Shot to Hell

by William W. Johnstone; J. A. Johnstone

  Stark just continued to stare at the desperate man, deciding whether or not to shoot him down. But Junior was touched. “Dang,” the big child uttered. “I wish we coulda seen him.” Stark drew his .44, cocked it and aimed it at Floyd, who sank to the floor. Stark held his gun on the cowering victim for a long moment while he decided what the risks might be if he executed a man in the jail. Reluctantly, he released the hammer and holstered the weapon, deciding that action would open an all-out war with the town and cost him a place to buy supplies.

  Stark turned around and went back in the sheriff’s office, where he found Eli and Jack on either side of the sheriff. “He ain’t worth a bullet,” he said, referring to Floyd, who was still huddled against the back wall, weeping tears of relief. “Hey, boys,” Stark said then. “Give the sheriff a little breathin’ room. Go on outside and wait for me. You go, too,” he told Junior, and when they had gone, he turned his attention to Mason again. “Are you all right, Sheriff? My boys can be a little rough sometimes. But I thought you and I had an arrangement about handlin’ my men, and all of a sudden, I’ve got two less men than I had before. And I need all my men to work the cattle, so I can pass along a little money your way.”

  “Damn it, Stark,” Mason complained, speaking softly so as not to be overheard by Floyd through the open door to the cell room. “Those two killings were the fault of your men. How the hell could I do anything to keep them from gettin’ killed when they pick a fight with a man who’s better at it than they are? The problem is you’ve got too many men who like to shoot people.”

  “The problem we’ve got here right now is this damn gunslinger that came to town. What the hell is he doin’ here in Bison Gap?”

  “I told you, Stark, Perley Gates was the sheriff here for a little while till they hired me. He’s got friends here.”

  “Maybe so,” Stark said, “but somebody called him to come back again, and it wasn’t till we took that ranch near here to operate out of. So who was it? ’Cause that’s the real problem.” He paused when it occurred to him. “Unless, he came back on his own because he wants his old job as sheriff back.”

  “I don’t think so,” Mason said. “Ralph Wheeler told me he tried to get Perley to take the job before he found me. But Perley wouldn’t take it. Ralph says him and his brothers own a big cattle ranch up in northeast Texas.”

  “He don’t look like a big cattle rancher to me,” Stark grunted.

  “He don’t look like a big gunslinger, either,” Mason couldn’t resist saying.

  “Somebody here in town sent for him,” Stark maintained. “I guarantee it, so who are his friends here?”

  Emma Slocum and Rachael Parker naturally came to mind at once, but Mason was reluctant to name them. He had no desire to cause them the kind of trouble Ned Stark was likely to bring them. “Nobody in particular I can think of who knows him any better than anyone else in town.”

  “You ain’t holdin’ out on me, are you, Mason?”

  “No,” Mason protested at once. “I ain’t holdin’ out on you. It’s just that Perley wasn’t here but a short time, so nobody got a chance to know him all that well.”

  “All right,” Stark decided. “I reckon it’s just a matter of takin’ care of Mr. Perley Gates. Then maybe things will get back to the way they were.” He walked out to join his men.

  When he was sure they were gone, Mason went in the cell room to unlock Floyd’s cell, only to find that he had not locked it before. Floyd was still squatting on the floor against the wall. “He’s gone now,” the sheriff informed him. “Are you okay?”

  “I guess I am now,” Floyd answered. “But there was a moment there when I pictured myself in one of my coffins. He was fixin’ to shoot me. I don’t know why he didn’t. I reckon he knew you’d arrest him if he did.”

  “Yeah, I suppose that’s so,” Mason said. “He knew I wouldn’t let him get away with that.” Saying it made him feel sick inside. At that moment, he wished with all his heart that he had never allowed himself to become involved with Ned Stark. “You want me to let you outta that cell?”

  “No,” Floyd said. “If it’s all right with you, I’ll stay here another night.”

  “It’s all right with me,” Mason said, “but ain’t you got a body that’s gettin’ a little ripe about now?”

