Shot to Hell

by William W. Johnstone; J. A. Johnstone

  “I reckon nobody wants to see that,” Mason replied.

  “Bison Gap is mighty lucky to have a sheriff that thinks like you do. We’ll be proud to stand beside you to keep that gang of gunslingers from runnin’ over this town.” This came from Possum, who figured Perley wasn’t the only one who could work on the sheriff’s mind. He gave Perley a wink.

  CHAPTER 8

  “Late as it is, you might as well come on back to the hotel with me,” Possum said to Rooster after they left the sheriff’s office. “That cot’s still in my room.” He paused then and looked toward Perley. “I reckon I’ve still got a room.” He paused again before asking, “What are you gonna do? I expect Horace has locked the stable up.”

  “Why don’t you come on back to the hotel with me and Possum?” Rooster asked. “Emma ain’t gonna tell you you can’t stay there. She was probably just scared when she told you to get out.”

  “I understand why she did it, Rooster, and I don’t want to worry her any more than she’s already worried,” Perley said. “I picked up some things to get me by for a day or two, so I’ll just make me a camp over by the creek somewhere. Might even go back to that spot where you found me tonight.”

  “Hell,” Possum snorted. “Rooster’s right, it don’t make no sense you sleepin’ out in the bushes. Stark and his men ain’t gonna show up here tonight. If they were, they’da already been here. You’ll likely be gone in the mornin’ before anybody shows up lookin’ for you.”

  Perley thought about it for a few seconds before telling them that he had changed his mind about hiding out. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Stark’s men would go through the town like a tornado looking for him, destroying everything and everybody who got in their way. It wouldn’t save the town any damage if he wasn’t found when they searched. It would minimize the destruction of property if Stark found him. It had occurred to him while trying to build up the sheriff’s confidence that the best chance of defeating Ned Stark, and all the other Ned Starks out there, was to build a strong vigilance committee, just like he was preaching to Sheriff Mason. “I ain’t thinkin’ about hidin’ out anymore,” he told them. “I’m thinkin’ that everything we told Mason is the way this town has to go. So I’m gonna be here when Stark and his men show up. Maybe we’ll have some time in the mornin’ to get some of the citizens of this town to stand with us.”

  “Now you’re talkin’,” Possum said. “I didn’t think much of your plan to hide out in the first place.”

  “You shoulda said so,” Perley responded. “Then maybe I’d be sleepin’ in the stable tonight.”

  “You might as well come on to the hotel with me and Rooster. Emma will most likely give you your room back. You can tell her you’ll be gone in the mornin’ , anyway.”

  “I reckon it’s worth a try,” Perley said. “She can’t do anything but throw me out again.”

  “Good,” Possum declared, “and maybe Bess has got some cold biscuits or somethin’ left over. I missed my supper to go out and look for you.”

  “I haven’t had anything since noon, myself,” Perley said.

  It was settled then, the three friends returned to the hotel. They went by the front desk first to see if Wilbur Ross or Emma might still be there, but the office was closed. “Come on,” Possum said, “there’ll still be somebody in the dinin’ room.” So they left their horses in the small hotel stable, built especially for circumstances like theirs, and went to the dining room. Having to enter from the hotel entrance, since the outside entrance doors were locked, they found the lamps all turned down in the dining room, but there was still someone in the kitchen.

  “What happened to you?” Rachael exclaimed when she saw Possum come in the kitchen door. She was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee with Bess and Emma. “I see you brought Rooster back with you.” She started to welcome Rooster, but stopped short when she saw Perley behind him and looked at once toward Emma.

  The smile Emma had flashed for Possum faded immediately, replaced by a look of concern. “Perley,” she announced calmly. All conversation ceased immediately.

  Judging by the expression he saw on her face, Perley decided his decision to come with Possum and Rooster was not a good one. “I beg your pardon, ma’am. I was just ridin’ up this way with Rooster and Possum. I’ll be on my way now.” He turned at once to leave.

  “Perley,” she called out, “wait.” She got up from the table to stop him. “Don’t go. I’m so sorry I acted the way I did before. After all you’ve done for me and my sister, I’m so ashamed I told you to leave. I want you to stay. I hoped you’d come back. You’ll see, I even left your room key in the door, so you’d see it. I don’t know what I was thinking. We’re likely to suffer the same damage from Ned Stark’s men whether they find you here or not. And who knows? Maybe we can find someplace in the hotel to hide you.”

