground. He was there on the behest of Dillon or Cavanaugh, who I shamed. And probably Dillon as I suspect Cavanaugh would want the pleasure of taking his own revenge. Nope, it’s Dillon at the end of that trail.”

  “Why Dillon?”

  “Why would Dillon want me dead?” I figured I’d said enough, so I shrugged. “Don’t like my good looks is about all I can surmise. Or maybe he don’t like me being so near to Maddy McGregor?”

  “Dillon and Maddy, not likely. She’s a preacher’s daughter. Dillon would have his sights set a lot higher.”

  “McGregor acts like a man of substance, and man of property. I figure him to be a preacher man because he had the calling, not because he needs the money.”

  “Nope. His family were Maryland folks, sympathetic to the South, and got burned out and had their stock…several hundred head of bald face Scottish Highland cattle and a hundred head of prime horse flesh, run off at the time. He came west poor as a church mouse.”

  “Then why?” I asked, innocently.

  “That makes no sense a’tall,” the judge said, and pulled the horse down from a trot to a brisk walk to give her a bit of a blow.

  “Life don’t,” I said.

  “Don’t what?” the judge asked.

  “Don’t make much sense a’tall,” I said, but I was thinking about my next move, and my next move involved those two bear traps I’d hauled all the way from the Salmon country.

  The judge returned the buggy, then headed for the Mystic Palace and I gathered up Dusty and headed for my office.

  I was convinced of one thing, Dillon would send his dogs after me, and this time he would make sure I didn’t walk away to trouble him again.

  But next time, I’d be waiting. Sneak up on me once, I’m a fool, sneak up on me twice and you’re a damned fool, and if I have my way, the Lazy Snake boys will be dead damn fools.

  Chapter Eighteen

  To my surprise, Angel’s brother, young Ignacio, awaited, squatted down on his haunches, when I tied up in front of the office. Wentworth and Shorty both had mounts at the rail outside the office, so, being hungry myself and not eager to trade barbs, I asked the boy, “When did you last eat?”

  “Early this morning, at Señor Henderson’s, before light, I had a hunk of cheese and bread before I walked in.”

  It was twenty miles to the Henderson place. And it was already damn near quitting time for most folks. “How about I treat you to an early supper.”

  “As you wish, Señor, but it is my brother….”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, Señor. He is up in the hills, across the tracks, and wishes to speak with you. He could not come in town.”

  “Good, let’s eat and we’ll take him something.”

  “As you wish.”

  I walked around to Natchez Pete’s cell window to see if the prisoners had eaten, not wanting to run into Wentworth as I was not up to taking any lip from the big sheriff, and maybe having to give him a fat one. To my surprise, I found not a barred window, but a ragged hole you could ride a horse through.

  “Wait over at Sally’s,” I instructed Iggy, and headed back to the front door.

  Wentworth, Shorty, John Pointer, and Isaac Ironsmith, were having a conflab when I walked in.

  “Good job, Slade,” Wentworth snapped as soon as I closed the door behind me.

  “Thanks,” I said, sarcastically, “what did I do?”

  “Ain’t what you did, it’s what you didn’t do. You didn’t watch your prisoners—“

  “Suddenly they’re my prisoners?” I asked, and guffawed a little. “Seems you’ve been claiming them.”

  “Whose ever they are, one of them escaped.”

  “By the look of the wall around the side, he had a little help.”

  “How’d you know—“

  “Hole you could drive a freight wagon through. You thought I wouldn’t notice?”

  “Where were you, marshal?” Pointer asked.

  “Doing business, mayor, that’s where.”

  “That’s not an answer,” he said, accusingly.

  “I was out at the Lazy Snake with Judge Thorne. I didn’t know I had to give an hourly report to the town council.”

  “I didn’t mean—“ Pointer said, rather sheepishly.

  “As you probably know, there’s another dead man over at the docs, awaiting planting, and he was a Lazy Snake rider. Seems fittin’ I’d asked the herd bull out there about what his riders were doing calling on the town marshal, the preacher, and the preacher’s daughter, in the dead of night.”

  Wentworth quickly changed the subject, a little too quickly for my taste. “We’ve got to get a posse up to run this Natchez Pete Pelletier and his boys down.”

  “How many were there?” I asked John Pointer as I was already feeling like putting a boot up Wentworth’s backside.

  “Two more. They rented a freight wagon and four dray horses from Phinias, bought some heavy line from me, rode right around the back of the jail, tied off to the bars, and whipped up the team. One of them had come inside and tied Shorty here to his chair—“

  “It’s my chair,” Wentworth said, and got a glare from Pointer, who then turned his attention back to me.

