Walkers Creek - A Western

by R. Bentley Davies

  Beyond the jail stands the office of the Humby Mining Corporation. So this is where the town's wealth comes from. There is clearly some mining going on hereabouts that is making someone a lot of money. The company office dominates that end of the street, looking wealthier than the bank and more solid than the jailhouse.

  A small wooden building bears the word 'Barber' painted on the glass and seems to be doing a brisk trade. He decides that this looks like just the place to smarten up.

  'Good Morning sir, do take a seat.' The barber quickly wipes a towel over the newly vacated chair and gestures for Logan to sit.

  'I think this gentleman was here before me,' said Logan, pointing out the grey-haired man in a suit sat reading a newspaper near the window.

  'Ah yes, he was here before you, but if you don't mind my saying so sir, you seem rather more in need of a shave than he does. And Mr. Keyes there has only come in to read my newspaper and make conversation while he waits for his beard to grow again.'

  Mr. Keyes chuckles quietly from behind his newspaper. Logan shrugs and sits down.

  'So, let me see, you'd be new in town then.'

  Logan opens his mouth ready to answer, but the barber interrupts him before he can speak.

  'No, don't tell me what you're here for or where you're from, that takes all the fun out of it, you can just tell me whether I'm right or wrong.' The barber busies himself with tucking towels round Logan's neck.

  'You're right so far, in that I'm new in town.' He smiles. 'Do you play this game with all the new men in town?'

  'Oh, I try, not all of them are so cheerful as you though. There are quite a few who barely utter a word the whole time they're here.'

  'Do you get many? New people passing through I mean.' The barber is always your best source of information in a new town. He is determined to find out as much as possible about what to expect in Walkers Creek.

  'Oh yes, quite a few. Probably one or two in here every day wouldn't you say Mr. Keyes?'

  'Indeed.'

  'Now, back to you. Let's see, the state of your beard I'd say you've been traveling a few days. The state of your hat though.' The barber shakes his head and tuts. 'I'd say you've been on the road for months.'

  'Nope,' says Mr. Keyes. 'You have it wrong. He's a miner. He's been out working a claim not riding the road. You don't get a hat as battered as that by just riding.'

  'Ah, but you didn't notice his boots when he came in, I'd swear they've seen at least as much riding as walking.'

  There is a pause as they both wait to find out if they're right but Logan is unable to speak without getting a mouthful of soap.

  'You're both right,' he says at last, sputtering the soap from his lips as the barber sets the brush back down by the basin.

  'How?'

  'Now, now, your rules said I was only to tell you if you were right or wrong.' He laughs as the barber's face knots up like schoolboy who's been asked some impossible arithmetic.

  'You can't go setting a riddle like that. That's enough to make a man's head explode. Surely you've either been riding the road or digging a hole. Which is it?'

  'Since you're about to hold that razor to my throat, I'll tell you: I was mining, prospecting for gold in the desert. I broke open a pretty decent claim that showed some promise and decided that I didn't want to spend the rest of my life in that particular hole, so I sold it for a tidy sum and headed West over the mountains. So here I am, with all my prospecting tools on the back of a pack horse, after a couple of months on the road, a traveler and a miner all at once. You're both right.'

  The barber laughs so hard at the simple answer to the riddle that Logan fears for his chances of a steady-handed shave.

  'Of course there's not much call for prospecting round here,' says Mr. Keyes from behind his newspaper.

  'Really?'

  'Oh, Mr. Humby's mining operation has pretty much everything sewn up. Plenty of work available in the mines if that's what you're after, but you won't be doing much prospecting.'

  'I take it they've found gold then?'

  'So they say. Mr. Humby's pretty wealthy on it. He owns most of Walkers Creek.'

  'And he's the mayor,' says the barber.

  He thinks for a moment while he towels off the remains of the soap.

  'So this Mayor Humby, is he a nice man?'

  Keyes puts down his paper and looks at the barber but neither say anything.

