The Legend of Perley Gates

by William W. Johnstone

  “Oh, I’ll set things straight with Cora,” Stella said, and when they went out the door, she muttered low to Liz, “I’ll kick her ass if she gets snotty with me.”

  “I thought you said he was a friend of yours,” Liz said. She was still astonished by the story she had just heard. Stella had never mentioned a gambler named Charley, or how she happened to land in Ogallala.

  “He was, and he will be again in a day or two,” Stella replied confidently. “Let’s go see how Perley’s doin’.”

  * * *

  They found Perley talking to Tom Tuttle and a couple of other men when they returned to the barroom. When they walked over to join the group, Perley said, “I was just talkin’ to Mr. Tuttle, here, about boardin’ your horses. I reckon that’s what you wanna do.”

  Before they could answer, Tuttle interrupted. “You’re Stella, ain’t you?” She smiled and nodded. “I thought you looked familiar when you walked in a few minutes ago. You been away awhile. Least, I ain’t seen you in here for a spell. Who’s this fellow with you?”

  Perley saw Liz wince and immediately felt her embarrassment. “That’s Liz MacDonald,” he was quick to respond. “She’s just dressed up like a man. She don’t look half that bad when she’s dressed up like a woman.” As soon as he said it, he knew it didn’t sound right. “What I mean is—”

  That was as far as he got before Liz interrupted. “I swear, Perley, you do have a way with words,” she said, unable to keep from laughing. “I reckon the first place I need to go is to the store to get me some clothes. Then a good soakin’ in a tub of hot water and a fresh coat of paint, and I’ll show you my better self.”

  “Ma’am, I didn’t mean no disrespect,” Tuttle started to apologize.

  “Never you mind,” Liz said before he went any further. “I’m a whore and have been since I was fourteen. It ain’t the first time I’ve been insulted. Now, you say Perley and you were talkin’ about our horses?”

  Before they left the bar, Liz had arranged a deal wherein Tuttle would buy the women’s horses and saddles, despite the fact that Tuttle had not inspected either horse at that point. He agreed to meet Perley at the stable to take possession of the two horses as soon as he finished his drink with his two friends.

  “I’ll go ahead and bring the horses, soon as Liz and Stella get anything they’ve left in the saddlebags, and I’ll wait for you down there,” Perley said.

  Liz and Stella walked out to the hitching rail with him, and he waited while they got the few things they had bought at Duck Bend, which wasn’t much.

  “Whaddaya gonna do after you take the horses to the stable?” Liz asked.

  “I don’t know,” Perley answered. “Maybe find somethin’ to eat somewhere; then I’ll make camp down along that creek close to town,” he said, referring to Crow Creek. “Reckon I’ll head out to Denver in the mornin’. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll cut my grandpa’s trail somewhere down in Colorado Territory.”

  “I figure we owe you a good supper,” Liz said and looked at Stella to receive her nod of agreement. “I know we owe you a helluva lot more than that for what you did for us. I don’t know if we’da made it without you.”

  “That’s mighty nice of you to say that,” he replied. “But you don’t owe me anything. I’m glad I happened along when I did.”

  “I’m gonna miss you, Perley Gates,” Stella said, then caught herself before she got downright emotional. “You get through at the stables and come on back here. Liz and I will take you to supper at the diner next to Dyer’s Hotel. There’s a woman runs that place that’s a helluva cook—might as well start you off to Denver with a solid meal in your belly. We’ll either be in the saloon or upstairs, first room on the right, when you get back.”

  “All right, if you insist,” Perley said. “I can’t pass up a good supper.”

  CHAPTER 9

  “Sorry to keep you waiting—Perley, was it?” Tom Tuttle said when he approached him standing at the hitching rail before the stable. Perley had separated the horses, with Buck and his packhorse at one end of the rail and the flea-bitten gray and three Indian ponies at the other. “I buy a lot of hay from those two fellows you saw me with, so they wanted to buy me a drink,” Tuttle said.

