Shot to Hell

by William W. Johnstone; J. A. Johnstone

  * * *

  “Just hold your horses, cousin,” Drew said. “I know you’re wantin’ to do this thing right now, but if you’ll wait till Monday, that’ll give us a chance to snatch up one of those little girls while the whole damn town is at the trial. We don’t have to worry about a posse comin’ out here lookin’ for us, because in that meetin’ they decided you were gonna run. They’re ready to just be done with you.” Stark considered what he said and agreed that it would be best, even though he still didn’t want to wait. “I’ll go into town every day, so I’ll know if anything changes,” Drew assured him.

  They went into the kitchen then where Jim and Frank were sitting at the table, a bottle in front of them. “How ’bout it, boys?” Drew asked. “Those wounds startin’ to heal?”

  “Not so’s you notice,” Frank Deal answered him. “It ain’t hurtin’ like it was, but I can’t use that arm a-tall.”

  “Well, you’ve got a couple of days for it to get better, we might need to put you to work on a little kidnappin’ job.”

  “Kidnappin’?” Frank responded. “Who we gonna kidnap? I don’t know if I can do much kidnappin’ with one arm in a sling.”

  Stark interrupted then. “You’d best get that arm outta that sling in two days and go to work, if you still wanna lay around here and eat my grub and drink my whiskey.”

  Drew waited for Stark to finish his warning, then answered Frank’s question. “A little girl, that’s all you gotta grab. You oughta be able to do it one-handed— two little girls, one of ’em’s six and the other’n’s four. You ain’t gotta snatch but one of ’em, and it don’t matter which one—just whichever one is handiest.”

  “Damn, I don’t know, Drew,” Duncan said. “I ain’t ever thought about kidnappin’ no kids.”

  “Then there’s no point in thinkin’ about it now,” Drew responded. “Just go pick up one of these little girls when we tell you to. Nothin’ to worry about, we ain’t gonna hurt ’em. We’re just gonna kill the fellow that comes lookin’ for ’em.”

  There were no more questions from either of the two wounded outlaws on the kidnapping of one of Rachael Parker’s daughters. But it was obvious by the expressions the prospect of it left on their faces that they were not comfortable with it. Satisfied they would do what they were told when the time came, Drew considered the matter closed. “Now, as much as I enjoy havin’ supper with you fine gentlemen, I’m afraid I’ve got to ride back to town to keep an ear out for any change of plans by the gallant men of the Bison Gap vigilance committee.”

  * * *

  Ralph Wheeler looked up when Perley walked into his store and went at once to meet him. “Horace Brooks said you wanted to see me,” Perley said.

  “Yes, Perley, thanks for coming by. I wanted to ask a favor of you, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Sure, Mayor. What can I do for you?” He hoped it wasn’t something that was going to take much time. He was hungry, and he had planned to go to the dining room right after he left his horse with Horace Brooks.

  “Well, maybe you’ll think I’m a little crazy to ask you, but I thought it was worth a try. To tell you the truth, you’re so full of surprises that I thought this might be something else you’re good at.” The mayor hesitated.

  His hesitation made Perley nervous now. “What is it you want me to do?”

  “You know we’ve scheduled a trial for Junior Humphrey, right?” Perley nodded and Wheeler continued. “Well, since we voted not to send a posse after Ned Stark, some of my fellow members and I got to wondering, what if Stark is building up his gang again? That’s something we need to know. Sheriff Mason has repeatedly questioned Junior Humphrey about it, but Junior won’t tell him. He just keeps sayin’ he knows how to keep a secret. So I was wondering if you were any good at getting somebody like Junior to talk.”

  His question clearly puzzled Perley. “Why would you think that?”

  “I don’t know,” Wheeler said, thinking now that it was a bad idea and he should have known better than to listen to Rooster. But he pressed on. “It’s just that you’re different in a lot of things. I don’t mean different, strange, mind you. I mean it in a good way.”

  A silent witness to the fumbling of words by her husband, Cora Wheeler could hold her tongue no longer. “Oh, for goodness sakes, Ralph.” She turned to Perley and said. “Rooster Crabb thinks you have a special way of figuring things out that most people don’t. What my husband wants to know is, can you get the information out of Junior so we’re sure there’s nobody but that monster, Ned Stark, and two wounded men left outta that bunch he had.”