  CHAPTER 9

  Unaware that Ned Stark and three of his gunmen were making a visit to the jailhouse, Perley and Possum were talking to Ralph Wheeler about the possibility of forming a citizens’ protective committee. “Vigilantes are what you’re referring to, isn’t it?” Wheeler responded.

  Perley shrugged. “Call it what you will. We’re talkin’ about a group of men who will protect their town from predators like Ned Stark. ’Cause when a gang of outlaws as big as the one Stark has lands on your doorstep, one sheriff can’t handle it without help.”

  “I don’t know, Perley, it’s been a long time since I’ve fired a gun, and I expect it’s the same with most of the merchants in town. We’re getting too old to think about gunfights.”

  “There’s still a few men around that are young enough to take up arms when the cause is to protect your homes and your families,” Possum insisted. “What we’re talkin’ about for you is to help organize the ones who will fight, if it’s necessary. You’re the mayor, so most everybody is already used to listenin’ to you, and you could head up the committee.”

  “It looks like we’re gonna have to do something,” Wheeler said. “I have to agree with you there. It seems like it happened to us all of a sudden—shootings, fights, and destroying property. Tell you the truth, I’m beginning to think I used poor judgment in the hiring of John Mason.”

  “I wouldn’t give up on Sheriff Mason too soon,” Perley said. “I think he has to know he has the backing of the whole town behind him. Right now, he thinks he’s alone in his fight against people like Stark. Make sure you invite him to come to the council meetings, let him know what’s goin’ on, and find out how to help him. I think he just needs to know he’s got backing, so he knows which side he’s on.”

  “Maybe,” Wheeler allowed. “We never have asked him to come to any meetings we’ve had. I reckon it had to come to this problem with Stark’s gang for us to realize we’re gonna have to take a stand.” He paused, nodded a couple of times, and said, “I’ll contact the council for a meeting and see what we come up with. You’re invited.” Perley and Possum started to leave, but Wheeler stopped them. “Perley, how long are you gonna be here?”

  “Well, I think some of the folks here think that I’m the problem because of the two gunfights I was in. But I plan to stay here till Bison Gap’s outlaw problem is settled, or till I’m told to leave—whichever one comes first.”

  “I’ll let you know when the meeting’s set up,” Wheeler said and walked them to the door. Outside, Possum suggested they should talk to John Payne and Horace Brooks to get an idea if they were willing to back the sheriff. Before they stepped off the boardwalk in front of Wheeler’s, they felt the zip of a bullet pass between them and smash Wheeler’s window. Both men dived for cover at the same time they heard the report of the pistol.

  “Yonder!” Possum shouted, “Between the jail and the saloon! Four of ’em!” Perley looked where he pointed and saw four men on horseback. Both he and Possum drew their handguns and fired at the riders, already galloping away along the creek bank, and already out of range for their pistols. When they had disappeared from view, Possum got up from beside the boardwalk and brushed the dirt off his trousers. When Perley got up, Possum said, “Danged if it ain’t got downright dangerous walkin’ around with you.”

  “That shot passed right between us,” Perley replied. “How do you know they weren’t shootin’ at you?”

  “I got a pretty good idea,” Possum said.

  Thinking it safe to come out now, Wheeler came out complaining. “He shot out my window! Did you see who he was?”

  “It weren’t a he,” Possum answered. “It were a them. There
was four of ’em.”

  “We’d best get down to the jail to see if they’re all right,” Perley said. “Those four mighta done for Floyd.” He started running toward the jail, and Possum followed. They heard Wheeler yelling behind them that he was going to call the meeting for that night.

  * * *

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Ned Stark demanded after they had galloped their horses far enough to get out of sight and reined them back to a walk.

  “Hell, open season,” Eli crowed. “You said it would be open season on that feller today. And you said that was him, coming out of the store. For a hundred bucks, it was worth a shot at him.”

  “You damn fool,” Stark cursed him, barely able to control his rage. “We were way too far for an accurate shot with a handgun, and on a horse to boot. You ain’t got the brains of a stump. What you just did was cost us the chance to ride on into town where somebody could get a good shot at him. Now, thanks to you, we have to hightail it and try again some other day.”