  “Well, after I thought about it, I decided the same thing you just said,” Perley said. “But I fully understood what you were afraid of and I didn’t want you worryin’. And you don’t have to hide me. My mind’s changed on that one, too. I won’t be hidin’ anywhere. First thing in the mornin’, Possum, Rooster, and I are gonna see if we can round up a vigilante committee to fight for Bison Gap. I think we might even get the sheriff raring to go.”

  That was exciting news for all three women, but Bess was quick to remind him that Sheriff Mason might not go along with bucking Ned Stark. “I think just about everybody in town knows that Mason is afraid to stand up against Stark,” she insisted. “Look at what happened when Curly Williams shot Tom down in the saloon. Mason knew that Tom didn’t try to draw on Curly. The eyewitness he believed was Quirt Taylor, for goodness sakes.”

  “That’s right,” Rachael said. “And you might have been hanged, if one of the witnesses that saw you shoot Quirt hadn’t been the preacher.”

  “But he did take John Payne’s word for that business between Curly and me,” Perley pointed out. “I think Mason would really rather be on our side, but he’s got to work up the courage to do it. I’m hopin’ that he’ll get enough support from some of the men here in town to give him the confidence to fight for what’s right.”

  The women didn’t look convinced. The evil Ned Stark was capable of had been built up to legendary proportions in the short period since he had suddenly showed up in the county. “Well, I hope you’re right,” Bess interrupted, then asked Possum, “Did you get any supper?”

  “No, I didn’t,” Possum replied at once. “Don’t reckon there’s anything left from supper that ain’t already been throwed out, is there?”

  “There’s some ham and beans left that ain’t gone stone cold yet and some biscuits,” Bess answered. “The oven’s still warm. We can heat it up, and I’ll stoke up the fire, so we can make some coffee. Don’t reckon anybody else is hungry,” she japed to see if she could get a rise out of Perley and Rooster. “All right,” she said, chuckling, “we’ll get it started.”

  Emma asked where they were before coming here so late, and Rooster promptly answered her question. “We was arrestin’ Floyd Jenkins for stickin’ Curly Williams’s corpse up in front of his shop.” That called for an explanation that took up most of the remaining evening.

  * * *

  Some miles away, another group was gathered around a table, discussing a similar topic. “Did you see Curly’s body?” Ned Stark asked Slim Garrett for the second time since he had gotten back from Bison Gap.

  “I told you, Ned, I didn’t take no time to go see him. That one feller in the saloon said he was dead and they stood him up in a casket so everybody could gape at him. He told me that it was a sign for all outlaws to look at, and that’s what was gonna happen to anybody comin’ to Bison Gap and killin’ somebody.”

  “Damn.” Ned scowled. “Who shot him?”

  “They didn’t say who done it.” He threw his hands up in the air, helplessly when he thought Stark was eyeing him in scorn. “I swear, Ned, I was in town all by mys
elf. I couldn’t nose around too much.”

  “Where’d they have the casket set up? Near the jail?”

  “Feller told me it was at the barbershop,” Slim said.

  “At the barbershop? What the hell would it be at the barbershop for? They was japin’ you. I shoulda sent somebody else in there,” Stark complained. “They mighta throwed Curly in jail. He might not be dead a-tall.” He jerked his head back to stare at Slim again. “Did you go by the jail to see if Curly was in there?” Before Slim could answer, Stark went on. “I swear, if that damn yellow belly sheriff has arrested Curly, I’m ready to put him in a box.”

  “What about the open season tomorrow, Ned?” Eli Priest asked. “It’s wide open now, ain’t it? Curly ain’t come back—dead or in jail or at the barbershop—so he didn’t get Perley Gates.” His remark brought a few chuckles for the barbershop crack.