  “Rooster said that, huh?” Perley asked, hardly believing they would put stock in any of Rooster’s wild claims. “To answer your question, I ain’t got any special talents in anything that’s worthwhile to anybody.” He looked at them and smiled. “But I’ll go ask him if there’s anybody else at that ranch, if that’s all you’re tryin’ to find out.”

  “I’d appreciate it, Perley,” Ralph said.

  “Glad to help,” Perley replied, “but I wouldn’t count on any success.”

  He left the store in a hurry, still thinking about supper, also thinking, if the council was worried about additional outlaws at the ranch, they should have sent a posse out there to find out. He found the sheriff in his office and the door unlocked for the first time since the trouble with Stark had started. He knocked a couple of times and pushed the door open far enough to peek in.

  “Come on in, Perley,” Sheriff Mason called out when he saw who it was.

  “Howdy, Sheriff, I just talked to Ralph Wheeler and he’s worried that Stark is already buildin’ up a new gang.”

  “I know it,” Mason replied. “I’ve tried and tried to get Junior to tell me how many’s out at that ranch of Stark’s. And the sniveling sack of slop won’t tell me. He just keeps sayin’ over and over that he can keep a secret, and he ain’t gonna tell me nothin’ about Stark.”

  “You mind if I talk to him a minute?” Perley asked.

  “Hell, no, talk to him all you want, but I hope you’re not hopin’ for intelligent conversation.”

  “Thanks, Sheriff.” Perley went into the cell room.

  When Junior saw him, he got up from his bunk and picked up his empty supper tray. “Perley Gates,” he exclaimed as if glad to see him. “They send you down here to pick up my supper tray?”

  “Yep,” Perley answered. “Just slide it right through.” When Junior slid the tray under the bars, Perley asked, “How you doin’ in here all by yourself?”

  “I’m all right.” He held his foot up. “My foot’s kinda swole up where you shot me.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry I had to do that, but you were about to crush the sheriff,” Perley said. “You know, you’re a pretty big boy.” The big grin on Junior’s face was evidence that his remark had pleased him. “At least you’re better off than ol’ Ned Stark.”

  “Ned’s doin’ fine,” Junior immediately insisted. “Can’t nobody beat Ned.”

  “Nah,” Perley said, shaking his head sadly. “Poor ol’ Ned, he’s sittin’ out there at that ranch all alone. He ain’t got nobody to talk to, nobody at all.”

  “He’s got Jim and Frank left,” Junior blurted. “He ain’t by hisself.”

  “I reckon you’re right, Junior. You take it easy. I’ve gotta take this tray back.” When he came back through the office, he saw that Mason’s empty tray was sitting on his desk. So he picked it up. “I’ll take the trays back to the dinin’ room. I’m headed that way now.”

  “Thanks,” Mason said. “Get what you need from Junior?”

  “Yeah, there ain’t nobody left at that ranch but Stark and the two wounded men.”

  He hurried back across the creek to the main street and when he got to Wheeler’s store, he stuck his head in just long enough to repeat the message he just left with Mason. “Thanks, Perley!” Wheeler yelled after him. He turned to look at his wife then. “I told you he’s got special talents.”

 
; * * *

  “I brought your trays back from the jail,” he said to Rachael when he walked into the dining room. “Junior said the food was all right, but not as good as what he’d had at the Buffalo Hump.”

  “You’d better wash your mouth out after telling lies like that,” Rachael fired back at him. “And you haven’t even got your supper yet. Maybe Ida Wicks hasn’t thrown out the slop yet at the saloon.” She pointed at a table in the back with the two trays he handed her. “They weren’t waiting for you, so you’ll have to catch up.” He walked back to join Possum and Rooster who were busy polishing off some pork chops and fried potatoes.

  “Where you been?” Possum asked when Perley sat down at the table.

  “I was just out ridin’ around town,” Perley answered, “doin’ nothing in particular. Mostly I just wanted to work Buck out a little bit. He’s been standin’ around in Horace’s corral too long.”

