Tiff's Game (Perry County Frontier Series)

by Roy F. Chandler

  In the father's plans, Tiff, the eldest, would grow to love and run the Arrowhead. The father and mother would watch and enjoy as the ranch prospered under Tiff's management. The dream was not to be. As Ted Shatto had himself rejected his father's Pennsylvania horse business in favor of the west and cattle raising, so Tiff's interest had led him elsewhere.

  The Ajax plowed its way southward, standing enough offshore that the California coast was only a dark line against the horizon. The good weather held and the ship required little tending.

  In the sun-dappled shelter of the well deck, Tiff Shatto held court for the off watches. The weathered and rope-scarred sailors were easily drawn to the young man who smiled so readily and whose hands could make money or cards appear or disappear with magical skill.

  Captain Ables chose to lean across his forward rail and observe his passenger's performances. There would be no wagering. Gambling could rip crews apart as men lost or won excessively. The Feather Company allowed no gaming aboard their vessels.

  Tiff Shatto was clever. Even from above, Ables could not discover the paths or destinations of the silver dollars the gambler manipulated.

  Shatto was also lightning quick. Amid laughter, a sailor reached to help himself to a coin laid before them. He snatched quickly, but the tip of a slender dagger touched the deck beside his extended hand. Until Tiff returned the knife to a boot top, none had suspected its presence.

  Men hooted and slapped their knees in appreciation. While Tiff returned the knife to its sewn-in scabbard the sailor reached again. Even the captain believed his man had succeeded in gaining the last laugh, but Shatto had already been moving. His hand and arm only a blur, Tiff reached the cross draw Colt pistol. As the seaman's fingers touched the coin, the pistol's muzzle pressed his nose tip. The crew howled its glee and Captain Ables discovered his own laughter mixed with theirs.

  Shatto's speed was fascinating to behold, and the captain considered the possibility that the recently deceased Baker Shade had not gained all the advantages his shotgun should have provided.

  Chapter 3

  Saul Shade took rooms and held court in one of the finer hotels just off the Embarcadero. Across the carpeted lobby and up the plush staircase, a series of dusty, spur-dragging riders delivered their reports.

  Tiff Shatto had checked out of his hotel. He had sold his horse for less than top price. The highly satisfied buyer had chortled his satisfaction and showed the handsome animal with its Arrowhead branded hip.

  A boy had carted Shatto's kit to the docks and there had been a full load. The rowing boat's owner was brought to Saul Shade. The rancher questioned closely.

  "How do you know the man was Tiff Shatto?"

  The rowers jaw gaped. "Well, he was the same man that came with the baggage cart." The boatman described his passenger.

  Shade mulled a moment. Most likely it had been Shatto who boarded the rowing ferry.

  "You took Shatto out to a ship?"

  "Yes, sir. Directly out to the Ajax. Mister Shatto held the compass so I could row straight in the fog. Captain Ables was expecting him. My passenger went aboard and I rowed away."

  "How do you know Shatto stayed aboard?"

  The waterman's jaw again fell. His brow creased in thought. "Well, I didn't claim he did stay aboard, but the Ajax was towed to sea by Captain Wilder's tug, The City of San Francisco. He might of seen your man."

  Captain Wilder, it was discovered, did not report to anyone. Saul Shade dumped across the timbered dock planking to the tug's tie-up. On his own deck, the captain was affable. He had seen Tiff Shatto aboard the Ajax. Shatto had waved as the tug dropped its tow.

  How did Captain Wilder know it was Shatto?

  Why, Tiff was well known along the waterfront. Wilder had never played at Shatto's table, but many had and knew the gambler as honest, skilled and a man interesting to engage.

  Saul Shade's countenance did not lighten with the captain's endorsement of the man who had shot his son.

  The Feather Company listed a Tiff Shatto accepted as a passenger aboard the Ajax. Destination, the South Seas. There seemed no doubt Shatto had sailed. Saul Shade retired to his rooms to brood and consider what he knew.

  Luke Shade waited his father's decisions with patient indifference. He had no doubt that Tiff Shatto had escaped them. He was equally certain that the Shades' time would come. Tiff Shatto would return, and the Shades would find him.