  'I ask, because Walkers Creek seems like a really nice town. You don't see so many towns where people smile at you when you say hello even though they don't know you, where most of the men don't carry sidearms and where a man from out of town can just ride up the street without so much as a sideways glance. It seems like a nice town, so I figure the guy who owns it must be a nice guy, right?'

  Keyes shrugs and picks up his paper again. The barber fusses over folding an already folded towel. Neither says anything.

  This doesn't seem like a profitable line of enquiry. It seems Mr. Humby, far from being held in high regard, is someone they feel threatened by. Threatened to the extent of not wanting to talk about him.

  'So, this lovely town, with its wealthy mine. All that gold and money about. I'd have thought you'd have attracted every outlaw in the county like bees to honey. Isn't this a dangerous place to live?'

  'I wouldn't say that Walkers Creek is completely without violence or crime Mr. errm, Mr...'

  'Tanner, Logan Tanner.'

  'It's not completely without crime Mr. Tanner, why just yesterday someone not two miles from here had his house dynamited, but people seem to like it here and plenty of people who came just passing through have ended up staying. You might just find that you like it here too.'

  'So nobody ever tried to rob the bank?'

  'Do you plan on trying Mr. Tanner?'

  'Maybe.' He says with a wink and a smile.

  'Well then it'd only be fair to warn you that the sheriff has plenty of men.'

  'A dozen deputies,' says Mr. Keyes.

  'And you don't see too many of them about, but they're watching. They know you're here and are better at guessing where you're from and what you're up to than Mr. Keyes and me. You mark my words, if you really were here to rob the bank, you'd...' the barber trails off as the door jingles and man in a smart brown suit and an impressive mustache comes in.

  'Morning Mr. Humby,' says Mr. Keyes.

  'Morning Keyes,' says the new arrival in a deep and slightly too loud voice.

  'I think we're done here.' The barber snatches the last of the towels from around Logan's neck. Taking his cue, Logan gets up from the chair and pulls out some coins to pay for the shave. 'Oh, don't worry Mr. Tanner you can pay me next time.' he says with a conspiratorial smile.

  'Wait a moment,' says the mayor, a devious looking smile on his face. Logan stops, one hand on the door. 'If you're going to be robbing our bank Mr. Tanner, you can at least do it with a decent hat.'

  Logan looks down at the battered hat in his hand with a little embarrassment and wonders how much of his conversation had been overheard.

  'Take yourself down to Mannion's store at the end of the street. Tell him I sent you,' the mayor adds, chuckling to himself as he settles into the barber's chair.

  A new hat would certainly seem to be in order if everyone was mentioning it. Logan can see he isn't going to make the right impression at the wealthy hotel with this old thing, even after a good shave. So he thanks the mayor for his advice and goes looking for Mannion's store.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  'Ah Miss Nixon! Hello.'

  Emily smiles and returns the greeting to the store owner as she steps in through the door.

  'Are they still tormenting that poor dog out there?'

  'I'm afraid so, although to be honest, I think the dog's enjoying it as much as they are.'

  'You could be right.' he says, perching his spectacles back on the end of his nose. 'Do come in. Let's take a look at you. Well now you're looking mighty fine today if I may say so.'

/>   'Why thank you Mr. Mannion.'

  'A lovely dress...'

  'You should be less free with your compliments Mr. Mannion if you want me to buy anything new.' She laughs. She has come here first to be certain of a nice welcome from at least one person in Walkers Creek. Mannion hasn't disappointed.

  'Was there anything in particular you came in for today? A new hat perhaps?' The front window of the store is filled with a fine array of hats of all sizes and colors. That is to say hats that would look good on a ranch hand, not on a lady.

  'Do you think you have any hats that will suit me?'

  Mannion laughs, the smile reaching to his eyes. 'Perhaps I have something new from San Francisco. I'll pop in back and take a look.'

  She is used to this routine. There are plenty of hats and boots, and a few rolls of cloth in the front of the store. He keeps the best stock out at the back so that he can have the luxury of choosing which of his favorite customers gets to look at it first. There are wealthier customers in Walkers Creek, but her friendship with Mannion is based on more than just how many dresses she buys.

