Trail of Blood (Piccadilly Publishing Presents #6)

by Paul Green

  ‘I thought we might finish our fight. I killed your friend, Hardy the other day and now I’m going to kill you. Just draw whenever you’re ready.’

  ‘I plugged this kid full of lead a while back but he won’t stay dead. It seems he’s not prepared to let bygones be bygones’ said Gunter to his companions who responded with laughter and ribald remarks. ‘I always liked you, Bill but I couldn’t afford to leave any loose ends. What happened was just business, that’s all’ he added with a shrug.

  ‘Quit talking, Brad and draw your gun because if you won’t, I will.’

  The Mexican on Gunter’s left had an aristocratic bearing and was dressed in a silk shirt adorned with frills and an expensive suit. He tapped a riding whip against his leather boot and stroked a neatly trimmed black beard.

  ‘He seems an impertinent fellow. Aren’t you going to teach him a lesson?’

  ‘Sure I am’ replied Gunter with a show of confidence. ‘Now look here, Bill. I’ve been riding for days and I’m beat. I couldn’t fight a kitten right now so why not wait until tomorrow when I’ve rested?’

  ‘That sounds like a fair offer to me’ said the Mexican, casting a cool eye over the challenger. ‘I presume you’re not so impatient for revenge that you can’t wait until tomorrow.’

  ‘I guess I’ll have to’ said Bill, reluctantly. He had hoped to get the matter over with quickly and waiting did not suit him at all. Gunter was playing with him and had something up his sleeve, he was sure of it. Bill did not trust the man’s motives but he had been outfoxed and now there was nothing left for him to do but walk away.

  As Bill returned disconsolately to the saloon, Gunter went upstairs to see Starr. Once again, he entered his associate’s suite without knocking, helped himself to a generous shot of whisky from the cabinet in the corner and flopped into a chair.

  ‘Those Mexicans you’ve brought here are not included in our plan’ Starr told him.

  ‘The plan has changed, Colonel. Our friends out there were crack troops in Maximilian’s army. I fought with some of them myself against Juarez twelve years ago and in a few days they’re going to take the fort at El Paso. At the same time, their comrades will attack Fort Brown down in the south east after crossing the Rio Grande from Matamoros by boat. Then our own militias will rise up throughout Texas, Arizona and Louisiana.’

  Starr shook his head vigorously. ‘I don’t like relying on Mexicans. It could go against us, using foreign troops to invade American soil. Some of our own people might fight with the Yankees instead. Have you thought of that?’

  ‘It was assholes like you who lost us the war’ snorted Gunter with contempt. ‘They’ll be fighting under a confederate flag and wearing grey uniforms, just like our own boys but you’re too stuffed with fancy notions about honour to see how much we need them!’

  ‘I just don’t see why we can’t rely on our own men’ retorted Starr.

  Gunter took another swig and then refilled his glass. ‘Because there aren’t enough of them, it had to be this way. Your trouble is you’d rather lose honourably than fight dirty and win.’

  ‘Maybe I would. There’s no shame in an honourable defeat, better than relying on mercenaries. Speaking of which, how much have you promised them?’

  ‘Each man gets a thousand dollars.’

  Starr was incredulous. ‘Are you mad? Where’s that going to come from?’

  ‘It’s easy, I just decided to pay each of our own men less and spend less on their equipment. It won’t make much difference and the men out there are the ones we really need in order to win.’

  ‘I don’t understand how you could betray our own men like that.’

  ‘Speaking of betrayal, what’s Bill Douglas doing alive and in your hotel after he shot Hardy?’

  ‘It was a fair fight, I saw it myself and I understand he has a score to settle with you.’

  Gunter’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘I guess you’re hoping he’ll get rid of me so you can go on and louse things up your own way. Is that it?’

  ‘That’s nonsense’ spluttered Starr but he sounded nervous and had started sweating, something which did not escape the sheriff’s attention.

  ‘Well, there’s something you should know about our friend. He’s the one I used in the last robbery. I don’t know how he survived after I put four shots in him but he did and now he’s here, sniffing around. My guess is he’s after the money as well as revenge.’

