The Accomplice: The Silent Partner

by Marcus Galloway

As Caleb started to walk away, he was stopped by a hand that was as fast as it was powerful. Graymon grabbed hold of the front of Caleb’s shirt as if he intended on ripping off some flesh and muscle along the way.

  Speaking in a low rumble, Graymon said, “You’re not going anywhere, boy.”

  Unlike many other saloons, John Shannsey’s Cattle Exchange was a place that felt wide open and had plenty of room for a man to breathe. Of course, the place could have been built that way just to accommodate the thick, wide frame of its owner. John Shannsey had spent plenty of his younger years in a boxing ring and every one of them was marked by the dents in his face and the crooked bend of his nose. Despite those scars, Shannsey was a good-natured fellow who treated most everyone as his friends. Then again, Shannsey’s enemies weren’t exactly dumb enough to show their faces in the big Irishman’s establishment.

  When Doc walked into Shannsey’s Cattle Exchange, he nodded to the owner. That simple gesture was enough for the big man to pour some coffee into a large mug and walk around the bar. Although he didn’t pour any whiskey into the coffee, Shannsey knew enough to get a bottle ready.

  “Who’s your friend?” Shannsey asked as he approached Doc’s table.

  Doc took the mug of coffee and eased into a chair. He had a newspaper tucked under one arm, which he placed flat upon the table. “This is Samuel Fletcher. You’d like him, Shanny. He’s tried at least two or three times to kill me.”

  Shannsey chuckled and cocked his head to one side. “Long as he settles his bill, he’s all right by me. What can I get for you, Sam?”

  Reluctantly sitting down across from Doc, Samuel looked up at the Irishman. Since his cold, tight-lipped frown wasn’t enough to dismiss Shannsey, Samuel said, “I don’t want anything, thank you.”

  “You’re not hungry anymore?” Doc asked.

  Samuel was still pale as he shook his head.

  “Suit yourself.” Shannsey said. “Will you want some breakfast, Doc? There’s still some flapjacks left.”

  “I would love some flapjacks,” Doc said. “I worked up quite an appetite.”

  “I’ll bet you did,” Shannsey replied. “You and Kate still getting along?”

  Before Doc could answer that question, Samuel slapped his hand down upon the table. “You’re wasting my time,” he hissed.

  Slowly looking up at Shannsey, Doc said, “I’d better tend to this.”

  The Irishman nodded and kept his eyes on Samuel as he walked back around his bar and sent one of his workers to fetch Doc’s breakfast.

  Samuel took his other hand out of his pocket just enough for Doc to see the .32 he was still holding. “We’ve got business, Holliday,” he said as he situated the gun beneath the table so it was aimed at Doc’s midsection.

  “I’ll say we do. After you followed me all the way from my hotel like a lost puppy, there’s no way I could forget.”

  “If you would have answered the question I posed outside your hotel, I wouldn’t have needed to follow you.”

  “Question?”

  The hand that had been slapped onto the table now curled into a tight fist. Samuel’s knuckles whitened and all the color drained from his lips. “The gold. We want our gold.”

  After furrowing his brow and taking a moment to think, Doc asked, “There’s still a ‘we’ involved? You were alone in Breckenridge. Well, you were alone after Henry Kahn took off like a scalded dog and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of any of your other compatriots since leaving the Black Hills.”

  “They’re still out there. I’ve even heard that one of them caught up to your Indian friend.”

  Doc laughed under his breath and took a sip of coffee. “You couldn’t even finish the job when I was shot and bleeding on the floor in Breckenridge. Why should I believe you’d be able to track Caleb down all the way across the country?” Once Shannsey looked his way, Doc shouted, “You know how I like my coffee, Shanny, and this isn’t it.”

  “Just thought you’d like to start the morning with a clear head, Doc,” Shannsey replied.

  Speaking so loudly had put a scratch in Doc’s throat. That scratch got him coughing. Once he had that under control, he lowered his voice and said, “Your concern is touching. Now please bring me one of those bottles.”

