Crooked M Killings

by Frank Ellis Evans

  ‘James. James Davies, sir.’ The boy looked at Reuben’s badge of office. ‘Say, are you a marshal, mister?’

  ‘Yup. Marshal Reuben Kane. And I’m on the trail of some real bad guys and I need your help. Will you do something for me?’

  The boy looked up expectantly at Reuben with wide eyes.

  ‘Sure, Marshal. You name it.’

  ‘Thanks, James. Now listen carefully. I want you to go over to Sheriff Miles’s office and tell him that Marshal Kane is in the street and Shep Cassidy and Jed Gambles are in Kate’s. Then when you’ve told him, you get back home as quick as your legs’ll carry you. Do you understand?’

  The boy’s eyes were alight with excitement and he nodded gravely then turned and ran towards the sheriff’s office.

  Reuben reverted to his stance, facing the door of the diner. Sal kept the Winchester trained on the doorway and they waited.

  After a few seconds the door opened and Shep appeared, followed by Jed. The men had obviously enjoyed their meal and a few drinks, and they were laughing and talking loudly. Neither of them saw Reuben, who was cursing the fact that John Miles hadn’t arrived. He drew both of his guns.

  ‘Cassidy! Gambles! Raise your hands high above your heads and keep them where I can see them!’

  Jed Gambles complied immediately but Shep Cassidy reached for his long barrelled pistol. The length of the barrel didn’t lend itself to a fast draw and he was further hindered by the fact that he had the gun thrust into his belt instead of a swivel holster. Sal McIntyre, crouched behind the barrels, saw the big man and she was blinded by hatred. She forgot her promise to aim for Gambles and instead she swung the barrel and fired, too quickly, at Shep Cassidy. Shep was still grasping for his gun when Sal found her mark with her Winchester and a red patch appeared on the left arm of his shirt. It was just a flesh wound but it angered the big man, who roared like a wounded lion. Reuben, who had already trained his gun on Cassidy, realized that Sal’s desire for revenge had caused her to shoot at him, rather than at Gambles. Reuben, turning his gun on Jed Gambles, had lost a priceless split second. Gambles, taking advantage of the delay, lowered his hands, drew his gun and fired a wild volley at Reuben. The bullets flew harmlessly, digging holes in the ground some two feet in front of the marshal. Reuben’s Colt flashed and a wet red gash appeared in Jed Gambles’ stomach and he pitched backwards through the glass door of Kate’s Eatery, shattering it into a thousand wickedly sharp shards.

  Sal realized the enormity of her decision to gun for Cassidy instead of Gambles. She crouched down, watching the action as if she was a casual observer. In fact, she was frozen to the spot.

  In the heat of the action, she didn’t notice a figure in the shadows of the walkway behind Reuben. When she turned and recognized Shorty Gambles she tried to cry out to warn the marshal but no words came. She attempted to fire her Winchester but her body didn’t respond and all she could do was to continue to watch the unfolding drama in frozen horror.

  Reuben wondered fleetingly why a smile had suddenly appeared on Shep Cassidy’s scarred face, then he was hit with the sudden realization that someone was standing behind him. He knew that it was Shorty Gambles. He knew that he was too late to outdraw him.

  Shorty had levelled a shotgun at close range behind Reuben. Shep Cassidy, observing the momentary hesitation in Reuben’s face, grinned maliciously and aimed his pistol. Then his expression turned to puzzlement as the blast rang out. Having seen Shorty aim his shotgun at such close range, he expected to see Kane pitch forward into the dust. Instead, Shorty took off backwards into the air, one hand clutching at a wound in his chest and his shotgun spinning harmlessly to the dusty street.

  Shep took advantage of the hiatus. The only thought in his mind was survival and he swung back through the broken door of the diner, calling for Jed to join him in flight. The cut and bloodied figure of Jed Gambles rose, like a monster from the glass shard wreckage of the door. Jed started to shout his brother’s name and then, swaying and dripping blood, he aimed at Reuben Kane. Too late. The guns in Reuben’s hands barked and two bullets hit Jed just above his heart, separated by barely an inch. He spun on his heels in a crazy dance and ended facing the smashed door of the diner, a look of shock and incomprehension on his face. With a final, supreme effort, he tried to turn and face his assailant but his gun hung limply in his hand as he took one step forward before falling heavily face down into the street.