  “You can take him out to my place and hitch him up to a plow,” Rooster japed. “That’ud give him some exercise, and I’ve got a field that needs plowin’.”

  “Then whaddaya sittin’ around here for?” Perley cracked. “Besides, Buck and I are on pretty good terms right now. He’d never forgive me if I hitched him to a plow.” He went on to tell them what he had been doing just before coming to supper.

  “I noticed you was carryin’ a couple of trays when you walked in,” Rooster commented. “I figured you musta been down at the jail.”

  “You can’t slip nothin’ by ol’ Rooster,” Possum couldn’t resist saying. The carefree banter continued through supper, a reflection of the mood of optimism felt by many people in town and most of the business owners. It was like a great burden had been lifted from the town with the seeming defeat of Ned Stark.

  Before the three friends were ready to leave the dining room, Drew Dawson walked in. Seeing them, at the back table, he came back to join them. “Evenin’, boys,” he greeted them in his usual cheerful manner, a manner everyone in Bison Gap had become accustomed to. “Looks like you’re still eatin’. Mind if I join you?”

  “Have a seat,” Possum responded, “if you can stand the company.” He pushed the one empty chair back with his foot.

  “I’ll just sit at this table next to yours,” Drew said. “You boys need the room, and I don’t wanna get hit by a flyin’ elbow.” While his remark caused a chuckle from the three friends, Drew pulled a chair out from the table next to theirs, one that allowed him to sit down facing Perley, although at an angle. He could not ignore his fascination for Perley, nor did he want to. In his mind, Perley was his competition. He wanted to study him, everything about him, his moves, his alertness, even the way he handled his knife and fork. It didn’t matter to him that Ned desired to kill Perley Gates by his own hand. Drew knew that Perley was his destiny to determine. That thought was interrupted momentarily when Kitty came to make sure he planned to have supper. “Yes, indeed, fair lady,” he responded poetically. “And it looks like I’ve got a lot of catchin’ up to do in this competition.”

  “I declare, that’s good eatin’,” Rooster announced. “I’ve a good mind to start over again, just to keep you company.”

  “That would be very considerate of you, Rooster,” Drew remarked, “but Perley looks like he’s got a little way to go yet. I’ll try to catch up to him.” Perley looked up from his plate when he said it, and Drew smiled at him. “Perley doesn’t say much,” Drew observed, wondering to himself how a stick of dynamite could look so bland and harmless. It was a mystery he felt he was destined to solve.

  “With friends like these two,” Perley replied, “you don’t have to. They don’t leave much to be said.”

  “I’ve heard it said that people who don’t talk much are listeners, or they have secrets to keep,” Drew said. “Which one applies to you?”

  Perley shrugged, wondering where Drew could possibly be going with this conversation. “I heard there’s a third option,” he said. “There’s people who ain’t very bright, so they keep their mouths shut, so nobody finds out. I reckon that more likely applies to me. Which one are you?”

  Drew threw his head back and laughed. “I’d really be surprised if you haven’t already figured that out by now.” Without pausing, he turned his head and said, “Yes, darlin’,” when Kitty held the coffeepot up. Back to them, he said, “But I’ve been ramblin’ on. It’s a habit of mine, so tell me what’s goin’ on in Bison Gap, now that the vandals have been vanquished?”

  “The what have been what?” Rooster asked.

  “He means what’s goin’ on since we kicked Ned Stark and his trash outta here,” Possum translated.

  “Oh,” Rooster responded. “Why didn’t he just say that?” He looked at Drew and asked, “You ain’t from around here, are you?”

  “Where are you from, Drew?” Possum asked. “I ain’t never heard you say.”

  “Here and there,” he answered. “Kansas City is where I started out—had a business there.”

  “Is that a fact?” Possum replied. “What kinda business?”

  “Guns,” Drew answered. He couldn’t resist it. It was not untrue. It was there he first discovered he was faster than the average man when it came to settling a dispute, usually having to do with a card game. “That’s why I’m interested in the weapon you carry, Perley, since you seem to have success with it.” Perley paused, but Possum hadn’t satisfied his curiosity yet.

  “Guns?” Possum asked. “Whaddaya mean? Did you sell ’em, or make ’em?”