  Shannsey brought over a bottle, but it wasn’t even half full. He showed Doc a stern look, which was enough to get him away from the table without another tongue lashing.

  Doc pulled the stopper from the bottle and poured a healthy measure of whiskey into his coffee.

  “Henry Kahn was an idiot and a lousy shot,” Samuel said. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t intend for him to try and kill you.”

  After thinking about that for a moment, Doc shook his head. “That doesn’t make me feel better at all.”

  “Well, I won’t be pulling any more punches and neither will the men who’ll be coming to town any moment now.”

  “Oh, dear. Not the dreaded Dave Rudabaugh. How will I ever contain my fear?”

  “Strut all you want, Holliday, but I’ve had enough of this. Your Injun friend was fairly well-known in Dallas. We barely needed to ask a handful of people to find out where he was. Certain members of Mr. Wayfinder’s family didn’t have any problem whatsoever in sharing where he’d gone. The job took time and money, but it’s done. You’ve had our money for a considerable amount of time and we’re done fooling with you.”

  “Good,” Doc chuckled. “Because it’s become very tiresome.”

  “Then tell me where to find my gold and I’ll be on my way.”

  Still looking down at his newspaper, Doc shook his head. “You’ve followed me long enough to know how I spend my days. Surely you would have seen me hauling a wagon of gold from one spot to another. Is that about how much you think I have left?”

  “I know that you’re a sporting man and, being as such, you would know to keep some money on hand to back your efforts in whatever game you decide to play.”

  “You must have lost track of me for a while,” Doc pointed out, “because I fell on some hard times in Kansas. Your man Henry Kahn did put a hurting onto me that took some time to shake off.”

  “Even after I’d thought you were dead, I managed to find you again,” Samuel said proudly.

  “And with all those staggering powers of observation, what makes you think I can carry a bag full of gold everywhere I go? Not that I don’t appreciate your confidence, but most folks don’t give me that sort of credit.”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t drunk yourself to death and I don’t pretend to know how you survived getting shot. You see, my whole point is that it no longer matters if you have the gold in your possession or not.”

  “Really?” Doc asked as he turned the newspaper over. “Then I must have lost track of what you were talking about.”

  “That gold belonged to us,” Samuel said crisply. “Of that, there is no question. Another fact is that you, Creek Johnson, and that Indian friend of yours stole that gold out from under us.”

  “Now that is an ugly accusation.”

  “Yes, but an accurate one.”

  Both men fell silent as the young blonde who worked for Shannsey stepped up to the table to put a plate of flapjacks and bacon down in front of Doc. She smiled and was about to say something when she noticed that both men at the table were still glaring at each other. Her eyes reflexively darted to the guns both men were carrying and then she backed away.

  “Thank you,” Doc said in a smooth voice that still made the young lady jump.

  She nodded quickly. “Is there anything else I can—”

  “No,” Samuel snapped. “Leave.”

  She left and was quick about it.

  Doc clucked his tongue and said, “You’re going to have to be more polite if you ever hope to touch a woman.”

  Ignoring the barbed comment, Samuel kept his eyes fixed upon Doc. “I’m certain that gold is long gone. Your partner’s share will be brought back soon enough, Creek Johnson will be dealt wit
h, and you’ve probably spent your portion on gambling and whores like the one you choose to spend your nights with right now.”

  When Doc stood up, he moved like a trap that had been sprung and Samuel looked up at him like a prairie dog that had just gotten its leg stuck between a pair of iron jaws. Doc’s hands were on the table and a good distance from his guns, but that didn’t take anything away from the murderous promise in his eyes.

  “If you want to live long enough to walk out of this room,” Doc rasped, “you’ll refrain from speaking one more word about Kate. If I even suspect you’re thinking about her, I’ll gut you like a fish.”

  Samuel swallowed hard and did a poor job of appearing to be in control of the situation. “Fine. Now why don’t you sit down and we can finish our discussion.”

  Doc didn’t move a muscle on Samuel’s order.

  Only after a few tense moments, Doc finally eased back and settled into his chair. When he looked over at the bar, Doc nodded to Shannsey. Only then did the former pugilist let go of the club he kept under the bar.

