The three prisoners in the cell room were talking very little because they were straining to hear any conversation beyond the closed door of the cell room. After a while, when they could hear no one in the office, Junior asked, “Have you got that gun I brung you?”
“Sssh, Junior,” Eli scolded. “You wanna tell everybody in the whole damn town? Keep your voice down. ’Course, I’ve got it.”
“I know you’re thinkin’ I can’t walk,” Junior said, this time in a whisper. “But you’re wrong. I can walk good. It just hurts, that’s all.”
“When we gonna call him in here?” Slim asked.
“We’ll wait a little while,” Eli said. “I wanna make sure he’s settled down for the night and thinkin’ ’bout goin’ to bed.” So they waited, listening to every creak of a board in the building when the wind blew, wondering if it was Mason moving around, maybe someone else with Mason, or just the wind.
* * *
It didn’t take Perley long to help Floyd push Jack Sledge’s body into his barn, and he didn’t linger once they had the corpse inside. He wasn’t sure if it was actual or not, but he believed he could still smell the eye-watering stench of Curly Williams in that barn. So he left to go to the hotel but stopped when only halfway before he started to wonder if Mason might be worried about another visit from Stark that night. I doubt it, he thought, then remembered falling asleep while he was supposed to be watching the jail. That turned out all right, but he felt guilty as hell about it. Mason could have been killed. He knew it was going to bother him now unless he checked with the sheriff before he left him for the night. After all, he thought, that was the reason for the signal. When he had left to go with Floyd, he told Mason, if he was locked up and he came back later, he would tap four times on the back window, which was boarded up, awaiting glass. He would do that instead of knocking on the front door, so Mason would know it was him.
When he got back to the jail, it appeared that Possum and Rooster had left, so he walked around to the back window and tapped four times on the boarded-up window. Inside the cell room, Slim whispered, “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Eli asked. “I didn’t hear nothin’.”
“I thought it sounded like he was walkin’ around in there,” Slim said. “Maybe he’s gettin’ ready to go to bed.”
Out in the office, Mason went to the front door and asked softly, “Is that you, Perley?” When he heard an affirmative from Perley, he opened the door. He was about to say come on in, but he heard a call from the cell room.
“Sheriff,” Slim called out. “Sheriff!”
“Come on in, Perley. Let me see what he’s cryin’ about.”
Perley came inside and bolted the door behind him while Mason opened the cell room door, stuck his head in, and asked, “What is it, Slim? What are you yellin’ about?”
“It’s Junior,” Slim said. “There’s somethin’ wrong with him. He’s actin’ like he’s got the fever or somethin’.” On cue, Junior moaned painfully.
“He’s all right,” Mason responded. “That’s just a minor wound in his foot. He’s just actin’ like a baby about it.”
“I don’t know,” Eli said. “He’s been doin’ a lotta moanin’ and groanin’ ever since you brought him in. He mighta got it infected. It’s in his foot, and you know it’s likely he ain’t washed it in six months.”
“All right,” Mason conceded, “I’ll take a look at him, but there ain’t much I can do for him, if Floyd didn’t find nothin’ else wrong with him.” He stepped inside the cell room and walked over to the bars of Junior’s cell. “Why’d he move that bunk over here?” Mason asked when he saw that Junior’s bunk had been pulled over close to the bars between the two cells.
“Just so we could talk to each other without havin’ to yell, I reckon,” Eli answered, as he moved up to the bars facing him. “Who knows why Junior does anything?” Thinking Eli too close, Mason started to step back. “Just hold it right there, Sheriff, less’en you want a bullet in your gut.” Mason looked down to see a .44 revolver aimed at his stomach. His natural reaction was to reach for his pistol, but Eli warned him before he could move. “You do and I’ll shoot you down.”
“You’re makin’ a big mistake, Priest,” Mason warned. “I ain’t the only one here.”
“Right,” Eli scoffed, sure he was bluffing. “If you don’t wanna die right where you’re standin’, you’d best step back up to these bars.”
“What if I don’t?” Mason replied.