  Eli shrugged and said again, “It was worth a shot.”

  “Who said you had the right to take that shot?” Jack Sledge asked.

  “Hell, there weren’t nobody stoppin’ you from takin’ it, was there?” Eli responded.

  “The rest of us had better sense than to throw a pistol shot at him from that distance. Like Ned just said, you’re dumb as a stump. Now that jasper is gonna be watchin’ for us every time he goes outside.”

  “You know, Sledge, I ain’t sure I like your attitude when you’re mouthin’ off at me,” Eli informed him.

  “Not likin’ it and doin’ somethin’ about it is two different things,” Sledge replied.

  Tired of the bickering between the two, Stark finally barked, “You two wanna stop right here and see if you can kill each other? ’Cause I’m tired of hearin’ all that jawin’. Eli, you messed things up for all of us with that crazy shot. Now he knows who we are. He’ll be extra careful every time he steps out the door.”

  “We was so far away, he couldn’ta got a good look at any of us,” Eli insisted.

  “We just came from the sheriff’s office, you damn fool,” Stark had to point out. “Mason could tell him it was one of us—so could Floyd Jenkins. We’re all gonna have to be a lot more careful now to try to get a clean shot at him. You might have to ride into town and call him out in the street to see if you’re a better man than Curly or Quirt.” His comments gave all three of them something to think about, since all three knew how fast Curly and Quirt had been before they called Perley Gates out. Their best bet was an ambush or sniper shot.

  Stark let them think about that as they rode back to the ranch. His mind was still working on who in town was the person, or persons, who called in this gunslinger. There was also Possum Smith to worry about. Mason said he came to town with Perley Gates. He might look harmless—old-looking, with his white beard and long hair in a braid, hanging between his shoulder blades. It was hard to tell how dangerous he was, however. The two of them were in pretty thick with the runty little blowhard, Rooster Crabb. Maybe Rooster was the one who sent for Perley Gates. To be safe, Stark decided it best to eliminate all three of them to get the town back the way it was.

  * * *

  While Stark was simmering over his aborted mission into town, Perley and Possum hurried across the creek to the jail, anxious about the prisoner’s condition. Sheriff Mason met them at the door. “I ran outside as soon as I heard the shot,” he said, “but they were already gone. So I don’t know who fired it. Did anybody get hit?”

  “No, they missed,” Perley said as he walked on past him to go inside. “What about Floyd, is he all right?”

  “Yeah, he’s all right,” Mason answered. “I wouldn’t let anythin’ happen to one of my prisoners.”

  Perley wanted to see for himself, so he went into the cell room where he found Floyd alive but still shaken. “Are you all right?” Perley asked.

  “Yeah, I reckon so,” Floyd replied, “if I count gettin’ scared out of my mind. That maniac drew his pistol, cocked it, and held it on me for what seemed like an hour, tryin’ to decide whether to shoot me or just scare me to death.”

  “Sheriff Mason make him put it away?” Perley asked.

  “Hell, no,” Floyd responded. “He wasn’t even in the room. He stayed out in the office. The only ones in here were Stark and one of his men, that big one that looks like he oughta be swinging in a tree in a jungle somewhere.”

  That was disappointing news to Perley, causing him to think that maybe he had been holding on to too much hope for the sheriff’s turnaround. If he wasn’t strong enough to protect his own jail, how could he ever become strong enough to protect the whole town? “Did the sheriff say you had to stay in jail?”

  “No,” Floyd answered. “He said I could go now, if I wanted to, but I didn’t want to, not with those killers in town. Now, I ain’t sure what’s best. I thought I was safe in jail, till I sat here lookin’ at that pistol stickin’ through the bars, pointed straight at me.”

