by Rory Black
‘Is that so?’ Bale smiled and strode to where the man was pouring himself another large measure of the fiery liquor. He watched Kelly swallow it.
‘Yep! That’s so.’ Kelly could hear the nervous sound of his own voice as he paced to the back window and stared down into the yard where the blazing bonfire was already consuming the body of Ben Layne and the expensive chunk of carpet it was wrapped in. ‘All my employees are here!’
‘Except the two lying dead in Doc Hardy’s office, Kelly.’
The gambler swung around. His expression betrayed him. ‘I don’t understand, Marshal.’
‘I know those boys worked for you,’ Bale shouted.
‘They might have but I probably fired them.’ Kelly shrugged. ‘Can you prove otherwise?’
Bale raised a finger and then noticed the bare spot on the otherwise well-carpeted floor. He paced across the room and then looked down at the bare boards. Without looking at the gambler he asked a pointed question.
‘You like fresh meat, Texas Jack?’
‘What?’ Kelly edged to his desk and rested both hands down on its polished surface.
Bale looked at the man and then pointed down. ‘I was just wondering if you liked fresh meat coz it looks like you bin doing some butchering right here!’
Kelly cleared his throat. ‘Get out!’
Joshua walked to where the marshal was aiming his trigger finger and then knelt. He ran his own fingers in the gaps between the floorboards and looked at their tips.
‘This is blood, Monte.’
‘I figured that, Joshua.’
‘Get out!’ the gambler shouted.
Bale turned to face Kelly and stood squarely as his hand hovered above his gun grip. He kept on smiling. It was a smile that had unnerved more men than he could number.
‘Who died here, Texas Jack?’ Bale asked.
‘Nobody died no place.’ Kelly snorted as his mind raced. ‘I got me the best lawyer in Desert Springs and he’ll have your job for this outrage. Besides, what has a spot of blood, if it is blood, got to do with two men being killed at the other end of Main Street? Like I said, my lawyer will have your job before sunup!’
Bale shook his head. ‘He’ll not want my job, Texas Jack. The pay ain’t good enough. Now raise them hands.’
Joshua stood back up and rubbed the blood down the side of his britches. He stared at the face of the gambler and raised both eyebrows. ‘You look mighty scared there, Mr. Kelly!’
‘Am I under arrest?’ Kelly walked away from the desk and towards the secret utility door. Each step was slow and deliberate.
‘I heard you were wanted somewhere!’ Bale said. ‘Reckon if I lock you up for a few days we might find out whether it’s true or not! I have a mountain of Wanted posters in my desk to check!’
Kelly gritted his teeth. ‘This is ridiculous, Marshal! I’m not wanted anywhere for anything.’
‘We’ll see.’
‘Two gunmen get shot in the doctor’s office and you come after me?’ Kelly rested beside the door. His eyes burned across at the marshal. If looks could kill the lawmen would have been already dead. ‘Now you claim that I’m a wanted man! This is total garbage, Marshal. I’m a respectable businessman and you seem to be a little jealous.’
‘Didn’t you have a couple of partners when you arrived in Desert Springs?’ Bale smiled. ‘They’re dead as well, as I recall.’
‘Accidents,’ Kelly snapped angrily.
‘I told you to raise them hands!’ Bale repeated his demand.
Kelly forced a smile of his own. ‘Perhaps you want a slice of the profits? I’ve heard that other lawmen get a percentage of businesses to supplement their pitiful salaries! Is that it? Do you want that I go to my desk and open my petty cash box? Is that what this is all about?’
Bale inhaled deeply. ‘I actually came here to save your life, Texas Jack. Once you’re in one of my cells in the jailhouse you’ll be safe. Safe until we find that Wanted poster, that is.’
‘Safe from what?’ Kelly asked.
‘Iron Eyes is gunning for you,’ the marshal said.
‘Iron Eyes?’ Kelly looked away. ‘I’ve not heard of him.’
‘Then why did you send them gunslingers to kill him?’ Joshua asked.
Suddenly without warning the door beside the gambler opened and Poke Piper came through it clumsily. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the two lawmen standing less than ten feet away.
