“Yeah, he oughta have his ass kicked for that,” Perley said. “But if you kill him, you’re sure as hell gonna be arrested and probably hanged for it. Then who’s gonna raise the hogs and the chickens for the dinin’ room? From what you’ve told me, it doesn’t seem to make much sense to go ridin’ into a whole nest of gunslingers and ask ’em politely to please don’t interfere while you shoot their boss. Do you know where Stark’s ranch house is?”
“Well, no, not exactly,” Rooster admitted, “but it’s somewhere on that three hundred acres runnin’ up against the creek.” Possum, having saddled his horse and led him out of the stable, stopped to listen to the discussion.
“Stark said some disrespectful things in there, and I admire you wantin’ to make him pay for it. But I just hate to see you and Possum ride into his stronghold to get killed and give him something else to crow about.” Rooster made a face like he was thinking about it, so Perley went on. “We just got here. This business with Stark’s men is just startin’. It started with me havin’ to shoot Quirt Taylor. You think it’s gonna end there? I hate to tell you, but it ain’t, and we’ve got a lot better chance of fightin’ Stark’s men on our ground. The next move is theirs, and I expect they’ll come lookin’ for me, ’cause I’m the one who shot Quirt.”
“I don’t know, Rooster,” Possum spoke up. “Maybe Perley’s right it don’t make much sense to go ridin’ into that big outlaw camp after Stark.”
“I think Stark would be tickled pink if you two went ridin’ into his camp,” Perley said.
“Hell,” Rooster swore, “I reckon you’re right. I ain’t got no sense. Let’s go back to the hotel.”
“I wish we’da talked this thing over before I went to the trouble to come down here and saddle my horse,” Possum complained and turned the gray around to go back in the stable. After Perley said he was going to leave Buck there, too, Possum said, “You might as well leave yours here, Rooster. You can sleep on that cot another night.”
Horace Brooks stood just inside the stable door, watching the discussion, but not sure what they were debating. “You gonna leave ’em or not?” he asked.
CHAPTER 5
“Well, boys,” Ned Stark announced when he rode back into the small ranch he and his men had settled in after killing the original occupants. “I had the pleasure of meetin’ Mr. Perley Gates, himself, the badass gunslinger who shot Quirt Taylor. And I wanna tell you, he had me shiverin’ in my boots.”
Suspecting the boss was japing them, Curly Williams responded. “He did, huh? Where’d you see him?”
“I went into the Bison House Hotel and had me some dinner at the dinin’ room,” Stark answered.
“The hell you did,” Curly shot back, certain he was japing them then. “Did you say howdy to the widow Parker?”
“I surely did, and as a matter of fact, I told her you said to tell her howdy, too.”
“I know you’re lyin’ now,” Curly said. “And where was Mr. Perley Gates while you was tellin’ her all that?”
“He was settin’ at the table with her, her and the woman that runs the hotel, and that little cuss called Rooster, and another old gray-haired jasper.” He went on to paint the whole picture for the eight men gathered around the table near the fireplace. “I tell you what,” he concluded, “that was a bunch of real unhappy people when I left there.”
“Yeah,” Eli Priest asked, “what about Perley Gates? What did he do while you was dealin’ all that horse manure?”
“He was settin’ on the other side of the table from me, playin’ pattycakes with two little girls about five or six years old. I looked right at him and he never said a word.”
“You sure that was him?” Curly asked. “Perley Gates, the gunslinger that beat Quirt Taylor, man-to-man?” Stark nodded and smiled. “How do you know that was him? Did you ask him?”
“Didn’t have to,” Stark answered. “Girl that works in the dining room told me who he was, so I knew who he was before I walked back to their table.”
“Yeah, well I wanna see him,” Curly said. “Me and Quirt has been ridin’ together for a helluva long time, so I’ve got somethin’ I need to settle with Perley Gates. I know how fast Quirt was, so there’s somethin’ that ain’t right about that gunfight.”
“Well, why don’t you ride on into town and settle it?” Stark asked.
“I was fixin’ to soon as I heard about it, but you said it was best to stay outta town ’cause you didn’t want the sheriff to get his drawers in a tangle. You said stay outta town,” Curly insisted.
