The Loner: Trail Of Blood

by J. A. Johnstone

  “That’s the truth,” The Kid said.

  Behind them, Kellogg came through the gate and hurried after them. “Wait up, gentlemen,” he called.

  The Kid and Arturo stopped and let the minister catch up to them.

  “I’m sorry things didn’t work out as you’d hoped they would, Mr. Morgan. I promise you, though, Theresa—I mean Mrs. Shanley—wouldn’t lie. She’s the most honest woman I know.” Kellogg paused. “Do you believe me?”

  The Kid smiled thinly. “I’d be sort of risking my immortal soul to doubt the word of a preacher, wouldn’t I?”

  “Not at all. Preachers are as human as anybody else.”

  The yearning look he cast back toward Theresa Shanley’s house was proof of that, The Kid thought. Kellogg was seriously smitten with the young widow. The Kid didn’t know if she returned the minister’s interest and frankly didn’t care.

  But he was curious about something. “What sort of trouble has she been having lately?”

  Kellogg hesitated. “I don’t know that it’s my place to say anything …”

  The Kid made a guess. “Something to do with Court Elam?”

  Kellogg’s eyes widened in surprise. “How in the world did you know that?”

  “Arturo and I have had our own run-in with Elam and his men. I was involved in that dustup over in Abilene yesterday.”

  “You killed those men who went over there to break Barnes out of jail?” Kellogg sounded impressed and a little scared at the same time, as if it might be dangerous walking down the street with Kid Morgan.

  Which was certainly true from time to time, The Kid reflected wryly.

  “I gave Marshal Fisher a hand defending himself. Then this morning we ran into Elam, Jim Mundy, and some more of his men on the trail between here and Abilene. Nothing happened, but the conversation was a mite tense. When we got here to Powderhorn we saw Elam’s name plastered on what looks like half the businesses in town. A man like that thinks he runs everything, and he doesn’t like it when anybody stands up to him.”

  “That’s certainly true of Courtland Elam,” Kellogg said with a nod. “I try to think the best of everyone, but sometimes it’s difficult. Very difficult.”

  The Kid hooked his thumbs in his belt as they walked toward the church. “Tell me about Elam.”

  “Well, I don’t really know all that much. Like Mrs. Shanley, he was here when I came to Powderhorn. From what people tell me, he came here several years ago and bought out the freight company. Nobody knew that Ben Jeffords had any interest in selling out, and the rumor was that Elam forced him into it. Elam had Jim Mundy and several other men like that with him. More gunmen drifted into town … I don’t think it was an accident … and Elam began buying up other businesses.”

  “Forcing the owners out in the process?”

  “I’m told he paid fair prices. It was more a matter of taking over businesses the original owners didn’t really want to get rid of. Then there was what happened to Jephtha Dickinson …”

  They had reached the shade under the trees in front of the church. “Go on,” The Kid said.

  “It’s not very Christian to repeat a lot of gossip.”

  “What happened to Dickinson?” The Kid asked.

  Kellogg sighed. “He owned the livery stable and wouldn’t sell out to Elam. Early one morning, when he was in the stable alone, a horse kicked him in the head and killed him.”

  “A horse kicked him … or one of Elam’s men stove in his skull and made it look like a horse had done it?”

  “I don’t know.” Kellogg shook his head. “People talked about that possibility, of course, but there was no way to prove it.”

  “Did anybody look into it? Do you have any law here?”

  “Not really. Not since the marshal was killed.”

  “And what happened to him?”

  “Shot from behind, from the mouth of an alley one night. No one saw who did it … but he’d arrested one of Elam’s men for disturbing the peace that day. The man resisted, and the marshal had to knock him around pretty good.”

  “Jim Mundy strikes me as the back-shooting type,” The Kid mused.

  “Like I said, no one knows. There’s been some talk about having the town council hire another marshal, but nothing has ever been done about it. By the way, Court Elam is the mayor and the head of the town council.”

  The Kid grunted in surprise. “Why would folks vote a man like that into office?”