  It was not that Luke Shade gave a lead peso over Baker's death. There had been no love lost between the brothers. Worst of all, despite Baker's trouble making, Saul Shade favored his first son. Baker had been a thorn and he had never pulled his share. He drank, gambled, and womanized himself stupid, and he had already dragged the family through two shootings and a petty theft charge.

  Luke could be inwardly pleased that Baker was out of the way. The Shade holdings would someday be all his without a wastrel brother to share with.

  That did not mean that Luke did not want Tiff Shatto. The gambler had killed a Shade. For that, Luke would not need his father's orders. Luke planned on shooting or hanging Tiff Shatto. Shades were good at waiting, and they rarely forgot and never forgave.

  Old Saul stepped barefooted from his sleeping room. He walked unnaturally on his toes because, like many riders, a lifetime of wearing high heeled riding boots had shortened his tendons until his heels no longer touched the ground.

  He bellowed for Luke and waited, impatiently scratching through his long john underwear until the son appeared. Then Saul gathered close Luke, his foreman, and a pair of trusted hands. His words were certain and flattened any expectation that the search for Tiff Shatto was over.

  "Shatto is getting off that boat somewhere down the coast." He saw the frowns and quelled rising doubts.

  "First of all, Shatto left too easy, too smooth and planned out. He didn't throw out false trails or run his horse half to death like most would. Nope, Shatto had a plan, but it wasn't turning sailor.

  "Next thing is, he took his saddle. Oh, he raised a little smoke with talk about horse gear over in China and such. Fact is, a man gives up a good-fitting saddle real reluctantly. Especially if he's planning on riding again right soon.

  "Shatto took little with him. Not enough to overburden a pack animal. Did he buy sea-going clothing or put aboard personal stores for eating and drinking comforts? Oh no. Mister Tiff Shatto ain't staying that long. He's getting off."

  Saul paused to lay out his thinking, and Luke Shade admitted to himself that his father probably had it right. The old man was like a fighting dog. Once he sunk in his teeth, he never let go.

  Saul said, "My Understanding is that a ship follows the coast down to Mexico before it starts across the ocean. Shatto could get off most any place, but if it were me, I'd step ashore where I could buy a horse and supplies. Now there ain't many of those kind of places. There's Monterey, maybe Morro Bay . . . well, there ain't many."

  Then Saul's mouth straightened in grim satisfaction. "And the important thing is that every durn one of 'em is telegraph connected to the station here in San Francisco." Shade's voice was almost triumphant. "We'll wire down and offer money for information on Shatto landing. We'll offer bigger money for holding him till we get there."

  There were grunts of excited agreement, but Saul was not finished.

  "Luke, you'll take two good shooters and start south. Go straight down the telegraph line. Check at every station. When we hear, you'll already be near."

  With his riders out asking and Luke riding south, Saul Shade had time to think about Baker really being gone, gunned down by a tinhorn. The old man's jaw muscles bunched. Damn it to hell! With his shotgun almost against Shatto's shirt, how could Baker have missed? And for the gambler to have gotten his gun out and shot Baker to death before he could cock a second hammer seemed almost as unlikely.

  Damn, he missed Baker already. Saul wished it had been Luke who had discovered the gambler cheating. Unlike the too-emotional Baker, Luke was cold and steady.
Luke would not have been careless . . . and he wouldn't have missed.

  Well, Luke would have his chance. Sooner or later, they would catch up with Tiff Shatto. Then Luke could kill him, the safest and surest way possible. It would be like blasting a rattlesnake. A man killed the snake and rode on 'cause, snake or Shatto, killing didn't matter a lick.

  Tiff Shatto went ashore at the Mission Los Angles. Captain Ables had grumbled at sailing his ship inside Catalina Island where winds were often fluky. His day's run could be greatly reduced, but they had found small boat fishermen and the Ajax barely paused before slanting her sails to the prevailing westerlies before sliding southward on her long Pacific crossing.

  Sailing before the wind, the fisherman made swift passage. His hull grounded on a sandy beach near the Mission's settlement and Tiff hopped ashore without wetting a boot.