  “You owe us that gold,” Samuel said. “And since you claim you no longer have it, my partners and I will accept the cash equivalent.”

  “How much do you figure?”

  “Twenty thousand to start. That will buy you enough time for me to check on the going rate of gold so I can figure out how much will square us up for good.”

  “Twenty thousand?” Doc scoffed. “Is that all? I would have thought you’d build it up to much more than that.”

  “Oh, there will be more coming to us. After all, it’s only fair that you pay us back for all the expenses incurred while we chased you down to collect this debt.”

  Doc kept nodding as he started to pick at his breakfast. “And what if I tell you to stuff your figures, as well as anything else you can find, up your pompous ass?”

  “Then we’ll see to it that you’ll wish you had died on that floor in Breckenridge.”

  “Still ‘we,’ is it?” Doc asked. “You’re heeled right now. No man in his right mind would run their mouth so much unless they were heeled. Why don’t you draw that little gun of yours and settle this debt right here and now?”

  Slowly rising to his feet, Samuel straightened his jacket. He kept his hand close to his gun, but didn’t attempt to draw the weapon. “You have until this time tomorrow to get the money together. If you need more time, get whatever you can and bring it. We’ll see what arrangements we can make.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Doc said with a sigh as he dug into his breakfast. “Run along, then. Tell Dave I said hello.”

  23

  Caleb gritted his teeth every time he felt the rough hand shove him forward. No matter how much he wanted to wheel around and take a swing at the man who was pushing him, he swallowed his pride and allowed himself to be herded like some sort of dumb animal into its pen. To make the indignity even worse, Caleb found himself in the same stable where Penny was being kept.

  As Caleb started to turn around, the rough hands shoved him back the other way so he continued to stare at a dirty wall. Since there was nowhere else for him to go, Caleb knew he could be shot at any moment. That knowledge, combined with the aggravation that had built up during his walk to the stable, brought him around with enough power to swat aside the rough hand before it could stop his progress.

  Frank had been the one shoving Caleb and he was also the first one to draw his pistol when Caleb insisted on facing the vigilantes. The moment Frank cleared leather, Graymon and Paul did the same out of blind reflex to cover their partner.

  “If I meant to fight you,” Caleb said, “I could have done it before I was at such a disadvantage.”

  One nod from Graymon was all it took for Frank to back off. Even after that, all three vigilantes stood ready to pull their triggers at a moment’s notice.

  “Just what the hell do you want from us?” Graymon asked.

  “I wanted to save you men the trouble of finding Rudabaugh,” Caleb replied. “Since the law hasn’t had any luck all these years, I figure it was better to bet on a horse that’s won a race or two.”

  “What do you get out of it?”

  “A favor,” Caleb said. “I’d like to ask a favor.”

  Frank’s eyes narrowed as he nodded slowly. “Here it comes.”

  After silencing the younger man with a quick, stern glance, Graymon shifted his attention back to Caleb. “What favor?”

  “First off,” Caleb answered as he shifted from one foot to the other, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t kill me. With all the work you’ve done around here, don’t you fellows ever talk to anyone who’s genuinely trying to help?”

  Paul chuckled under his breath and said, “Folks aren’t usually so civic-minded.”

  “All right, then. How about this?”

  Before Caleb could continue what he meant to say, Paul turned away from the window he’d been using to keep watch on the street. “Someone’s coming this way.”

  Graymon’s eyes darted away from Caleb for half a second, but were on him before Caleb had a prayer of moving from his spot. “Who is it?” he asked.

  “Looks like that fellow that was with Holliday.”

  “Go see what he wants.”

  Paul nodded and backed away until he was certain the other two had Caleb well in hand.

  “I told you he’d be coming for you,” Caleb said.

  “That fellow looks like a stiff breeze would knock him down,” Frank grunted. “What the hell’s he gonna do to us?”

  Although the younger man wore a confident smirk, Graymon wasn’t so quick to join him. He eyed Caleb intently and waited for the answer to that question.

