Funeral By The Sea

by George G. Gilman

  So the black-clad young man who eased carefully to the ground delayed consideration of the possibility that he might have to kill Pruett. And concentrated his mind upon overcoming the more immediate dangers.

  The ride from the top of the ravine had been a short one, but long enough so that he could in retrospect relish the relative comfort of being astride the stallion. For his punished body had not hurt so much, and it was not until he was trudging in the wake of Pruett leading the horse that he became aware of just how much he was hurting. And realized, too, the extent of his weariness. Perhaps had not felt as close to exhaustion even when he lay in the brush after the wagon wreck?

  He shook his head sharply, annoyed at himself for yet again wasting time on notions that served no purpose - and comparisons between the present and what once had been were certainly useless.

  Staying awake was what he had to do. Awake and alert. And only when he was certain of the motives of Warren Pruett - and maybe even not until he was a very long distance from Oceanville - would he be safe to indulge himself. Give way to the need for natural sleep.

  His impressions of the surroundings as he followed the man and horse were dull-edged because of his weariness. He saw they were on rocky ground now, climbing steeply up a curve toward the top of the cliff overlooking the pool. And then he had to combat an attack of vertigo when a thick growth of high brush forced them to move along the very rim of the fifty-foot-high drop. Did this by gazing fixedly ahead at the gently swishing tail of the big stallion. Scowling at the necessity to do so in a situation that demanded he look put across the sun-sparkling water of the pool toward the pine-clad terrain they had just crossed, to search for the men who were certainly trailing them.

  But then the horse took a sudden sharp turn to the left and when Gold blindly followed him, Pruett announced,

  ‘Okay, kid, you can take a breather now.’

  The sweat of tension that bathed the younger man was abruptly cooled and dried on his flesh. And he felt weaker than ever as he blinked his eyes to an abrupt change in the brightness of the light.

  The wall of brush had given way to rock, he realized. And Warren Pruett had led him into a cave in the rock. Because the narrow entrance faced north, no sunlight reached inside. But there was enough pale morning light to show a dirt floor area of some twenty by ten feet with rough- hewn walls marked by old water stains. The roof was maybe fifteen feet high at the entrance, falling to less than five at the rear.

  The air was cool and smelled of horse droppings. To one side of the access slit there were ashes of an old fire.

  Barnaby Gold leaned against the wall on the other side of the entrance and clicked his tongue. Showed a wan smile as he said, ‘You’re a man full of surprises, Mr. Pruett.’

  ‘The reason I’m so successful in my line of work, kid. But everyone needs a fair share of luck. And I sure struck lucky when I spotted the openin’ into this place while I was waterin’ my horse down below.’

  He took his bedroll off the stallion as he was talking and now he tossed it so that it dropped in front of Gold. ‘Here, rest up for awhile. Before you fall down.’

  ‘You said you’d done enough for me, sir. Aimed to collect what I owe you.’

  Pruett was uncinching the saddle. ‘I need a feller that’s dead on his feet as much as I need a hole in the head. Just rest up like I told you, why don’t you. Then we’ll get started on taking care of what’s left of Hal Delroy’s bunch of hard men.’

  He left the horse and came over to the other side of the cave entrance, set the saddle down and slid the Winchester from the boot before lowering his rump on to it. Took out the makings and rolled a cigarette, his elbows on the stock and barrel of the rifle that rested across his thighs.

  ‘Best offer I’ve had all day, sir.’

  He leaned the shotgun against the rock wall and crouched to unfurl the bedroll. Took off his gunbelt, hat and coat. Rolled up his coat to form a pillow and stretched out on one blanket, draped himself from neck to booted feet with the other.

  Warren Pruett lit and smoked the cigarette, ignoring his guest to maintain an apparently nonchalant surveillance over the wedge of country that was visible from where he sat.

  The minor exertions of preparing the bedroll and then making use of it had triggered a series of sharp pains from Gold’s aching muscles. But the luxury of being flat on his back and able to give in to the weighty drag of his eyelids quickly soothed his hurting. And there was not time to be irritated with himself when yet another futile thought crossed his mind.