  'Mr. Mannion, please come back. I didn't really come here for a dress.'

  'Miss Nixon, you sound rather serious all of a sudden, is everything alright?'

  'Come here, I want to show you something.' She beckons him to the front of the store.

  'Those children out there? You're not pining after children of your own again are you Miss?'

  She shakes her head, but he's right, she does wish for children of her own.

  'That's just as well because you know no man will offer to marry you all the while Mr. Humby is pursuing you.'

  'No, no, it's not that. It's a different sort of pursuit. I'm certain someone followed me from the ranch this morning. I want to show him to you when he rides past so you can tell me I'm not imagining him.'

  'Is this about that business with McLaren? Tell me that wasn't you was it? That wasn't your doing, blowing up his house?'

  'If people think it was my doing, and that works in my favor, then I'm not going to be wasting my breath telling them otherwise. The ranch is mine and it'll stay that way and if the likes of McLaren can see that I've got the wherewithal to defend it then maybe they'll back off some.'

  'You're sounding more like Humby every day, maybe you should marry him after all.'

  'Don't say that.'

  'Just be careful then that you're not descending to his level.'

  'Look! There!' she says suddenly, pointing out of the window. A rider in a dusty black shirt trots his horse quickly up the street, waving his hat angrily at the scattering children.

  Mannion lets out a sigh and shakes his head.

  'What is it? Tell me I didn't imagine that man? He's been following me all the way here, trying to keep far enough back that I wouldn't know he was there. Who is he? Why would he do that?'

  'That's Wilson. One of the sheriff's men.'

  'Or one of Humby's men?'

  'They're the same thing. It might work in your favor that McLaren thinks you dynamited his house, but if the sheriff or Humby thinks it was you then you could be in for a rough time. If you're right and Wilson has been keeping watch on you then I'd say you're under suspicion already.'

  'Maybe Wilson isn't the only one.' she says cryptically.

  'Exactly. There's probably a deputy watching the ranch as we speak. You need to be careful. I've told you before that you shouldn't travel alone the way you do. And they'll be after your household and your friends as well.'

  'I'd better go then, I don't want to make trouble for you.'

  'Don't worry about me. They've been watching me all the time ever since I refused to sell to Humby but at least the ones that watch me come in and buy stuff from time to time. Wait, don't go yet.'

  She stops at the door.

  'We need to get you a dress first Miss Nixon, we can't have you leaving my store without buying a dress, otherwise people really will be getting suspicious!'

  The selection of the dress is a joyless experience for both of them. Emily turns down the nicest dress saying she doesn't like the color. It reminds her of the color of the sheets at the ranch when that young boy had bled all over them. She settles on a green dress that he assures her will look lovely. She doesn't bother to try it on. Mannion ties up the box with ribbon.

  'Sometimes I get scared.' she says, taking the large box from him.

  'Try not to, Miss Nixon. It's when you get scared that you're most likely to do something silly.'

  'Thanks Mr. Mannion. You're a good friend.'

  She takes a deep breath, puts her shoulders back and looks at herself in the hat mirror to check that she looks confident and unconcerned. Not too bad. She knows the fear is still there, but there is a good chance that others will miss it.

  She steps out of the door, struggling a little with the dress box that gets in her way. It means she doesn't see the dog until it is too late. It charges at her, still over-excited from the children's tormenting. It's bark surprises her and she steps back into the door, dropping the box. Playfully, the dog lunges at her and she steps away with a little shriek as the dog gets a mouthful of her skirt and starts to pull on it.

  'Stand still Miss. Stand still and try to stay calm and quiet.'

  She looks up to see a stranger, a man in a battered hat, walking quickly towards her.

  'Hey dog!' he shouts as he approaches.

  The dog turns to the noise and growls a little, still pulling on her skirts. She wants to say something but is startled into silence. The man, now that he has the dog's attention, walks calmly towards it, talking all the time in a low and barely audible voice. The dog pins back its ears but the growling stops. Still talking softly and holding the dog's gaze he crouches down close enough to touch the dog.