  The colonel groaned. ‘Oh God, what are we going to do? That fellow’s pretty fast with a gun.’

  ‘All of a sudden you want me alive, how touching. Don’t worry, Colonel, I’ve got it all under control.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  Gunter drained the last of his whiskey. ‘Let’s just say that young Bill might be a little slowed down tomorrow.’

  That evening, Bill was in the saloon when the barkeep handed him a glass of beer ‘with the colonel’s compliments’ and he sat sipping it. It was not long before his limbs felt heavy since a few grains of opium take effect quickly on a body which is not accustomed to the drug. He retired to bed early, hoping that he would feel better by morning but sleep left him still feeling sluggish. The coffee with his ham and eggs failed to revive him, a fact which would have been unsurprising had he known of the additional dose of opium added to it.

  Troy Calvert, however, guessed exactly what was going on when he observed his friend’s slowed gait and hesitant speech that morning. Rachel picked up on it too and asked Bill if he was feeling alright.

  ‘Sure I am’ he replied defensively. ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’

  ‘You seem a bit unwell to me. Maybe you should put off that fight with Gunter.’

  ‘No way, I’m going to put a stop to his antics today if it’s the last thing I do.’

  Calvert shook his head. ‘You really are stubborn, aren’t you? Come on. Admit that you’re feeling ill.’

  ‘Okay, so I’ve had better days’ acknowledged Bill, grudgingly.

  ‘That’s because you’ve never been drugged before. I can tell somebody’s slipped you something, the sort of stuff they used to give men in the army before the surgeon cut an arm or a leg off.’

  Bill’s addled wits struggled to absorb this information but he could see it made sense.

  ‘You can’t fight Gunter today, Bill. He’ll kill you for sure’ added Rachel.

  He blinked as he tried to gather his thoughts. ‘What do I do?’

  ‘Leave it to me. I’m going to stir up some trouble between Gunter and his boss’ said Calvert. ‘They both know where the money is and how it’s going to be spent so we only need to keep one of them alive.’

  The marshal strode out into the morning sunshine and walked across to the sheriff’s office where Gunter sat with his feet up on the desk.

  ‘So, is our friend ready to fight?’

  ‘Actually, he’s not feeling too good’ said Calvert in a casual tone. ‘In fact, he thought better of the whole thing and decided to let bygones be bygones after all.’

  Gunter removed his feet from the desk with a hearty chuckle. ‘Well, I’m glad to hear it. Now, what can I do for you?’

  ‘I figured we might do a trade.’

  Gunter’s cold blue eyes appraised him for a moment. ‘What sort of trade?’

  ‘Look, I’m no fool. You must have something big planned with those Mexicans and you don’t want Bill Douglas or his friends leaving town to blab about it so I propose that you let us stay here in safety until you’ve finished whatever you’re up to. In return, I’ll give you some very valuable information.’

  ‘What could you possibly know that would be of value to me?’

  ‘Accept the offer and you’ll get to find out.’

  Gunter considered this for a moment. He had planned to have Douglas and his companions killed before they left but now he was intrigued. After all, he could always break any promise he made and kill them later anyway.

  ‘Alright, you’ve got a deal.’

 
‘When Colonel Starr saw Bill shoot Hardy, he offered him five hundred dollars to kill you.’

  The Sheriff turned crimson with rage. He could understand Starr wanting a rival out of the way but hiring an assassin to kill the man who had made all his plans possible was too much to bear.

  ‘Just wait until I get my hands on that crippled bastard!’

  ‘I figured you’d want to know’ said Calvert nonchalantly. ‘After all, what’s to stop the colonel from hiring other men to kill you?’

  Gunter rose from behind his desk. ‘You’re right. I’d better see to this right away.’

  Starr was seated behind his desk, studying the map he had marked with strategic locations and the numbers of men he had in each area. This time, his subordinate did not merely enter without knocking but almost flung the door off its hinges as he burst into the room.

