Serious at once, Rooster responded. “What are you talkin’ about, Emma threw him out? For what?” Possum got down from the saddle and brought Rooster up to date on everything that had happened since they left the hotel that morning. “I swear,” Rooster declared. “And you ain’t got no idea where he is?”
“No idea,” Possum confirmed. “But Horace Brooks said Perley came to the stable to get some things out of his packs, so he mighta just made him a camp somewhere on this creek.”
“Wonder why he didn’t come here?” Rooster asked.
“If I know Perley, I’d say it was for the same reason he left the hotel,” Possum speculated. “He knows that it’s him Ned Stark is lookin’ for, and he’s tryin’ to keep the rest of us out of it. He’s most likely thinkin’, if Stark’s men come lookin’ for him here, and he ain’t here, then maybe they won’t bother you no more.”
“Hell, we coulda been ready for ’em, if they came in here raisin’ hell,” Rooster said. “We’d give ’em more’n they bargained for.”
“Perley’s thinkin’ the same thing I’m thinkin’ right now,” Possum said. “I don’t know exactly how many men Ned Stark’s got holed up with him on that ranch of his. But I guarantee you he’s got at least enough to surround this little cabin and shoot it to pieces, if we decided to stand him off here. That, or he’d burn the cabin down with us still in it.”
“Damn, you might be right, at that,” Rooster reconsidered when he thought about it some more. “What the hell are we gonna do? Where you reckon he is? And why don’t he come tell us?” They both paused to think about that, then all of a sudden, Rooster’s eyes lit up. “I bet I know where he’s set up a camp.” He laughed when Possum asked where. “You remember when you was down here last year? You remember that day when the horses got out and your’n and mine run off down the creek?”
“Yeah, and Perley’s didn’t run off with ’em because that fool horse won’t go nowhere without Perley,” Possum interrupted to comment.
“Right,” Rooster continued. “I don’t know if you remember, but we found ’em about three-quarters of a mile from here where the creek takes a double bend and a nice stream empties into it. You remember what Perley said?” Not waiting for Possum to answer, Rooster continued. “He said that it was a good spot for a camp.”
“Is that right?” Possum replied. “I don’t rightly recollect.”
“Well, that’s what he said, all right, and I’m bettin’ if we found that spot again, we’d find Perley settin’ there.”
“Well, I’ve run outta places to look, so let’s go see if we can find it,” Possum said. “You gonna go get your horse?”
“Nah,” Rooster replied. “Like I said, that spot ain’t but about three-quarters of a mile from here and makin’ my way along that creek bank in the dark, I don’t wanna take a chance on my horse breakin’ a leg.”
“You’re right,” Possum agreed. “I’ll leave my horse here.” He led the gray gelding into Rooster’s corral, then the two of them set out along the creek bank, making their way carefully through the bushes and brush that lined most of the banks. After about fifty yards, they struck a narrow game trail that followed the creek through a patch of thick oaks, and that made the walking easier. A couple of minutes more found them approaching the first loop of the double bend.
“That spot’s just around that next bend in the creek,” Rooster whispered.
“I remember this place now,” Possum declared. He pointed toward the outer loop of the second bend where the trees were the thickest. “If he was here, you oughta be able to see his campfire, and I don’t see one.”
“Let’s get a little bit closer,” Rooster whispered. “I can’t see in the dark as good as I used to.” They inched their way cautiously along the game trail, making an effort not to make a sound, just in case they might be creeping up on a wild boar or a bear. A dozen yards closer, and Rooster held up his hand to signal Possum to stop. He turned back to him and whispered, “There’s somethin’ down in that bottom, moving near that stream.”
“Whaddaya reckon it is?” Possum whispered back.
“Whatever it is, it’s big,” Rooster whispered.
“Maybe it’s a horse,” a third voice suggested, this one not whispered.
“Maybe,” Rooster said before he realized it was not Possum who said it. “Oh hell!” he blurted then and jumped sideways, bumping into Possum, who was as startled as he. “Perley!” He protested loudly, knowing who it could only be. “Damn it, Perley, you scared the bejesus outta me!”
“What are you two old codgers doin’ stumblin’ around in the woods in the middle of the night?” Perley asked, as he stepped from behind a large oak tree.
