The Wrong Side of the Law

by Robert J. Randisi

  “He’s either walking it or riding double with somebody,” Palmer said. “Could be we’ll just catch up to the horse.”

  “Still,” Atlee said, “even ridin’ double is gonna slow somebody down.”

  It was getting cold as darkness fell. Normally, they would have camped and built a fire. It was up for discussion.

  “There’s not gonna be much of a moon tonight,” Wade said, making the best point.

  “He’s right,” Palmer said. “Let’s camp, and come morning we can start moving faster. We’re sure to catch up to that lame horse. One way or another, we might learn something.”

  “Marshal,” Atlee said, “you mind if I scout up ahead a bit in the dark? I might spot a campfire.”

  “Good point, Steve,” Palmer said, “but don’t go too far.”

  As Atlee rode on, Palmer built a fire while Wade took care of the horses. Soon, they were seated around the campfire with coffee and beef jerky.

  “I’m thinking Atlee’s been telling me the truth all this time,” Palmer said. “He does seem to be pretty experienced as a deputy. I wonder why Mayor O’Connor warned me off him.”

  “I’m gonna say he has experience,” Wade said, “but he can also be a loose cannon. He does seem to be happy to follow you, though.”

  “He’s been making some good suggestions,” Palmer said. “I think when we get back I’ll argue his case to the mayor.”

  “So you’re gonna take ’im on full-time as a deputy?” Wade asked.

  “Judging from what I’ve seen so far, yes,” Palmer said. “Unless, like you say, he shows his loose-cannon side.”

  “Well,” Wade said, “there’s time enough for anythin’ to happen.”

  * * *

  * * *

  They heard a horse approaching, picked up their rifles until they saw Atlee riding into camp.

  “I’ll take your horse,” Wade said as the man dismounted.

  “Thanks.”

  As he walked to the fire, Palmer handed him a cup of coffee.

  “See anything?” he asked.

  “No,” Atlee said. “I went as far as I dared, but Wade was right. Without the moonlight it’s too dangerous.”

  Palmer handed him a piece of beef jerky. Wade returned to the fire.

  “We’d better set watches, just to be on the safe side,” Palmer said.

  “I’ll go first,” Atlee said.

  “Then me,” Wade said.

  “We’ll get an early start, at first light,” Palmer said. “Some coffee to warm our bellies, and then we’ll go.”

  Palmer and Wade turned in while Atlee stoked the fire and made another pot of coffee.

  * * *

  * * *

  As the sun started to come up, Palmer killed the fire and poured the last of the coffee. He woke each man and handed him a cup.

  “Time to go,” he said.

  Wade drank his coffee and said, “I’ll saddle the horses.”

  “I’ll pack the saddlebags,” Atlee said.

  Palmer made sure the fire was out, kicked and scattered the remnants. Then they all mounted up and headed out.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  They rode at a quick pace. Occasionally, Atlee would move ahead of them to scout. In the afternoon, he came riding back in a hurry.

  “Hey, hey,” he called out. “I found it.”

  “Found what?” Wade asked.

  “The lame horse,” Atlee said. “I mean, I saw it up ahead. We can catch up to it easy.”

  “Lead the way.”

  They followed Atlee at a run and soon saw the lame horse up ahead. They slowed so as not to spook it.

  “Wait here,” Palmer said, dismounting.

  He walked toward the horse, who was skittish but didn’t try to run. He spoke to it softly as he approached, and finally was able to grab the reins and stroke the horse’s nose.

  “Come on,” he called. “I got him.”

  Wade and Atlee led their horses and Palmer’s until they reached him and the loose horse.

  “Let’s check the saddlebags,” Palmer said, “see if there’s anything there that can tell us something.”

  Wade stepped up to hold the horse’s reins while Palmer went through the saddlebags.

  “Nothing,” he said when he was done.

  Atlee had been walking the area, searching the ground, and now he called out, “Look here.”

  Palmer walked over.

  “What is it?” Wade asked.

  “Boot prints,” Palmer said. “This fella’s on foot. The others left him behind.”

  “Then he can’t be far ahead,” Wade said.

  “Leave the horse,” Palmer said. “Let’s ride.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Up ahead, they found two cold campsites. The first had been made by one man, who’d kept warm with a small fire. The next one, a few miles away, was larger; four men had picketed their horses, made a fire, and spent the night.

  “They didn’t go much farther after leavin’ him,” Atlee observed.

  “Yeah, but they’ve put some miles between them today,” Palmer said. “I’m thinking they left him behind for more reasons than a lame horse.”

  “And that would be?” Wade asked.

  “To keep us busy,” Palmer said. “They figure we’ll take the time to question him, maybe even take him back to town before we do.”

  “Which is exactly what we were thinkin’ o’ doin’,” Atlee said.

  “Right,” Palmer said.

  “So what will we do when we catch up to him?” Wade asked.

  “Convince him that his best bet is to tell us who the others are and where they’re going,” Palmer said.

  “By doin’ what?” Wade asked. “Promisin’ to let him go?”

  “No,” Palmer said. “By promisin’ to keep him alive.”

