The Accomplice: The Silent Partner

by Marcus Galloway

  Having been distracted by one of the old women who’d wandered too close to the front door with her arms full of unpaid merchandise, Farnum looked back at Samuel. “Excuse me?”

  “Mr. Brass is one of the men who was killed,” Samuel explained. “I’m dropping the charges in that case as agreed. The charges involving the murder of Mr. Albert Hansen, on the other hand, are still pending.”

  “I . . . suppose so,” Farnum said.

  This time, it was the man behind Caleb who started to lunge forward. “Now hold up,” Bullock said. “That wasn’t specified!”

  Jabbing a finger toward the official presiding from his sacks of flour, Samuel whined, “But he just said it was! He just said the matter involving Mr. Hansen is still pending.”

  “I did,” Farnum sputtered, “but—”

  “But nothing! I want this man to pay for killing my friend! He’s a murderer!” Samuel hollered. “I’m sure none of these good people want a murderer turned loose. Or has this camp become a shooting gallery ever since Wild Bill was gunned down in cold blood?”

  The matter of Wild Bill Hickok being shot dead in the Number 10 Saloon was still a fresh wound in the side of every Deadwood resident. Folks may have loved Bill or hated him. They may have never met him, but nearly everyone in the camp hated the cowardly son of a bitch who’d pulled that trigger. The fact that Jack McCall had lived more than a few seconds after Bill died didn’t set well with anyone. When someone mentioned Bill, folks in Deadwood thought of Jack.

  Perhaps that was the way McCall had wanted it.

  And the simple fact that McCall got something he wanted was salt poured into the town’s shared wound.

  “This has nothing to do with . . .” Glancing at the intent stares that had been focused upon him from everyone in that store, Farnum grimaced and struggled to find the proper words. “It has nothing to do with this case.”

  “It has to do with justice for killers,” Samuel insisted. Shifting his attention to the shoppers, he added, “All I want is what’s right. That man sitting there is a killer. Everyone in town saw the bodies. Whatever his reasons, he should pay for what he’s done.”

  “I guess I can at least hear from the witnesses who are here on his account,” Farnum said.

  Samuel turned and glared at Doc. “That one’s a killer, too. You want him as a witness?”

  Doc didn’t even flinch. When he laughed, it might as well have been at a lewd joke. “Sounds like this man isn’t entirely of sound mind. I’m here strictly to clear my friend’s name.”

  “And were you there?” Samuel asked. “How else would you know?”

  “I was there!” Creek said. “I saw your friends trying to kill us while my partners joined in!”

  “To hell with you! At least you’re alive!” Samuel said. “And to hell with that skinny prick in the fancy clothes!”

  Doc’s calm demeanor disappeared quicker than the frozen topsoil when that dynamite had been set off. The anger on his face was so thick, it nearly choked him as he roared and ran toward Samuel. “You cowardly, back-shooting son of a bitch!”

  Caleb may not have known Bullock for long, but this was the first time he’d seen the stoic man appear somewhat out of control. Although Bullock did manage to grab hold of Doc’s arm, he nearly tripped over himself in the process. Finally, he pulled Doc away with one hand and raised his pistol with the other.

  “Don’t shoot!” Farnum shouted as he jumped to his feet. “I just had that roof repaired!”

  “Regain control of this farce, E.B.,” Bullock growled, “or I will.”

  “The deed’s changed hands and belongs to Mr. Farmer.”

  “Fletcher.”

  “Fine, fine,” Farnum spat. “The charges for one shooting’s been dropped and the other will be decided in Yankton.”

  “What?” Caleb snapped.

  “They’ve got a proper courthouse . . . or uh . . . a higher court. They’ve also got a proper jail meant to hold a killer, if that’s the findings. That’s my decision and that’s the end of this case!” With that, Farnum grabbed a splintered gavel and knocked it against the top of a crate. “Any more cases to be heard? No? Fine. That’s all for today. Now get out of my damn store!”

  Caleb had plenty more he wanted to say, but didn’t get a chance to air out more than a few syllables before he was hoisted to his feet and shoved toward the front door.

