by B. S. Dunn
Vince asked, ‘Who’s the feller you got coming in to take over the badge?’ Vince asked.
‘Reynolds.’
There was no need to say anything else.
Sheriff Smith walked slowly along the boardwalk. He stopped occasionally to peer into darkened store windows to check all was well. It wasn’t long after midnight and he was on his last round before going to bed for the night.
He stepped down from the boardwalk, crossed the mouth of one of Swiftcreek’s many alleys, and then up the steps on the other side.
When his boots hit the top he paused. A noise had emanated from the alley he’d just passed. Smith turned back and stared into the gloom.
The sheriff frowned and walked back down the steps. Then he moved a few yards into the alley. ‘Hello, anyone there?’
His words were met with silence. Another couple of steps and he stopped again. ‘Hello?’
The alley exploded with the crash of gunfire. Three bullets slammed into Smith’s chest and made him stagger back. His jaw dropped in shock and he tried to draw breath into his shattered lungs.
The sheriff dropped to his knees and then tipped on to his side. As he died the town was just coming to life to see what the noise was all about.
The sound brought Curtis awake. At first, he wasn’t sure what it was. It was too far away for him to be certain. But as he came fully awake it suddenly dawned on him what it was. Gunshots!
‘Damn it!’ he snarled and came to his feet. ‘Lester, get up!’
His shout was met with a groan.
‘Get up, damn it!’
Lester groaned again. ‘Why?’
‘I think someone is shooting our cattle.’
Lester flew up in his cot. ‘What? Why? How do you know?’
‘It’s about the only reason I can think of why someone is shooting at this time of night,’ Curtis said as he dragged his pants on.
Before Curtis hit the door, Lester was dressed. El Tigre scooped up the Yellow Boy and ran out the door.
Out in the yard, Curtis stopped and listened. Clearer now, the gunfire was coming from the east. Now he was even more certain they were shooting the cattle because that’s where they were.
‘Get the horses,’ Curtis snapped.
Lester ran over to the corral and fought to get the horses ready while Curtis ran across to the main house. He banged on the door and it was answered almost immediately by Mary-Alice.
‘What’s going on?’ she asked. ‘Is that shooting?’
‘Yes, stay here. We’ll go and check it out.’
‘Be careful.’
He turned away and rushed across to the corral. Lester said, ‘We don’t have saddles. It was quicker that way.’
‘Don’t matter. Let’s go.’
They thundered out of the yard and headed east across the lush green pasture painted silver by the large, full moon overhead. It made the landscape brighter and easier to navigate obstacles.
A mile from the house the pasture lifted and the horses raced up a gentle slope. When they topped the rise they reined in.
‘There!’ Lester exclaimed. ‘I can see them.’
So could Curtis. There were two men riding amidst what remained of the cattle. The cows were scattered which made it harder for them to finish off all of them.
‘Son of a bitch,’ Curtis hissed and brought up his Winchester. From this distance in the light which the moon provided, there was no way he could be sure of hitting anyone. But he sure as hell meant to try.
After the first shot crashed out, El Tigre levered in a fresh round and fired again. He did that another three times before heeling his roan forward. ‘Come on, Lester. Let’s run these bastards off.’
They rode hard down the other side of the slope towards the nightriders. One of them saw Curtis and Lester coming and shouted to his friends. They whirled their horses about and galloped away.
Curtis and Lester reined in when they reached the dead animals. Lester called across to Curtis, ‘What are we stopping for?’
‘We won’t catch them now.’
Lester looked around at the scattered lumps in the grass. ‘Why did they do this?’
‘It was a warning.’
‘Who . . . Brotherton? Brotherton did this?’
‘More than likely ordered it done. I figure he doesn’t get his hands dirty unless he has to.’
‘Damn him,’ Lester cursed.
‘Well, looks like the peace and quiet is over.’
A loud bellow split the night.
‘Sounds like that bull is still alive,’ Lester commented. ‘At least they didn’t get him.’