  'Are you sure he won't bite you?' Emily says quietly.

  'You can never be certain with animals Miss, but if you can stop pulling your skirt for a moment I think he'll let go, even if it is only to try to bite me.'

  Sure enough, as soon as she releases the tension on the fabric in the dog's mouth it spits it out and lies down at the stranger's feet, whimpering a little.

  'Thank you.' she says, distractedly trying to wipe the dog's spittle from her skirt.

  'No problem Miss.' he says, removing his hat and making the closest he could manage to a bow in his crouched position with one hand firmly gripping the scruff of the dog's neck.

  Without the hat, she notices, he really is a handsome young man. She catches herself staring and wonders if she'd been so unsophisticated as to let her mouth gape open as well.

  'Mr. Tanner.' He jams the battered hat back on his head and offers his hand. 'Logan Tanner.'

  'A pleasure to meet you Mr. Tanner but,' she gestured towards the dog spit on his outstretched hand.

  He laughs and apologizes, wiping his hand on his trousers. She smiles and then tells herself to stop staring again. She considers grabbing the ugly old hat from him. He looks so much better without it.

  'Oh, Miss Nixon are you alright.' Mannion comes out of the store. He seems to have waited until the dog was completely subdued before he dared to come out.

  'Yes, Mr. Mannion, this gentleman was very kind, I think I shall be okay now.'

  'Oh dear, your dress box, it's all torn.'

  She has forgotten about the dress. She had hardly given it any thought even before it went in the box. She's not sure she can even remember clearly what it looks like.

  'Let me box it up for you again. Why don't you go over to La Rosa for a coffee and I'll send it over for you.'

  'Thank you.' she says, taking a deep breath. 'That sounds like a good idea.'

  'Mr. Mannion?' says the stranger, still holding the now placid dog. 'Mr. Humby said you might be able to sell me a new hat.'

  She stops mid-stride at the mention of the mayor's name. Who is this man? What is his link to Humby?

  'Of course I can sell you a hat.' Mannion laughs exaggeratedly to distract from the sur
prise of hearing this stranger mention Humby. He swings the door wide to welcome in the new customer, at the same time giving her a gentle shove towards the hotel.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  'Well it's certainly an impressive array of hats you have here.' Logan stands looking at the displays of hats at the front of Mannion's store. He is surprised that the store keeper hasn't attempted to sell him anything yet and is instead concentrating on putting a fresh box around a sale he's already made.

  'Thank you sir. Are there any that take your fancy?' Mannion calls to him from the desk at the back where he's fussing with the box and ribbon.

  It's as though he doesn't want to sell anything. Logan considers simply leaving without buying, after all he can see clearly enough that he isn't wanted. Curiosity gets the better of him, that and the fact that he badly needs a new hat.

  'I hope I didn't interrupt anything between you and the lady.' Logan tries to tease some reaction from the store keeper.

  'I beg your pardon.' Mannion sounds alarmed. 'She's just a customer, that's all.'

  He laughs a little to reassure Mannion that he means no harm. 'I wasn't suggesting... and even if I was, it's hardly a criticism, is it? A pretty girl like that I shouldn't think there's a man in the town that would be embarrassed to be...'

  'No sir, it's not like that.' Mannion said firmly, leaving the desk at last.

  'Oh no,' he laughs again, 'I've put my foot in it haven't I? She's married isn't she?'

  'No sir. Not yet. I'm surprised you aren't aware.'

  'Aware?'

  'Well you did say you worked for Humby didn't you?'

  So that's it. That's why the cold shoulder. It makes sense now. He could see it in the shop keeper's face now that he was closer: the same threatened look, the fear of the name that he saw in the barber's face when he tried to get him to talk about the Mayor.

  'No, it seems we have a misunderstanding. I don't work for him. I met him for the first time a few minutes ago as I was leaving the barbers. He suggested you'd be the man to sell me a hat and said I should say he'd sent me.'