by Jake Henry
The gunman ignored the question. ‘Have I got your attention now?’
Still in shock, the barkeep just stared at him.
Brit noticed movement behind him in the mirror and whirled, bringing up his six-gun once more and fired.
The slug hit the man in the chest high up and to the left. He was punched back violently, a large red blotch on his shirt front. As he flailed and went down, a chair and table crashed over. He fell between them and remained unmoving, an unfired Colt Army beside him.
Brit moved his own weapon back and forth, waiting for his next target to present itself.
The batwings suddenly flew open and a tall, well-dressed man with black hair, lumbered in. He looked about the room. He could see startled saloon customers staring at the killer at the bar. The percentage girls huddled together, visibly upset. His gaze stopped on the dead man on the plank floor.
‘What the hell happened here?’ he snarled. His gaze came up to rest on Brit. ‘Who are you?’
Brit’s face was like granite. ‘Someone you don’t want to mess with.’
‘I’ll decide that. Speak or get out.’
‘Who are you?’ Brit asked evenly.
‘The name’s Clayton. I started this town.’
The gunman sneered. ‘Well now, isn’t that something.’
Clayton gave him a puzzled look. ‘What do you mean?’
‘That we should meet this way. Me and the man who’s trying to undercut business from my boss.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Sure you do. You started this town so that the herd owners from Texas would drive their cows here instead of Cheyenne. You figure on cornering most of the market for yourselves. I’m guessing that there’s herds coming, otherwise you wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble. Am I right?’
Clayton’s answer was a tentative, ‘Maybe.’
Brit nodded. ‘Well then, it seems we have ourselves a small problem.’
All too aware that the gunman still held his weapon in his right fist, Clayton asked, ‘What problem would you be referring to?’
‘The town. You see, this town is going to cost my boss a lot of money. And when he loses money, he gets mad. When he gets mad he takes it out on me, then I get mad.’
‘I—I’m sorry to hear that. But what can I do about that?’
‘Pack your town up and move on.’
Clayton half chuckled at the ridiculous suggestion. Then he realized that Brit wasn’t a man to joke. ‘You can’t be serious? There’s no way that is going to happen.’
Brit shook his head. ‘I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.’
Clayton licked his lips, looked down at the gun in the killer’s hand and then back up. ‘Here’s something else you probably don’t want to hear. Be gone from here by sundown or you’ll be moved on.’
A cold smile split Brit’s lips and Clayton thought he was about to die. Instead, the gunman dropped the six-gun into his holster and walked toward the saloon batwings.
A sigh of relief escaped Clayton’s lips.
‘Hey!’
He turned and saw Brit standing just inside the batwings.
‘Goodbye!’ he shouted and drew his six-gun.
Once again, The Watering Hole was filled with the sound of a booming gunshot. The bullet slammed into Clayton and drove him back against the bar. He seemed to hang there for a moment before he slid to the floor in a motionless heap.
Brit replaced the Colt Navy in its cross-draw holster, turned, and walked outside. A high-pitched cackle followed him.
The Brotherhood of ‘Tlaloc’
A week after the incident at Raton Pass, the herd passed through the toll without any hassle. As they moved North they crossed the Purgatoire river to the east of Trinidad. The country was dry, and the river wasn’t much more than a trickle.
‘I ain’t never see the river this low before,’ Bannister said to Savage as they sat their horses while the herd drank.
The Drifter looked around the dry, brown landscape covered with patches of stunted brush. ‘It sure is dry.’
Bannister nodded. ‘And then some.’
‘I was thinking about sending Grub to Trinidad for some supplies. I figure he’s running low on most things by now.’
There was movement as Llano Sam moved his horse in beside them.
‘You find much water?’ Savage asked.
The scout shook his head. ‘It’s drier than a desert out there.’
‘Maybe it’s a better option to water the herd here for a few days and then push them on,’ Bannister suggested.
The Drifter thought for a moment and then nodded. ‘All right. It’ll give Grub time to go into Trinidad and get some supplies.’
‘You all know there’s a town east of here, don’t you?’ Sam asked.
‘What town?’ Bannister asked.
‘Crow Creek,’ Sam said, then frowned. ‘No, wait. They changed it to Paradise.’
‘You mean ghost town Crow Creek?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘But it’s a ghost town,’ Bannister pointed out.
Sam nodded and then shook his head. ‘Not anymore. It’s got folks living there now and farms around it as well.’
‘How? Last time I was through there it was a dustbowl.’
Sam shrugged.
Savage asked, ‘Is it closer than Trinidad?’
‘Sure is.’
‘Can Grub be there and back in a day?’
‘Yep.’
‘Then he can leave at first light. I’ll tell him after. All right, Mike, it looks like we’re going to be here a few days.’
An hour later, Mavis approached Savage just after he’d finished sorting out the nighthawks. The sun was an orange ball not far above the western horizon. An almost golden hue was cast across the landscape. The lowing of the cows could be heard intermittently in the cool evening air.
‘Mike told me we’re staying here for a couple of days,’ she said.