  “I’m puttin’ that off for another day,” Stark said, not amused. “I’m gonna take a little ride into town tomorrow and see what’s goin’ on. I wanna see if that Perley Gates feller is still in town, and I need to talk to that sheriff—make sure he ain’t started goin’ to that new church they’ve got. I’m gonna take a couple of you with me, just in case they might be thinkin’ about gettin’ religion. Jack, Eli, and Junior, we’ll ride into town tomorrow. The rest of you get your gear ready for that roundup down in Blanco County.” He picked only three, because he didn’t want to create the appearance of a cavalry troop invading the town. He was very much aware of the bad relations he had with the people of Bison Gap because of the rough nature of his men. But he needed to keep some appearance of control, because the town was the closest source for his supplies. His cousin came to mind, and he wished he would hurry up and get there. He could make use of his not being known by anyone in the town when it came to buying supplies. So he came with only three, but in his mind, the three he picked were the equivalent of a cavalry patrol.

  * * *

  It was midmorning when the four riders slow-walked their horses down the middle of the main street. Just to satisfy his curiosity, Stark pulled his horse to a halt in front of the building with a barber pole in front. He dismounted, while the others remained in the saddle, and walked up to the door, which he found to be locked. Seeing a young boy coming from the post office, he called to him. “Hey, kid, come here.”

  Richard Hoover, the postmaster’s son, just one month past his fourteenth birthday, did as he was told. “Yes, sir?”

  “What time does this barber open up? It’s the middle of the mornin’.”

  “He usually opens earlier than this,” Richard answered politely, while glancing cautiously at the three men on horseback staring at him.

  “Today ain’t Sunday, is it?” Stark asked.

  “No, sir, today’s Saturday,” Richard said. “Maybe Mr. Jenkins is doin’ one of his other jobs this mornin’.”

  “What jobs is that?” Stark asked.

  “We ain’t got a doctor in Bison Gap,” Richard informed him. “But Mr. Jenkins does some doctorin’ when folks need it.”

  “Doctorin’, huh?” He started to step up into the saddle. “Maybe he’s doin’ some doctorin’,” he joked to his men. Then another thought occurred to him, and he looked back at the boy, still staring wide-eyed at them. “Mr. Jenkins, does he ever do any buryin’?”

  “Yes, sir, he’s the undertaker, too.”

  “Did he have a dead man in a casket in front of this shop?”

  “Yes, sir,” Richard said, “but my dad said the sheriff made him take it away.”

  “Damn,” Junior Humphrey blurted. “They did kill Curly.”

  One name sprang to the minds of all four men, Perley Gates. Stark automatically thought Curly died by the hand of Perley, the innocent-looking jasper he had seen in the hotel dining room. A more unlikely looking gunslinger he had never encountered before, but Perley Gates had evidently been contracted by someone in the town to systematically trim his gang down to size. Stark had never heard of a gunslinger named Perley Gates, but now, he suspected it was not the man’s real name. More likely, it was an alias, chosen to imply the assassin sent his targets to enter the Pearly Gates. He wondered who in town could have contracted the professional killer. His first thought would have been the mayor. He found it hard to suspect Ralph Wheeler, however, because of the volume of business he did with his store. Who, then? Possibly the two women running the hotel, he speculated. They had the money to build the hotel and dining room. No matter, he told himself, we stop the gunman and the problem’s solved. Shaking his mind free of the puzzle of Perley Gates, he stepped up into the saddle and wheeled his horse away from the barbershop. He led his three men over the bridge and turned toward the sheriff’s office.

  Not fully recovered from his arrest of Floyd Jenkins the night just passed, Sheriff Mason was not prepared to deal with an early visit from Ned Stark. He almost dropped his coffee cup when he glanced out the window and saw the four outlaws pull up in front of his office. “Quick!” He exclaimed to Floyd. “Get back in the cell! Now, damn it!” He commanded when Floyd didn’t respond at once and gave him a shove that caused Floyd to spill half of his coffee as he went through the door to the cell room. Mason quickly closed the cell door barely seconds before he heard the front door of his office open. He hurriedly closed the door to the cell room as Stark walked in.

  “’Mornin’, Sheriff,” Stark said, his greeting somewhat cynical, as was the smile on his face. Led by a sneering Eli Priest, the other three men filed in behind Stark and immediately began nosing around the sheriff’s office, like a pack of hungry wolves looking for food. Stark might have told them to wait outside, but their intimidating presence appeared to be working on the startled sheriff.