“Lookin’ for you!” Possum declared impatiently. “Nobody knows where the hell you disappeared to.”
“Good,” Perley said. “The main thing I wanted was for nobody to find me in the hotel, the dinin’ room, or your cabin, Rooster. It’s me they’ll be lookin’ for. I’m the one who did the shootin’. I just don’t want to take a chance on anybody gettin’ hurt, just because they were with me. I’m hopin’, if they can’t find me in Bison Gap, they’ll think I took off for parts unknown.”
“Well, what’s keepin’ you from takin’ off for parts unknown?” Possum asked.
“The same thing you’re thinkin’ right now,” Perley answered him. “Whether I’m here or not, things ain’t gonna be no different than before I shot Curly and Quirt. Matter of fact, they might get a lot worse, because they’ll take it out on the town. We came down here to help Emma and Rachael and Rooster, and doggone if I ain’t made matters worse. I don’t blame Emma. It’s a wonder she didn’t shoot me when I showed up in the dinin’ room after that thing with Curly.”
He interrupted himself to ask then, “Have any of the rest of that gang showed up in town today?”
“Just one man,” Possum said. “Showed up in the Buffalo Hump, lookin’ for Curly. There’s somethin’ else you probably don’t know. Floyd Jenkins got the crazy idea to stand Curly up in an open coffin right in front of the barbershop.”
“Damn!” Perley swore. “What in the world was he thinkin’? All that’s gonna do is make Ned Stark mad enough to make some real trouble for the whole town. I hope Sheriff Mason has enough sense to make him take it away before one of Stark’s men sees it.”
“One already has,” Possum said, “the feller that came in the saloon lookin’ for Curly. Jimmy McGee said his name is Slim.”
It wasn’t the first time a slain outlaw had been displayed on a public street. It had been done in many frontier towns as a warning to outlaws, promising swift retribution for crimes committed in that town. Perley was sure that was the message Floyd decided he would send. But most of those other towns that used that warning had some means to back up their warning, like a strong, fearless sheriff, backed by the town and a strong vigilante posse. Bison Gap had none of those assets. The outlaws held the strong hand in this town. He looked at Possum and said, “It’s gonna be the end of Bison Gap if somebody doesn’t step up and defend the town.”
“How we gonna do that?” Possum wanted to know.
“I’m thinkin’ on it,” Perley said. “I ain’t sure what we can do to help. We need a strong sheriff, and I ain’t sure if John Mason can stand up to that job or not. From what little bit I’ve talked to him, I think he would like to fill the job, but I don’t believe he’s confident enough to think he can. Maybe, if he thought he had some backup from a town vigilance committee, he might find out he’s tougher than he thought.” He thought about it for a few more minutes, until Possum became impatient.
“Whaddaya think we oughta do?”
“All right,” Perley answered him. “Here’s what we need to do right now. Let me get my horse. I’m headin’ back to town.” He turned and headed toward the hollow where he had left Buck.
“We’re headin’ back to town,” Possum corrected him, and followed him. “What were you doin’ out here, anyway?”
&nb
sp; “I was plannin’ to camp here tonight, so I’d be close to town, then set up someplace in the mornin’ where I could watch to see who came into town.”
“How come you didn’t build no fire?” Rooster had to ask.
“Because I ain’t cold,” Perley replied. “And I ate in the dinin’ room before I left the hotel, so I wasn’t gonna cook anything.”
“Oh,” Rooster said, then after a moment, he added, “If you’da had a fire, I woulda seen it back yonder.”
“That’s another reason, I reckon,” Perley allowed with a grin.
* * *
By the time they rode back into town, it was already approaching ten o’clock and the only signs of life came from the Buffalo Hump Saloon, and that was relatively quiet. Perley was gratified to see there were only a couple of horses tied at the rail as the three of them rode slowly past. “There it is,” Possum said, and pointed to the coffin standing outside Floyd Jenkins’s barbershop. Perley pulled Buck to a stop and looked at the corpse for a few seconds, thinking how fortunate he had been to have gotten the best of that shoot-out. When he didn’t dismount, Possum asked, “Ain’t we goin’ in?”