“I ain’t tellin’ you to stay outta town now.” He paused while he thought about it for a moment. “I’ll tell you what. I ain’t about to let him get away with shootin’ one of my men. Curly, I’m givin’ you a huntin’ license, by yourself, for one day only. That’s tomorrow. And that’s because you and Quirt was such good friends. So Perley Gates is all yours tomorrow, but you better get him. ’Cause if you don’t, it’s gonna be open season on him, and anybody that gets him will collect a hundred bucks from me.” His announcement was met with loud whoops and grunts of enthusiasm. One hundred dollars was a lot of money just to kill one man.
Curly grinned and declared, “Boys, I’ll be ridin’ into town early in the mornin’. I’ve got a man I’ve gotta see.”
“You better make sure you get him, Curly, ’cause I need me a hundred dollars,” Slim Garrett declared. He was immediately challenged by the rest of the gang.
“Maybe you’d best get him, Curly,” Jim Duncan said. “If you don’t, we’re gonna have everyone of us bumpin’ into each other, runnin’ around that town, lookin’ for that jasper.”
Stark spoke up then. “Jim’s right, I can’t have all of you hittin’ that town at the same time lookin’ for that prairie rat. You’re gonna have to use some sense and catch him off to the side somewhere. Don’t go ridin’ down the street, shootin’ at the stores and shops. You’d have a company of Rangers down here, and I ain’t ready to leave this setup we’ve got here.” He looked back at Curly then. “Curly, you get him to stand up to you in a gunfight, if you can. I wanna make that sheriff think I’m still coverin’ his ass.”
* * *
Back in town, at the Bison House dining room, there was a somewhat less lighthearted atmosphere at the supper table, with Emma wondering what would happen next to spoil what was supposed to be a special gathering of her closest friends and family. What would come from the Ned Stark gang to spoil this night’s meal? There was very little chatter beyond comments on Bess’s fine supper, and none at all from Rachael. To break the blanket of awkward silence, Perley commented to Possum that he thought he would take Buck to see John Payne in the morning for some new shoes. Possum said he had decided to go out to Rooster’s cabin with him in the morning to help him with his pump. “He’s thinkin’ his well might be runnin’ dry,” he said, “but I doubt it.” No one dawdled over coffee before retiring for the night.
* * *
Perley got up well before breakfast the next morning. The dining room wasn’t open yet, so he went out to sit on the porch till it was time. He found Possum already there in one of the rocking chairs he had admired when they first arrived. “Rooster still in bed?” Perley asked.
“Yep,” Possum answered. “He was still sawin’ logs when I left the room. When he comes outta there, he’ll swear he was awake when I left, though. You watch and see if he don’t. He always likes to say he gets up before anybody else does.” They sat in silence for a few moments, watching the new day arrive. Then Possum broached an issue that he was concerned about. “You know, partner, I’m feelin’ a little bit worried about ol’ Rooster. I mean, with the habit he’s got of poppin’ off about Ned Stark and his men. With him livin’ out there by himself, it’d be too damn easy to shoot him down without anybody noticin’ he was dead for a day or two. That’s the main reason I’m goin’ out to his place with him this mornin’.”
“I know what you mean,” Perley said. “I’ve had some thoughts a
bout that, too, but I don’t think we could talk him into movin’ into town.”
“I know that’s so,” Possum said at once. “I told him last night he oughta stay in town every night, at least for a while. But he swore nobody was gonna chase him offa his own land. Besides, he’s got work out there. He can’t just walk off and leave it.”
“He’s right about that,” Perley said. “It’s a lot for one man to handle, especially if he’s ridin’ back and forth to town every day.”
“Even if he did that, it’d still be easy to pick him off comin’ or goin’,” Possum insisted.
“Pick who off?” Rooster interrupted. They hadn’t heard him open the screen door. “Pick who off, comin’ or goin’?” He asked again with a pretty good idea they were talkin’ about him.
“You, you old coot,” Possum answered. “It wouldn’t take much to plug you, ridin’ that little trail by the creek.”
“Might not be as easy as you think,” Rooster stated defiantly. “I guarantee ya, it’ll cost ’em if they come snoopin’ around my place.”