Faster than either starpacker had imagined possible, Kelly grabbed hold of the burly gunman and hauled his guns from their holsters. He raised his right leg and kicked Piper into the arms of Bale. Kelly blasted a bullet from each gun as he backed into the dark stairwell. As the marshal fell beneath the hefty Piper, the stunned deputy went for his gun. His fingers had only just located the grip when the gambler fired again.
As Monte Bale hit the floor under the weight of the gunman he saw Joshua plucked off his feet as the bullet tore into him.
Then the door slammed shut behind the gambler.
Mustering all his strength Bale pushed the gunman off him and rolled over on to his knees beside his deputy. His eyes found the torn shoulder quickly.
‘Glory be, Monte! He done shot me!’
Bale got up and started to tear at the locked door, ‘It’s just a flesh wound. Get yourself over to Doc’s.’
Joshua clambered off the floor, clutching his shoulder with his hand. Blood trickled through his fingers. ‘Where you going?’
At last the door gave way and Bale tore it off its hinges. The marshal dragged his Colt from its holster and cocked its hammer. His eyes narrowed as he squinted down the dark steps.
‘I’m gonna catch me a fox and teach him it don’t pay to shoot my deputy!’ As Bale disappeared into the darkness, Joshua staggered to the office door as more of Kelly’s guards arrived in the corridor. The deputy pushed his way between them, then raised his voice.
‘Out the way! Wounded lawman coming on through here! Hey, I reckon you boys better go and find yourselves some new kind of employment. If Texas Jack don’t outrun Marshal Bale he’ll more than likely find himself deader than my Aunt Bessie!’
Kelly had been running until his legs gave out. He fell and crawled under a fence and lay amid the long grass beneath a tall tree with branches which stretched out twenty feet in all directions. For a few heartbeats the blackness made him feel safe. The gambler rapidly checked the guns he still clung on to. There were enough bullets in their chambers, he silently told himself. He raised himself up and rested his back against the fence posts. Kelly knew that he had put good distance between himself and the marshal he was fleeing from.
Ten years and his sordid past had finally returned to destroy him. He remembered the days when he had traveled on the riverboats and learned his profession from the best gamblers on the Mississippi. It seemed like only yesterday to the exhausted man.
He cursed the fact that he had never been satisfied with simply cheating at the poker tables. For he had a dark side which always wanted more and more. It had never been enough to simply take a rich man’s fortune from him. He had to destroy the man as well. If that meant killing him, Texas Jack had obliged.
Maybe it was the fact that on the great river it was easy to get away with killing a man and to dispose of the body in waters which were as wide as some seas. It had become like a drug to the gambler. The risk of getting caught lured him on like a temptress whom he was unable to resist. It had become even more exciting than playing in a poker game with five useless cards but a mountain of skill at bluffing.
Kelly got to his feet and looked over the fence. There was no sign of Bale or anyone else. He rested and tried to get his second wind as he remembered the time when he left the riverboats but continued to kill those who got in his way.
Ten years ago Kelly had been caught and sentenced to be hanged but Lady Luck had smiled upon him and he had escaped. Again he looked over the fence. He was wanted dead or alive and he knew that it was only a matter of ti
me before Bale or Iron Eyes found a copy of that ancient Wanted poster. He was only worth $1,000. He laughed. He had lost more than that in a single hand of five-card stud.
A thought occurred to Kelly. A chilling thought. Now his hired men would turn on him. For their loyalty was purchased with money and now he only had the wealth within his pockets. A few coins and a billfold with less than $500 were all there was and the gambler knew it might not be enough.
Suddenly he heard a sound to his right.
Someone was coming towards him through the dense brush. Kelly swung around, threw himself forward and squeezed both triggers. The deafening sound rang out as the blasts from his gun barrels spewed their venom. He heard a man cry out in pain and knew that he had hit his target.
As he lay in the grass he heard the choking of the man he had just shot getting louder.
‘Got you!’ Kelly heard himself say victoriously.
He scrambled back to his feet and gripped his guns firmly. He was ready to fire them again when he saw the figure staggering out into the starlight.
Kelly’s face went ashen.
It was Fargo.
