Silver Creek (The Parker Family Saga)

by G. L. Snodgrass

  Slowly a smile crossed his lips as he realized that Hanna would be happy for him. She would want him to have what she and Zion had. God, if he could only be so lucky.

  Sitting down behind his desk, he started to eat the meal Becky had brought him. Slowly, he started to go over what he knew and what he should do next. Zion had taught him early to plan before he moved. To think things through.

  Unfortunately, he’d learned during the war that once the fighting started, he forgot about any plan and exploded into uncontrolled rage. He couldn’t do that here, he realized. There wasn’t an army behind him to follow him in and help clean up the mess.

  No, this required a plan and he was going to have to follow it if he was going to get to the end of the trail.

  Later, when Jake returned, he took him back to meet the prisoner. “He’s got his orders,” he told Felton. “They try and break you out, he’s to shoot you first then start in on the others.”

  Jake shook his head, “You know, we could solve this whole problem right now. I could just shoot him, tell everyone he was trying to escape. We wouldn’t have to hole up in here like this.”

  Felton swallowed hard as his face turned white.

  “I’ll think on it,” Luke told his brother before turning his back on the prisoner and giving Jake a quick wink.

  “You keep an eye on things,” he told Jake as he retrieved a rifle from the rack and jacked in a round. “I’ve been cooped up too long. Need to check on some things.”

  Jake shrugged. “You sure? I heard they already took a pot shot at you.”

  “You stick here,” Luke said as he put his hand on the door. “I got to talk to the council, let them know they’re paying for a deputy.”

  Jake nodded as he reached over and blew out the lamp, casting the room into darkness ensuring a marksman wouldn’t be able to see Luke highlighted in the door frame.

  Opening the front door, Luke held back as he examined the street and surrounding buildings. The sun had been down for a good hour. No moon, but a thousand stars. The street was dark with only a few lamps spilling light through dirty windows. If someone was going to take another shot at him, they’d have trouble picking him up in this light.

  Slowly, he took it all in. The smell of dust mixed with seared steak smell from Helen’s. A lamplight in the Bank. Tuthill must be working late, probably counting his money for the tenth time that day. Two miners stepped out of the Red House, already wobbly, returning for a swing shift down in the mines.

  Luke stayed back as he glanced over at the bullet hole in the jam. It must have come from either the hotel or bank roof. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out and into the shadows as he examined the building across the street. The Circle B sentries were gone.

  Another mystery that needed to be answered.

  He quietly closed the door behind him then bent and hurried around the corner, using the shadows as camouflage. Luke kept the corner of the building between him and any rifleman. Only when he had reached safety did he let himself breathe again.

  He worked his way south behind the buildings until he could cross at the far end. Once he was across the street, he crouched as he jogged to the back of the hotel then up the back stairs to the roof. Peaking over the casing he found it empty. The Bank roof as well. His gut relaxed. Whoever had taken that pot shot at him was long gone.

  It was too dark to search for casings or other clues.

  It took him another ten minutes to get to the smithy, all the way darting from shadow to shadow. Memories of the war jumped to his mind. How often had he done this? When tasked with scouting duties he’d had to leave his horse behind more than once to get in close to the enemy. All the time, expecting a bullet between the eyes. Moments like this had a habit of making a man’s shoulders tighter than a preacher’s purse.

  Strumph was just putting his tools away for the night when Luke stepped in from the back. The orange glow from the hearth provided just enough light. The blacksmith’s eyes rose in surprise when he turned to find Luke standing there.

  “Got myself a deputy,” Luke told him. “My brother. Thought you lot should know.”

  Strumph nodded. “Saw Felton and about ten riders scoot out of town about an hour ago. Sarah Felton wasn’t with them. I think he left a couple of men at the hotel.”

  A dozen scenarios ran through Luke’s head as he tried to work out what Felton was up to. His gut told him that too many things didn’t make sense and he hated not knowing.

  “What about Reed?” Luke asked, the former sheriff's health would drive how things worked out.

