Nemesis

by L. J. Martin

  It was dead silent in the place, dust motes floating down from the canvas covered rafters with the reverberation of the two echoing gun blasts. Even the banjo had stopped its plinking, and I noticed the banjo man slipping out the back.

  Still surveying the room, I pulled the belly gun free of my coat pocket, changed it to my left hand, and slipped my Army Colt’s out and let it hang in my right. I had no idea how many of those in the room were on the wrong side of my wrath, but I had my suspicions, and if I was to go down from a hail of gunfire from Lazy Snake riders, I would go down spitting lead.

  I moved to bend low over Toole and even though I was sure he couldn’t hear me, whispered, “That’s for the Bar M, you slimy bastard.”

  No one said a word, until Mace Dillon moved over, with Shank Cavanaugh a step behind, to eye his man, who was blowing lung blood in quiet burbles, yet getting more and more quiet.

  He turned to me. “What started that?”

  “He’s a card cheat.”

  “And you know that how?”

  “Look in his coat pocket. Honest poker players don’t palm cards and pocket them for later. Irritated me a mite.”

  “A mite,” Dillon repeated, then he turned to Cavanaugh, “Do it.” The man with amber non-blinking viper eyes bent over his co-conspirator, having to grab his side and sore ribs as he did so, and dug into one side pocket, then the other, finding the two aces, and handing them to Dillon.

  “Damned fool,” Dillon said, then turned to me. “That was a dirty gambler’s trick you did as well, and not exactly on the up and up.”

  I smiled, and shrugged. “Easy for you to say, Colonel. But who’s up, and who’s blowing blood on the saloon floor? Up and up don’t always live to enjoy breakfast at Sally’s.”

  “Humph,” he said, and turned to the three cowhands at the other poker table, who’d been playing with Wentworth. “Drag him outta here and over to the digger. Tell him I want a five dollar funeral, not a penny more. If he’s got more than that in his pockets, bring it to me. He owes me.”

  Then he turned back to me. “What did you say to Toole?”

  “I said he should practice his card handling.”

  “I don’t think so,” Dillon said, his eyes boring into me.

  I smiled, shrugged, and reholstered the 44.

  Wentworth walked over, glaring at me, his coat pulled back over his holster. “I’ll have to take those weapons until after a hearing.”

  I draped my own coat back over my holster and rested my hand on the 44’s butt. “Speaking of hearing, you’ll be god-dammed hard of hearing, or worse, you try and take these weapons.”

  He reddened, looked one way then the other, then at Mace Dillon.

  “That’s enough for tonight,” Dillon said quietly, and Wentworth spun in a huff and headed for the doors, muttering to himself. I’d have shot the fat bastard in his broad ass just to see him squirm, but my feud wasn’t with him,…at least not yet.

  I walked over to Lizzy, who was on her feet but hadn’t said a word. And I kept the room in view as I sidled up next to her with hat in hand. Funny how beautiful a woman can look, when you’ve just come so close to meeting your maker.

  “Sorry about that, Miss Lizzy. Didn’t mean to interfere with business.”

  “It’s not the first time there’s been a disagreement over cards, and won’t be the last.”

  “Probably not. Still and all, let’s let the city buy the house a drink. About three dozen in here, I’d guess.”

  “Twenty seven, to be exact, now that four hit the door at a run, and you put one in a blood puddle looking glassy eyed up at the ceiling. I’m no longer counting him as a customer…for obvious reasons.”

  “You do keep an eye on things,” I said.

  “Better than you know, marshal,” she said, giving me a strange look, and I thought then that she’d seen me slip the aces into Toole’s pocket, but I couldn’t be sure. Either way, she had yet to say anything, and I doubted she would.

  I gave her a bit of a sad smile, then turned to the three who were gathering Toole up by the arms and legs. “You three, let Miss Lizzy here check his pockets. He owes for some damage to the wall.”

  They eyed me like I was a leper, but waited as she stared at me. “I’m not taking the pennies off a dead man’s eyes.”