‘That’s something. Head back to the house and tell Mary-Alice what happened. I’ll stay out here and look around. Try and work out how many they killed.’
‘You sure?’
‘Yeah.’
‘All right then. I’ll see you when you get back.’
When Curtis arrived back at the ranch house shortly after first light, he brought with him bad news. There were only four cows left and the bull. The rest were dead or had to be shot because they were beyond help.
Mary-Alice was devastated at the loss. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘I’ll ride over to Morris’ spread tomorrow and see if I can arrange to get some more cattle. I’ve enough spare money so you should be able to get some more. Meanwhile, I’ve been thinking about that timber that Brotherton wants so bad.’
‘What about it?’ asked Lester.
‘Sell some of it.’
‘What?’ Lester blurted out. ‘Sell it?’
‘I’m not selling to Brotherton,’ growled Mary-Alice.
‘You won’t have to. There’s a logging company over in Barrett, we could send them a wire.’
‘But that’s fifty miles away,’ Mary-Alice pointed out.
‘Yes, but I heard in town that they’re cutting trees for ties needed by the railroad. I’d say that’s what Brotherton wants the timber for. He would make a fortune if he had all of the timber sown up.’
Mary-Alice looked uncertain. ‘If you’re sure.’
‘It may be the only choice you have. While I’m in town I’ll have a talk with Smith and tell him what happened.’
‘I don’t think it’s wise for you to go to town at all,’ Mary-Alice said.
‘I’ll be fine.’
‘It’s not you I’m worried about.’
Chapter 6
The moment Curtis rode into Swiftcreek he could sense something was wrong. The town seemed to have lost its spark.
He eased his roan to the hitch rail outside the jail and climbed the steps on to the boardwalk. He crossed to the door and tried to open it, but found it locked. He shrugged and looked about on the off chance he could see Smith anywhere. Instead, he was met with furtive glances from townsfolk who walked by.
Curtis shrugged his shoulders and guessed it was because of who he was. He decided to come back later and stepped back down onto the street and untied the horse’s reins. He led it along the street until he found the telegraph office. He hitched the horse and went inside.
The telegrapher was a thin man with light-colored hair and was in the process of writing out a message which was coming over the wire. ‘Be with you in a moment.’
While he waited, Curtis glanced at some of the flyers on the wall of the office. One in particular caught his eye. It was an advertisement looking for men to cut trees, with a starting date of a week from that day. Curtis frowned. It looked to be recent.
It was signed B.B.
‘What can I do for you?’ the telegrapher asked.
Curtis pointed at the flyer. ‘This new?’
‘Went up this morning.’
‘Brotherton?’
‘Yes. You after work?’
‘Nope. I want to send a wire.’
‘Of course.’
The telegrapher gave him a stub and paper. ‘Write out what you want sent. You can write?’
Curtis nodded and wrote out the message.
He passed it over to the telegrapher who read it, growing paler the more he read.
‘Is there a problem?’ Curtis asked.
‘Ahh – no. No, it . . . do you really want this sent?’
‘I do. I’ll wait for a reply.’
‘OK.’
It took thirty minutes for the reply to come back. When Curtis read it, he smiled. Then he glared at the telegrapher. ‘If this gets back to Brotherton, I’ll know where it came from.’
He said nothing.
‘Now, where might I find Sheriff Smith? His office was locked up.’
The man opened his mouth to speak but then it snapped shut.
Curtis frowned. ‘What?’
‘He’s dead. He was killed last night while he was doing his rounds.’
The news of the sheriff’s death hit Curtis harder than he let on. So, this is it. Brotherton is going all in.
‘Did they get who did it?’
‘No.’
‘So who’s taken over his job? I had some trouble last night and I need to report it.’
‘No one yet. I sent word today. There’s a feller coming from Dobytown. I sent a wire to Fort Kearny.’
‘Who? What’s the feller’s name?’ Curtis asked.