  “He’s doing better. McAdams says he ain’t sure, but he thinks he might recover.”

  Luke sighed with relief. He liked the sheriff and couldn’t wait to give this job back to the man. But it was doubtful it would be any time soon.

  Staring off into the distance Luke asked, “You seen Carver? Rides for the Circle B?”

  Strumph nodded, “Saw him go into the Red House an hour ago. There was a line of cowboys waiting for Frost to open back up.” The large blacksmith frowned deeply. “You stuck a burr under their saddles. I’ll never understand some men. They get their favorite watering hole and they don’t like no other.”

  “Maybe that’ll teach them to mind their manners.”

  The large blacksmith laughed, “I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

  Luke nodded then slipped out into the dark. Within a minute he was at the back door to the Red House. He paused for a moment, recalling that two nights earlier he had been in this very position. He’d had to kill a man. God, he hoped that didn’t have to be repeated.

  Sucking in a deep breath he stepped into the saloon. The sharp smell of stale beer, rotgut whiskey, and cheap tobacco washed over him. A half dozen lamps lit the place up like a Saint Louise bawdy house. Over twenty men were lined up shoulder to shoulder along the bar and another dozen around the tables.

  Payday, he thought to himself. Why hadn’t he remembered? Instinctively his hand adjusted the gun on his hip before he shifted his finger next to the trigger on the rifle as he pointed it out over the crowd.

  “Frost,” he called out over the din of noise. “You keeping things peaceful like?”

  Forty men and two bar girls twisted to find their new sheriff standing there with a rifle covering them. The room dropped into a deafening silence.

  Luke stared back at them, daring any one of them to make a move.

  “Yes, sheriff,” the bartender said with a nervous hitch. “We are going to be the most peaceful saloon this side of the Mississippi. Aren’t we boys?”

  A few men laughed then slowly the conversations started up as men turned back to what was important, the drinks in front of them.

  “Sheriff,” Doc Weaver called, motioning Luke over to join him at the table in the back corner. Luke studied the situation for any traps. The man was alone, the nightly poker game had not yet started. He quickly glanced over the crowd but Carver wasn’t there. Instead, he saw Scarlet give him a quick smile then turn back to hustling drinks from lonely miners.

  Luke pulled out a chair and sat next to Weaver where he could keep an eye on both doors. Resting the rifle across his lap he raised an eyebrow at the man next to him. Dressed in a black frock coat and starched white shirt, the gambler looked as if the town was treating him profitably.

  Weaver took a sip of his whiskey then said, “Sir, I do believe you have created a conundrum for this town. They want you to take down the Feltons, but closing the saloon for two days? That might be going too far. They can’t make up their minds whether you are on the side of the angels or not.”

  “I ain’t going to be here long enough to care,” Luke said without taking his eyes off the room.

  The gambler nodded as Frost walked over and put two glasses of whiskey on the table. “On the house, sheriff.”

  Luke looked up and shook his head. “Don’t think this is going to change things. The next time someone is killed in this place I’ll shut you down for a week.”
/>
  Frost’s shoulders slummed before he turned back for the bar.

  Weaver and Luke sat in silence for a long moment, both men studying the other without being obvious about it. The man was a mystery, to Luke. Well dressed, obviously educated, but he had a gun on his hip and if the stories he had heard were correct, it wasn’t just for show.

  “I heard,” Luke started, “that you were here the night the miner got hurt and the day Felton shot at Sheriff Reed.”

  Weaver nodded. “Front row seat. I do believe this story is better than a Shakespearean play. Drama, surprise, a dozen characters, each with their own agenda. The only question, is it a tragedy or a comedy?”

  “Glad you’re enjoying yourself.” Luke sneered.

  The man smiled, “We find our entertainment where we can.”

  Luke thought of Becky. It would be nice to take her to a play. Show her the better things in life. Then he remembered where he was and forced his focus back on the man next to him. “I don’t know about that,” Luke said. “I’ll have to take your word for it. But I’ll be needing you to testify at the trial.”