  * * *

  * * *

  When they spotted him up ahead, he was limping along, carrying a canteen. He heard their horses behind him and turned to see who it was. He was smart enough to drop the canteen and put his hands high in the air.

  “Just stand easy,” Palmer said when they caught up to him.

  “I ain’t gonna try nothin’,” the man said. “Those bastards left me behind.”

  Palmer, Atlee, and Wade dismounted. Wade held their horses while Palmer and Atlee approached the man. Palmer plucked the outlaw’s gun from his holster and tossed it aside.

  “Okay, put your hands down,” he said. “I’m Marshal Cassidy from Integrity.”

  “I figured,” the man said. “The name’s Pike.”

  “Well, Mr. Pike,” Palmer said, “you’ve got two choices. Tell us about what happened in town, or we’ll take your boots and socks and leave you on foot.”

  “You don’t gotta threaten me, Marshal,” Pike said. “Them bastards left me behind with nothin’ but a canteen, which is empty now.”

  Palmer looked over at Wade, who took one of their canteens and tossed it to him. Palmer caught it and gave it to Pike. He drank thirstily and handed it back.

  “Thanks, Marshal.”

  “Who killed Ken Henderson, Pike?” Palmer asked.

  Of course, if Pike had killed him, he was going to try to lay the blame on one of the others. But if he was the killer, Palmer doubted Pike would be the one the others left behind like this. They were tossing him to the wolves to give themselves more time to get away.

  “That was all Dancy,” Pike said. “I just stayed outside holding the horses.”

  “Why’d this Dancy kill him?” Palmer asked.

  “I dunno, I swear. He just said it was somethin’ personal,” Pike said.

  “What’s this fella’s full name?” Palmer asked.

  “Jack Dancy,” Pike said.

  “I never heard o
f him,” Palmer said. He looked at Atlee. “You?”

  “Yeah,” Atlee said, “him and his gang usually go after banks, not mercantile stores. So I guess this musta been personal, like this fella says.”

  Palmer directed himself back to Pike.

  “What’s he look like?”

  “Mean and ugly,” Pike said. “He’s a big man with a scar here.” He drew his fingers down his face.

  Palmer looked at Atlee.

  “That sound right?”

  “Yeah, I heard about the scar.”

  “Is there a town near here, Steve?” Palmer asked.

  “Geez, I dunno, Marshal.”

  “There is,” Pike said.

  They looked at him.

  “It’s called Kennerville,” Pike told them. “That’s where I was headed. I didn’t think I could make it anywhere else on foot.”

  “What’s there?” Palmer asked.

  “Not much.”

  “Law?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Telegraph?”

  Pike shook his head.

  “Not a chance.”

  “How far is it?”

  “It’s a few miles yet. I was hopin’ to get there before dark.”

  “I guess that’ll depend on how fast you can walk,” Palmer said.

  “What?”

  “Where are Dancy and the others headed, Pike?” Palmer asked.

  Still frowning Pike said, “They wasn’t gonna stop until they got to Wyoming.”

  “Where in Wyoming?” Palmer asked.

  “Most likely Sheridan,” Pike said. “Dancy’s got a woman there. Works in a joint called the Buffalo Saloon. Her name’s Lily. He talks about her all the time.”

  “Wade,” Palmer said, “you take Mr. Pike here to Kennerville. Get him a horse and then bring him back to Integrity and put him in a cell.”

  “I thought maybe you’d let me go after I helped ya,” Pike said.

  “We’ll see if everything you’ve told us is true, Pike,” Palmer said. “Meanwhile, you’ll sit in a cell.” Palmer looked at Atlee. “Tie his hands behind him.”

  “Yessir.”

  Palmer walked to Wade.

  “You sure you want me to go back?” Wade asked.

  “Positive,” Palmer said. “Atlee and me, we’re going to head for Sheridan.”

  “You believe ’im?” Wade asked.

  “I do,” Palmer said. “I don’t think he’s happy about being left behind. You take him back, put him in a cell. Deputize somebody you trust to sit on him and feed him till we get back.”

  “And what do I tell people?”

  “Just that he was one of the five men, nothing more,” Palmer said. “Tell them me and Atlee will be bringing in the other four.”

  “All right, Abe,” Wade said. “Whatever you say.”

  He took his horse’s reins from Wade. Atlee came over and did the same. The two of them mounted up as Wade walked over to Pike.

  “He gives you any trouble,” Palmer said, “shoot him.”

  “I ain’t gonna be no trouble,” Pike said.

  “See to it you ain’t,” Palmer said. “Wade here is one of my best men, and he’s not going to take any guff from the likes of you.”

  Wade looked like what he was, a rather mild-mannered bartender, but because Wade was the owner of the Palomino, Palmer knew he had more backbone than that. Wade gave Pike a mean look that was meant to convey that to him.

  As Palmer and Atlee turned their horses and rode off, Wade picked up Pike’s discarded gun and stuck it in his belt.

  “Is he gonna be all right?” Atlee asked as they rode away.

  “He’ll be fine,” Palmer said. “All he’s got to do is take Pike back and stick him in a cell. Let’s you and me head for Sheridan and find Lily.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  They pushed their horses to the limit and made it to Sheridan in two days.