  “As you wish,” I said, and shrugged at the three, who went ahead and hefted Toole and headed for the bat wings. I returned to the table and gathered up my remaining five or so dollars. John Pointer had said little since I’d sat, and now remained quiet, and a little white in the face.

  “Sorry you had to be near that, John,” I said.

  “Not as sorry as I am,” he said, staring at the hole in the wall. “That could have been a hole poked in one of us,” he said.

  “Damn sure could have,” I said, “marshaling is a hard life, then you get a hole poked in you,” and I headed for the doors and out to my animals. I heard Lizzy call out, “You all got a drink coming on Marshal Slade.”

  I wanted to get the hell out of there before some of the Lazy Snake boys who’d hauled Toole out got their chore done, got over the shock, and set up in one the alleys outside, waiting for me to pass by in the light of some window.

  A few of Sally’s patrons followed me out, and I kept an eye on them.

  One down, six or so to go. But I figured the rest of the lowlifes wouldn’t be as easy to harvest as was this first fool.

  *

  Preacher McGregor was in the barn feeding when Ranger and I walked in out of the barnyard, now bathed in yellow from a morning sun just coming over the horizon. Dressed in my Sunday best, which meant my only clean shirt, I saw him before he saw me.

  “Reverend McGregor, can I help with that?”

  He jumped about a foot in the air, obviously startled. Then collected himself. “Danged if you two don’t move silent.” He shook his head, then added, “I heard you were chasing that Mexican lad. Guess I should have noticed your stock was back.” He eyed the steel gray. “Didn’t get your mule back, I see?”

  “No sir, not yet. Can you give Miss Maddy a message for me?”

  “She’s in the kitchen. You can give it to her yourself.”

  I laughed. “Last time I was this early, I think she took offense at being spied on.”

  “Then what?”

  “Please, tell her if it’s not too late, I’d like to join y’all for that Sunday supper she mentioned.”

  “It’s not too late. Will we see you in church?”

  “Yes, sir. Wouldn’t miss it.”

  I shoveled out my stall and the other four in the barn, ignoring the shoats as that would have been a half-morning job, the saddled up and rode out. I guess I’ve worn out my coffee rights. Mayor Pointer will get some business from me today as I need to stock up my own little kitchen cupboard, at least with the basics.

  In the near distance, dead centered in the intersection of the road leading out to the Reverend’s place, and on to the Lazy Snake and the one running along with the rails, a pair of carpenters were hard at work on a platform gallows. I guess Nemesis had no problem having rail passengers see what was up in the little town—maybe it is their way of saying “don’t break the law in Nemesis.” The judge, or the town council, weren’t wasting any time, and the hammering must have seemed quite a presumption for the prisoner left in my cell.

  It was early for Sheriff Wentworth to be at work, but his paint gelding was tied at the rail outside our office. He hadn’t loosened the chinch, so I imagined him not staying long, or he’s just damn hard on his stock.

  He was leaning far back in his chair, hands folded in his lap, giving his deputy, Shorty, hell when Ranger and I entered. They went silent but I didn’t bother to greet either of them, presuming that Wentworth was still steaming from the dressing down I gave him in Sally’s.

  “We’re going back out hunting that Mexican kid,” he said, without so much as a hello.

  I gave him a grunt, but nothing more.

  �
��You coming with us this time?” he asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Nope?” he repeated.

  “Yep, nope.” I said.

  “Why not?”

  “Church.”

  I didn’t bother to add that I didn’t want to be on the lonely trail only ten feet in front of him, and any Lazy Snake riders he might have along. That would be plum foolish. Ranger had curled up near the stove, head down on his big paws, but his eyes never left the big sheriff.

  Wentworth guffawed. “You trying to convince folks you’re a bible thumping sort…and the blood hardly dry on Sally’s floor?”

  “As ye sow, so shall ye reap,” I said, then ignored him, and pushed my way into the cell area, leaving Ranger to watch my back. “You get anything to eat this morning?” I asked Natchez Pete Pelletier.

  “That’s my prisoner!” I heard Wentworth shout.

  “Yeah, and it’s my jail,” I shouted back. “You want to starve him, take him somewhere else. And we’ll get around to discussing whose prisoner he is.”