  Kellogg looked at him like that was a stupid question.

  “Yeah, I suppose they were scared not to. So nothing was done about Dickinson’s death?”

  “No. His wife sold the stable to Elam not long after that.”

  “What about the store that Elam owns? Is it the same one that Mrs. Shanley’s husband had before he died?”

  “That’s right,” Kellogg said. “And before you jump to any conclusions, Mr. Morgan, there was nothing suspicious about his death. He and their children passed away because of a fever. So did a number of other people in town. For a while it looked like Powderhorn might dry up and blow away, as the old saying goes.” The minister’s mouth tightened. “I suppose if there’s one good thing you can say about Elam, it’s that he didn’t allow that to happen. He kept the town in business, and eventually everyone got over the tragedy. As much as they could, anyway.”

  The Kid nodded slowly. “Probably that’s one more reason why Elam thinks Powderhorn is his and nobody can defy him. Sounds like a lot of businessmen. Maybe a little more heavy-handed than most. There’s still the matter of Dickinson’s death.”

  “Yes, but it hasn’t stopped there,” Kellogg said. “His men have gotten bolder, more brazen. They take what they want and run roughshod over anybody who gets in their way. Also, other men have started riding into town and then riding back out again as the lawlessness in these parts has increased. Trains have been held up, the bank down in Hutchinson was robbed, ranches have been raided and stock run off.”

  “Sounds to me like Elam’s recruited a bunch of outlaws and is using this as the gang’s headquarters,” The Kid said.

  “That’s what people think, but again, there’s no proof.”

  “It’s a pretty sorry situation. But what does it have to do with Mrs. Shanley? Did he pressure her into selling the store she inherited from her husband?”

  Kellogg shook his head. “No, she was more than willing to sell. She didn’t want to run the place once her husband was gone, and I don’t blame her. She was more interested in caring for the children she had taken in. The money Elam paid her allowed her to do that. Her problem with Elam is more … personal.”

  Kellogg fell silent, and after a moment The Kid prodded him, “Go on.”

  The minister drew in a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “Elam didn’t want to just buy the store from Theresa. He wanted a merger.”

  “What do you mean?” The Kid asked, although he suddenly had a hunch that he knew.

  “Elam wanted her to marry him … and he’s never been a man who’s willing to take no for an answer.”

  Chapter 28

  The Kid’s mouth tightened as he looked at Tom Kellogg. “Go on.”

  “There’s not much else to tell,” the minister said with a shrug. “Theresa refused his proposal, of course. Her husband and children had only been dead for about a month.”

  “And he asked her to marry him?” Arturo said. “How uncivilized.”

  “It’s more like arrogance on Elam’s part, I think. He’s just so used to getting what he wants, he can’t accept it when somebody says no to him. But I guess he saw that he’d overplayed his hand with Theresa, because he backed off for a while. Nearly a year, in fact. But then he started pressing her again to marry him. Of course, it wouldn’t have mattered how long he waited. She was never going to marry a man like him.”

  “But he hasn’t given up,” The Kid guessed.

  Kellogg shook his head. “No. He’s asked her several more times. She always says no. But lately
… things have started to happen. Some of the older girls who live with her, the ones who are fifteen and sixteen, have been approached in town by Elam’s men. Crudely approached,” Kellogg added with a note of angry disapproval in his voice. “And one of the young men was beaten up. He says he didn’t see who grabbed him, but I’m sure it was some of Elam’s hired toughs. Then Elam cut off Theresa’s credit at the store. As you can imagine, with more than a dozen children in the house, she needs plenty of food and other supplies. Money is tight at the moment. The members of the church help out as much as they can, but having Elam and his hired guns around here is starting to strangle the town.”

  It was a long speech, and Kellogg looked and sounded weary when he finished it.

  The Kid nodded slowly as he took in what the minister had told him. “I suppose all these problems would go away if Mrs. Shanley agreed to marry Elam.”

  “He’s never come right out and said so, as far as I know, but that’s certainly the feeling Theresa got.”