  “Should we check in with the local law?” Atlee asked.

  “Let’s find the Buffalo Saloon first,” Palmer said.

  He was slightly nervous about being in Sheridan. He’d been there once before, not for very long and with a full beard. There was always a chance somebody would recognize him, but it was a small chance. Besides, the town had grown by leaps and bounds and was much bigger now. And Atlee and he weren’t going to be there very long.

  They found the Buffalo and dismounted.

  “We goin’ in?” Atlee asked.

  Palmer took off his badge, put it in his shirt pocket, and said, “We are. Just follow my lead and don’t do anything until I say.”

  “Gotcha, Marshal.”

  The loud music and voices poured out over the batwing doors. Palmer and Atlee entered and headed straight for the bar, which was the longest Palmer had ever seen. He didn’t think the Buffalo had been there the one time he’d been to town.

  “Two beers,” Palmer told the bartender.

  “Wow, this place is lively,” Atlee said, “and it looks like they got half a dozen girls workin’ the floor. I wonder which one’s Lily.”

  “We may just have to ask,” Palmer said, handing Atlee his beer, “but let’s start by watching for a man with a scar.”

  “Do you think it’s possible we beat them here?” Atlee asked.

  “Not judging from the tracks we saw,” Palmer said. Even though Sheridan’s streets were covered by tracks left by horses and wagons, Palmer was pretty sure the four killers had reached Sheridan first. The question was, were they still there?

  “So we’re just gonna wait for them to come in?” Atlee asked.

  “No, we can’t do that,” Palmer said. “They may have been here and gone already. No, we’re going to have to talk to Lily.”

  “So how do we find her?”

  “Like I said before,” Palmer answered, “we ask.”

  They turned back to the bar and Palmer asked for two more beers.

  “Is Lily working tonight?” he asked as the bartender brought the fresh beers.

  “Who wantsta know?” the barkeep asked.

  “I do,” Palmer said. “A friend of mine said she’s the top girl here. That’s what I want.”

  “What friend?”

  “The kind who doesn’t want to have his name tossed around,” Palmer said. “He’s got a scar here.” Palmer ran his finger down his face.

  The bartender’s eyes widened.

  “You know who I mean?” Palmer asked.

  “Lily is the redhead,” the bartender said, looking across the room. “She deals blackjack.”

  “She’s not a saloon girl?”

  “No.”

  “Okay,” Palmer said, “but do you know—”

  “I’ve got work to do.”

  The bartender moved away.

  “He knows Dancy, and he’s afraid of him,” Palmer said to Atlee.

  “Do you wanna make him talk more?”

  “No,” Palmer said. “At least we know this is where Dancy comes, and the redhead is his woman. She’s the one we need to talk to.”

  “Okay,” Atlee said. “I’ll follow your lead. When do we talk to her?”

  “There’s no time like the present.”

  * * *

  * * *

  As Palmer walked over to the blackjack table, Atlee hung back and watched, just in case Dancy was in the crowd somewhere. So far the younger man had done everything he said he’d do, so Palmer was going to have to rely on him to watch his back.

  As he got to the table, the single player who had been seated there got up and left, shaking his head.

  “Guess he didn’t have much luck, huh?” Palmer asked the pretty redhead.

  “Luck had nothin’ to do with it,” she said. “He had no skill.” She looked at him, and he was shocked
by how green her eyes were. “How about you, cowboy? Skill or luck?”

  “Neither,” he said, sitting on a stool. “Information.”

  “I don’t trade in information,” she said, “but just for fun, what’re you lookin’ for?”

  “Not what,” Palmer said, “who?”

  “Okay, then,” she said, shuffling her cards, “who’re you lookin for?”

  “A man named Dancy.”

  She paused her shuffling, then continued.

  “Never heard of him.”

  “Oh, yeah, you have,” Palmer said. “He talks about you all the time.”

  “Is that right?” Her curiosity got the better of her. “What’s he say?”

  “How beautiful you are,” Palmer answered. “Only he doesn’t have the words to describe you. You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”

  “When did you see him last?” she asked.

  “Oh, a few weeks ago,” Palmer said. “We were supposed to meet up here. When did you see him last?”

  “Oh, probably months,” she said. “Did you know he expects me to be alone until he comes back?”

  “A woman like you? Alone?” Palmer asked. “I can’t imagine it.”

  She laughed.

  “Neither can I.”

  “Maybe,” Palmer said, “you and me, we can wait for him together.”

  “You would suggest that?” she asked. “Knowing I’m his woman?”

  “Like you said,” Palmer answered, “it’s been months.”

  “You know,” she said, putting the cards down and leaning her elbows on the table, “you’re not bad-lookin’. We could go upstairs.”

  She was a blackjack dealer, not a saloon girl and not a whore. The only reason he could think for inviting him upstairs was if Dancy was already there.

  “That sounds like an offer I can’t refuse,” he told her.

  She smiled and lifted her hand over her head. A man immediately appeared; his sleeves were rolled up and he wore a visor.

  “Take over,” she said.

  “Right, Lily.”

  “Follow me, handsome,” she said, all of a sudden giving him a full sexy look with those eyes.