  “No, I ain’t et a by God thing,” Pete said.

  “Hang tight and I’ll bring you something,” I said.

  “I ain’t going anywhere,” he said sarcastically, “at least not yet.”

  I eyed him carefully with that remark, wondering if he was figuring on going somewhere soon, or merely meant he was soon heading for the gallows.

  As I passed back through the office, Wentworth snapped, “Hold up a minute,” then turned to Shorty. “Get the hell out. I got business with the marshal.”

  Shorty brushed by me, looking disgusted at being dismissed, slamming the door behind himself.

  Wentworth eyed me for a long moment, then cleared his throat. “You ain’t making Colonel Dillon very happy.”

  “Ain’t paid to, far as I know.”

  “He’s a powerful man.”

  “Like all of us, powerful or kitten weak, we’re only an ounce of lead away from hell.”

  “Doubt that, Dillon’s a God fearing man, and a pillar of this community. He and I had a long talk last night.”

  “Up late were you?” I said, giving him a lazy grin. “Fella your age should get his sleep.”

  “I only got about ten years on you, Slade. I still ain’t lost my quick, nor my bulls eye accurate.”

  Ranger picked a good time for a low growl to rumble his throat. Wentworth cut his eyes at the dog.

  “Bully for you, Wentworth. So you know, I don’t give a damn for Dillon nor his cur dogs. I’m hungry, so if you got something to say…?

  “Dillon and I both say, why don’t you resign and get the hell out of Nemesis? You got a piece of that reward--”

  “A piece hell…I got all that reward coming.”

  “Either way, you’ll have a pocket full of money and can ride out whole and go back to whatever you were doing before you dragged ass into Nemesis.”

  “That what you and Dillon stayed up late to chew over.”

  “That was the most of it.”

  “Okay, just so you know, I didn’t have to stay up late to give you both an answer.”

  “And that is?”

  “Go shit in those ten dollar hats you wear.” I tipped my two dollar one, and left him sputtering.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sally’s was empty except for Brighid Fimple, sitting at the bar sipping a mug that I presumed was coffee, and Paul Polkinghorn behind the bar. She jumped to when I came in and got front and center where I sat, with my back to the wall. I pointed to a corner, and Ranger walked over and flopped down, his big brown eyes surveying the place continually.

  “Howdy,” she said. “Coffee’s brewing. What can I get you, marshal?”

  “Beefsteak and three cackle berries, toasted bread if it’s fresh, and maybe a slaver of jam…and you can bring Ranger a bone if one’s laying about.”

  “And company,” she said.

  “How’s that?”

  “Miss Lizzy said to fetch her should you come in.”

  “Pretty damn early for the late hours she keeps,” I said, as much to myself as to Brighid.

  “She does her books and writes letters in the mornings. I’ll run out to her place and tell her you’re here.”

  In moments, Lizzy appeared from the back, carrying a couple of mugs of coffee.

  Without being invited, she settled in across from me, after we said our hellos, and sat studying me for a moment before she asked, “You sleep well last night, marshal?”

  “I did, and I’m in fine fettle this morning. And you?”

  “I did, but then I didn’t set someone up to get shot down like a dog.”

  It was my turn to eye her for a moment as I gathered my thoughts. “Well, Miss Lizzy, he was holding a gun centered right on my gizzard. That’s what got him shot.”

  “That’s not what got him accused of being a card cheat.”

  “So.”

  “So, you slipped those aces in Toole’s pocket. Why?”

  That caused me to sigh deeply, and her to continue to eye me as if I had the pox. Finally, I offered, “I got my reasons, Lizzy.”

  “So, maybe you do, but my reasons for keeping quiet about it are what?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She waited to answer as Brighid reappeared with the big enamel coffee pot in hand, and a bone the size of an Irish shillelagh protruding a foot out of her apron pocket. The rail-thin Irish lass topped off what little we’d drunk. Then she walked over, gave Ranger a scratch on the ears, dropped the bone in front of him, then moved back to the bar to fill her cup and Polkinghorns, then disappeared back down the rear hall.