  “I ain’t in a hurry,” Perley said. “There’s the two horses you bought, those two with the saddles on ’em. One of ’em’s an Indian pony; the other one’s the gray you see there. I was listenin’ to the trade you were makin’ with Liz, and I thought you were mighty generous with your offer. But I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t tell you that gray ain’t got many days left in him. The Indian pony’s a pretty good horse, but you gave more than that gray’s worth. So, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll throw in those other two Indian ponies, so you don’t get skunked on the deal.”

  His offer astonished Tuttle. “Well, that’s mighty decent of you. Did those two belong to the women, too?”

  “Well, no, sir, those two belong to me. I was aimin’ to sell ’em if I could, since I ain’t got no use for ’em. But I think it would only be right to turn ’em over to you to make the deal a fair one.”

  Tuttle was more than a little confused. He wasn’t sure he was hearing Perley correctly. “Are you connected to those women in any way? Married to one of ’em, or something?”

  Perley chuckled. “No, sir. I just met ’em a few days ago, and they were stranded back this side of Ogallala—fellow they’d hired to take ’em here ran off with their packhorse. So, I rode to Cheyenne with ’em. They’re whores, but they’re nice folks once you get to know ’em. You seemed like a reasonable fellow, so I didn’t like to see you get skunked with a lame horse.”

  Tuttle looked as if he didn’t know what to say. Perley continued. “And I’d like to give you a little business to boot. I told the women I’d let ’em buy my supper, so I’d like to leave my bay and my packhorse here till mornin’.”

  “Perley, that’s the damnedest thing I’ve ever heard, and I appreciate your honesty.” He thought about it for a moment, then made an offer. “Tell you what, why don’t I give you thirty dollars for the two extra horses, so you don’t lose out on everything? And I won’t charge you to board your other horses for the night—or you, either, if you wanna sleep with ’em. How’s that?”

  “That’s fair enough,” Perley said. “I ’preciate it. I hope you don’t think Liz was tryin’ to skunk you. Fact of the matter is, I don’t think she knows enough about horses to tell if one is young or old or stout or frail.”

  “I think you’re right,” Tuttle said as he took a look in the gray’s mouth. “I’ve got to be more careful when I do any tradin’ with women.” When Perley started to walk away, Tuttle said, “I lock the barn and the stable at seven o’clock.”

  “I’ll be back before then,” Perley assured him, then headed for the saloon.

  When he got to the Cattleman’s, he didn’t see Liz or Stella anywhere in the room, so he walked up to the bar.

  “Howdy, Perley,” C.J. sang out. “Stella said to tell you she and the other woman are upstairs—top of the steps, first room on the left.”

  “Much obliged,” Perley said and turned toward the stairs.

  C.J. said first room on the left, but Perley was sure he remembered Stella saying first room on the right. He decided Stella most likely knew which room she had used when she lived there before, so when he reached the top, he went to the door on the right and rapped lightly. There was no response to his knocking. He waited a few seconds and rapped again—still no response. Obviously it was an empty room and C.J. was right, Stella’s room must be on the left. Perley decided to look inside anyway, just to be sure, so he turned the knob and found the door unlocked. Since it was open, he walked on inside, thinking maybe it was Stella’s room after all, and they had gone to the kitchen or maybe the outhouse. The room was dark, so just to make sure he wasn’t catching them by surprise, he sang out cheerfully, “Everybody decent?” He was not prepared for the picture he saw when his eyes adjusted to the d
arkness in the room.

  “What the hell?” the voice of an irate man erupted, obviously in the midst of a contract with the equally irate woman in the bed with him.

  “Get the hell outta here!” Cora Burke yelled.

  Another cow pie was the thought that flashed through Perley’s mind, and in a matter of seconds, he found himself confronted by what he considered at that moment to be the biggest human being he had ever seen.

  “Pardon the interruption, folks. My mistake, wrong room. Just carry on with your activities—I’ll let myself out.” He backed hurriedly toward the door, only to be followed by the enraged beast. “I don’t blame you one bit for being irritated,” Perley said in an attempt to calm the man. “I apologize one hundred percent, and I’ll let you get back to your business.”