  Jed Gambles and his brother were dead. Shep Cassidy fled through the café. In the yard at the rear he stole the nearest horse and within seconds he was riding hard out of town. Reuben Kane checked that no life remained in either of the Gambles twins and lit a cigarette before walking over to Sal, who was crouched behind the barrels. Her Winchester was still aimed at where Shep and Jed had been standing.

  ‘Sal?’ She looked up with shocked, glazed eyes and she was vaguely surprised to see the concerned face of Reuben Kane looking down at her. ‘Sal, I guess I owe you my life. You took Shorty Gambles out before he could shoot. Saved my skin. I owe you.’

  Sal didn’t reply. She still held the gun in a vicelike grip and stared at the bodies in the diner doorway. She was vaguely aware of John Miles tipping his hat back on his head. The distant voice of Baz Potter sounded.

  ‘You’re thanking the wrong person, Reuben. It was John Miles who shot Shorty.’

  ‘Saw the bastard creep up on you and gave him both barrels of old Betsy here,’ said Miles, tapping his shotgun with a wry smile. ‘Mrs McIntyre couldn’t see him there.’

  As John Miles spoke Sal noticed a shadow in the alley next to the saloon. Instinct told her that something was wrong and she stared past the two men, trying to focus on the shadow. There was an orange flash and the dull thud of a slug making contact with human flesh and bone.

  Reuben and John turned as one but the shadow had gone and all they could hear was the sound of a horse galloping full tilt out of town. Then Reuben slowly toppled forward on to his knees, his hand clutching a scarlet stain on his shirt.

  Sal stared at him, horrified and hypnotized by the sight. She was facing the alley. She should have seen what was happening in the shadows and warned him. She moved towards him and put her hand on his cheek.

  She had let him down badly by ignoring his orders and by failing to warn him of danger.

  Now maybe she had cost him his life.

  Chapter Five

  The Find

  John Miles looked down at his friend then turned to Sal McIntyre. He wore a sad, tired smile as he put his arm around her slim shoulders. The doctor ran across the street and he knelt next to Reuben, made a quick examination and beckoned to a couple of onlookers, who walked towards him.

  ‘Get him into my surgery. Quick. I need to see if they hit anything vital.’

  John held Sal close to him. The events of the past few days and the violence of the last few minutes had finally caught up with her and she sobbed uncontrollably as they carried Reuben to the surgery. Miles looked into the face of the young woman, still bruised and scarred from her treatment at the hands of the Cassidy mob, and he felt her sobs racking her body.

  ‘It was my fault, John. If I’d acted, he would still be. . . .’

  ‘You mustn’t think like that, Sal. Not ever. There’s no point in casting blame. When you’re dealing with the likes of Cassidy you have to make split second life or death decisions. We all know the risk an’ sometimes we make a wrong call. Reuben knew the risk – and he thought it was worth taking.’

  ‘But it was still my fault. And the others have gotten away – including that bastard Cassidy.’

  They made their sombre way to the surgery and sat outside as the doctor made his examination. After ten minutes he poked his head round the door and smiled.

  ‘Good news. Just a deep flesh wound. He’ll be out of action for a while. Bed rest is what I recommend, but he’ll be fine in a couple of weeks. Tough as a pair of old boots.’

  Sal sat next to the bed, a wave of relief pass
ing through her body. She gripped Reuben’s hand and smiled. ‘I’m sorry, Reuben. It was all my . . .’

  ‘Sshhh, Sal. Nobody’s fault. These things . . .’ He paused for breath. ‘These things happen. Lawman’s lot.’ John Miles grinned at Reuben.

  ‘You lump of sh-stone. Why, I reckon the whole of the Cassidy gang could aim at you and you’d still end up with jest a nick. Still, you ain’t going to be chasin’ no one for a while yet. You gotta stay in bed. Doc’s orders.’

  But his words were wasted as Reuben had fallen into a deep sleep induced by the drugs administered by the doctor.

  ‘Now, Sal. You mustn’t blame yourself. There’s nothing we can do. Reuben’s out of the game and they’re headed out of my jurisdiction and I can’t follow. But they’ll come back sooner or later and I’ll round up a posse and I’ll bring them back, dead or alive. I promise you that.’

