The Black Horse Westerns

by Abe Dancer

  ‘Isaiah Jones,’ the man said. ‘And may the best man win.’

  Then he gave a curt bow and turned on his heel. Without acknowledging anyone he walked through the crowd and headed back down the road to the stables.

  Everyone watched him leave while murmuring about this unexpected occurrence. Jim also kept his eye on him but before Isaiah reached the stables Hyde nudged him forward.

  ‘Move,’ he grunted in his ear.

  Five minutes later Jim stood in the mayor’s office, noting the signs of the disturbance that had taken place in here a few hours earlier: the upturned furniture, a smashed chair, papers littering the floor. But through the open door to the adjoining office he could see that the mess in the main office was as nothing to what had happened in there.

  The room had been ransacked with folders strewn everywhere, padded chairs had been sliced open, and a desk had been smashed so completely it might have been accomplished with an axe. His silent guard provided no answers as to what had happened here as they waited for Nixon, who arrived fifteen minutes later in surprisingly good spirits. Even the accompanying Pike was grinning.

  ‘Are you confident of beating Isaiah?’ Jim asked, letting sarcasm creep into his voice.

  ‘Of course,’ Nixon said. ‘A man nobody knows standing against me is ideal. It provides competition without there being any real competition.’

  ‘Then perhaps his arrival wasn’t so unexpected, after all.’

  Nixon’s beaming smile suggested Jim had guessed wrong.

  ‘You have a politician’s mind, but no, I didn’t hire him. Not that that should concern you as your involvement in this election has ended, but your involvement in something altogether more important is about to start. I want you to find Sherman’s killer.’

  Jim had expected to be threatened again, so this comment surprised him. He paced over to the window to look down on the road below. While he composed himself, he casually searched the road for any sign of the mysterious Isaiah.

  ‘I can do that without leaving this office.’

  Nixon snorted, then came over to stand beside Jim.

  ‘I’ll let that insult pass.’

  Jim shrugged, not committing himself to believing anything yet.

  ‘Orson Brown’s death aside, my manhunting days are over. I’ll leave it to Sheriff Price.’ Jim turned and looked Nixon up and down. ‘He can find the man responsible.’

  ‘I see our recent disagreement hasn’t dulled your sense of humour. Sheriff Price is useful for many things, none of which has anything to do with keeping law and order.’ He gestured towards his hired guns. ‘Pike and Hyde deal with the petty crime in White Ridge, but for the more specialist work, I hand-pick the right man for the job. You are that man.’

  ‘I may be, but why do you really want to find the killer of a man you hated so much some even think you killed him yourself?’

  ‘I don’t care who killed him. I’d gladly offer a two-thousand-dollar reward, not to the man who tracks down his killer, but to the killer himself. But I’m not free to speak my mind. As people already suspect I had something to do with it, I can’t let that gossip build. Find the killer and it’ll silence any dissent.’

  ‘After hearing that, you expect me to help you?’

  ‘I do, because you did like Sherman and you can find his killer for the right reason.’ Nixon looked at Jim until he shook his head, then resumed speaking. ‘And if you won’t do it for the right reason, do it to silence me.’

  ‘You used that threat yesterday and it loses more of its power every time.’

  ‘I know. So this is the last time. Find him and I’ll give you something you’ll appreciate more than money. I’ll give you the wanted posters, the newspaper articles, the statements, every detail that ties you to the man you once were. I’ll let you become the man you want to be.’

  Jim shrugged. ‘My life is not as important as Billy Jameson’s freedom.’

  Nixon pouted, his minimal reaction suggesting he’d already considered that Jim would ask for this.

  ‘Why is a former gunslinger so obsessed with this young man’s life?’

  Jim’s heart beat faster as Nixon asked the question he’d never answered honestly, and which he even avoided thinking about himself.

  ‘He’s the son of an old friend,’ he said, providing the excuse he always uttered when pressed.

  ‘And Orson Brown was my friend. His paper supported me through my first eight years of service. Someone must pay for his death.’

  ‘As he was your friend, you must want the right man to pay.’