  “This is a travesty!” Doc said.

  Bullock kept his eyes on everyone else as he pushed Caleb in front of him. Once he was walking across the street, he replied, “It was better than some of the trials I’ve seen.”

  “You call this justice?”

  “Not hardly.” When he spotted a familiar pair of faces at a cart where firewood was being sold, Bullock shook his head and kept walking.

  Doc looked in that direction and saw the two steely-eyed brothers. Wyatt looked prepared to walk beside Bullock if the need called for it, and Morgan was just amused by the spectacle working its way from the dry-goods store and into the street.

  “You just stay put,” Bullock said as he stabbed a finger toward Doc. “I’ll come find you when I know what’s happening next.”

  Although Doc may have said something to that, Caleb didn’t hear it over the shuffle of his boots against the dirt and the grinding of his teeth. When he was finally able to stop moving, Caleb found himself within four very familiar walls.

  The air inside that shack still smelled like someone’s regurgitated dinner.

  9

  Caleb figured it had to be well past midnight, but there were still plenty of rowdy voices drifting in from all parts of the camp. Deadwood howled like a living thing all around him, but Caleb wasn’t in any spot to enjoy the nightlife. All he wanted at that moment was to curl up in the most comfortable corner of his new home and fall asleep on ground that had probably been pissed on by every drunk in the Black Hills.

  He kept his eyes shut when he heard a woman’s scream turn into bawdy laughter.

  Caleb tried to go to sleep when he heard an entire saloon break out into a horrific rendition of “Camptown Races.”

  When he heard something rattling within the lock of the door to his shack, Caleb figured it was a dog scraping at the outside of his wall.

  The clatter of the lock coming open, however, was unmistakable.

  Caleb’s head snapped up and he stared at the door. Having been in the dark for several hours, he could easily make out the edges of the door frame outlined in the dim mix of moonlight and torches positioned along the street. He knew better than to check for his gun. Bullock had taken that from Caleb when he was first brought into custody. In fact, Caleb’s pockets were turned inside out, leaving him nothing to grab hold of except for the wall itself.

  Feeling his blood boil at the prospect of being hauled outside just to be forced to endure a long ride that ended with another bullshit trial, Caleb pressed his hands against the wall and prepared to launch himself at whoever was unfortunate enough to open that door.

  The muscles in Caleb’s legs tensed, but quickly started to burn with anticipation.

  As the door slowly opened, Caleb was already planning where he could run after fighting his way out of Deadwood.

  “You in there, Caleb?” asked a shadowy figure who reluctantly stuck his head into the shack. “Goddamn, it’s dark.”

  “Creek?”

  Upon hearing that, Creek opened the door a bit more so he could step inside. His face may have been rough and covered with an unruly beard, but it was one of the best sights Caleb could imagine.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Caleb asked.

  “I’ll explain while we run. Just get out here before someone takes a look this way.”

  Caleb didn’t need to be told twice. He bolted for the door so quickly that he nearly stampeded over Johnson. He didn’t stop until he’d reached the darkened window of a nearby storefront and would have kept right on moving if Creek hadn’t been fussing with the door of the stinking
shack to make sure it looked just the way it had when he’d arrived.

  After shutting the door and locking it again, Creek ran back to where Caleb was waiting.

  “I didn’t figure you as the sort who would break me outta jail,” Caleb admitted.

  “I didn’t break anything,” Creek replied. “I had the key.”

  “And who’d you take that from?”

  “The Honorable E. B. Farnum.”

  Even though he knew he should keep moving, Caleb was nearly knocked over by that news. Just to make sure, he asked, “You mean the same one who presided over that hearing?”

  “One and the same,” Creek said as he looked up and down the street.

  “The one from my hearing?”

  Creek laughed and motioned for Caleb to follow him as he headed toward Main Street. “He owns a hotel, also. That’s where we’ve got to drop off this here key.”

  “Good Lord. Doc didn’t do anything to Farnum, did he?”