  Sal looked up at him. Her expression had changed and her relieved smile had disappeared like the morning mist and been replaced by an expression which chilled him. Her eyes were as cold as clay. She spoke, very slowly, as if she was deliberating over every syllable.

  ‘They might have left your territory, Sheriff, but they’ve not left mine. There’s no reason why I can’t go after them.’

  ‘Now listen, Sal. You’re upset. That’s natural. But . . .’

  ‘No, Sheriff. You listen. Am I or am I not a deputy marshal, appointed legally by Reuben Kane?’

  ‘We-ll, I guess. But . . .’

  ‘No “buts”, Sheriff. As I say, they’re still in my territory. I’m on my way. The colder the trail gets, the less chance I have of catching them. I’ve let Reuben down and I owe it to him and now I’m going to track them bastards and bring them to justice – kill them or be killed myself in the attempt.’

  He looked at her, full of misgivings.

  ‘Mrs McIntyre, they are experienced, professional killers. They don’t think the same as normal people. They’ll kill you, or worse, without any hesitation or remorse.’

  ‘John. Reuben told me all of this already and as to them killing me or worse – well, they’ve done their worst already and I’m still here. I’m sorry, John. It’s something I’ve got to do, for Reuben and for me, but mainly for my husband Ed. They murdered him and left him to the vultures just for fun. I won’t be able to rest till I even the score so I can go back to the Crooked M and lay flowers on my husband’s grave.’ Sheriff Miles put up token resistance but it was futile.

  ‘OK, Deputy. But don’t go tonight. It’ll be dark and dangerous. It’s downright stupid to trail men like that at night. They’re. . . .’

  ‘I know. I know. I told you, Reuben already lectured me about that too. So when?’

  ‘You come over to my place. Eve will make you something to eat. We’ll sleep and rise early with fresh horses and supplies.’

  Sal nodded demurely. She suddenly felt totally exhausted and realized that unless she found somewhere to sleep she would be good for nothing.

  ‘Yes, Sheriff,’ she said meekly.

  Eve Miles was a female version of John. She was slightly plump, with a face given to ready smiles. She was horrified at the sight of Sal’s battered face and she fussed over her like a mother hen, repeatedly persuading her not to go in search of the killers but eventually giving up, realizing, like John Miles and Reuben Kane before her that Sal was not to be moved. Sal was still convinced that she wouldn’t be able to eat but the smell of home cooking drifting in from the kitchen made her salivate and they ate enormous portions of homemade stew before retiring to bed early. Sal slept fitfully, waking at one point to find Eve Miles sitting next to her bed.

  ‘You were crying out, my dear,’ said the woman, stroking Sal’s perspiration soaked forehead. And with the comfort of the mother figure beside her, Sal fell again into a restless, dream filled sleep.

  It was still not light when Eve Miles shook her gently by the shoulders.

  ‘Time to get up, my dear. And I thought you might need these. Baz Potter brought them over.’ Inside a brown paper package were clothes more suited to riding than the ones Sal wore. A buckskin shirt and hard wearing leg protecting leather trousers.

  ‘Will they fit?’ asked Sal.

  ‘Knowing Baz Potter’s eye for the ladies, they’ll fit all right. He’s provided every woman in town with their outfits for more years than he cares to remember.’

  The smell of griddled bacon and eggs was already permeating the air and even after the meal which she’d eaten only a few hours ago, Sal enjoyed her breakfast.

  ‘C’mon, Deputy McIntyre. Let’s get you saddled up.’ It was John, wiping his hands and taking one last sip of coffee before kissing his wife.

  Eve turned to Sal.

  ‘Take care, my dear. And come back to us soon.’

  The two women hugged tightly and then Sal, afraid that the tears might begin to flow, pulled away, left the house and mounted her horse. John Miles patted the animal’s neck.

  ‘Remember. Don’t give them an even chance. There’s at least two or three of them – probably more – and they are good at killing. I know you’ve already heard it, but killing’s what they do best. If you see them, even if they have their backs to you, shoot first and ask questions later.’

  ‘Thanks, John. I’ll bear that in mind.’

  ‘God speed, Sal. Go safe.’