  “’Mornin’,” Mason managed to return. “What can I do for you, Stark?”

  “I’m hopin’ you can solve a little mystery for me,” Stark replied. “One of my cowhands came into town yesterday mornin’. I was expectin’ him back at the ranch by noon, but he didn’t come back a-tall. Curly Williams is his name. I thought maybe Curly mighta got drunk and caused some trouble, and maybe you’ve got him locked up back there.” He pointed to the cell room door. “If you do, I thought I’d take him off your hands. I’m fixin’ to drive a sizable herd of cattle to market and I need all my men.” When the sheriff hesitated to answer, Stark went on. “You know, I’d expect to pay his fine, or any damages he mighta caused.”

  “No,” Mason replied. “Curly ain’t locked up. Curly’s dead. He called another man out for a showdown and the other man was faster than he was.”

  “Was that other man’s name Perley Gates?” Stark asked calmly.

  “That don’t really matter, does it?” Mason answered, hoping to prevent another shooting. “The man didn’t do nothin’ to rile Curly. Curly came lookin’ for him and didn’t give him any choice. The man had to defend himself.”

  “But that innocent man’s name is Perley Gates, I’m thinkin’,” Stark insisted. “And maybe you’ve got him locked up back there. Is that about right?”

  “No,” the sheriff maintained. “Perley Gates ain’t locked up. I told you, he didn’t go after Curly. Curly started the whole thing. There was a witness who saw it.”

  “If you say so, then I believe you. Who have you got locked up back there?” Not waiting for the sheriff to answer, Stark said, “Junior, take a look and see who’s locked up.” When Mason started toward the door, Stark said, “Don’t bother, Sheriff, Junior’ll do it. You just set yourself down at your desk.”

  Junior, a simple giant of a man, grinned at the sheriff and stepped in front of him until he sat down. Then he opened the cell room door. He stepped inside the cell room to gape at Floyd, who had backed up against the far wall of his cell. “I don’t know who it is, Ned,” Junior called back. “I ain’t never seen Perley Gates.”

  Stark held the sheriff captive with his eyes focused on Mason’s eyes while he called back to Junior. “Ask him if his name is Floyd Jenkins.”

>   “Call your ape back,” Mason finally found the courage to say, not at all sure how far Stark intended to go. It was clear to him now that Perley had been right about putting Floyd in jail for his protection. The question now was whether or not he could provide that protection. He had no choice. He had to stand firm. “That’s Floyd Jenkins, you’ve got no interest in him.”

  “Well, now, the hell I don’t,” Stark responded at once. “That rat stuck Curly Williams’s body out on the street for everybody to gawk at. And I don’t want my men treated like that, so what’s gonna be Jenkins’ punishment?”

  “That’ll be up to the city council to decide by jury,” Mason answered, thinking as fast as he could. “But don’t worry, there’ll be a sentence passed.”

  “I think he needs to be strung up out on the street, like he did with Curly,” Stark said. “I’d like to hear what he thinks you oughta do to him,” he suddenly proposed and went into the cell room. Mason jumped up out of his chair, but Eli Priest caught him by the arm to stop him from following Stark.

  Standing in front of the cell door, Stark stood glaring at the petrified Floyd Jenkins pressed against the back wall, his eyes jumping back and forth from Stark to the still grinning Junior Humphrey. “What do you think oughta happen to you for what you did to Curly?” Stark asked.

  After hearing the conversation in the outer office between Stark and the sheriff, Floyd feared he was to be shot right then and there. He had been trying frantically to think of some explanation for what he did, other than the real one. “It was just a mistake I made,” he stumbled, trying desperately to think of some believable excuse. “It wasn’t for what it looked like at all.” Then a thought popped into his head and he went with it. “It was supposed to be an advertising display. I’m an undertaker, not just a barber, and I wanted folks to see how good my coffins were, so they’d want me to take care of their friends and loved ones.” Stark hesitated, scarcely able to believe what he was hearing. Floyd, even more frantic, tried to fill that space with more explanation. “Curly looked so good and peaceful in that coffin, and I wanted folks to see how well cared for he was. That’s the only reason I put him outside for a little while. I didn’t know it would make anybody mad till the sheriff came and told me.”