  “Not unless you count making the little weasel rich. Well,” Creek added, “at least Farnum’s richer than when we found him.” Suddenly, Creek cursed under his breath and knocked Caleb toward an alley with nearly enough force to send him straight to the ground. Caleb kept his balance and stayed still just long enough to spot the reason for Creek’s outburst.

  Caleb didn’t recognize the pair of men who strolled along the street, but Creek knew them well enough to tip his hat and greet each of them by name. After those two had moved along, Creek motioned for Caleb to step out from the shadows.

  Following Creek onto the boardwalk and down the street, Caleb kept his head down and his eyes peeled. “So, if Farnum’s been bribed, why do I need to sneak around like this? Isn’t he the duly designated official and all that?”

  “Hell, I don’t know all the particulars. Doc did most of the talking in that respect. If you really want to know, you can ask Farnum yourself.”

  Caleb looked at where Creek had stopped and saw the hotel directly in front of him. The front door of that building was already swinging open and Farnum was hustling outside.

  “You were supposed to drop the key off alone,” Farnum said. “I can’t be seen with a fugitive out here in the open.”

  Although there were plenty of people scattered along the street, none of them seemed particularly interested in what Farnum was doing. The saloons were teeming with life and swarming with willing women, which easily eclipsed the sight of the little man with the bulbous nose.

  “After the way things panned out today,” Creek said, “you’re not in any position to make demands.”

  Farnum turned his back to the street and pulled his hat down to cover most of his face when he bowed his head. “I did the best I could. Your friend’s free, isn’t he?”

  “Not legally. The deal was for him to be acquitted.”

  Caleb may not have liked standing by and hearing his fate discussed as if he wasn’t there, but it seemed to be leaning in his favor. At the very least, it did him some good to see the little self-important man squirm.

  “There was some fast-talking going on in there,” Farnum explained. “What was I supposed to do? Make it obvious that I was already leaning one way or another?”

  Caleb couldn’t resist saying, “Heaven forbid you besmirch your integrity in this fine community.”

  Farnum straightened up a bit, took the key from Creek, and gripped the lapel of his coat as if he was posing for a portrait. “I’m respected enough to preside over a trial. A trial, by the way, which wound up perfectly all around. Folks have already forgotten about them two that were killed. There’ll be a flap about you escaping from jail, but it wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened. This camp don’t rank high enough with the Federals for any real search to be put into motion.”

  “And what about Bullock?” Caleb asked.

  Farnum ground his teeth together and fretted with the lapels of his coat as if he was waiting for the other two men to forget that question had even come up. When Caleb and Creek only stared at him harder, Farnum grumbled, “You should probably leave town as soon as possible. Actually . . . tonight would be the best. Does Bullock know you went missing yet?”

  Caleb choked back the obscenity he wanted to shout and balled his fists. “This is great. Now I’m a fugitive.”

  Oddly enough, Creek forced back a laugh. “No good deed goes unpunished.”

  As much as he wanted to hit something or someone, Caleb couldn’t help but let out his breath in an exasperated laugh. When he saw Farnum start to chuckle as well, Caleb lost his sense of humor.

  “I take it Doc paid you to see to it I was set loose?” Caleb asked.

  “In gold,” Creek added.

  Farnum nodded quickly. “And I held up my end of the bargain.”

  “I suppose Doc was guaranteed a smooth hearing and some favorable results. Instead, Creek lost his claim and I’m on the run.”

  Creek didn’t add anything to that, but judging by the look on Farnum’s face, he didn’t really need to.

  “You’re gonna get me a new horse,” Caleb said. “Plus, some supplies for the ride I’ve gotta take.”

  “What? This is preposterous!”

  “Then maybe I should just see about taking some kind of refund out of your hide.” Even though Caleb didn’t have a gun at his side, the intensity in his voice was more than enough to back him up. All he needed to do was take half a step forward to bring about some immediate results.

  “All right, all right,” Farnum said. “You’re right. Things didn’t work out exactly as I thought they would, but that’s only because that other fellow talked right over me. I can get you a horse, but supplies?”