Savage nodded. ‘Just to give the herd a good fill of water before we take them on. Sam said there was a shortage of water ahead. While we’re here, I’m going to send Grub into Paradise to get supplies.’
‘I’ll go with him.’
‘No. You’ve been through enough. I’m sorry I haven’t been around much to check on you.’
‘I don’t need checking on, besides, Mike has been doing that quite well.’
‘You sound like you’ve changed your tune about him,’ Savage noted.
‘He’s been nice to me, yes. It doesn’t change who or what he is, though.’
Savage’s face took on a grim expression. ‘How is everything else?’
‘I’m feeling better,’ was all she said.
He stared at her for a moment before nodding. ‘All right, go with Grub. However, I’ll still send another man with him anyway.’
Mavis nodded. ‘Okay.’
Savage hesitated a moment and then said, ‘While you’re in town, maybe see if they have a doctor. Get him to give you the once over.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘There’s still a long way to go,’ he reminded her.
‘Don’t fuss.’
‘All right then.’
‘You know, I don’t get you.’
‘Why?’
‘I’ve heard the others talk about you. About the things you’ve done. And yet I find that under all that tough exterior there is a decent man. A good man.’
‘I wouldn’t call me that. Listen to what they say, ma’am. Most of the stories are true.’
Her gaze softened. ‘I don’t believe that.’
Before he could set her straight, Mavis whirled about and was gone.
Dobson
Josiah Breen looked down at the grave of his dead partner. They told him he’d been killed by the stranger in the saloon along with another man. There were words exchanged about business and the stranger’s employer not being happy about it.
Well shit, if he wants a war, he’s just fire
d the first shots, Breen mused.
There was movement beside him and he turned to see Milt. ‘Did you find out any more about this killer?’
‘Nope. Only that he rode out not long after.’
‘I want you to hire some men if need be.’
‘What about the boys coming up the trail?’
‘We can’t rely on them. Especially if whoever is behind this decides they want to hit us before they arrive. They’ve made their intentions clear.’
Milt didn’t like it much but, well … ‘All right. I’ll leave in the morning. I’ll be gone a few days.’
‘Good.’
Cheyenne
The door to French’s office opened not long before dusk and Brit entered; dust covered his clothes.
The stock agent looked up from his paperwork and saw that it was his hired gun.
‘What did you find out?’ French demanded.
‘All that we heard was true,’ Brit said.
‘Damn it. Did you have any trouble?’
The killer rubbed at the scar on his face. ‘Not a lot. Although out of the two fellers that are setting up shop over there, only one is left.’
French nodded. ‘What about the other one?’
‘From what I can gather he’s coming up the trail with a herd of cows.’
The office became quiet as French thought about what he would do next.
He said, ‘Hire some men. We’ll ride over to this town and put a match to it. We’ll teach them that I won’t be trifled with.’
Brit hesitated before he said, ‘You know, there is something else you could do.’
‘What’s that?’
The killer went on to explain. ‘Everything is there. Large yards, larger than here. They could hold ten-thousand more head than Cheyenne. Plus, they have more loading chutes at the new rail spur, which means the cattle can be loaded faster. Add to all that the fact the town is closer than Cheyenne and it already has herds headed there and it’s ripe for the picking.’
‘Are you suggesting that we leave Cheyenne and set up business in this new town?’
Brit nodded.
‘What about the feller who has a previous claim on it? You seem to have overlooked that small fact.’
‘I’ll take care of him for you. Just like I always do.’
‘You seem to have thought this through,’ French acknowledged. ‘What do you get out of it?’
‘Instead of you paying me like you do, I want a percentage of what you make.’
‘How much?’
‘Ten percent. I ain’t greedy. I figure you’ll make a lot of money. If you do, then I will too.’
Once again French was silent as he thought. Then he nodded. ‘All right. Get some men together and we’ll have a look. If I like it, we’ll do it your way. But, I intend on leaving someone here in charge, just in case. If it does work, then they can follow.’
Brit smiled at the prospect of more gun work. ‘Sounds fine to me.’
Paradise
It was one of the weirdest sights Grub had ever seen in all his years. In the middle of a drought-stricken landscape was a large patch of green with trees and a creek. In the middle of the patch of green was the town of Paradise.
‘It ain’t right,’ Grub muttered as he eased the chuckwagon to a stop.
‘What isn’t?’ asked Mavis.
‘I agree,’ said Wills, the young cowboy with sandy hair. ‘How could something be so green in the middle of all this brown?’
They’d left the herd early that morning and it wasn’t long after noon when the town came into view. It was as though someone had thrown up a jumble of false-front buildings around a central street and called it a town.
‘What’s that building there?’ asked Wills.
Grub and Mavis looked to where Wills was pointing. On the far side of town was a building the size of a large barn. It looked almost like a church, except it didn’t have a spire and the cross was replaced by a large, circular disc.
‘You seen anything like it afore, Miss Mavis?’ Wills asked.
‘Not that I can recall.’
‘Tell you what, Wills. Before we leave town, you can check it out and satisfy your curiosity.’