The telegrapher gave him a knowing smile and Curtis said, ‘I get it. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.’
As Curtis rode back along the street he thought about what had happened so far. The nightriders who’d killed the cows, and then someone had killed the sheriff. He had no doubt the two were connected and that Brotherton was involved. He was almost as certain that the new sheriff would be on Brotherton’s payroll too. Which meant that B.B. was playing with a stacked deck.
With his plan in place, Brotherton would move on the lands he wanted. The ones that were loaded with trees. That meant Mary-Alice and the Morrises.
Ahead on the boardwalk, outside the Silver Aspen saloon, he saw two familiar faces. Murray and Bell. Vince’s men.
Curtis angled his horse towards them and came to a halt. He rested his hand on the butt of his Remington and said, ‘Where’s your boss?’
They looked at each other and shrugged. Bell ran a hand across his stubbled chin and said, ‘Not real sure. Ain’t seen him in a while.’
Nodding, Curtis said, ‘I ain’t surprised. All you fellers must’ve had a late night, huh?’
Murray’s eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you were out our way shooting our cattle. Someone shot the sheriff. Yep, pretty busy night.’
‘Don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Uh, huh. Well then, let me speak real plain so dumb assholes like you fellers can understand me. The next time any of you comes on to our range, I’ll put a .44 Henry slug in his hide.’
‘You going to be able to back them words up, Curtis?’ Bell hissed.
‘You know I can.’
Bell moved away from Murray to get a clear line of sight on Curtis. ‘I owe you, you son of a bitch.’
‘You want to do this now?’ Curtis asked. ‘Here on the street with all these people around?’
‘I don’t care about no people,’ Bell sneered.
A surge of adrenalin coursed through El Tigre’s veins. For it was him now, not Curtis who faced down Bell. It was always him.
The flicker in Bell’s eyes gave his intentions away. His shoulder dipped when his hand streaked towards his holstered six-gun. But El Tigre’s Remington was already clear of leather and the first shot crashed out.
Bell was hit hard when the bullet smashed into his chest. He staggered, then tried to right himself. Instead, his legs gave out and he fell to the dusty street.
Curtis kicked his horse and it lunged forwards a couple of strides. Just enough to do two things. First, it helped throw off Murray’s aim, and the bullet from the killer’s gun flew wide of its intended mark. And second, it cleared Curtis’s line of fire.
The Remington barked again, and this time Murray felt the burning pain of the slug which tore into his chest. Curtis shot him twice more for good measure.
What happened next, however, was unexpected. From further along the street a gun roared, and the bullet cut through the air close to Curtis’s face.
Looking up he saw the shooter. Curtis figured he was one of Brotherton’s men. He rammed the Remington back into its holster and brought the Yellow Boy free of its scabbard.
Curtis levered a round into the breech and dropped the front sight on to the figure along the street. Ahead of the weapon, people started to scatter, some even cut across his front and made his shot even harder.
Ignoring the next round which passed even closer, Curtis let out an even breath and squeezed the trigger.
He saw the puff of dust from the clothing of the shooter when the bullet struck home. The man collapsed and arched his back before lying still. Curtis levered in another round and waited in silence. His horse beneath him stood stock still.
Vince and Brotherton appeared from inside the saloon. It was Vince who spoke after he took a moment to survey the scene. His icy gaze settled on the rider on the red roan. ‘What the hell happened, Curtis?’
‘Your man Bell decided to try his luck. He lost.’
‘Murray?’
‘Dealt himself in on a losing hand. There’s another feller along the street decided to do the same thing.’
Brotherton glanced to his left and saw a small crowd gathered on the street. He turned his hot glare on Curtis. ‘You killed all three?’
‘Yeah.’
‘What are you going to do about it, Vince?’
Curtis tensed. He said, ‘I think Vince did enough last night. Hit our place, killed most of our cows. Then I hear someone killed Smith. No prizes for guessing who that was.’