  “Damn nigh jerked the whole damn building down. They had three riding horses tied out back. Left the freight wagon there, and hightailed it south into the hills.”

  “So, it’s good job ‘Shorty,’ right?” I couldn’t help but smile at Wentworth, who was fuming, so I continued to prod him. “Posse is a good idea, Sheriff. Unless he’s hiding here in the city, I guess that’s your bai
liwick.”

  “So, you’re not riding with us?”

  “I got a town to tend to,” I said, and both Pointer and the barber, Ironsmith, eyed me like a bull at a bastard calf. I guess they were beginning to have their doubts. But I was in no mind to kowtow to them as I had other fences to mend.

  “Go get ‘em, sheriff,” I said, “I got other business,” and with that I walked out and headed for Sally’s.

  He yelled after me, “when I get them, and I will, the reward goes to me, Slade. You’re out of the cut.”

  “Then go earn it,” I said.

  Iggy and I wolfed some stew down, got two jars full and I took one over to Alfred, who was still securely in his cell across the hall from the newly ventilated one. Wentworth and the other three had disappeared, I suppose to round up a posse.

  “Thanks,” Alfred said. “It’s gonna get a little chilly in here tonight with that hole in the wall.”

  “You’re tough.” I opened the cell door to where a pile of rubble covered Natchez Pete’s blanket, shook it out, and shoved it through to Alfred, which doubled his supply. “That’ll keep you till we can get some masons to work on the wall.”

  “How about a cup of coffee,” Alfred asked.

  “Stews got enough liquid and I’m in a hurry. Be happy you got that,” I said, and headed for the office.

  “I ain’t complaining ‘bout that,” he said, then added, “What’s gonna become of me?”

  “You’ll probably hang,” I said, just for pure meanness. I left him shouting, hopefully with indigestion, loaded young Iggy up behind my saddle, and rode across the tracks and up into the hills.

  We found Angel and my mule, Jackson, about a mile back from the rails.

  “What are you doing to avenge my father?” he asked, without so much as a hello.

  I pulled the jar of stew from my saddle bags and handed it over. As he ate, I filled him in.

  “There’s two of them cold as stone, one in the ground and one about to be.”

  Between chews, he accused, “You are leaving me out of this. It is my fight as well, and I will fight with you or fight alone.”

  I thought about it a minute, then decided. “Okay, here’s the plan. Two draws to the east you’ll find a barranca with a little water in it. A quarter mile below the Spring that feeds that trickle you’ll find a wind cave halfway up the hillside, and in there are some traps and some weapons….”

  In moments, I was on my way to the McGregor’s, Iggy to hole up in my old cave where I’d stashed some edibles, then to head back to Henderson’s herd and the sheep he was supposed to be tending in the high meadow, and Angel to find the traps and my weapons and haul them to my place at the McGregor’s. We had work to do, and it was work better done in dark of night.

  I didn’t much favor the idea of young Angel helping in my quest, but he was determined, and I figured better him where I can keep an eye on him, than facing a bevy of Lazy Snake riders by himself.

  After tying Dusty in the barn and making peace with Ranger and checking his wound, I walked to the McGregor’s back door. The preacher answered, with shotgun in hand.

  “You’re a little more cautious these days?” I said, with a smile.

  “A darn sight more cautious,” he said, and stood aside and waved me in. “Lord takes care of them who takes care of themselves,” he added.

  Maddy already had a coffee cup in hand, and was pouring. Something in a pair of pots on the stove smelled mighty good, but I was still full to the brim from the stew.

  “You eaten?” Maddy asked.

  “I have, early supper.” I went on to suggest they ride in to spend the night at the hotel, or find friends to bunk with for the night, but they’d have none of it.

  Finally, I fessed up. “I think we’ll have company again tonight. Seems I got ol’ Colonel Dillon in a bit of a tizzy earlier today. I can’t imagine him not sending his boys to call on us again,…on me, I mean. Only this time, it’ll not be some stumblebums from the tracks. This time it may just be his whole crew.”

  “We’ll stay here, and with the good Lord’s help, we’ll watch over what’s ours.”

  Maddy seemed to puff up. “Mace wouldn’t hurt either of us, Taggart. He might have a bone to pick with you, but I doubt even that.”

  I smiled a little sadly at her. “So, you don’t think he had anything to do with those fellas who came in the dark of night.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  So I ignored her, and turned to her father. “I wish you would have let me move out,” I offered again.

  “Too late now,” Maddy said, “even if you could have convinced us, and you couldn’t and still that does not mean I think Mace had a thing to do--”

  “Then stay down. I don’t think they’ll try and burn us out, but I don’t know, so keep some buckets at hand in case they sling torches through the windows. And I’m sure there will be plenty of lead flying, so stay low when you hear that first shot. They’ll do whatever is necessary to put me down. So…”

  “So?” Maddy asked.