‘Fargo?’ Kelly raced to the man as he fell at his feet.
‘I—I come to tell you ...’ Fargo coughed and then his head rolled to one side and blood poured from the corner of his mouth.
Kelly knelt and shook the gunfighter. ‘Tell me what? Tell me what? Fargo! What were you gonna say?’
It was no good. No amount of shaking would alter the simple truth. Fargo was dead. Whatever he was going to tell the gambler would never be uttered. It was going with him to the bowels of Hell.
Texas Jack Kelly got to his feet and looked all around him. A fear like nothing he had ever felt before swept over him. He looked in all directions, then leaned over and unbuckled Fargo’s gunbelt. He looped it around his own waist and checked the holstered guns. They were better than those he had taken from Poke Piper. These were well-balanced, gunfighter’s weapons. He tossed the other guns aside and flicked off the small safety loops from their hammers.
‘I have to get me a horse!’ Kelly told himself. ‘A damn good horse!’
The tired gambler pushed his way through a wall of high weeds and then his eyes lit up. There outside the livery stables stood a handsome and powerful palomino stallion. It was already saddled and just waiting for him. It was as if his prayers had been answered.
‘That’s my ticket out of here,’ Kelly told himself as he started toward the animal. ‘There ain’t another horse in this town that could catch that critter. Lady Luck is still my sweetheart!’
Defying his own weariness, he reached the horse within seconds and ran his hand along its neck. This was the finest horseflesh he had ever seen, he told himself.
Kelly took hold of the reins and went to raise his left leg when a man shuffled out into the starlight from the livery stable. The ruthless gambler drew one of the Peacemakers, cocked its hammer and fired. The man spun like a top and crashed into the ground. Kelly laughed and led the horse to the body and kicked it over. He stared down at the ostler as smoke trailed from the barrel of the gun.
‘Reckon you must be the owner of this fine animal,’ Kelly said to the body as he pushed a boot into the stirrup and hauled himself on top of the stallion. ‘Tell the folks in heaven that Texas Jack Kelly just took your nag!’
As the gambler was about to holster the smoking Peacemaker, he heard the sound of footsteps come from behind him. He swung the mighty stallion around and saw the man in black walking towards him. It was a sight straight from the depths of his worst nightmare.
The voice was more akin to a whisper. ‘That’s my horse, Texas Jack,’ Iron Eyes hissed as he aimed both his Navy Colts at the man astride his horse.
Kelly cocked his hammer. ‘Who the hell are you?’
‘I’m the man who’s gonna kill you,’ the bounty hunter said as he stepped even closer. ‘I’m Iron Eyes!’
The name resounded in the gambler’s mind. Kelly held the palomino in check and trained his gun straight at the horrific figure. The bounty hunter did not appear to have an ounce of fear in his thin body. He stood firm and raised both his Navy Colts until they were at hip height.
Before the gambler could squeeze the trigger of the Peacemaker Iron Eyes unleashed the fury of his own weaponry.
Two white-hot rods of roaring lightning cut through the darkness between them. The bullets found their target and ripped into the center of the gambler. Kelly was lifted off the back of the stallion’s saddle by the sheer force of the impact. He was thrown through the air like a rag doll and crashed into the wall of the livery.
A trail of blood marked the side of the wooden building as the gambler slid to the ground. He lay in a crumpled heap with the gun still hanging on his lifeless, curled trigger finger.
The bounty hunter forced his guns back into his belt, walked to the stallion and took its reins in his bony left hand. He mounted in one well-practiced action and nodded to himself. He gathered the reins, looked down at the dead gambler and spat his contempt.
‘You should have stuck to playing poker, Texas Jack!’ Iron Eyes drawled, plucking the whiskey bottle from his coat pocket and finishing its fiery contents. ‘You ain’t worth a damn with a six-shooter!’
He tossed the empty bottle away and was about to head on back into the heart of Desert Springs when he saw the unmistakable figure of Marshal Bale running towards him.
Monte Bale reached the neck of the stallion, paused and glanced at the two dead men before looking up into the face of the bounty hunter.
‘You kill them?’ Bale asked.