  The gambler pursed his lips, “I don’t know, sheriff, I was thinking of moving along. There is an entire world out there that needs exploring. Besides, people around here keep dying in the most unexpected ways.”

  ”The world can wait,” Luke said, as he turned to stare at the man. “You stick around or you’ll be sharing a cell with Felton until the Judge is done with you.”

  Weaver didn’t blink, just stared back for the longest moment then dipped his head in acknowledgment. “What about if the Feltons get you first. There won’t be a trial. Might I be allowed to leave at that time?”

  Luke laughed as he threw back his whiskey and stood up, “If’n I’m dead, you can do what you want. I ain’t going to care.”

  The gambler lifted his drink in silent salute then downed it. Luke relaxed, the man would be there, he’d just given his word. Turning, he twisted his way through the crowd to the front batwing doors. He was just starting to push them open when Scarlet gently grabbed his arm.

  “Carver,” she whispered. “Want’s to see you behind the livery.”

  Luke raised his eyebrows at her in surprise.

  Scarlet smiled gently, “He said you’d be coming in here looking for him and he didn’t want to talk to you where people could know. And I don’t think he’s the type who scares easy.”

  Was it a trap? Was she setting him up? Or, was Carver laying a trap for him? His gut told him no. He could read people and these two weren’t the kind to do that. Not willingly. Besides, Carver had to be careful. It could be dangerous to be seen talking to the sheriff.

  “Thanks,” he told her, grateful to have a step to take.

  She smiled up at him with a sad smile. “Do me a favor. You give Rebecca a life filled with love. It will be good to know that it can actually happen.”

  Luke’s heart hurt as he looked at a woman desperate for happiness. “You know Scarlet, you don’t have to live this life.”

  She scoffed, then halted as if the thought of a different life was something she hadn’t considered. Then , just as quickly, her frown was replaced with the familiar stony smile. “Go on,” she said as she gently pushed him in the shoulder “Or, Rebecca will be coming after me for taking up too much of your time.”

  He laughed then gently took her hand. “I’m serious Scarlet. You want to walk away, you let me know and I’ll help.”

  She sighed, then shook her head. “You got enough problems to worry about. Besides, Ain’t no man worth having, ever going to take me now.”

  Luke frowned down at her, “You’d be surprised what a man will do for the right woman. It’s just a matter of you being the right woman for the right man.”

  Her eyes clouded for a moment, but then Frost called for her from the bar, obviously upset at having her away from the customers. She smiled up at Luke then said, “You go save the town. But I got to admit, you got me thinking.”

  Luke sighed inside, one more person who needed his help. But first, Carver. Tipping his hat to Scarlet, he turned and stepped out onto the boardwalk and then quickly to the side. No shot rang out, no slug tore into his gut. So, everything considered, the night was turning out better than he expected.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Luke studied the corral for a long moment until he was positive that Carver was alone. He wasn’t even sure it was Carver until the man struck a match to light a hand-rolled cigarette.

  “You making yourself a target on purpose?” Luke asked him as he stepped out of the shadows.

  The cowboy shrugged, “Figured you wouldn’t announce yourself, until you knew it was me.”

  Luke shifted the rifle over to his left hand. If things went bad here, it would be in close work and he’d want to use his pistol.

  “Scarlet was saying you wanted to talk,” Luke said as he leaned on the top rail of the corral and studied the horses. His big roan shied away for a moment, then edged forward slowly, obviously wanting a treat.

  “Thought you should know,” Carver said as he turned to join him with his arms draped over the corral rail. “That shot at you this afternoon. It weren’t us.”

  Luke froze for a moment. He hadn’t expected that. “You sure?”

  “Felton issued orders. No one was to make a move against you until he gave the word. And I could see his men. Every one of them was accounted for.”

  “And he didn’t really have time to hire someone else,” Luke added. “A professional?”

  “If it had been a professional,” Carver said, “He wouldn’t have missed. Not at that range.”