  John’s words sounded fatherly. She felt deeply moved by his concern and she leaned down and kissed him lightly on the forehead before flicking the horse into action before he could see her sad tears.

  She rode quickly into the cool morning, deep in thought as she covered the lonely dusty trail. Her thoughts whirled round – thoughts of Ed, Reuben and the kindness of John and Eve Miles and the unexpected generous gift from the tiny womaniser, Baz Potter.

  A large part of her wanted to turn back and return to the Crooked M, to the life she had known before Shep Cassidy had ridden in. But would it be possible without Ed? Would she ever be able to settle down without avenging the crimes against her and her husband? Sal knew, beyond any doubt, that her life was changed forever.

  She approached a rise and stopped at the crest and wiped her forehead. Stretching below her lay a tree clad deep, long valley, at the base of which rolled a fast flowing river. Silently, she surveyed the scene and breathed in the chill, sweet morning air. It was stunning. The purples and blues of the morning complemented the distant roar of the current as the water tumbled over the smoothed rocks. But she didn’t take in the beauty. For Sal McIntyre, the valley was simply another obstacle between her and her quarry. At first, she had been seeking revenge for her husband, now she was aiming to avenge Ed and Reuben Kane. By dispensing rough justice, she believed that she would save others from the suffering which she was going through. She also believed that when she finally dealt with them, she, if not Ed and Reuben, could find some sort of peace.

  Her thirst for justice, or maybe revenge, was tempered with guilt. This was a feeling which had been growing since the shooting of Reuben Blake. She knew deep in her heart that Reuben could so easily have been killed and for that she blamed herself. She nudged her horse gently down the steep and crumbly slope and she renewed her vows to herself to gain justice for Reuben, but a small voice in her mind asked if she wanted justice or revenge. As the slope levelled out she brought her heels sharply to its side and kicked it into a gallop. She decided that, justice or revenge, whichever it was, it didn’t matter.

  ‘I’ll get you bastards!’ she shouted out loud to herself. ‘So help me, I’ll get you!’

  Eventually she reached the banks of the river and dismounted to let the horse drink. The water was icy cold and she splashed her face and neck then sat on a large rock, deep in thought and listening to the mellowing sound of the water. After some time, she moved, took off the buckskin jacket and drenched herself and her grubby shirt with the cooling liquid.

  ‘Well, I’ll be. . . .’ The voice seemed to come from nowhere and shocked Sal, who had believed that s
he was alone. She spun round and grabbed for her jacket which lay next to her gun belt atop the rock. As she did so a shot rang out from the gun which had appeared in the hand of the rider. A bullet ricocheted off the rock, barely two inches from her hand, causing her to jump back in alarm.

  There were two men, both skinny, both smiling and relaxed in the knowledge that they had surprised the apparently defenceless woman. The taller of the two stared down at Sal.

  ‘Now then, ma’am. You shore are a sight fer sore, tired eyes. Now don’t you go glarin’ at me so unfriendly like. How about a bit of neighbourly friendship? What do you think, Johnny?’

  ‘Well, I believe you are being mighty unfriendly, ma’am.’

  ‘I agree, Rab. Mighty unfriendly. And you wouldn’t want to upset us now, would you, ma’am?’ And he smiled a mirthless smile, showing gapped and yellow teeth. ‘Now stand up straight so the dog can see the rabbit.’

  Memories of her treatment at the hands of Shep Cassidy flashed through her brain. For a moment Sal panicked and wanted to cry out, to beg for mercy – anything to stop these two animals. Then she remembered the words of Reuben Kane. The advice to remain calm and measured. She regained her composure, despite being in such a vulnerable position.

  She cursed herself for being stupid enough to have stayed so near to the woodland, making it so easy for them to have cover on their approach. She gritted her teeth and tried to think of a way to turn the tables.

  The man called Johnny had dismounted and he walked slowly towards her, a lascivious grin spreading over his face. His companion holding the gun, who still remained on his horse, spat some chewing tobacco and spoke in a slow drawl.

  ‘Ah think you ought to persuade the little lady to be a mite more friendly, brother.’

  Johnny raised his hand and growled. ‘Do as I say, woman, and we might decide not to kill you.’

  ‘Now Johnny, that ain’t no way to go about it. What she needs is a gentleman.’

  His companion, however, was in no mood to hesitate.