  In the cool air of the cave, free of the scent of pine, his benefactor did not sniff.

  Then he was asleep.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ‘WAKE up, kid. Time for you to start playin’ off on the investment I got in you.’

  Something hard jabbed into his ribs roused Barnaby Gold from sleep and he heard the man speaking to him from what seemed a long way off. For stretched seconds he did not know where he was as his snapped open eyes stared up at the dark rock above.

  He rolled his head to the side on the makeshift pillow and saw Pruett, aiming a Winchester rifle at him. Experienced an instant of fear before the gun was withdrawn and the bounty hunter returned to sit on the saddle and gaze out through the gap in the rock. Then felt a flood of relief as he recalled the series of events which had brought him here, and that the rifle had simply been used to prod him awake.

  ‘It’s still light outside, sir. And I don’t feel like I’ve slept the clock round.’

  His head was fuzzy and it was painful to ease up into the sitting position. But he felt hungry, which had to be a good sign.

  Pruett took a match from a shirt pocket and interrupted his survey of the outside world to flip open the lid and check the time. ‘Almost three now. Same day. You’ve had the best part of five hours’ sack time.’

  ‘What do you see out there?’ He got slowly to his feet and had to rest a hand on the rock to steady himself. But the dizziness was soon gone.

  ‘Nothin’ that has to keep us from eatin’, kid. Just hard tack and water. Can’t risk a fire.’

  He put the watch away and tossed his saddlebags on to the blankets.

  Barnaby Gold tested his ability to walk without overbalancing. Found he could do so, and also subdue the urge to grimace in response to the less sharp aches that movement triggered. Then, standing behind the seated man, was able to gaze out from the cliff top without the country below appearing to tilt and blur.

  But had to do a double take to be certain he was not hallucinating when his gaze first swept over the shingle shore of the far side of the pool. Saw that there was undoubtedly a row of four men sprawled out on their backs at the edge of the water. Gripped by the total inertia of death.

  ‘You’ve been busy, Mr. Pruett.’

  ‘Yeah, kid. Worked me up an appetite.’

  ‘Okay.’

  He crossed back to the blankets and squatted to open the saddlebags.

  ‘Joseph Grogan,’ the bounty hunter said dully. ‘Kent Clay, William G. Ivers and Phil Bowyer. Last flyers I seen on them, they ain’t worth no more than six hundred bucks in total.’

  He spat in disgust out through the cave entrance. Forcefully enough to arc the globule of saliva down into the pool.

  ‘I must have been sleeping real well,’ Gold said as he drew some wax paper wrapped packages from the saddlebag.

  ‘Maybe.’ Pruett fingered the handle of his sheathed knife. ‘But they didn’t kick up too much noise dyin’. And I ain’t never used this just for parin’ my nails since I learned how to use it proper in the war.

  He accepted a piece of jerked beef and some hard tack with a nod and traded one of his canteens for the food.

  Gold sat on the blankets to eat.

  ‘Easy as parin’ my nails, it was. Way them dumb clucks split up to look for signs after the grass run out. No more than fifteen minutes between the first and the last. As long again to haul them all together down there.’

&
nbsp; ‘To take them back to where they’re wanted?’

  ‘I don’t bring in the man or his carcass, I don’t get paid, kid. Ain’t nobody more distrustful than a lawman. Exceptin’ maybe some company mail who has to fork out bounty money.’

  They chewed their food for awhile, washing it down with water from the canteens.

  ‘More men down at Oceanville than you figured on?’ Gold asked at length.

  ‘Knew there’d be a whole bunch. Everyone in my line of business in this part of the country knows about Oceanville being a bolt-hole. Knows, too, there never was a bounty hunter or even lawmen posse that got closer than rifle range and out of it alive.

  ‘Was just interested in one of the bunch when I rode out to here. Feller named Matthew John Wise. You get to know him when you were down there, kid??

  ‘No, sir. There wasn’t time for many introductions. Is he still down there or did he get...’