“I just told you, you damn fool. I’ll cut you down right there.”
“If you do that, how are you gonna get outta that cell?” Mason asked, thinking to stall for time and hoping Perley would realize something was wrong in the cell room.
“I reckon I’ll still be in this cell, all right,” Eli said, “but I won’t be dead like you. So quit wastin’ my time and step up here if you wanna live.” Mason hesitated, but there was no sign of Perley. He had no doubt that Eli would shoot him and no certainty that he wouldn’t kill him after he did what Eli demanded. When Eli cocked the hammer back, Mason had no choice but to do as he said, so he stepped back up to the bars. “Put your hands on them bars,” Eli ordered, and when he did, Eli said, “Grab his gun, Slim.” Slim reached through the bars and snatched Mason’s pistol out of his holster. “Now, Sheriff,” Eli continued, “The thing that’s gonna save your life is if you walk over by that door and get the key to these cells offa that peg. If you try to walk out that door, you’ll go through it with two bullets in your back. You understand?”
Mason nodded and answered, “I understand, but you’re makin’ a mistake. You ain’t gonna get away with this.”
“Move!” Eli commanded, tired of Mason’s stalling.
With no options left, the sheriff moved slowly back toward the office door and the cell key on the wooden peg. Perley, wake up! His mind pleaded silently, as he reached the door. “Whatcha doin’ in here so long, Sheriff?” Perley said as he came through the door, causing a chain-lightning reaction. Startled, Slim was the first to fire. He had moved away from the cell wall then and fired at Perley, but his bullet ricocheted off one of the bars and buried itself in the wall. Without consciously thinking what he had to do, Perley reacted, putting one shot, dead center between the bars, to drop Slim on the cell floor. A second shot nailed Eli before he could fire his pistol, already cocked. Shot in the chest, Eli sagged to the floor, his body hanging by his one arm thrust through the bars.
“Damn!” was the only word that dropped from the mouth of Junior Humphrey as he tried to believe what he had just witnessed.
Every bit as shaken as Junior, but thankful to be alive, John Mason put his hand on the wall for support when he felt a reluctance in his knees. Recovering rapidly, however, he walked back to the cell wall and took the cocked pistol out of Eli’s hand. When he thought he could talk, he said, “I didn’t think you were ever gonna understand what was goin’ on in here, but I’m mighty damn happy you finally did.”
“Sorry I took so long,” Perley replied. “I wasn’t payin’ much attention to what you were talkin’ to them about. But then I heard one of ’em say, ‘Move’, kinda loud and I thought I’d best see if everything was all right.”
Still struck by what he had just seen, Mason tried to seek answers. “I can understand how you got Slim. He fired a shot that ricocheted off one of the bars, or you mighta been hit. But how you beat Eli I’ll never understand. His pistol was already cocked. I saw him cock it.” Mason had heard how fast Perley was, but this was the first time he had actually seen the mild-mannered young man in action.
“I don’t know,” Perley honestly tried to explain. What had happened during those critical few seconds was actually a blur to him now that it was over. “He had his arm stuck through the bars, pointin’ at you, I reckon. Maybe that hampered him.”
“But he had the gun cocked,” Mason insisted. “Why didn’t he shoot?”
“I wondered about that myself,” Perley said. “I don’t
know what he was waitin’ on.” Uncomfortable with the subject, he turned to Junior then. “How did he get that gun?”
“I dropped it through the window,” Junior answered, without thinking whether he should say so or not.
“I reckon you need to get John Payne to put some screen-wire over that window,” Perley said.
“I reckon I’d better,” Mason agreed.
CHAPTER 16
With the reports of gunshots coming from the jail, Possum and Rooster were soon running down the street to find the cause. They, like most of the members of the vigilance committee, had not expected anything more from Ned Stark’s gang on this night, especially since it had cost them the loss of two more of their number. They were encouraged to see some of the vigilantes running from the Buffalo Hump to investigate the gunshots, an occurrence that was new to Bison Gap. Before the town decided they could pull together to protect themselves against the Ned Starks of the territory, gunshots usually caused citizens to run the other way.