  ‘I believe Billy is that man.’ Nixon rocked his jaw from side to side. ‘So I won’t free him, but if you find Sherman’s killer before I’m re-elected, I’ll delay his trial for a month. Find anything in that month to prove someone else did it and I’ll free him. Otherwise he can take his chances in a court of law.’

  Jim narrowed his eyes as Nixon offered tempting terms too readily, but he figured that the only way he could find out whether the duplicitous mayor would honour his agreement was by completing his side of the bargain.

  ‘I was a manhunter, not a lawman. I always had a name.’

  Nixon uttered a snorting laugh now that he knew he had him.

  ‘You have a name – Barney Dale. This morning he was a prisoner, but after I opened the jailhouse doors he wormed his way into my confidence, then ransacked the office and stole several thousand dollars.’

  ‘The reward offer, I presume?’

  ‘It is,’ Nixon said proudly. ‘So will you accept my assignment?’

  Jim breathed in deeply through his nostrils and looked down into the road as if he were pondering.

  ‘I’ll bring Barney Dale in.’

  ‘Dead or alive, it matters none to me.’

  ‘Then it’ll be alive. In my former life I wouldn’t have cared, but this time I’ll do it the proper way and ensure Sherman gets justice in court.’

  ‘That is your concern, but remember that I’m not a man who accepts failure.’ Nixon turned away to beckon his hired guns. ‘So to ensure you have all the help I can offer, my trusted workers Pike and Hyde will accompany you.’

  The hired guns maintained their bored expressions as they came over, suggesting this assignment wasn’t news to them.

  ‘I don’t need them,’ Jim said. ‘I work alone.’

  ‘Before, you worked alone.’ Nixon turned back and smiled. ‘Now, you work for me.’

  CHAPTER 6

  ‘Can I ask a question?’ Sheriff Price said, while he sidled across the ransacked mayor’s office to join Pike and Hyde.

  Nixon looked away from his consideration of the hired guns and gave the sneer he always plastered over his face when he was dealing with Price.

  ‘In a moment.’ Nixon pointed at the door to the other office. ‘Stand over there while I finish my business.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Price murmured. Then, like an errant child, he meekly shuffled over to stand beside the door. To avoid the mocking grins all three men were casting at him, he concentrated on examining the mess next door.

  ‘Any clues as to where Barney Dale went?’ Nixon asked Pike.

  ‘Jim McGuire asked around,’ Pike said. ‘He found someone who saw him hightailing it out of town going west. Jim reckons he’ll have gone to Milton Creek.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘Got no reason to disagree,’ Pike grumbled. ‘He is the finest manhunter who ever lived, after all.’

  Pike’s sneering tone made Nixon chuckle.

  ‘Don’t be aggrieved that I hired Jim. I had to take this opportunity to stop him being a thorn in my side during my election campaign. So keep your temper and don’t let him out of your sight until he finds Barney.’

  ‘And then?’

  Nixon cast a quick glance at Price then lowered his voice and spoke with a deliberate slow pace.

  ‘I will go on record as saying I will be concerned if anything should happen to either Barney or Jim and they fail to return to
White Ridge.’

  ‘Understood,’ Pike said. Then he and Hyde turned on their heels and left the office.

  Nixon turned to look at Sheriff Price and waited for him to state his business.

  Price tried not to think too much about the conversation Nixon had had with Pike and Hyde. Prying too much always made Nixon angry. He pointed into the adjoining office while walking to the desk.

  ‘I still don’t understand what happened in there,’ he said.

  ‘Why do you need to understand anything?’ Nixon asked.

  Nixon’s stern gaze made Price gulp.

  ‘Because…. Because I have to clarify the facts.’

  ‘Then the instructions I gave to Pike and Hyde should have put your mind at rest. I am working out the details, as I did with Billy Jameson.’

  ‘I know, but this time the circumstances aren’t so obvious and the suspect is still at large and….’ Price felt most of the confidence he’d plucked up to come here drift away and he lowered his head.

  ‘And?’

  ‘And…. And I reckon I ought to investigate this properly, if it’s not too much trouble.’