Wills nodded, content at the prospect. ‘Thanks, Grub. I do believe I’d like that.’
Grub slapped the reins across the backs of the horses. ‘Come on then. Let’s go get us some supplies.’
Upon entering the town, the first thing that struck the three of them was how friendly the people were. Normally, strangers in a town would be stared at and treated warily. But on their arrival, they were greeted with warm smiles and more than one offer of help.
The main street was spotless. Typically, one would expect some kind of rubbish or at least horseshit, yet there was nothing of the kind.
The painted signs all looked fresh, the glass in all the shopfront windows seemed to sparkle. Nearly all the men folk wore suits and the women wore plain gray dresses. Then there was the fact that none of them wore guns.
Grub drew the wagon to a halt outside the general store and glanced about.
‘There’s something strange about this place,’ he grumbled.
‘Ain’t that the truth,’ Wills acknowledged. ‘I say we get the heck out of here.’
‘After we get the supplies we need. How about you go and check out that building we saw, while Miss Mavis and me head in here and do our business.’
Wills gave them both an uncertain look.
Mavis gave him an encouraging smile. ‘Go on, you’ll be fine.’
After a few more heartbeats, Wills nodded and climbed down from his horse. ‘All right then, I’ll do it.’
He tied the animal to the back of the wagon and started along the street to the far side of town.
‘I hope he don’t go and do nothing foolish,’ Grub said.
‘I’m sure he’ll be fine.’
Grub climbed down from the wagon seat and then walked around the rear to help Mavis alight. When he arrived, however, he found Mavis already on the street. By the looks of it, she’d been helped down by a tall man with a beard. He was dressed in black and wore a long frock coat. He also carried a gun.
‘Looks like you don’t need my help then, Miss Mavis,’ Grub growled.
The man turned and stared at the cook. Beneath a low-crowned, black hat, Grub could see piercing, pale-blue eyes.
‘It’s okay, Grub. Mr. … ahh …’
‘Osborne, ma’am. Elder J.T. Osborne.’
Grub thought the man was joking. ‘Elder? You ain’t no older than Miss Mavis there.’
Osborne smiled. ‘It’s just a title that the brothers have given me.’
‘Brothers? You mean your brothers call you that?’
‘In a way.’
‘I had me some brothers once, but they never called me anything like that.’
‘Where are your brothers now?’
Grub grunted. ‘Dead. One was killed at Shiloh and the other was killed in the Shenandoah.’
‘I don’t think Mr. Osborne quite meant that, Grub,’ Mavis said.
‘What? Well, why don’t he just say what he means then? Be a lot more understanding if he did.’
Osborne ignored him and asked, ‘Did I see a third man ride in with you?’
Mavis nodded. ‘Yes. He’s gone exploring if you get what I mean?’
‘I do hope he doesn’t lose his way. Many strangers have come to Paradise and lost their way.’
Grub snorted. ‘How in blazes could he get lost in a town this size?’
‘What brings you to town? Osborne asked Mavis, again ignoring the cook.
‘We have a trail herd headed north to Cheyenne. We needed to stop for supplies.’
‘Many of you?’
‘Sixteen or so.’
‘Come far?’
Grub interrupted. ‘I’d love to stand around here jawing all afternoon, but we need to get these supplies and start back for the herd. You all got a saloon in town? I need to get some medici
nal whiskey. I didn’t see one when I rode in.’
Osborne shook his head. ‘There’s no saloon in Paradise.’
Grub couldn’t believe what he’d heard. ‘No saloon? What kind of town is this?’
Osborne’s voice grew an edge to it. ‘A town that has no trouble.’
Mavis didn’t like the turn things were taking and said, ‘We’d best buy these supplies and get back. Thank you, Mr. Osborne.’
‘My pleasure.’
Osborne stood and watched them go inside the store. Behind him, across the street on the opposite boardwalk stood four more men, all dressed the same way he was.
Bucky Wills stood in front of the large building and scratched his head. He’d never seen anything like it in all his born days.
The round thing on top of the roof was a patterned circle with a face in its center. It seemed to have its tongue sticking out.
On the large, front, double-doors were pictures of … well, he wasn’t quite sure what they were.
Wills stepped in closer and climbed the wide steps. He reached out and touched the raised carving on the left door.
‘His name is Tlaloc.’
Wills snatched his hand back as if his fingers had been burned. He whirled around to see a young woman standing there.
She smiled. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.’
‘I’m not … I mean you didn’t,’ Wills stammered.
‘Of course not.’
‘What is this place?’
‘It’s our church, kind of.’
‘Who is that Tlaloc feller you just said?’
‘He is the God of rain. We pray to him every time we are in church.’
‘Does it work?’
‘What color was the grass you saw on the way in?’
Wills nodded. ‘It works.’
‘The one up on top is called Huitzilopochtli. He is the God of the sun.’
‘You folks sure have a lot of gods.’
She giggled. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Bucky. What’s yours?’
‘Becky.’
Wills smiled. ‘Well shoot, how about that.’
‘Would you like to have a look inside?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay, follow me.’