  Evidently, he had intruded at precisely the wrong moment, for the giant he could now see clearly, since the man had followed him into the hallway, showed no tendency to forgive. Cora’s encouragement from inside the room didn’t help the matter. “Kick his ass, Brady!” she yelled.

  “There ain’t really no need for that,” Perley said, thinking to calm the brute. “I made a mistake and I said I’m sorry, so let’s let that be the end of it and I’ll be on my way.”

  Brady’s response was an evil smile on his broad face.

  “I don’t wanna keep you out here in the hall without your clothes on,” Perley continued. “You might catch pneumonia or something, with no more’n that little towel wrapped around you.”

  “I’m fixin’ to break your back for you,” Brady threatened, his voice a low growl. “Come bustin’ in the room like that. I paid Cora for the whole night, and she ain’t cheap.”

  “Kick his ass, Brady!” Cora repeated, her voice resembling the screech of a buzzard fighting over a corpse.

  “She sounds charmin’,” Perley couldn’t resist commenting. “So, I’ll let you get back to her now.”

  Behind him, he heard doors opening, as sounds of the altercation were transmitted down the hall. One of them was directly opposite the room he had mistakenly entered, and he heard a familiar voice.

  “Perley! What’s goin’ on?”

  “I walked in the wrong room and interrupted this fellow, and now he’s wantin’ to break my back, so he says,” Perley answered while maneuvering warily, anticipating the big man’s charge.

  “He don’t look like he’s dressed for a fight,” Liz said as she walked out to join Stella in the hallway. She took a moment to evaluate the situation, then stepped forward and grabbed the towel knotted around Brady’s massive waist. With one quick jerk of the knot, she pulled the towel away, causing a chorus of snickering from the small audience that had come out into the hall to watch.

  Shocked, the embarrassed brute tried to cover himself with his hands and fled back into the room to escape his humiliation. Liz popped him on his rear with the towel just as he disappeared through the doorway. The door slammed shut behind him.

  “I’ll leave the towel on your doorknob in case you wanna come out again,” Liz yelled. Then she looked at Stella. “You ready? Let’s get the hell outta here before he gets his clothes on.”

  “I’m ready,” Stella replied, still giggling. She grabbed Perley by the elbow. “Sorry, Perley, I’m always mixin’ up right with left. Come on, let’s go eat supper.”

  He hurried down the stairs with the two women, running from a savage attack once again, just like their ride from Ogallala, only this time they were all laughing.

  “What was all the fuss upstairs?” C.J. asked when they passed by the bar on their way out.

  “Nothin’ much,” Stella answered, “just Cora and one of her gentlemen friends. If anybody wants us, we’ll be at the dining room in the Inter-Ocean Hotel.”

  Once outside, they turned in the opposite direction and headed to Katie’s Diner, next to Dyer’s Hotel.

  * * *

  “Say howdy to Katie Taylor and her cook, Myra Long,” Stella said when they walked into the diner.

  “I declare, gal, where in the world have you been?” Katie asked Stella. “I thought you musta found one of Myra’s fingernails in the stew and started eatin’ at that fancy dining room at the hotel.”

  “Nope,” Stella answered. “I’ve been outta town for a spell. Got to missin’ your cookin’ so bad I had to come back to Cheyenne.”

  “I see you brought a couple of friends with you,” Katie said. “And who’s this handsome young feller?”

  Stella introduced Perley and Liz. “I told ’em how good the cookin’ is here, so don’t go and make a liar outta me.”

  “We’ll just let them decide that for themselves,” Katie said. “I’m mighty pleased you dropped in,” she said to Liz and Perley. “Everybody drinkin’ coffee?” When she received three affirmative nods, she went to the coffeepot on the stove in the back of the room.

  “I guess she doesn’t mind servin’ prostitutes,” Liz commented when Katie was out of earshot, “or does she not know you’re a workin’ girl?” They were not welcome in the two diners in Ogallala.

  “Hell, if it wasn’t for the business she gets from whores, she wouldn’t make it,” Stella said. “She don’t tolerate bad behavior, from whores or anybody else. She’ll ask you to leave quick enough if you don’t behave yourself. And if askin’ ain’t enough, Myra limbers up her shotgun.”