  “You’ve got a whole store,” Creek pointed out.

  “Yeah,” Caleb added. “I was in your store for that disgrace of a hearing.”

  “Fine, fine. Follow me and I’ll take you there myself. But you’ll have to be quick and you can only have a few necessities for that ride you’re taking. Once you get that horse, you’d best hop onto it and get out of here as quickly as you can.”

  Caleb let out a short, humorless laugh. “Believe me. The sooner I put this place behind me, the better.”

  True to his word, Farnum led Caleb and Creek around to the back entrance of his dry-goods store and let them stock up. Creek only took a small helping of coffee and some jerked beef, but Caleb stuffed his pockets a bit more. By the time he left that store, Caleb had managed to snag everything from the supplies he actually needed to a new hat, a shiny pocketknife, and a few expensive-looking trinkets he didn’t need. Before he made his way to the coats and suits in the back of the store, Caleb felt an insistent tugging on his sleeve.

  “Time to go,” Creek said. “There’s a couple horses around back. Pick one and put it to work.”

  “All right,” Caleb replied as he placed his new hat on his head. “Nice doing business with you.”

  Creek managed to wait until he was out of the store before busting out into laughter. “Now that was funny. I thought for sure you were gonna get a new set of clothes out of that deal.”

  “If I didn’t think his merchandise was infested by fleas, I might have done that.” Stepping up to a stall in a small lot behind the store, Caleb asked, “Are those the horses Farnum was talking about?”

  “Yep,” Creek replied. “Brass sold them to Farnum a few weeks ago.”

  Caleb wasted no time in selecting one of the two animals and taking its reins. “Well, this one’s mine now. Let’s get the hell out of this godforsaken camp.”

  “Not so fast,” Creek said. “And we can’t go that way.”

  Craning his neck to look down the alley he was about to use, Caleb asked, “Why not?”

  “Because we’re set to meet up with Doc in an hour and we can’t get to the spot from that direction. Besides, we need to take a quick ride past the Bella Union and let Doc know we’re on track. He may just need a little backing right about now.”

  “Three’s full,” Doc announced as h
e laid his cards down for everyone at the table to see.

  Vasily squinted and leaned forward to examine the cards more closely. Seated directly across from Doc, Alice Ivers shook her head and pitched her hand. The man next to Doc let out a sigh and slapped his cards down as if he meant to punish them.

  “Easy now, Bullock,” Doc said. “Those cards didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “The hell they didn’t,” Bullock replied. “They just cost me my third hand of the night. Maybe I should pack it in.”

  “You think like that and you won’t ever come out ahead,” Alice said.

  Vasily knocked on the table as if he was knocking on a door. “Then deal. No more talk.”

  “Where’s Randal?” Doc asked as he shuffled the deck and looked around. “I thought he was going to show up here tonight, as well.”

  “I don’t know,” Bullock said as he checked his pocket watch. “But if I see him, I’ll let him know you’re looking for him. Right now, I should get going.”

  “Too late to leave now,” Doc said. “You’ve already got your hand in front of you.”

  Bullock looked down and saw a neat pile of five cards lying facedown in front of him. They’d been dealt so quickly and so quietly that he didn’t even realize they were headed his way.

  Alice took the unlit cigar from her mouth and rolled it between her fingers. “Rules are rules, Sheriff. It wouldn’t be proper to let perfectly good cards be pitched without being played.”

  While Bullock may have seemed somewhat annoyed at first, Alice’s soothing tone and sweet glance seemed to have dulled his edge. “All right. But this is the last hand. I’ve got rounds to make.”

  “Not even officially in office and already adhering to your duties,” Doc said. “How civic-minded of you.”

  “Sometimes I don’t know when you’re pulling my leg or not, Doc,” Bullock replied in a somewhat warning tone.

  Doc shrugged and fanned his cards. “Sometimes, neither do I. What say you, Vasily?”

  “I say raise. One hundred dollars.”

  Alice studied the Russian, but not for very long. “That does it for me,” she said as she tossed in her cards.