  “You was out there. Did it come from the hotel or the bank?”

  Carver shrugged. “Couldn’t tell, they’re too close and the shot echoed. But I didn’t see anyone coming or going.”

  Luke nodded. “Why’d Felton take his crew home?”

  “He’s got a ranch to run. Or, at least that was the reason he said. Him and his sister got into a bit of a dust-up over it. She refused to go home. Took a room at the hotel. He left me and Jamison to keep an eye on her.”

  Luke’s brow furrowed as he twisted to study the man. “Why you telling me all this? I thought you rode for the brand?”

  Carver shrugged. “I’m giving my notice in the morning. Can’t say I like the way he runs his place. Thinking about starting a spread of my own, over by the Ruby Mountains. Found a nice valley with good grass. They’re saying when the railroad comes through, in a year or two, we’ll be able to ship back east. I put in a claim over at the assay office this afternoon. That’s where they keep the books.”

  Luke studied him for a moment as he wondered if the cowboy was doing this because he didn’t agree with Felton’s actions, or if this had been a life-long dream. “It’s a lonely life. Out there all by yourself.”

  The cowboy took a deep breath but remained quiet for a long time.

  “You know,” Luke said, “if you’re leaving. You might want to take Scarlet Perkins along. She might prefer being a rancher’s wife.”

  Carver’s eyes grew big at the suggestion. Him, with a bar girl. But then, slowly, his forehead began to relax as he examined the idea.

  “Well, it’s something to think about. I won’t be leaving for a few days yet.”

  “Want to stick around to see the fireworks?”

  “Maybe,” Carver said. “You got to admit. It is entertaining.”

  “You let me know before you take off,” Luke said then paused for a moment. “I’d be thinking a good bit about Scarlet Perkins. Think she might make the right man a good wife.”

  Carver frowned, “Yes, but …”

  Luke shrugged his shoulders. “The nights get mighty cold up in those mountains during the winter. And ain’t we all got things in our past we ain’t right proud of. That ain’t what is important. It’s tomorrow that counts.”

  “What about you?” Carver asked. “Could you see yourself with a woman … like her?”


  Luke laughed as he turned to leave. “I ain’t ever going to know. It was never going to be anyone but Becky for me.”

  The cowboy was left in the dark to think about it as Luke once more slipped into the shadows. The knowledge that it hadn’t been Felton’s men shooting at him changed things again. A new enemy. One that struck from hiding. God, would there ever be a time when he didn’t have someone wanting to kill him?

  He shook off the morose feeling that threatened to consume him and instead focused on getting to Helen’s before they left for home. With Chester on his stage run, the two women would be unescorted.

  When he got to the restaurant he pulled back and held in the shadows until they stepped outside. Becky pulled her shawl up around her shoulders. Luke couldn’t help but smile. The woman was beautiful and tugged at his insides.

  Instead of making himself known, he held back. He was a target, he reminded himself. No need to place Becky in danger by getting too close but he couldn’t let her walk down this street alone.

  His gut tightened when not ten feet from the restaurant’s door Becky suddenly turned and hissed, “Luke?”

  Shaking his head, he stepped out of the shadows so that she could identify him, “I’ll stay back for a bit,” he whispered then slipped back into the darkness next to the building

  Her shoulders slumped with relief as she shot him a heart-stopping smile. Then taking a deep breath she and Helen started for home again.

  Luke followed, scanning the roofs and corners for anyone that might want to take a shot at him while at the same time keeping an eye out for anyone who might want to snag Becky off the street.

  His stomach was tighter than a drum until he got them to their home. He watched as they both entered without ever acknowledging his presence. Taking a deep breath. he turned to go when a scuffling sound from the side of the house stopped him.

  “Luke,” Becky whispered as she came to the corner and peeked around the edge. Obviously, she had gone inside then slipped out the back door and come around to him. If anyone was watching, they never would have seen her.

  He sighed to himself as he made his way to her. He should tell her to go back inside but he couldn’t, the drive to be with her was just too strong.