A twisted smile etched the side of Iron Eyes’ face. ‘He killed the liveryman! I killed him!’
Bale holstered his gun and rubbed his neck. ‘We’ll have to find out how much Kelly’s worth, Iron Eyes!’
‘One thousand dollars dead or alive, Marshal,’ the bounty hunter told him as he tapped his spurs against the sides of the palomino and began to steer it back towards the town. ‘I just remembered!’ The marshal looked at the strange rider and then back down at what was left of Texas Jack Kelly. Two deadly accurate bullet holes had pierced the middle of his shirt.
‘Was it a fair fight, Iron Eyes?’
‘As fair as it can ever be, friend,’ Iron Eyes replied over his broad shoulder.
‘What you mean?’ Bale pressed.
Their eyes met across the distance. ‘He should have known that you can’t kill a dead man, Marshal,’ Iron Eyes said, and then tapped his spurs harder.
The lawman sighed deeply and watched the horseman disappear into the blackness like a phantom. He suddenly felt cold. Real cold.
Finale
MARSHAL MONTE BALE had not had a wink of sleep and as the blazing sun rose into the heavens above Desert Springs, he felt that if he dared to close his eyes he would not awaken for a week. He had just come from Doc Hardy’s office with his wounded but jolly deputy. Joshua Peck seemed to want everyone along Main Street to see and know why he had his arm in a sling. The marshal reached their office and sat down on one of the pair of hardback chairs on its boardwalk. He pulled the brim of his Stetson down over his eyes as the younger man chatted to all who tried to go about their morning rituals.
‘Will you shut up any time soon, Joshua?’ Bale asked.
‘OK, Monte!’ The deputy ought to have been offended but he was too excited about the previous night’s exertions. He sat down beside the older man and continued to nod to everyone with a smile as wide as the street itself. ‘I’ll shut up if you buy me some breakfast.’
Bale looked from beneath his hat brim. ‘You just ate half of Doc’s breakfast, boy.’
Joshua touched his arm. ‘I lost me a heap of blood last night and I gotta make it up. I sure am powerful hungry.’
Bale pushed his hat back on to his head and sat upright when he caught the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee coming from inside their office. Both men stood and looked at the door. It was unlocked. Curiously the tired lawman pushed
the door inward and then saw the tall figure dressed in the undertaker’s clothes pouring himself a cup of coffee from their blackened pot. Iron Eyes glanced up.
‘Marshal!’
‘What you doing here?’ Bale asked.
‘I busted in here last night to use one of your cots,’ The bounty hunter downed the black beverage, placed the cup down and then stepped out into the hot sunlight. His eyes narrowed as he stared across at the stagecoach depot with an intensity which made both lawmen curious.
‘Why?’
Iron Eyes pointed at the stagecoach depot. ‘I seen an hombre go into that office when I reached here last night, Marshal. I reckoned that he might be worth keeping an eye on. He had himself a mighty heavy bag in tow!’
Both Bale and Joshua looked to the building where the bounty hunter was staring like an eagle ready to swoop down on its unsuspecting prey. Then the door of the depot waiting-room opened and a small, well-dressed man emerged with a bag that barely cleared the floor.
‘Why, that’s Rufe from the hotel!’ Joshua said.
Bale raised an eyebrow when he saw the effort it cost the small man to carry his bag. Rufe Carter had to place the bag down as he checked his pocket watch nervously.
‘You say that he’s been there all night, Iron Eyes?’
The bounty hunter nodded. ‘Yep!’
‘Strange,’ the marshal muttered.
Joshua screwed up his face in a pained expression. ‘Maybe he’s going visiting someone.’
Iron Eyes rested a hand on the wooden porch upright and glared at the man who suddenly looked excited. The tall, thin bounty hunter tilted his head as a stagecoach came along the street towards the depot.
‘Joe Brewster was staying in the hotel,’ Iron Eyes said as he watched the stage come to a dusty stop opposite them. ‘He had himself a couple of heavy bags when he arrived. Bags full of golden eagles! Anyone find that loot?’
‘Nope!’ Joshua answered. ‘Come to think of it, nobody seems to have set eyes on any of that gold coin since that outlaw got his head blown off.’