“Not yet,” Perley said, and wheeled Buck away toward the bridge over the creek in front of the saloon. On the other side, instead of going to the saloon, he turned toward the sheriff’s office. When he pulled Buck to a stop in front of the office, he stepped down, walked up to the door, and knocked, after trying the knob.
After a long moment he heard the key turn in the lock and the door opened just wide enough to allow the sheriff to peer out to see who was calling. When he recognized his visitor, he asked, “What are you doin’ here?”
“Me and my associates,” he nodded toward Possum and Rooster, “have come to help you.”
“Help me do what?” Mason asked, highly suspicious.
“Help you outta your mess with Ned Stark,” Perley answered. “If you’ll open the door, it’ll be a lot easier to talk.”
“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” Mason demanded. “I ain’t in no mess with Ned Stark.”
“No? Well, you’re gonna be, come tomorrow mornin’ and Ned’s boys see that corpse standin’ up in front of the barbershop.”
Mason opened the door, then. “I saw it and I thought about tellin’ him that he oughta take it down, but I don’t know of any law that says he can’t do that.”
“Well, then maybe we’d best make a new law right now, ’cause you need to arrest Floyd Jenkins tonight. We’ll help him move that body back inside where it’s supposed to be, then you can put him in jail.”
“Are you crazy?” Mason blurted. “I might be able to talk him into moving that casket back inside, but I can’t put him in jail, especially if he does what I tell him to do with that casket.” He gawked at Possum and Rooster, then back at Perley, about to come to the conclusion that they were all drunk. “Why would I put him in jail?”
“To save his life,” Perley answered. “One of Stark’s men has already been in town today, looking for Curly Williams. He found him in a box in front of the barbershop.” He turned briefly to Possum. “Slim?”
“Right,” Possum responded, “Slim.”
“His name’s Slim, and he saw what Floyd did with Curly’s body. What do you think Ned Stark’s gonna do when Slim tells him Floyd’s showin’ one of his men off like a Christmas turkey? I’ll tell you what I think. I think Ned’s gonna send enough of his boys in here to hang Floyd up by the neck to show Bison Gap what happens to people who mess with him. That’s what I think.” He turned again toward Possum and Rooster. “Is that what you think?” Both men immediately said that’s what they thought, too. Turning back to the sheriff, Perley said. “That’s the reason we came to help you, Sheriff. We’ll go with you to arrest Floyd, and we’ll help Floyd carry his coffin back inside his shop. When he realizes what he’s done, he’ll be mighty grateful to you for thinkin’ of lockin’ him up, so Stark’s gunmen can’t get to him. And if we do it tonight, you won’t have to worry about Stark seein’ Curly on display. Seems to me it’s a win for you and a win for Bison Gap. It’ll even be a sign to Stark that you keep law and order in your town, even if you have to arrest one of your citizens for disrespecting the dead, be it outlaw, or preacher. So, whaddaya say? Strap on your gun and grab your hat, and we’ll go save Floyd Jenkins’ life.”
Sheriff Mason stood stone-still for a long moment, dazed. He wasn’t sure what his reaction should be to the storm that had just blown through his mind. A lot of what this crazy man had said made sense in a way, but he wasn’t sure everything would work like Perley predicted. Perley, Possum, and Rooster stood silently watching him, waiting for him to do something, anything. Finally, Perley asked, “What do you wanna do about the door? You wanna lock it or do you leave it open when you go to make an arrest?”
“I usually lock it,” Mason answered, still in a daze.
“All right,” Perley said, “lock her up and let’s get it done. We’ll leave our horses here and walk over with you. When that coffin is gone, folks here are gonna know their sheriff is lookin’ out for them and what’s best for the town.”
Sheriff Mason locked his office door and started walking toward the bridge with his three escorts for no other reason than his not being able to think of a reason he shouldn’t. Over the bridge, then up the street, the arresting party marched up to the barbershop and the offending corpse beside the door. When they arrived, Perley stepped forward and pounded on the door.
Evidently tucked in for the night, Floyd took a little while before showing signs of life. Eventually the glow of a lamp was seen through the window as it moved toward the front door. A few seconds later, the door opened a crack and Floyd peeked out. When he saw it was the sheriff, he opened the door, only then seeing the three men standing behind him. “Sheriff Mason, what’s the trouble?” Floyd asked.