It was this attitude that worried Perley. He was afraid Rooster would invite trouble with his open defiance of Ned Stark. “It’s always smart to keep a sharp eye out, and don’t make a lot of noise,” he said.
“Like I did this mornin’,” Possum said, “when I walked outta the room and left you sleepin’.” He looked at Perley and winked.
“Hell, I was awake when you got up,” Rooster claimed at once, “been awake for half an hour.”
“Is that a fact?” Possum asked. “How come you never said somethin’?”
“I was thinkin’ and I didn’t feel like jawin’ with you first thing,” he maintained. Possum looked at Perley and shook his head as if to say, what are we gonna do with him?
“You gonna get your horse shod this mornin’?” Rooster asked Perley.
“Yep,” Perley answered. “I think I’d better while I’ve got a chance. Buck oughta remember John Payne. He fit him with new shoes when we were down here before.”
The conversation was cut short then when Alice opened the screen door and announced, “Mama said to tell you that breakfast is ready.”
“I need to get back to my place for good,” Rooster grumbled. “Half the day’s gone waitin’ around here to eat.”
They were glad to see that Rachael seemed to be back to her cheerful self this morning, as she scurried around preparing for the usual early breakfast customers soon to start showing up. One of them was John Payne, the blacksmith. A single man, Payne had an arrangement with Rachael to eat breakfast every morning for a set monthly rate. As a rule, he made his own dinner, since it wasn’t always convenient to leave his shop in the middle of the day. And supper was split between the hotel and the Buffalo Hump. On this morning, Perley joined him at his table to let him know he needed to have Buck shoed. Payne offered to go to the stable and get the bay gelding, to save Perley the trouble. But Perley told him he was going to the stable, anyway, so he’d bring Buck to him. He was reluctant to tell Payne that Buck sometimes acted up a little when someone other than Perley tried to lead him anywhere. On the other hand, as long as Perley led the horse somewhere, Buck never gave anybody any trouble—unless they tried to ride him. Then they usually figured out why Perley named him Buck.
“I’ll bring Buck in about half an hour,” Perley said when Payne finished his breakfast and got up to leave. “Is that all right?”
“That’ll do just fine,” Payne answered. “It’ll take me a little while to get ready to work, anyway, but I’ll get to him right away.” Perley picked up his cup and returned to the reserved table to finish his coffee between Alice and Melva.
* * *
“Mornin’, Horace,” Perley greeted the owner of the stable.
“Mornin’,” Horace returned. “You fixin’ to head out somewhere?”
“Nope. No need to bother with my saddle. I’m just gonna take Buck over to John Payne’s shop. It’s time to get him some new shoes.” Perley slipped his bridle on the big bay’s head, led him out of the stall, then out of the stable and up the street toward the blacksmith shop.
As he walked the short distance to John Payne’s forge, a lone rider passed him on the street, heading in the direction of the Buffalo Hump Saloon, which was on the opposite side of the creek. He paid no attention to the young man leading the horse, just as Perley gave him no more than a brief glance. When he reached the blacksmith, however, he found Payne pausing to watch the rider as he crossed the bridge to the saloon and went inside. “Little early in the day to start drinkin’ whiskey,” Perley commented.
“Most likely goin’ to get some breakfast at Ida Wicks’s table,” Payne said. “That’s Curly Williams. He’s the man who shot Tom Parker in that saloon a few weeks ago. I wonder what John Mason is gonna do when he finds out Curly’s back in town. He ordered him out, for good, I hoped. You don’t usually see any of Ned Stark’s men in town this early in the day. He can’t be up to anything good. I wonder if I oughta go tell the sheriff Curly’s in town?”
Perley’s mind was also working on what Curly’s appearance in town might mean, as far as him and his friends were concerned. He could offer to go alert the sheriff, or he could just let things happen as they naturally played out. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was determined to be ready to act should he see Curly heading to the hotel. “I don’t know, John,” he finally answered Payne’s question. “He might wanna know that Curly’s back in town. I can go tell him, if you want to get started on my horse.”