  A flock of eager boys answered Tiff's easy Spanish, and his baggage was parceled out and carried into the village. Small coins paid off his workers and Tiff sought a horse trader.

  There were always horses for sale, but Tiff could not settle for riding plugs. He had deserts and mountains to cross. The Mojave to the Colorado River would be the first leg of his journey. Then east again, through mountains so high the air grew thin. Days north of the Taos pueblo, in high country where during his lifetime Apache had raided, Tiff would reach Shatto land. Tiff Shatto was going home.

  Aboard the Ajax, there had been time for Tiff to consider his plan. He had confused his trail sufficiently to discourage ordinary pursuers. He had done enough to fool most men, but Saul Shade was said to be far beyond the common.

  There had been only limited time to discuss the Shades, but those who knew shook their heads worriedly. Saul Shade was cunning and ruthless. Tiff Shatto could expect Saul's dark spirit to haunt him wherever he rode. Shade would . . . there were many predictions to accompany the headshaking. The men to whom Tiff spoke were not timid, nor were they fools. Tiff accepted their warnings and weighed his options.

  He could have stayed aboard the Ajax and allowed his trail to grow cold, but Tiff found no pleasure in the sea. Tiff's game was not played on Pacific isles, although the mysterious Orient held allure. There were other choices.

  The most obvious was to return to his father's ranch. There would be safety at Falling Water. On the Arrowhead he would be surrounded by Shatto supporters. Even a Saul Shade should not wish to face a veritable army of armed and willing fighting men.

  Tiff had been away for nearly two years. A sudden longing for his own people swelled in his breast. Going home sounded comfortable. Drifting into Central America, or slipping undetected north into Canada held no such appeal. Tiff made his decision.

  Falling Water it would be. His mind dwelt on the Valley of Bones and the strong holdings the Shattos had built around it. How fared his friends and family, high in their mountain stronghold? Letters could not describe the small things, the day to day happenings that he always hungered to hear about.

  Tiff wasted no time. A group of Mormon men was departing to cross the desert. Tiff liked traveling with Mormons. Saints were busy with living and they traveled swiftly tending to business. There was no drunkenness and few squabbles. Of course, he would have no card games; Mormons did not gamble. The group would pray a lot, but not during traveling time. Tiff signed on. He added his supplies to theirs and, if trouble should appear, all would be safer with another pair of hands and ready guns.

  A day after Tiff came ashore, the Mormon party trailed east, past the adobe mission, under the telegraph wire, and into the hills that hemmed the fertile Los Angeles basin. They were fourteen in number and without wagons their travel would be swift. A dozen pack animals shared supplies. When they parted company, Tiff's pack horse would be lightly burdened, but he could resupply along his way. Once into the mountains, Tiff knew the camps. Shattos had been on the land for nearly thirty years. The Arrowhead was known and hospitality would be extended.

  The Colt Lightning that Tiff had used in the Miner's Pick was packed away. The .41 caliber was light and quick, but it lacked the punch required of an outdoor gun. Tiff's riding pistol was another double-actioned Colt called an Army Model. The revolver had a longer barrel and used the more powerful .44/40 cartridge. Loaded, the pistol weighed nearly three pounds. Like his belly gun, Tiff wore the Colt cross draw, with the butt forward, so that either hand could be used.

  The Shattos had always paid attention to their guns. They ordered the newest models from the eastern manufacturers and tried them out. Usually, the latest designs were improvements, and over the years having special rifles and pistols had helped the Arrowhead through dangerous times.

  Guns cost serious money. Tiff's Lightning pistol was listed at fifteen dollars, and the Army Model Colt had commanded half a cowhand's monthly salary, a biting twenty dollars.

  The rifle scabbarded beneath Tiff's saddle skirt was a Winchester. Tiff's order to the company had been special. When test firing, Winchester chose a few "most accurate" rifles. These weapons they labeled 1 of 1000. Tiff's was one of the best. An 1876 model, the lever-actioned rifle held .45/70 cartridges in a tubular magazine beneath the octagon barrel. Tiff had a tang peep sight for even better accuracy. With Tiff Shatto's rifle, a good shooter could hit what he wished at five hundred yards and a real marksman would be deadly at far greater ranges.