  “That’s a real shame, all right. Is there only the one hotel in town?”

  The abrupt change of subject seemed to take Kellogg by surprise. “That’s right. Just the Elam Hotel.”

  “I don’t feel like putting any more money in the varmint’s pockets. Are you up to camping out again tonight, Arturo?”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t feel comfortable in any hostelry owned by that man, either.”

  “You’re moving on, then?” Kellogg asked.

  “I’ve still got those children to find,” The Kid said. “If they’re not here, that means Pamela left them somewhere else.”

  “It’s just that I thought … I mean, I hoped …” Kellogg stopped and shook his head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter what I thought. Of course you want to keep looking for your children. I understand.”

  The Kid put out his hand. “I appreciate all your help.”

  “Of course.” Kellogg shook hands with The Kid in front of the church. “God bless you, Mr. Morgan.”

  The Kid untied his horse from behind the buckboard as Arturo climbed aboard. “The people who live here have themselves quite a predicament,” Arturo commented.

  “Yes, they do,” The Kid agreed, as he swung up into the saddle.

  “It’s a shame there’s no one around here who might be able to help them.” Arturo turned the wagon down the street.

  “Who do you think could do that?” The Kid asked as he rode next to the wagon. “Elam’s got probably a dozen hired guns at his disposal, maybe even more if the preacher’s right about those outlaws who have been plaguing these parts. One or two men wouldn’t stand much of a chance against a gang like that, would they?”

  “Perhaps not. But if the townspeople could be rallied to take action themselves, it might be different. What they need is someone to lead them.”

  The Kid looked narrowly at Arturo. “What are you trying to get us into?”

  “Nothing. I was indulging in pure speculation, nothing more. After all, we have a task of our own to complete.”

  “That’s right. A very important task.” They had reached the edge of town. The Kid paused and looked back down the street. His eyes lingered on all the business that bore Court Elam’s name. He studied the mostly empty boardwalks. He sensed the air of fear that gripped the town.

  “Maybe somebody ought to do something,” he said slowly. “And I’ve got an idea what it could be. First, though, let’s go find a place to camp for the night.”

  He pretended not to see the look of satisfaction in Arturo’s eyes.

  They followed the creek that ran past the north end of the settlement for about a mile west of Powderhorn, then made camp in a grove of cottonwoods on the bank. The Kid didn’t expect any trouble, but slept lightly anyway. It was a habit with him, the sort of habit that helped him stay alive.

  The next morning, he and Arturo returned to town and went straight to the general store. As they walked in, The Kid saw the few customers casting suspicious glances in his direction. Maybe they took him for a new member of Elam’s guncrew, as Tom Kellogg had at first the day before.

  A balding, middle-aged man in a white apron was behind the counter at the rear of the store. “Something I can do for you, mister?” he asked as The Kid came up to him.

  “I understand that Mrs. Theresa Shanley owes a bill here.”

  The clerk frowned. “Maybe she does, but I reckon that’s between her and Mr. Elam.”

  “Not anymore. Tell me how much she owes.”

  “I don’t know if I can do that.” The clerk’s frown had turned into a look of nervousness. Clearly, he didn’t want to do anything that might get him on Elam’s bad side.

  “Then maybe you can tell me if the amount is more than a hundred dollars.”

  The clerk didn’t want to admit even that much, but after a moment of enduring The Kid’s flinty stare, he shrugged. “Yeah, she owes more than that.”

  “More than two hundred?”

  Now that he had answered one question, he couldn’t very well refuse to answer another. “No, it ain’t that high yet.”

  The Kid nodded and said, “All right. Thank you.” He took ten double eagles from his pocket and placed them on the counter in two stacks of five. “There’s two hundred dollars. I want you to apply that to Mrs. Shanley’s account. Any that’s left over, you can carry on the books as credit.”

  He spoke loudly and clearly enough that the other customers in the store couldn’t help but overhear him. He didn’t want there to be any questions later on about what was happening.