“Might be best, at that,” Payne said. “You go tell Sheriff Mason and I’ll start on Buck.” He turned his attention immediately to the horse. He lifted each hoof to check its condition. “They look in pretty good shape, shouldn’t take more’n an hour to get you fixed up.”
“Good,” Perley said. “I’ll be back after I tell the sheriff he’s got company.” He left then and walked up the street to the sheriff’s office. He walked across the same bridge Curly had just ridden across because the jail was also on that side of Oak Creek.
Sheriff John Mason walked to the front door of his office with a cup of coffee in hand and looked across the creek at the main street of Bison Gap. It was still early morning when everything was peaceful. He hoped it stayed that way and had turned away to go back to fill his cup when a man walking across the bridge caught his eye. He paused when he identified the man as Perley Gates and wondered if he was heading to the Buffalo Hump. A glance at the front of the saloon found one horse tied at the rail. He shifted his gaze back to Perley and saw him pass by the saloon, evidently coming to see him. The sheriff had already heard about Ned Stark’s visit to the hotel dining room, so he assumed Perley Gates was on his way to complain to him about it. It was hard enough to keep the peace, he thought, without Stark stirring up more trouble. He went back inside, placed his coffee cup on the dry sink, and sat down at his desk to await Perley’s visit.
“Mornin’, Sheriff,” Perley greeted him when he walked into the office.
“Mr. Gates,” Mason acknowledged. “What can I do for you?”
“Nothin’ for me, Sheriff,” Perley answered. “I left my horse with the blacksmith. He’s gettin’ new shoes, and the blacksmith thought you might like to know that Curly Williams just rode back in town. He’s at the saloon right now, if you’re interested.” Perley paused, waiting for Mason’s response. When there was no immediate reaction, Perley sought to remind him. “You know, since you ran him out of town for murderin’ Tom Parker.”
Mason reacted then. “It was not ruled a murder,” he said. “I ran Curly outta town because there mighta been trouble from some people who didn’t see it that way.” He could see his day already ruined by the appearance of Curly Williams. Ned Stark had assured him that he would keep Curly out of town. Now, what the hell was he doing back here? “What?” He said when he realized he had been distracted by his thoughts when Perley was talking.
“I said, that’s right, it wasn’t ruled a murder
,” Perley answered. “Knowin’ Tom as I did, it would take a lot for me to picture him respondin’ to any challenge to participate in a gunfight. You musta thought so, too.”
“I had to go with what the witnesses saw,” Mason declared.
“Right you are, Sheriff, that’s the only thing you can do.” He turned to leave. “Like I said, I just walked over because John Payne said I oughta tell you that all your witnesses to that shoot-out just rode in on one horse.”
“Tell Payne I said much obliged,” Mason said as Perley walked out the door. He remained sitting at his desk after Perley had gone, trying to make up his mind what he should do. It appeared that Curly was calling his bluff. He had depended upon Ned to control his hotheaded gunman. Now, with Ned’s aggressive visit to the hotel last night, coupled with Curly showing up the very next morning, it would seem that Ned was backing out of his agreement with him. Still uncertain, he drew his .44 and broke it open to make sure it was fully loaded, the act no more than a nervous reflex. He got up from the desk then and walked to the door to look toward the saloon again, hoping the horse would be gone, but it was still there. Looking toward the bridge, he saw Perley just as he reached the other side, heading to the blacksmith. He told himself that he had to believe Stark had not backed out of their deal, and that Curly was acting in disobedience of Ned’s orders. It all came down to the fact that he was going to have to take some action to show Curly and his friends they could not run over the town as long as he was sheriff.
Moving slow and deliberately, still hoping Curly might get on his horse and ride out of town, Mason walked out of his office and locked the door. Down the steps, he paused, then started walking toward the Buffalo Hump. Curly’s flea-bitten gray gelding was still tied at the rail when he walked into the saloon. Sitting at a table on the side of the room, Curly sat, eating a steak breakfast. He looked up when Mason walked in. “Well, here comes the sheriff,” Curly remarked in his usual sarcastic way. “Howdy, Sheriff. Sit down and have a cup of coffee, or a drink of likker, if that’s what you need.”
Shot to Hell Page 6