  Lizzy continued, while Ranger crunched the big bone with a crack that rang across the bar. “Tag, you sat a man up to be shot down, then shot him down without hardly a blink. I don’t abide by that kind of thing, particularly not in my place of business. Believe it or not, folks tend to stay away from places where they think they might die real easy.” She let that sink in a moment, then continued. “Now, I got no feelings about Toole one way or the other, the man was ugly inside and out, a scum suckin’ swine to my way of thinkin’, but I don’t condone any man getting shot down without reason.” There was a long silence as we sipped our coffee. When I didn’t respond, she asked, “So, did you have a reason, other than just by-God meanness?”

  I cleared my throat, and leaned a little closer to her across the table.

  “I had a damn good reason, Lizzy, but if I tell you, then I put myself at risk, and probably you too.”

  “I’ll take my chances, and do every night here amongst the goober shells, the blood, and the beer, and most every kind of killin’ firearm and blade known to man.”

  Ranger distracted us both with his bone crunching. Again, I sipped my coffee and wondered if I could trust her. I hardly knew the woman, but then she had kept quiet about me slipping the cards into Toole’s pocket. Did she do so just to keep a war from erupting in her place of business…or to keep me from being shot down by a half dozen Lazy Snake riders?

  I sighed deeply. “Do you like how this town’s being run?”

  “Truthfully, I don’t plan to make a long nest here, so I don’t much give a damn, so long as they don’t get in the way of my business. Won’t be long before the bore worms can have every board in Nemesis, for all I’ll care.”

  “Fair enough, but you said you didn’t like to see a man shot down for no reason.”

  “I did.”

  “How about a man, a woman, and two little girls?”

  She was quiet for a long time, until after Brighid arrived with my breakfast and sat it and utensils in front of me, then topped off our coffee and retreated.

  It was Lizzy’s turn for a deep sigh, then she asked, “You don’t think the fire at the Bar M was just a fire?”

  “I know it wasn’t.”

  “How?”

  “Ignacio Sanchez was a witness.”

  “I was afraid of something like that. So, who did it?”

  “All you nee
d to know, for your own good, is that Toole was one of them.”

  “And your interest in the matter?”

  “Lizzy, I am a lawman after all.”

  “Yes, and the judge and executioner, I see. But it’s more than that.”

  I smiled tightly at her, and she repeated herself, slowly and with more emphasis.

  “Tag, it’s more than just that.”

  Again I sighed deeply before answering, and finally said, “Sarah McIntosh was my sister.”

  “Oh, sweet Jesus.” She sat for a long time as I devoured my steak and eggs, eyeing her on occasion over a fork full. Then she arose and shook her head in consternation. “Try and keep it out of Sally’s,” she said.

  “You’re the only one under God’s great sky who knows this, Lizzy. And I’m depending upon you to keep it under your bonnet. It could mean my life if the others find out.”

  “Others…how many are there?”

  “It doesn’t matter. And you don’t need to know.”

  “Alright, alright, so I don’t need to know. But I imagine it’ll mean your life, none-the-less, but that’s your business, Tag. I’ll stay the hell out of it so long as you keep it out of my place of business. You won’t tell me who else was in on it?”

  “Can’t, Lizzy. You’ll know soon enough.”

  “So, I can count the bodies as they stack up?”

  “Yep,” I said, but with no joy.

  She walked away, shaking her head, leaving me to wonder if I’d been a damn fool in telling her. Then again, I had little choice. She disappeared out the back door.

  After leaving Bridgid a tip and finishing my coffee, I doffed my hat and walked out, only to find Lizzy waiting in the shadows outside. She sidled up next to me and said, “walk with me a little.”

  “My pleasure,” I said and we strolled.

  “The night we heard about the fire out at your sister’s place…it was a Wednesday, as I recall….”

  “What about it?” I asked.

  “Six Lazy Snake riders came in my place. Unusual as I normally only see them on Saturday night.”

  “And?”

  “And I could see something was up. They talked real quietly, which was unusual in itself, and drank themselves into a stupor.”