When Mason hesitated to tell Floyd he had come to arrest him, Perley stepped up beside him. “Evenin’, Floyd, excuse the late call. The sheriff brought the three of us in case you need help to put Curly back in your shop. Then he’s gonna arrest you for improper display of a deceased person.”
“Arrest me?” Floyd exclaimed. “Arrest me for what?”
When Mason began to stumble for an answer, Perley came to his aid again. “For what I just said. At least, that’s the official reason, but the real reason is to save your life.”
This captured Floyd’s interest immediately. “What are you talking about? Save my life?” He turned his attention fully to Perley.
“That’s right,” Perley replied. “You see, the sheriff’s smart enough to know that when you parked this corpse out here for everybody to see, you just signed your own death warrant. Ned Stark already sent a man into town today, and he saw Curly, here, standin’ up against the wall. So the safest place for you right now is in the jailhouse. Stark ain’t likely gonna send his men into the jailhouse after you.”
Floyd remained in a state of shock for a few long moments, still trying to make sense of the intrusion upon his bedtime. When he began to realize the possible results of his whim to display the outlaw’s body, he saw the reasoning behind the “arrest.” It was really a move to ensure his safety. He turned back to address the sheriff. “I don’t know where my brain was when I put that body out there, Sheriff. You’re right, it wasn’t very smart, and I reckon I owe you my thanks for arresting me.”
Seeing the bizarre incident turning in his favor, Sheriff Mason found his tongue. “It’s just to make sure you’re safe, Floyd. If Stark asks, I’ll tell him you’re under arrest, if he shows up here tomorrow, and that oughta cool him off. If you’ll unlock your back door, we’ll carry the coffin back inside your shop while you get your clothes on. I don’t reckon you wanna go to jail in your nightshirt.”
“All right, Sheriff,” Floyd said, eager now to get it done. “I’ll meet you at the back door.” He closed the door and locked it, then hurried toward the back of his shop.
Feeling in command now
, Mason said, “All right, boys, let’s see if we can carry this coffin around to the back.”
“Yes, sir, Sheriff,” Rooster responded, and nudged Possum with his elbow.
When Curly was back inside and Floyd was dressed, the party walked back across the creek to the jailhouse where Floyd was shown to his cell. Mason didn’t lock it so Floyd would have the freedom to go in and out to the coffeepot, when there was one on the stove, and even to the outhouse out back when it was dark and nobody could see him. “It’s gonna be like stayin’ in a hotel,” Rooster quipped.
“Better,” Perley said. “You’ve got the sheriff to protect you. And since you are officially a prisoner, the town will have to pay for your breakfast in the mornin’, sent over from the hotel dinin’ room.”
“Is that a fact?” Floyd asked the sheriff.
“That’s a fact,” Mason answered. “They have to feed my prisoners.” He turned to Perley and asked, “Do you think some of Stark’s men will show up here in the mornin’?”
“I ain’t really got any idea what Stark’s thinkin’,” Perley replied. “Depends on how mad he is, I reckon. So it’s hard to say if he’s gonna show up early or not, but he’s gonna show up sometime tomorrow. You were smart takin’ Floyd in tonight just in case Stark’s mad enough to hit town early. I expect you’re already thinkin’ about talkin’ to the businessmen here in Bison Gap about formin’ a citizens committee to back you up when you have trouble with outlaws.”
“Well, I had been doin’ some thinkin’ about that,” Mason lied, “a vigilance committee or something like that.”
“That’s a good idea, Sheriff,” Perley responded. “I can think of a couple of good men right off—Horace Brooks, John Payne, maybe Floyd, here. Rooster, Possum, and I would would be glad to help you out gettin’ it set up, if you want us to. I kinda feel like that’s the least I can do, since I was responsible for the death of two of Stark’s men.” He looked toward Possum and Rooster, and they both nodded to show their willingness. “All three of us have reason to help protect the town,” Perley continued. “The hotel and the dinin’ room are run by friends of ours. We don’t wanna see ’em fail because the town couldn’t stand up to a gang of lowdown cattle rustlers.”
Shot to Hell Page 9