  Nixon curled his upper lip in a snarl, but a look at the heaps of paperwork on his desk made him wave at Price in a dismissive manner.

  ‘Do what you have to do, Price, to ensure the legalities are dealt with. My men will bring Barney back within days. Make sure you get it over with by then.’ Nixon pointed at the door. ‘And keep out of my way.’

  ‘I’ll do that, Mayor, so if I could have a few more moments of your time now, you can tell me your story.’

  ‘I’ve told you what I know already.’

  Nixon glared at Price and his piercing gaze made Price’s mouth go so dry it took him several moments before he could force himself to answer.

  ‘You…. You did,’ he stammered, ‘but as I said, I don’t understand it. Barney isn’t a violent man.’

  Nixon sneered. ‘And you worked that out all by yourself, did you, while slopping out his cell?’

  ‘I did. He’s a habitual thief, but he doesn’t carry a gun. His main weapon is his belief that he can talk himself in to any gainful situation and talk himself out of any trouble.’

  Nixon dismissed the matter with a wave of the hand.

  ‘The lack of a gun would explain why he strangled Sherman.’

  ‘It could,’ Price conceded, feeling the rest of his limited confidence drift away and making the rest of his comments emerge as a mumble. ‘But it still doesn’t feel right. Everyone has a different account of what happened.’

  ‘I’m sure that once you have all the details,’ Nixon said, lowering his voice, ‘it’ll become perfectly clear.’

  Price caught the warning in his tone. He offered a tentative smile.

  ‘I’m sure it will, so, if you don’t mind, please, it would help me to start with what you did see, rather than what other people told you they saw.’

  ‘Me?’ Nixon narrowed his eyes. ‘What are you saying, Price?’

  ‘I’m not saying anything,’ Price spluttered, suddenly seeing how Nixon could have viewed his innocent comment as a threat. ‘It just might be … might be useful to know why Sherman came here.’

  ‘I don’t know. I wasn’t here.’

  ‘So where were you, if you don’t mind me asking?’

  For long moments Nixon considered Price over the top of his glasses, to ensure he understood that he had strayed too far with his insistent questioning.

  ‘Price, you have supported me through two elections and when I have disposed of the small inconvenience of this Isaiah Jones we will enter a third term together. We have always got along because you don’t ask questions.’ Nixon pursed his lips, giving Price an opportunity to reply, but as Price’s legs were shaking and he didn’t think he could make himself speak, he continued: ‘But as you wish to know where I was: I was talking with a good friend in private, ensuring I acquired his vote.’

  ‘Who?’ Price croaked.

  ‘I will decide who that person should be and will ensure that by sundown you have a signed statement suitable to be read out in court. Where I actually was, is of no concern of any court.’

  Price heard the more urgent warning in Nixon’s lowered tone and so he chose his words carefully.

  ‘Is it any concern of mine?’

  ‘It is not. But as it appears that you feel you must know,’ Nixon coughed, ‘I was somewhere where many people know I frequent, but where many others don’t; somewhere where it’d be embarrassing for the mayor to admit in court.’

  ‘Ah,’ Price said. ‘The Pink Lady?’

  ‘Exactly. So, is there anything more you wish to waste my time with, or can I get back to running my town?’

  Price knew when he’d pushed Nixon’s patience, and this time he’d strained it. He thanked him then left the office. But as he walked past the open door to the adjoining office he glanced in at the ransacked room.

  ‘I still don’t reckon,’ he said to himself, ‘that Barney Dale would make such a mess.’

  ‘I want Barney Dale,’ Pike said.

  ‘Never heard of him,’ the bartender said.

  ‘He’d have come through Milton Creek in a hurry, perhaps with a …’ Pike trailed off when the bartender shook his head.

  ‘I don’t know about no man in a hurry,’ he said then picked up a glass and polished it vigorously.

  Pike nodded. He turned as if he was about to leave the saloon, then swirled back and lunged over the bar to grab the bartender’s chin. His move was so swift the bartender didn’t have enough time to react other than to drop the glass.