  Katie returned with their coffee and placed the cups around. “This young feller must be a big spender,” she said. “He’s buyin’ your supper. Ain’t many of your customers that’ll spring for supper, too.”

  Stella laughed. “He ain’t buyin’ our supper—I’m buyin’ his, and he ain’t a customer. He’s a friend, and a damn good one.”

  Katie raised her eyebrows at that. “Well, I beg your pardon, young man. I didn’t know there was any such thing as a damn good man.”

  “Sounds like you’ve run into too many of the other kind,” Perley said.

  “You can say that for a fact,” Katie replied. “Now, whatcha gonna have? I’ve got beef stew or bean soup, or a little of both, if you want it.” Stew was the unanimous choice, so Katie yelled the order out to Myra in the kitchen.

  The cooking was good, just as Stella had promised, and had it not been for the four biscuits Perley polished off, he might have ordered seconds on the stew.

  “It’s a little better eatin’ than we’ve had for the last four days, ain’t it?” Stella commented. “I reckon this is the last time we’ll break bread together, and I want you to know how much I appreciate you takin’ your time to make sure me and Liz got here alive.”

  “That goes for me, too,” Liz said. “You’re a good man, Perley. I hope you find your grandpappy.”

  Perley was touched by their words, and more than a little embarrassed. He found himself feeling guilty again for having wished he had not been so unlucky as to have run into them on the South Platte. He decided at that moment that he was now glad that he had met the two women.

  The feeling was not long-lasting, extending only past the fried apple pie, when the door of the diner was suddenly filled with the bulk of Brady Ennis. He said nothing for a long moment while he looked the room over, trying to recall what the man who had walked in on him looked like. His vision may not have been as sharp as it normally would be, due to the amount of whiskey he had imbibed during his search. There were not that many people in the diner, so his gaze kept returning to the table where a man and two women sat. A slow smile began to form on the broad, hairy face as he settled on the two women and decided one of them, the one wearing men’s clothes, was the one who had jerked the towel from him. So, that meant the man sitting at the table was the man who had walked into the room and caused all the trouble. Brady stood there, grinning with the anticipation of exacting his revenge and taking his time about it.

  He ducked his head to keep from bumping it on the lintel and walked over to stand in front of the man and the two women, all of whom were staring at him in total shock. Even Liz was not prone to move.


  “I’ve been lookin’ for the three of you. You ran outta the Cattleman’s before I had a chance to get my clothes on—been lookin’ all up and down the street for you.” His eyes locked on Perley’s. “I promised to give you something.”

  “A broken back?” Perley guessed. “But there’s no need to trouble yourself, I won’t hold you to it.” He gestured toward Liz and Stella. “We’ve forgotten all about it, so you might as well, too. Have yourself a slice of this pie and a cup of coffee. That’ll make you feel better.”

  Brady, confused for a moment, couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Are you tryin’ to make a fool outta me?”

  “No, sir, I’m a little late for that job,” Perley replied. “I’m just tryin’ to keep you from makin’ a bigger fool outta yourself. Everybody in the Cattleman’s is laughin’ at how you were runnin’ around the hall upstairs buck naked. Pretty soon that’s gonna be all over town. I’d think you wouldn’t wanna hang around for that, but hell, I ain’t sayin’ I know what’s best for you.”

  “What’s it gonna be?” Brady demanded, his patience exhausted. “Knives? Guns? Bare hands? Are you gonna fight or not?”

  “Well, given a choice and being a sensible man, I’d ordinarily say I’d rather not. But if you’re tellin’ me I’ve got to pick, then I pick guns for me and bare hands for you. And I think it’s mighty damn sportin’ of you to offer that choice. Now, when do you wanna have this contest? Next Thursday is good for me. How’s your schedule?”

  Confused and unable to believe the prattle coming from the man sitting at the table, Brady seemed stunned for a few long moments. Then his face and neck appeared to glow red beneath his beard as the frustration progressed to a state of uncontrolled rage, until it finally erupted like an explosion of dynamite and he dived across the table at Perley.