  “So I won’t be where they’ll think I’ll be. I won’t be in my room, I’ll be out in the brush, or God knows where. Will you keep Ranger in the house with you?”

  “Of course,” she said.

  “He’ll try and help out, and he’s in no condition….”

  “I’ll keep him inside with me. But he’s lots better already, eating and moving about.”

  “Yes, thank you, I checked on him. Within the hour a young friend of mine will be here--”

  “A young friend?” Maddy asked.

  “Angel Sanchez.”

  “The boy who escaped from jail.”

  “He didn’t escape, I let him free.”

  “But didn’t he—“

  “He did nothing but ask about the death of his father. He made the mistake of asking with gun in hand.”

  “But didn’t his father—“

  “Maddy, his father was a fine man, who’d worked for my sister for a long while. She adored the man.”

  “Your sister?” She looked totally confused.

  “My sister and her husband and their two daughters were on the Bar M.”

  “I knew Sarah and Jake and the girls well, fine church going…. But I didn’t know she had a brother. I was sickened by the accident….”

  “It was no accident. The McIntosh family was murdered by Colonel Dillon and his bunch from the Lazy Snake.”

  “I don’t believe that,” she said, looking shocked.

  “Believe it or not, that’s what happened. I’ll let you read Sarah’s journal, and you can make up your own mind. Dillon wanted to buy them out and they wouldn’t sell. He wanted the water on the place, thought he had to have it.”

  “I can’t believe that about Mace. He wouldn’t….”

  “You just stay low when the shooting starts, or better go on into town.”

  “We’ll stay down,” Reverend McGregor said. “Won’t we, Maddy,” he said, and she shook her head, seemingly in a bit of a daze. But then he turned to me, and seemed to sober. “I don’t believe Mace Dillon has a damn thing to do with this.”

  I wondered then, maybe Colonel Dillon had no intentions toward Maddy McGregor, but maybe Maddy McGregor had intentions toward Mace Dillon? And maybe Preacher McGregor had aspi-rations for this beautiful daughter?

  I left them and reconnoitered around the place for a couple of hundred yards on all sides. The last time they had come in on the road, but had tied most of their mounts almost two hundred yards distant from the house and barn. The way it had looked to me, only Stark and Rico had led their mounts nearby. There was a stand of smoke trees there, with places to tie horses. I had no reason to believe they wouldn’t do the same this time. They hadn’t proved themselves to be much in the way of military tacticians.

  There was a game and cattle trail almost wide enough to ride horses side by side leading from the copse of trees to the house. At least some of them would come that way, others might circle the h
ouse to make sure I didn’t escape. The colonel was a military man, who might take more of an interest this go round, and he would make sure they flank me. I figured them for a half dozen or more men again, only this time all Lazy Snake riders, those riders who were gunfighters more than cowhands. So the odds were bad, at best.

  And I’d bet that Cavanaugh and Dillon would not be with them. Cavanaugh was still too laid up to be much good, particularly horseback. And Dillon wouldn’t soil his hands with this kind of dirty work.

  There was no doubt in my mind that even if I was able to take Seth Rheinhart, Tate Jorgensen, Willy Stark, and the Indian, Crooked Arm, down this night, my work wouldn’t be over by a damn sight. I still had the head of the snake to sever, and his right arm.

  I’d started out thinking I had six to bury, have taken care of two, and still have six to bury. I hope to make some actual headway this night.

  When I got back to my room, Angel arrived at the same time, leading Jackson who had a full load of traps and weapons aboard.

  “Water,” Angel asked, and I poured him a mug from my bone white pitcher which rested on the kitchen cabinet.

  “What now?” he asked, after he’d downed it.

  “Grain Jackson and I’ll find something for you to eat.”

  “Then what?”

  “We set some traps, and with luck, will catch some skunks.”

  “Big traps for skunks,” he said.

  “Big skunks,” I said, grabbing up one of the traps and leading him out.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Saddling Dusty while Iggy ate some beans and bread, courtesy of Maddy, I made sure my pair of LeMats were loaded and in their saddle holsters, and my old Winchester fully loaded and in the saddle scabbard. Then I led him out into the brush and staked him out in some tall sage.

  The barn had a hayloft, loading doors with block and tackle front and back, and a trap door leading out to the roof, which was a mite steep for moving about. Still, I swung all doors, including the trap door, wide open. From the hayloft, I had three fields of fire. I loaded the Sharps and left it in the loft with a handful of the big 45-90 cartridges at hand.