  The smashing of glass made the customers in the saloon room look up, but that didn’t concern Pike as with his vicelike grip he dragged the bartender’s head down to the bar to place his cheek to the wood.

  ‘Now,’ he muttered, glaring down at him, ‘I’ll ask you the question again and this time you’ll answer me. I’m looking for Barney Dale.’

  The bartender rocked an eye up to consider Pike then twitched as if trying to shake his head.

  ‘I … I … I don’t know nothing about this man.’

  Pike’s eyes flared and he closed his hand a mite, making the bartender bleat, but with customers scraping back their chairs, Jim moved in and slapped a hand on Pike’s arm.

  ‘Release him,’ he said, then darted his gaze to the side.

  Pike took in the aggrieved customers with barely a flicker of concern.

  ‘I will, when I get me an answer.’

  ‘Then we’ll never leave. He doesn’t know nothing about Barney.’

  Pike and Jim locked gazes while around them muttering arose as the customers goaded each other on to be the first person to intervene. For several seconds Pike held on to the bartender’s chin, then with a muttered oath he pushed him away. He faced the customers, his gaze cold.

  ‘I’m looking for a Barney Dale,’ he announced. ‘So which one of you foul-smelling bunch of whiskey hounds knows where he’s gone?’

  Jim winced as Pike chose another method of questioning that was sure to fail, but he still looked along the line of men to see if any reacted with anything other than anger. But the customers just glanced at each other, to see who else was annoyed. And it appeared that most of them were.

  As one the line of men paced towards the bar. On the second pace one man took a slightly longer movement so as to be the one who confronted Pike.

  ‘We don’t like—’ he managed to say before Pike rocked forward and thundered a low punch into his guts that had him folding over. Then Pike slapped both hands on his back and threw him towards the bar. The man rolled over it to join the bartender.

  ‘Anyone else?’ Pike demanded, but the rest of the customers had already seen enough and as one they charged in.

  Two men took on Pike but he slapped the first aside with contemptuous ease, then kicked the second man’s legs from under him. Hyde took on the men nearest to him leaving Jim with no choice but to square up to the men at his end
of the line.

  He bided his time, letting them come to him and when the first man threw a huge haymaker of a punch he jerked aside to let his fist whistle through air. Then he swung round and delivered a short-arm jab to the man’s kidneys that made him screech, then stagger away.

  The second man was more cautious, waiting until he had help from a third man. Then they both charged at Jim with their heads down, but Jim had anticipated their actions.

  He leapt to the side to meet the right-hand man full on, then grabbed this man around the shoulders and shoved him into the path of the left-hand man. Entangled, the men went down and with a satisfied grin to himself Jim stepped over them to face his next assailant. Then he flinched back in shock.

  Everyone in the saloon had decided to join in the fray and a dozen more men were hurrying to the bar to take the strangers on. Worse, Pike and Hyde had already disappeared behind a mass of heaving bodies. Jim resigned himself to getting a beating while still being determined to give as good as he got. Then a gunshot blasted out.

  For a moment everyone froze. Then the mass of men parted to reveal Pike standing with his gun thrust high, having fired into the ceiling.

  ‘The next one will rip someone in two,’ he roared, ‘if I don’t get me an answer.’

  The line of surly glares Pike got in return suggested he wouldn’t get what he wanted, but Jim could also see that several of the customers were armed and were twitching their hands towards their holsters.

  He edged sideways to join Pike.

  ‘They don’t know nothing about Barney Dale,’ he said from the corner of his mouth. ‘We should leave them to their drinks.’

  Pike snarled, his fiery gaze looking as if Jim would be the first one he turned his gun on, but to Jim’s surprise Hyde nodded.

  ‘Jim’s right,’ he said. ‘We’ll try somewhere else.’

  Pike cast his surly glare along the line of customers, then sneered and spat on the floor.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘The air in here is too foul for my stomach.’

  With that last insult he turned on his heel and without looking again at the customers he walked to the door. Hyde and Jim shuffled after him, walking sideways to make sure the customers weren’t willing to continue the fight, but with Pike having gone their annoyance left with him.