  The colonel could tell at once that Gunter was in a murderous rage and fumbled inside the top drawer of his desk for the revolver he kept there. The sheriff spotted the movement at once and slammed the drawer shut on the older man’s hand. Starr yelped with pain and raised a stick to ward off his attacker. Gunter wrenched the object from his grasp and brought it crashing down across the crippled man’s shoulders. Starr fell to the ground and the scrambled across the carpet on his hands and knees in a vain attempt to escape. Gunter stood over him, raining blows down on the colonel’s body as he shouted curses at him. Starr whimpered and pleaded for his life but this seemed to enrage the sheriff even further.

  ‘You thought you could kill me, did you? Well now you’re the one who’s going to die! DIE! DIE! DIE!’ screamed Gunter as he continued to beat the hapless Starr, long after the old man’s bruised and battered body had ceased to move. Then, at last, he stopped and stood over the corpse, breathing heavily. It suddenly occurred to him that the colonel’s death would require some explanation. As mayor and a hero of the confederacy, he had been greatly admired by the townspeople. They would not take kindly to the fact that Gunter had found it necessary to kill him.

  At that moment, Starr’s manservant stepped into the room and looked with horror at the crumpled body of his employer.

  ‘You killed Colonel Starr!’

  ‘No, you did’ replied Gunter calmly as he withdrew his revolver. ‘You must have lost your temper’ he added as he shot the man through the heart. It was fortunate that the colonel’s suite was on the top floor of the hotel, out of earshot and away from potential witnesses. There was no-one to contradict his account of having discovered an enraged servant beating his master to death. Bill Douglas and his companions would have the sense to remain quiet while, presumably, Starr had told no-one else of the plan to have his ally killed. As usual, there were no loose ends, for the time being at least.

  Chapter Six

  News of Starr’s death soon reached the inhabitants of Johnston who reacted with shock and anger. They did not question their sheriff’s account of what happened, however, despite the rumours that there had been bad blood between the two men. After all, the colonel’s manservant had been black and it was all too easy for them to allow prejudice to overcome suspicion. The funeral was held quite quickly, Starr having left very precise instructions in his will. Bill watched from the doorway of the saloon as the cortege passed by, the coffin draped in a confederate flag on a carriage pulled by a team of black plumed horses. A parade of mourners followed behind, led by none other than Gunter himself.

  The sheriff headed straight for the saloon as soon as the burial service was over, undoing his string tie as he called for whiskey. Bill sidled up to the bar and stood beside him.

  ‘I thought we might do a little business, Brad.’

  Gunter fixed him with a cold stare. ‘Are you still prepared to let bygones be bygones?’

  Bill shrugged. ‘I figure it was just business, like you said. Starr ordered you to kill me but I’m still here. Now you’re more use to me alive than dead.’

  ‘How do you figure that?’

  ‘If I kill you I’ll never see a cent of that money. I know you’ve got something big going on here, Brad. Maybe you could use a good gun hand and maybe I could earn myself a slice of that cash.’

  Gunter’s features contorted into a grin. ‘It looks like I managed to teach you something after all but are you the man for the job I’ve got in mind?’

  ‘I robbed a bank didn’t I? I was lucky to escape from jail and now I’m on the run. I don’t care what you ask me to do so long as the price is right.’

  Gunter drained his glass and clapped him on the shoulder. ‘That’s just the answer I was hoping for. Now, come upstairs and we’ll talk about it in private.’

  Bill followed the sheriff up to the late colonel’s suite, which Gunter now occupied. His host fixed them both another drink and then seated himself behind the unfortunate Starr’s antique desk.

  ‘Hardy was one of my best men, quite handy with a gun but you took pretty good care of him, didn’t you?’

  ‘I guess that’s why you had me drugged when I was gunning for you.’

  ‘It was just self preservation. That’s how a man stays lucky.’ Gunter shoved a cigar in his mouth, struck a match against his boot heel and lit it. ‘The question is whether you can take Hardy’s place and keep order around here. Are you tough enough to do that?’

  ‘If you’re expecting trouble, Brad, I can take care of it.’

  Gunter puffed on his cigar for a moment, then opened a drawer in his desk and tossed a tin star across to him. Bill picked it up and looked at it.

  ‘I have to go to Kansas in a few days to take care of some business there’ Gunter told him. ‘My men can get a little rowdy sometimes and now the place is pretty crowded with our Mexican friends here as well. If you think you can handle it, the job’s yours.’