  Floyd’s accounting of the visit by Ned Stark and his three men caused great concern for Perley. He thought that jail cell was the safest place Floyd could be, and he knew he was responsible for making Floyd feel safe there as well. Now, it appeared he was wrong, dead wrong, had Stark pulled the trigger. It was doubly troubling because he thought the sheriff had the potential to stand up to his job. Part of his ploy to get the sheriff to arrest Floyd, and put him in jail, was to try to push Mason in the right direction. Well, my plan ain’t working, he thought, looks like it’s going to be up to the town council to save their town. Back to Floyd then, he asked, “What do you wanna do now? If you wanna go back to your place, I could stay with you tonight, if you want me to, or you could bunk in at the hotel, like Rooster does.”

  “I do need to get my shop open again,” Floyd replied. “Today’s Saturday, and that’s usually a busy day in the barbershop.” He paused to insert, “And tomorrow’s Sunday, and I’m goin’ to church for damn sure. If you wouldn’t mind, maybe you could sleep in my place tonight. I’d surely appreciate it.”

  “All right,” Perley said. “I’ll stay at your place tonight. I’ll bring my bedroll. I’ll go tell the sheriff to let you out.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Floyd said, “it ain’t locked.” He opened the door and came out of the cell. “I just thank the Good Lord Stark didn’t try to open it.”

  “I’ll be leavin’ now, Sheriff, if there really ain’t no charges for what I did. I ’preciate your offer to let me stay again tonight, but Perley said he’d stay at my place tonight. That’s just in case Stark’s men come back again.”

  Both Possum and the sheriff looked surprised when they heard that. “Wouldn’t it be better if you was to come to the hotel and stay with us?” Possum asked.

  “Perley offered that, but like I told him, today’s Saturday, my busiest day, and I’m already late opening the barbershop. I expect I’ll be workin’ late tonight, so I’d rather stay at my place. Besides, they might charge me to stay at the hotel.”

  “What about Stark and the other three?” Possum asked the sheriff. “Ain’t you goin’ after ’em? They took a shot at us. If you need a posse, I know me and Perley will ride with you, maybe get some other volunteers.”

  Mason hesitated before answering. “If they were still in town, I’d most likely arrest ’em. But even if I did, we don’t know which one of ’em fired the shot. They could even swear that the gun went off by accident, so I figure there ain’t much sense in goin’ after them, since nobody got hurt.” Perley looked at Possum and shook his head. The sheriff’s answer was disappointing to hear.

  As they walked out the door of the sheriff’s office, they were met by Richard Hoover, the postmaster’s son, on his way to the jail. Seeing them on the steps, the boy called out, “Mr. Wheeler sent me to tell everybody there’s a council meetin’ tonight after supper, seven o’clock, at the hotel dinin’ room. He said to be sure and tell you, Sheriff.
”

  “The dinin’ room?” Possum questioned. “I thought they used to hold those meetings in the Buffalo Hump.”

  “I expect they shifted this one to the dinin’ room so Emma could attend,” Perley suggested.

  “Hell, Emma’s got a lot more bark on her than that,” Possum remarked.

  * * *

  As everyone should have expected, including Emma Slocum, there were some who wanted the council meeting held in the saloon as in previous meetings. Foremost among the protesters was Henry Lawrence, quite naturally, since he was the owner of the Buffalo Hump. He maintained that nothing of any substance had ever been decided over a cup of coffee, and several of the others voiced their opinion that Henry was right. When it appeared attendance of this very important meeting might be seriously lacking, Ralph Wheeler found himself with the task of reporting the problem to Emma. She was surprised that afternoon when the desk clerk, Wilbur Ross, stuck his head in her office door to tell her that Wheeler was there to see her. She got up from her desk to receive him. “Afternoon, Ralph, what can I do for you?”

  “Howdy, Emma,” he responded. “It’s about the special meeting of the council tonight.” She smiled and gave him her full attention. “There are going to be some hard choices we’ll be asking the members to make.”

  “I understand that to be the case,” Emma said. “Possum told me about some of the problems that will be discussed. Is there something pertaining to the Bison House Hotel that you’re concerned about? Because I assure you that Possum and I as owners of the hotel are in full accord with what is best for Bison Gap.”