“What’s goin’ on?” John Payne called out when he saw Possum and Rooster heading for the jailhouse. Horace Brooks and Ralph Wheeler were running behind him.
“That’s what we’re gonna find out,” Rooster answered him. There were no horses outside the sheriff’s office, so he could only guess. He and Possum had some concern, since Perley had not shown up at the hotel yet. Rooster ran up the steps and banged on the office door.
“Everything’s under control,” the sheriff assured them when he opened the door. He stood aside to let them come in. Possum and Rooster were relieved to see Perley standing inside as well. “We lost a couple of prisoners,” Mason told them.
“They escaped?” Wheeler asked, at once concerned.
“No,” Mason answered him. “I mean they’re dead because they tried to escape.” He nodded toward the cell room door. “They’re in there.” They went immediately to see for themselves. Walking in behind them, Mason told them about the attempt to escape, and the gun that was secreted in to them.
“I was the one that slipped the gun in for ’em,” Junior interrupted. The simpleminded giant seemed to take pride in his part of the failed escape attempt. “I dropped it in the window yonder.”
“Like he said,” Mason went on. “He dropped a gun in the window sometime this evenin’. When they thought everybody was gone but me, they called me in here and pulled the gun on me.”
Staring at the two bodies lying on the floor of the cell, Wheeler asked, “What happened?”
“Perley,” Mason answered. There was a pause while everyone waited for the story, but that was all the sheriff offered. He could tell them what happened, but he wasn’t certain how it could have happened. “Well, they surprised me with that weapon Junior brought ’em and Slim, there, got my gun and Perley walked in and shot both of ’em.”
“They didn’t give me any chance to just wound ’em.” Perley felt the need to explain that he had to shoot too quickly to pick his spots. “I know you were probably wantin’ to put ’em on trial.”
When they decided they weren’t going to get any more details on the actual shooting, they started to file out of the cell room. “How ’bout a couple of you fellows give me a hand with these bodies?” Mason said. “I just wanna get ’em off the floor and lay ’em on the bunks and leave ’em there till mornin’. It’s a little too late to call Floyd over here again tonight.” Half joking, he said, “That won’t bother you, will it, Junior?”
“Nope,” Junior replied. “I ’preciate a little company.” They laughed at his comment, not realizing the simpleminded outlaw was serious. He felt the need to make one more comment before they left. “That feller,” he said, nodding toward Perley, “is faster’n greased lightnin’. I ain’t ever seen nobody that fast but one other feller. And he might be faster, I don’t know, but he’s just as fast.” He was thinking of Drew Dawson.
“Is that so?” Possum asked, “What’s his name?”
“I can’t tell you that,” Junior answered. He knew that Drew didn’t want any of the gang to let on that they knew him, and he was good at keeping a secret.
“Why can’tcha?” Possum pressed.
“Because it’s a secret, and I’m good at keepin’ secrets,” Junior insisted. “So you’re wastin’ your time askin’ me.”
Not at all comfortable with the topic of discussion, Perley said, “Leave it be, Possum. There’s lots of men faster’n me. That ain’t nothin’ to be proud of, anyway.” Already he had been forced to outshoot four men before this latest confrontation tonight, and the last thing he wanted was to be saddled with a reputation as a fast gun. He just wished that every time he tried to help a friend, or someone else, he wouldn’t end up finding himself forced to act.
* * *
“Pass that bottle over here, Jim,” Stark said. “I’m partial to corn whiskey, myself, but I’ll drink rye, if that’s all there is.”
“Ah, cousin,” Drew Dawson chuckled. “It’s a good thing I finally got out of prison, so I can teach you to appreciate the finer things the world has to offer. The problem is you couldn’t get anything but corn whiskey back on the farm when you were old enough to steal it out of Uncle Buck’s feed bin. As a matter of fact, that’s one of the main reasons I came back to ride with you boys again, to inspire all of you to improve your social senses.”
“You mean it wasn’t because your career in the bank-robbin’ business was cut short when that gang you was ridin’ with got rounded up and sent to prison?” Stark asked.