  The rifle had cost a stunning one hundred dollars. Even Tiff's father, who knew the value of good guns, had groaned at the expense, but Tiff, as usual, chose the best.

  At first glance, sitting a tall horse, clad in stitched boots, flaring vaquero pants, and a broad brimmed flat hat, Tiff Shatto could appear a bit of a dandy. The ready weapons and a smile that could turn rattler cold dissolved any impression of an easy mark. Tiff Shatto projected an aura of hard competence and never faltering self-confidence. The Mormon men Tiff joined felt his certainty and were pleased to have him along. The deserts and mountains could be dangerous and savage. There was strength in numbers and safety behind powerful weapons.

  So Shatto had left the boat. The Los Angeles telegrapher had not been equipped to detain Shatto, but he had seen him. Saul Shade knew a sour gratification. Justice would not have to wait the Ajax return.

  Luke and his men were turned back at Monterey. Vengeance would not plod doggedly along Tiff Shatto's trail. Saul Shade's investigation had turned over other rocks.

  The Arrowhead brand on Shatto's horse had drawn information. A man had seen the brand on cattle; somewhere north of Santa Fe, he remembered. Another had heard the name Shatto in Denver. Something to do with cattle, he recalled.

  South of Denver and north of Santa Fe, on the eastern edge of the Rocky Mountains most likely, there was a Shatto ranch running an arrowhead brand. Tiff Shatto, the telegrapher noted, had joined a party riding for Salt Lake City. Shade guessed Shatto would peel off and go his own way somewhere along the mountains.

  It all tied nicely. Saul Shade believed he knew where to look.

  The Miner's Pick Saloon held a morbid fascination for Saul Shade. Sided by his foreman, he sipped whiskey and stared at the chipped and gouged shot pattern pocking the wall behind Tiff Shatto's chair.

  Although he had run the scene through his mind a thousand times, the story still did not run right. The shotgun blast should have destroyed Tiff Shatto. No man sitting in a chair had the reflexes to dodge a shotgun. Baker had been good and no one had claimed he was too drunk to act. Baker's gun should have been swinging with Shatto's move but it hadn't. It was as if Tiff Shatto had advanced warning and had sat with his pistol in his hand, waiting for Baker's arrival. No man was quick enough to duck, draw, and shoot against a shotgun. Saul Shade simply knew that was so.

  Shade's heart grew blacker. Somehow, the gambler had known Baker was coming. Tiff Shatto had sat waiting. Then he had shot Saul Shade's son down like he was butchering a hog.

  Saul began gulping his whiskey as he waited Luke's return.

  Chapter 4

  Atop the high adobe wall, Ted
Shatto sat with his sons. He and John almost touched shoulders, but Tiff, as usual, chose to almost face his father and brother. It had always been that way. Tiff the loner, friendly but a little distant, often in opposition to whatever was being discussed.

  The brothers were also physically in contrast. Of average height and light boned, only Tiff s tanned coloring appeared Shatto.

  John, only a year younger, was almost an image of his Uncle Chip and the Rob Shattos that had come before. John was big. He was muscled like a blacksmith, but agile and light on his feet. There was, however, nothing of the amiable giant in John Shatto. As his father released control to him, John took hold solidly and ran the Arrowhead ranch without slack and with all of the vigor Ted could have hoped for.

  Tiff's return brought joy to the household. Both Ted and Beth Shatto worried about their roving son. Neither parent could understand or appreciate their first son's choices. The Shattos had never been gamblers, and until Tiff, none had shown interest in city life. Yet, Tiff had happily granted ranch leadership to his brother and devoted himself to card playing wherever there was a game.

  It was not that Tiff was a wastrel. He did not smoke and in an evening of gaming rarely consumed a second beer. Tiff's winnings boggled the family. The cattle business allowed comfortable living, but cash was rarely in excess. Tiff's gambling made money in stunning sums, and Tiff sent much of it home for safekeeping, as casually as though such amounts were common to everyone.