  “But … but, mister,” the clerk said. “You can’t pay off somebody else’s account.”

  “Why not? There’s no law against it. In fact”—The Kid dug into his pocket again and added another stack of five double eagles to the gold pieces already on the counter—“put another hundred dollars of credit on the books for her as well. And I want a receipt for all of it.”

  The clerk looked a little like he wanted to cry. The Kid was sorry to be putting the man in a bad position, but the sooner the word started getting around town that things were about to change in Powderhorn, the better.

  “Go ahead,” The Kid prodded. “I’ll take that receipt now.”

  The clerk sighed and pulled a pad of paper to him—one he probably used to jot down orders that people gave him. Picking up a stub of pencil he scrawled a receipt for the three hundred dollars.

  The Kid watched what the man was writing. “Be sure to write on there that it goes on the account of Mrs. Theresa Shanley,” he reminded the clerk.

  The man nodded as he added that information. He tore off the paper, slid it across the counter to The Kid, and raked the gold pieces into a drawer. “Are you satisfied now, mister?”

  The Kid smiled as he tucked the receipt in his shirt pocket. “Not really, but I’m getting started in that direction.”

  He left the store with Arturo, who asked once they were outside, “Where are we going now?”

  The Kid tapped his pocket. “I want to give this receipt to Mrs. Shanley.”

  “May I ask why you didn’t just give her sufficient funds to settle her account at the store? It seems like that would have been simpler.”

  “You saw her. She’s a woman with a lot of pride. She’d have turned it down. She probably would have wanted to spit in my face while she was doing it … but I figure she’s too much of a lady for that.”

  “Court Elam won’t be happy when he finds out he no longer has that particular lever to use against Mrs. Shanley.”

  “Court Elam’s happiness is just about the last thing in the world I’m worried about.”

  As The Kid and Arturo turned onto Fifth Street and started toward the big house that served as the orphanage, The Kid spotted a buggy and a couple of saddle horses tied up in front of the house. He frowned slightly as his pace picked up. He thought he recognized that buggy.

  Arturo saw the vehicle, too. “Mrs. Shanley appears to have visitors. That looks like—”

/>   “Yeah,” The Kid snapped. “Elam’s buggy.”

  They reached the gate in the picket fence. The Kid opened it and strode up the walk. He saw three men standing on the porch. The well dressed one was Court Elam, who was talking through the screen door to Theresa Shanley. The other two were Jim Mundy and another of Elam’s gun-wolves. They saw The Kid coming toward them and tensed. Their hands moved slightly closer to the revolvers holstered on their hips.

  “Boss,” Mundy said in a low, urgent voice.

  Elam swung around with an irritated look on his narrow face. “What is it?” Then he stiffened, too, as he caught sight of The Kid and Arturo. “You two again.” He didn’t sound pleased.

  “That’s right.” The Kid came to a stop at the bottom of the porch steps.

  “What are you doing here?”

  The Kid nodded toward the woman who stood behind the screen door with a worried look on her face. “We have business with Mrs. Shanley.”

  “I don’t think so,” Elam said. “I don’t know what you’re doing in Powderhorn, but I’m certain you don’t have any business here, period.”

  “I don’t see how you can be so sure about that.”

  Elam smiled coldly. “It’s my town. If you don’t have business with me, you might as well move along.”

  “I’ve already done all the business with you that I’m going to.” The Kid slipped the piece of paper from his pocket and spoke past Elam. “Mrs. Shan-ley, your account at the general store is paid up, and you have a line of credit there again. Here’s the receipt to prove it.”

  Theresa looked surprised. So did Elam, but his face darkened with fury. “What in blazes are you talking about?” he demanded.

  The Kid started up the steps. “See for yourself.”

  Before he could reach Elam, Jim Mundy got in his way. “Back off, mister,” the gunman warned. “I buried some friends yesterday, and you’re to blame for some of ’em being dead.”

  “No, they’re to blame for trying to break a murderer out of jail,” The Kid shot back. “Get out of my way, Mundy.”