  ‘Won’t your men be a little sore about me taking Hardy’s job?’

  Gunter smiled. ‘Sure they will. That’ll be your first test. Now, any questions?’

  ‘My friend, Troy Calvert helped me bust out of jail. He’s pretty handy with a gun too. I’d like him to watch my back’ said Bill, pinning the badge to his shirt.

  ‘Consider it done. I’ll put you both on the payroll.’ Gunter stood up and went over to an antique cabinet in the corner. He opened it to reveal an iron safe which he then unlocked and removed a wad of cash from inside. Bill could see that it was stuffed with money.

  ‘Here, that’ll be enough to get you both started. Do a good job and there’s more where it came from.’

  ‘So I see’ observed Bill.

  Gunter’s ice cold stare seemed to go right through him. ‘Don’t get any ideas. Try to help yourself to what’s in there and I’ll make sure you stay dead this time.’

  When Bill returned to the saloon the tin star he was wearing attracted some unwelcome stares from Gunter’s men.

  ‘I won’t be takin’ no orders from the man who killed my brother’ remarked one of them sourly.

  Bill tapped the badge pinned to his chest. ‘You’ll take my orders and like it or ride out of here right now.’

  The man’s eyes flickered uncertainly and his hand strayed towards his holster but then he appeared to think better of it.

  ‘Are you gonna let him talk to you like that, Ed?’ asked one of his companions. Bill heard mutterings when he turned his back as Ed Hardy’s friends urged him to react. He sensed a movement behind him and ducked just as an empty bottle whizzed past his ear before shattering into fragments against the wall opposite.

  Bill spun around on the balls of his feet as the late deputy’s brother lumbered towards him with fists raised. He put an arm up in time to block the first blow and countered with a punch to his adversary’s ribs that caused Hardy to double up. Bill then brought his fist up under the man’s chin and Ed fell over one of the tables to lie sprawling on the floor.

  ‘Well, you’ve made your choice so now ride out like I told you.’

  ‘I got pay owed to me’ said the man as he staggered to his feet, wiping a tr
ickle of blood from the corner of his mouth.

  ‘From what I’ve seen, you’re not worth much’ Bill told him contemptuously. ‘Now get out of here.’

  This final insult was too much for Ed Hardy and when Bill turned his back once more, he went for his gun, only to find it shot from his hand by Calvert who had been watching proceedings from his table in a corner of the saloon.

  Bill acknowledged the marshal’s assistance with a nod of thanks before turning once more to face Hardy.

  ‘Do you want to go for that gun again, while my back’s not turned?’ Bill asked.

  The man eyed him nervously but said nothing. He looked over towards his companions for support but each of them shuffled awkwardly and averted his gaze.

  ‘Go on, pick it up.’

  The Hardy brother shook his head. ‘I didn’t mean...’

  ‘Pick it up or so help me, I’ll shoot you right now!’ yelled Bill.

  The man picked his gun up and Bill gestured for him to holster the weapon.

  ‘Now, draw when you’re ready.’

  ‘Please, mister...’

  ‘DRAW!’

  The terrified man went for his gun and Bill’s first bullet grazed his hand so that he dropped his weapon instantly. He then shot the hat from Hardy’s head, several buttons from his shirt and, finally, the buckle from his belt so that he had to clutch at his trousers to prevent them from falling down.

  ‘Now, consider that your last warning.’

  Hardy turned and scurried out as Bill shoved his pistol back in its holster. Then he went and joined Calvert at his table.

  ‘Our plan seems to be working out just fine’ observed the marshal.

  ‘Yeah, we’re both on the payroll.’

  ‘Did you find out anything?’

  ‘Gunter’s got the money in a safe upstairs and he’s making a trip to Kansas.’

  ‘I wonder what that’s all about.’

  Bill shrugged. ‘He didn’t say. I’ve managed to convince him I’m useful but he doesn’t trust me one bit.’

  ‘Men like him never trust anybody so let’s just to keep our eyes and ears open.’

  ‘Where’s Rachel?’