“No, indeed,” Drew answered, as he poured himself another drink and held it up as if to toast them. “It was really because I missed you boys.” His toast was met with hoots and sarcastic remarks. “Which reminds me,” he said. “I wonder what’s keeping Junior and Sledge. The meeting in the saloon must have been long.”
“They might still be waitin’ for the sheriff to come back to the jail,” Frank Deal suggested.
“If we had known there was not going to be anybody at the jail for that long, we mighta been able to break in and get our men out,” Drew commented.
“That jail ain’t that easy to break into,” Stark said. “We found that out the hard way, didn’t we, boys?” Both Deal and Jim Duncan grunted in agreement.
“Damn place is built like a fort,” Duncan said.
“You don’t reckon they ran into a trap, do ya?” Deal asked.
“Ain’t likely,” Stark answered. “We was settin’ right there on that creek bank watching the place. And we watched Junior ride right up to the back of the jail and drop that pistol in the window. If there had been anybody watchin’ the place, they woulda got Junior.”
“Ned’s right,” Drew said. “They’re just havin’ to wait for the meetin’ to end.”
“Maybe somebody came back to the jail with Mason,” Duncan suggested, “and Sledge and Junior couldn’t jump ’em.”
“They’d had to be more than a few to keep Junior and Sledge from jumpin ’em,” Deal declared.
“I guess we’ll just have to wait to find out,” Drew said. “I just hope we find out before this second bottle of whiskey runs out.”
As the hours passed with still no sign of Junior and Sledge with Eli and Slim, Stark became more and more concerned. Well past midnight, he found himself the only one awake and he looked at his cousin, still sitting at the table, his chin resting on his chest, fast asleep. Frank and Jim had long since deserted the table to sit on the floor so they could lean up against the wall, also asleep, both with their shoulders bandaged. What if something did go wrong in town, and Junior and Sledge were captured, or killed? Then this pitiful collection of the four of them was all that was left of his once powerful gang. And if this was what it had come to be, then the reason for it was one man—one innocent-looking saddle tramp—Perley Gates. He ruled Bison Gap before the arrival of Perley Gates. The hatred he felt for this one man ran through his veins like hot lava, causing every fiber in his being to tense until the glass he held in his hand suddenly shattered, spill
ing whiskey on his hand. He didn’t even let out a yelp when the alcohol began to sting the cuts from the broken glass.
* * *
Morning came as a surprise. Stark did not realize he had fallen asleep until Drew woke him. “Ned, what the hell happened to your hand?”
Stark, still groggy from the short sleep just ended, looked at his hand, a patchwork pattern of dried blood covering most of it. He continued to stare at it, trying to remember. When it came back to him, he ignored Drew’s question and asked one instead. “They back yet?”
“No, they’re not,” Drew answered.
“What time is it?”
“Six o’clock,” Drew said. “They’re not comin’ back. Something went wrong last night and I’m gonna have to ride into town to find out what happened. The three of you best be keeping your eyes sharp in case that damn town vigilante gang decides to come out here and finish us off. I’ll go in there and hope to hell none of them have told the council who I really am. Maybe we can convince them that we’ve hightailed it outta here. I don’t know. I’ll just have to find out what happened.” He looked again at Stark’s hand. “Three of you wounded now,” he muttered in disgust. “Are you gonna be all right? You look like you got run over by a herd of cattle.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Stark answered. “The only problem I’ve got is a head about to blow up from too much whiskey and not enough sleep. If you’re ridin’ into town, you’d better be ready for trouble. If they took Junior alive, there’s no tellin’ what that big idiot has told them. He mighta told ’em you’re one of us.” Stark considered trying to persuade his cousin that it could be too risky for him to ride into Bison Gap, but he desperately wanted to know what had happened after he and Drew left Junior and Sledge on the creek bank.
“Just in case,” Drew advised, “the three of you best saddle your horses and keep an eye on that trail leadin’ to the front porch, if you’re figurin’ on stayin’ here. ’Cause, you might have to run for it, if there’s too many of ’em.”
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