  “He works with Dave Rudabaugh,” Caleb replied.

  Graymon slowly shook his head. “I know Rudabaugh well enough. Most folks around here do. He’s a killer, a thief, and a rustler. He rides with other killers and thieves. He doesn’t think far enough ahead to send scouts or spies on his behalf.”

  “Maybe not, but you don’t think he’d turn down some free advice if it pointed him in the right direction where a good job was concerned, do you? Every robber’s got to have some eyes and ears scattered about to look for the good openings. It only makes sense.”

  “Sounds like you know an awful lot about how Rudabaugh works,” Graymon said. “Maybe you’re his eyes and ears.”

  “Sure. That’s why I walked straight up to you when I could just as easily have walked by without saying a word.”

  “So why come to us?” Graymon asked.

  “I’ve been hunting Rudabaugh for too long, chasing after that reward put up by Wells Fargo,” Caleb replied. “Rudabaugh may not be the smartest robber there ever was, but he knows how to run. Surely you know plenty about assholes like that who manage to give you the slip.”

  Graymon shook his head again. “There ain’t many men who give us the slip.”

  “Which is exactly why I came to you. I’d rather split the reward and move on to the next asshole than make Rudabaugh my life’s work. I sure as hell can’t just give up. That’d play hell on my reputation.”

  “To hell with your reputation,” Frank said. “We’re not in the business of throwing in with bounty hunters.”

  “You don’t need to throw in with me,” Caleb said. “I just thought you’d like to have a part in bringing in a known man like Rudabaugh.”

  “We got our hands full. Just get the hell—”

  “Shut up, Frank,” Graymon snapped. Once he was certain his partner was in check, he shifted his attention back to Caleb. “Why not go to the law?”

  “You are the law in this town,” Caleb replied. “Everyone knows that. I thought things would go smoother if I let you know what was happening before I face Rudabaugh. Then I thought you might like the chance to make it known that you men aren’t just a bunch of gunmen who string horse thieves up from trees.”

  The silence in the stable dropped like a hammer and hung in the air like smoke. Caleb wondered if he might
have gone one step too far in needling the vigilantes, especially if that step might just be off a stool right before a noose cinches in around his neck.

  The vigilantes had known what they were doing when they’d brought Caleb to that stable. Although Penny was also in there, she wasn’t in much of a position to be of any help. So far, nobody else had come near the stable or even stuck their nose in to see what was going on inside. If Graymon or his men decided to put a bullet through Caleb’s head, there wasn’t anyone around to stop or even question them.

  “You think you can do us some good, huh?” Graymon asked.

  Caleb shrugged and replied, “I think we can do this job pretty good if we work together. After that, we can part ways.”

  “And what do you think that skinny fellow is saying to Paul right now?”

  Although he couldn’t see much outside the stable, Caleb could tell that Paul was talking to someone out there. Since Graymon didn’t have much of a reason to lie, he figured Samuel was making his case at that very moment.

  “Whatever it is,” Caleb said, “you shouldn’t trust one bit of it.”

  “There’s been plenty of other men who’ve come around here to try and bend our ears with lies and fancy talk,” Graymon said. “Most of them just wanted to get our backs turned long enough to put a bullet into them. Even the law’s taken a run at us, but none of it’s done a damn bit of good.”

  “This isn’t like that,” Caleb insisted.

  “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what the next few minutes brings us.”

  The plan had been for Doc to stay put so Caleb could have a chat with the Tin Hats before he was pegged as Doc’s accomplice. Considering that Doc had already been caught off his game by Samuel, Doc could only hope Caleb was faring better.

  Doc was supposed to go about his daily routine, so he ate his breakfast and whiled away some time at one of the card tables after Samuel had gone. John Shannsey might have been a good fellow and an honest man, but he didn’t know how to build up his saloon into one of the more popular gambling establishments in Fort Griffin. The Cattle Exchange was a bit too straightlaced for most gamblers. There were more meals than cards served in the place, which meant it wasn’t about to wind up on the gambler’s circuit anytime soon.