  ‘I didn’t see him in the ravine. Big-built feller with squinty eyes. Hardly ever seen without a pipe in his teeth.’

  ‘You’ve earned your money, Mr. Pruett. That was the man you shot just after I set the wagon rolling.’

  The bounty hunter showed a smile for the first time. A very brief expression, as if he had only a small store of smiles and wanted to conserve them. ‘That’s good. Wells Fargo have posted two grand for him. On account of the wife of a big shot Wells Fargo man was aboard the last stage he robbed. And Matthew John Wise shot and killed her.’

  ‘You need to get his corpse up from down there.’

  ‘I already told you, kid. Nobody takes your word for anythin’ in this business. Which I can’t blame them for. And it ain’t just the one carcass I want. All them fellers must have wanted flyers out on them. Even if I ain’t seen all of them.’

  He washed down a final mouthful of food with a swig from the canteen and smacked his lips. ‘Them that are already dead and them that won’t get took alive. Who knows, kid, I could get to retire on what I make outta this trip.’

  He rolled a cigarette and Barnaby Gold lit a cheroot.

  ‘What if I hadn’t been around, Mr. Pruett?’

  There was a modicum of scorn in the light blue eyes that flicked their gaze over the good-looking face of the man seated on the blankets.

  ‘Since I got outta the army, kid, I ain’t never worked any way but alone. But like I told you when we come in here, a man needs his fair share of luck. And he’d be a damn fool to turn his back on it when it comes his way.

  ‘You handled yourself pretty well in makin’ a run for it. A little reckless, but sometimes a feller has to play his hand the way it’s dealt him. Which is what I did for a while. And how it turned out, we finished off about half Delroy’s hard men.’

  ‘And you need my help to get the other half, sir?’

  Pruett wrenched his head around and now there was unadulterated contempt in every line of his darkly stained face. ‘I don’t need any kinda help, boy!’ he snarled. ‘Maybe you ain’t as bright as I figured you for! You don’t friggin’ listen!’ He moderated his tone as he returned his gaze to the scene outside the cave. ‘I just got through tellin’ you how it’s my way to work alone. And when I reached the top of that cliff last night I figured on this job bein’ the same as all the others I’ve done. Biggest one yet, but that didn’t bother me none.

  Then I saw you sneak outta town and get hauled back in draped over the horse. Heard Delroy’s sister yellin’ loud enough to wake the dead. That you was to be half stripped and strung up ready for her to whip the crap outta you in the mornin’.’

  He spat far down at the pool again. ‘Didn’t figure it was any skin off my nose. Just off your back.’ A smile even briefer and weaker than the first. ‘Weren’t so funny, was it?’

  ‘It wasn’t a lot of fun down there, Mr. Pruett.’

  ‘Not even with that Eve Delroy? Story is she knows every trick in the cat house book and some. Knew.’

  ‘It wasn’t worth what it cost me, sir.’

  ‘How about the blonde who let you out of the cellar?’

  ‘A whore Delroy brought in. She didn’t think it was worth it, either. She wanted me to get her out. And I’d like to help her.’

  Pruett nodded as he stood up. ‘Two birds with one stone is fine with me, Ain’t nothin’ wrong with people scratchin’ each other’s backs. Which is what I was countin’ on when I gave you a hand to cut loose from there. But it’s important to me you should know I could handle this on my own if I have to,’

  ‘Sure, sir.’

  The bounty hunter hefted his saddle up from the ground and took it to the stallion. Gold attended to repacking the saddlebag and furling the bedroll.

  ‘You feelin’ in better shape?’

  ‘I’ve felt better. A lot worse though.’

  ‘Good.’ He tightened the cinch.

  ‘You have something in mind?’ He passed the bedroll and bags to Pruett who stowed them into place and then nodded.

  ‘Sure have. Figured it out here last night. While you was hangin’ around down there.’ No smile this time, but he apologized, ‘That wasn’t very funny either.’

  He led the stallion out of the cave and along the narrow ledge - in the opposite direction from the way they had come up on to the cliff.

  Barnaby Gold discovered to his satisfaction that he could look directly down the face of the sheer cliff at the water beneath without the slightest feeling of unease.