Vince’s face remained passive.
‘Vince?’
‘There’ll come a time,’ Vince said. ‘This ain’t it.’
‘Are you scared of him?’ Brotherton asked trying to goad him into doing something.
Curtis stared hard at the man. ‘He ain’t scared, Brotherton. Just wise. You could learn something from him.’
Brotherton cursed out loud and stomped away. Curtis stared at Vince. ‘What happened last night was like declaring war, Vince. Run off and shoot our stock. Kill the sheriff. What’s next?’
‘Don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Understand this. I’ll kill any man who Brotherton sends on to Mary-Alice’s land. Killing is something I know. Something I’m good at. You might want to make sure that the feller that Brotherton brings in to be sheriff knows that too.’
Vince nodded. ‘I’ll do that.’
Chapter 7
The news out at the Morris spread didn’t get any better. When Curtis rode into the ranch yard just after noon all the hands seemed to be milling about aimlessly. Like they were waiting for something to happen.
They stared and watched Curtis ride in. One of them stepped forward and asked, ‘What do you want here, Curtis?’
‘I came to see your boss. Is he about?’
‘Mr Morris is dead. He was killed last evening while he was out riding the range.’
The news stunned Curtis. This really was bad. ‘What happened?’
The man shook his head. ‘One of the hands found him.’
‘How are his son and daughter taking it.’
On cue, the door to the ranch house crashed open and Cody stormed out. ‘Cody! Come back here!’
He ignored her and kept going.
Then Beth appeared in the doorway. ‘Cody, you can’t. Pa has only just been killed and this is what you do.’
Cody stopped and whirled about. ‘We need the damned money, Beth. Pa couldn’t see it, but I can. It’s the only way.’
‘What? To sell our timber to Brotherton? There are others.’
Curtis frowned. It seemed to him that the decision had been made awful quick.
‘Not here there isn’t.’
‘I won’t sign,’ she sa
id defiantly.
‘I don’t care. Now that Pa is gone, I run the place.’
‘He said he left it to both of us.’
‘There’s no way a woman can run a ranch.’
‘I could run it better than you. But you don’t care, do you? Now that Pa is dead you think you can do things your way. Well, I’m telling you that it isn’t going to happen that way.’
He started to stalk back towards her. The anger with his sister seemed to permeate from him. He placed one foot on the veranda and Curtis’ voice stopped him cold. ‘Think about your next move, kid.’
Cody turned to face him. ‘What the hell are you doing out here?’
‘Came to see your father,’ Curtis explained. ‘Sorry for your loss.’
‘Well, now you know, get the hell off of my land.’
‘Came to see if I could buy some more cows from you.’
‘No!’
Beth said, ‘You want to buy more? I thought you had all you wanted?’
‘Nightriders rode on to the spread last night and shot most of them.’
‘Oh, no,’ Beth gasped. ‘Of course you can have some more.’
‘I said no,’ Cody snapped. ‘Now get gone.’
Curtis set his jaw firm and said in a low voice, ‘This ain’t none of my business, but if you go and sell your timber to Brotherton it means he wins.’
Cody snarled. ‘You’re right. It ain’t none of your business.’
‘You do realize that Brotherton is behind all of this, don’t you?’
‘Behind what?’
‘Your pa’s death, the cows being shot, Sheriff Smith being killed last night.’
‘What?’ Beth seemed startled. ‘Not Clem?’
One of the hands cursed.
Curtis nodded. ‘I’d have thought you would have known. Didn’t anyone go to town to report your father’s death? Brotherton already has a man coming in to fill his position.’
‘You can’t prove that,’ Cody sneered.
‘It all makes sense. The one thing he wants is the timber. With your pa and Smith out of the way, he’s setting himself up to get it. Shooting the cows on Mary-Alice’s land last night was a warning. I guess your pa got all the warnings Brotherton was willing to give him. But you do what you want to do. Me, I aim to fight.’