  “I modified ’em,” Drew answered, and shifted his gaze back to Perley again. But Possum’s curiosity had not been satisfied.

  “I thought you told us you were scoutin’ out the territory around here to start you up a cattle ranch,” Possum said.

  “That’s right,” Drew quickly replied. “And that’s exactly what I’m doin’. I’ve always wanted to see if I could make it in that business.” Back to Perley then, he asked, “That’s the business you said you were in, wasn’t it?”

  Perley nodded slowly. It struck him that Drew had suddenly become unusually interested in him. “That’s right,” he said after a moment. “Possum and I work on a cattle ranch in Lamar County. We’re just visitin’ here for a little while.”

  Drew picked up on Perley’s sudden caution and was quick to apologize. “Excuse me if I’m a little bit nosy. I guess you saw right away that I’m a tenderfoot when it comes to starting a cattle ranch. My friends back in Kansas City told me I was crazy to try to make a success at something I don’t know a thing about. I reckon I should stick to guns, something I know about. That’s the reason I was curious about what kind of gun you used. You know, did you have it modified for a special purpose—when you’re workin’ cattle or something?”

  “You don’t need any special kind of gun,” Perley finally answered. “Most fellows carry a handgun for snakes and other varmints, a rifle for huntin’. I carry a Winchester 73 for huntin’ and a Colt Frontier Six-Shooter for varmints. Ain’t nothin’ special about either one of ’em—buy ’em out of the catalog.”

  “Four-and-three-quarter-inch barrel?” Drew asked.

  “No,” Perley answered, “five-and-a-half-inch.”

  “You talk too much.” All four men looked up at that. “Drew, you’re letting your food get cold,” Kitty scolded. “You fellows let the man eat.”

  “Right,” Perley said. “Let’s let Drew eat his supper.” He had a funny feeling about the smooth-talking stranger. He figured he was up to something and it didn’t have anything to do with raising cattle. He thought he’d better warn Emma and Rachael, and Rooster, too, not to enter any get-rich-quick deals or investments with Drew.

  “You fellows gettin’ ready for the big trial day after tomorrow?” Drew asked, thinking he’d best get off the subject of guns. All three of them were beginning to give him funny looks.

  “There ain’t much to get ready for,” Rooster answered. “They’re gonna try to decide if that big dummy in the jailhouse is a real killer
or just one of Ned Stark’s hound dogs.” That started a discussion that lasted through a slice of pie and another cup of coffee. There was no agreement on whether or not Junior should swing for his part in the attempted jailbreak. Drew stayed behind to visit with Rachael and Bess after Perley, Rooster, and Possum left—Perley to bed—Possum and Rooster to the Buffalo Hump for a drink before turning in for the night.

  On his way to the washroom, Perley met Barbara Cooper coming from there with Alice and Melva. When the girls saw Perley, they ran to meet him. “What are you two tadpoles doin’ out here in the hall?” Perley said as they each grabbed a leg to hug.

  “We’re going to bed,” Alice informed him. “We just had a bath.”

  “I bet Barbara had a tough time grindin’ all the dirt offa you two tadpoles,” he teased. “Maybe she shoulda left both of you to soak in the tub all night.”

  “Perley . . .” Alice pretended to complain.

  “Tell Perley good night,” Barbara said. “Your mama will be in pretty soon now and you’d best be in bed and ready to go to sleep.” Both girls gave his leg a tight squeeze and said good night. Then they released him and raced up the hallway to their room, leaving Perley and Barbara to shake their heads.

  “You spend a lot of time with those girls, don’t you?” Perley asked.

  “Not a whole lot,” she answered. “They hang around the dining room most of the day. My job is to take care of Danny. Emma’s with him right now, so I took Alice and Melva for their baths. I’ll stay with them till Rachael comes in, and that’ll be pretty soon now—when they finish cleaning up the dining room and the kitchen.”

  “Sounds like you have a full day’s job on your hands,” Perley said.

  “I guess so, but I like to do it. Danny’s an angel, and Alice and Melva are a lot of fun. I’m glad they gave me the job.”

  “Well, good night then,” Perley said, then paused when he thought of something else. “It’s already startin’ to get pretty dark outside. Do you need somebody to walk you home?”