  Where the ledge finished, they were at the foot of a broad slope covered with lush turf and featured with outcrops of rock that rose in a series of steps to inscribe a clearly defined line against the sky about a mile away.

  Warren Pruett was sniffing a lot now that the afternoon air was scented with the perfume of the pine trees that cloaked the hills behind them.

  ‘You plan to hit them in daylight, sir?’

  The bounty hunter was in process of swinging up astride the stallion. Settled himself comfortably in the saddle and said, ‘Sorry.’

  Gold looked at him quizzically.

  ‘Caused by me workin’ alone all the time. Never is any need, usually, for me to explain to folks what I plan to do.’

  The young man on the ground nodded. ‘Yeah, I think I’ve put a lot of folks’ backs up for being that way.’

  Pruett was pointedly disinterested in the admission. ‘You feel in good enough shape to walk?’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Good. This is a fine animal. Don’t want to overstrain him. Keep your eyes peeled in the event that bunch of dumb clucks ain’t doin’ what I’m expectin’ them to do. I’ll put you in the picture on the way to where we’re goin’.’

  Barnaby Gold canted the Murcott to his left shoulder and clicked his tongue as he set off behind the mounted man. And decided that although Warren Pruett had much of which to be proud in terms of the skills he brought to his chosen line of work, his vanity was getting to be a little wearing.

  Or was it his condescension toward him that irked Gold?

  Not that it really mattered, for the reason for his antipathy toward Pruett was immaterial. Of more concern was the fact that Gold did not simply accept the man for what he was with an utter lack of any emotional response toward him.

  Which had always previously been his attitude to almost every person with whom he came into contact from childhood. Even his parents, it had been said. And his wife.

  But then nobody had ever saved his life before. Unless he counted Eve Delroy’s intervention on his behalf at the ravine and out front of the big house. Although in her case, he had never needed to contemplate killing her.

  With the boastful bounty hunter, it was different.

  His head started to buzz again and he abandoned his line of thought to concentrate on listening to Pruett’s plan. Feeling confused and not a little anxious that the blow Joe Grogan landed on the side of his head with the Winchester barrel had done some permanent damage.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  WARREN Pruett did a great deal of sniffi
ng and nose wiping while he revealed what he had in mind and then during the long period of vocal silence that followed.

  For the way led either along the fringe of the pine forest or through parts of it, at a more or less constant mile inland from the shoreline south of the cove in which Oceanville was set.

  And it was not until the sun was dull crimson, close to dipping below the watery horizon and the evening gloom was hovering over the mountain ridges to the east that the bounty hunter turned his horse toward the shore.

  Supremely confident of his chosen route that led him and the young man following him down into a ravine that was steeper, narrower and far less wooded than the one which gave access to Oceanville, at least five miles north.

  ‘How much time did you spend around here before you made your move last night, Mr. Pruett?’

  ‘Didn’t get to the top of the cliff until about an hour before you tried to take off that first time, kid.’

  The ocean came into view through the rocky end of the ravine, stained crimson by the trailing arc of the almost set sun. The sky immediately overhead was already black.

  ‘So this isn’t your first trip here?’

  ‘No. Been two times before. Not huntin’ any feller in particular either time. Brought here by what I guess you’d call the challenge. And to check out the lie of the land in the event some feller I was after made a bolt for Oceanville. I ain’t never yet failed in a professional chore I set myself.’

  He paused to light the cigarette he had rolled. Continued, ‘First time, I looked over the shore to the north. Next, the south. Around here. Solid chunk of cliff right into the ocean with no beach for a long way north. Need a boat for sure to get into the bay from that side. From here, I don’t figure a boat’s needed.’ He reined the horse to a halt at the end of the ravine and swung down. ‘If the tide’s right.’

  Barnaby Gold moved forward to stand beside the bounty hunter as the final rays from the sun faded and left the surface of the Pacific as inky black as the sky, but unrelieved by the myriad pinpricks of glittering stars. Looked northward and saw that the tide was not right.