Hell's Gate (Ben Blue Book 8) Read online

  Yanking the rope free in a tight coil in my right hand, I raised it above my head and at the moment of passing him, I swung the coil down and out. That tightly coiled thirty feet of rope may as well have been a log chain for the way it lifted Jesse Peters out of the saddle. The follow through on my swing completely swept him into a momentary still figure with arms and legs spread wide. His hat sat in mid air, his clothing ruffled in the wind, his hair was standing up waving, and then he dropped.

  Landing on his back, his feet and legs came up as he flipped backwards and onto his face. And then he began to roll sideways. At that point I was trying to grab his horse’s reins, so I didn’t get to see anymore acrobatics. But I did get to see him fly for about a half second, and I got to see two really good bounces and a back flip… That should be enough for most people.

  Getting his horse under control wasn’t hard since the animal was eager to stop. I turned both horses and went back where Peters lay. He was breathing but he wasn’t moving. With gun in hand, I rolled him over none too gently. His face was a bloody mess and he may have a few broken bones, but that wasn’t my problem. What I wanted from him was that knife, and I found it. He had it in a sheath strapped to the inside of his left forearm. We may never know how he got his hands untied.

  I figure, he cut Parsons loose and sent him as a distraction. And when he was caught by Sandy, Coaker must have stopped to watch. All Peters had to do was slip behind him with one arm under the chin and the other one jamming the knife into the heart.

  It would be slow going back considering the shape of Peters’ horse, but my gear and food were with the rest of them. If we had supper that evening, it would be jerky, dried apples, and water…. Oh well… I’ve had worse.

  Chapter 21

  Peters was still out when I retrieved my rope, which I’d dropped to get the horse’s rein. I seemed to have had my hands full of things at that time. So I just threw Peters over his saddle and tied him down. It wasn’t in me to be mean, but I just didn’t feel like being too considerate to a man who had just committed murder.

  Coaker was a nice youngster. Maybe he wasn’t a top hand, and maybe he made some bonehead mistakes here and there, but he was decent, and he did his share. Whereas Peters was a taker with no regard for anyone but himself. They could hang Peters a thousand times, and it wouldn’t be any consolation for the loss of that one young cowboy. So if Peters had to ride the next thirty miles in pain and discomfort, I didn’t much care.

  Peters found the last twenty miles to be his most uncomfortable. He was fully awake and I figured there was at least one busted rib giving him grief. But I couldn’t find any reason to change his circumstance. I rather enjoyed it when he had a spasm of pain and started cussing. I’d heard some fine low down swearing in my day, in fact I may have participated now and then, but Peters wouldn’t even make the top one hundred list. The man just didn’t have the range.

  Needless to say, we didn’t catch up with the rest of the group that day. In fact it was well after dark when I tied the horses outside the jail. Corbel was the acting jailer and seemed to be glad to see me as I shoved Peters through the door.

  “Got room for one more?” I asked.

  “I can make room.” He said. “They won’t be here long anyway… They had an election this afternoon, and elected the preacher as temporary Judge. They’ll start the trial tomorrow and do the hanging the next day.”

  “What about Copeland? Did they arrest him?”

  “No… he disappeared. The other Marshal closed down the saloon and had it boarded up.” I was glad he didn’t refer to Ethan as the good lookin’ Marshal.

  “Where might that other Marshal be?”

  “Oh, Him and some fancy Mexican dude went down to the Lady Luck for a drink just a little while ago.”

  We got the prisoner into a cell with only two men in residence, the other one had three. As fate would have it the two in his cell were O’Dowd and Parsons. O’Dowd was pretty well shot up and didn’t look like he would make it through the night. But Parsons was in fighting shape, and as soon as the door was closed he started pounding on Peters. Peters should never have used him for a distraction.

  I took both horses to the boardinghouse corral and got them taken care of before I went to find Claybrook. Mrs. Gladstone wanted to make me some supper, but I told her I needed to talk to Claybrook, and I’d get something there. Flynn was sitting on Mrs. Gladstone’s porch, when I came out and walked to the Lucky Lady with me.

  The Lucky Lady was packed due to the closure of the Crazy Ace, so it took a bit to locate Ethan and the fancy Mexican dude, who was probably someone he’d known from his days in the Texas panhandle. So I didn’t give much thought to the large black sombrero with only a little gold scrollwork on the brim. About that time Ethan saw me and waved me over to their table. Rose, the Lucky Lady herself, was sitting across from Ethan, and the Mexican sat across from an empty chair with his back to me.

  Walking around the table I tipped my hat to the lovely Rose and moved to the empty chair. Rose kept my attention for a few seconds asking making small talk, until Ethan interrupted.

  “Ben, I’d like you to meet one of the best bad men in these parts…” I looked up at the smiling face of… “Señor Angel Baca.” Claybrook said.

  “Benito, is good to see you again.” He said as he extended his hand across the table.

  “You two know each other?”

  “We’ve met a time or two and always in friendship.” I told Ethan.

  “Are you here on business or is this a pleasure trip?”

  “It is always a pleasure to see you again, but my patron sent word asking if I could lend a hand to a certain US Marshal who had some problems here. When I met this Marshal, I thought our friend was mistaken. But Marshal Claybrook has been telling me all about you.”

  “Well I’ll be damned.” Claybrook said. “And just who is this patron, you speak of?”

  “Sorry, Ethan, but he doesn’t have any connection to this case… trust me Jasper Stewart is also on good terms with our friend… and as long as he wants to remain anonymous, we’ll have to respect that.” He understood, and we moved on to the business at hand.

  Ethan told us that Copeland had disappeared soon after they brought the prisoners in. “I called the county board together, and asked them to call a special election to get a Justice of the Peace, so we could have a trial.”

  “They passed it two to one, with only the Banker Smyth voting no. I think the man just likes being stubborn… I know he doesn’t like either of us very much… Well they had the election within an hour, and Parson Ridgeway was the only candidate… well you know who won.”

  “Copeland lives over the Crazy Ace, but he had vanished. The bartender said he went to the bank and never came back… his horse is still in his stable, so I figure he’s close by, but he’s gone into hiding.”

  Rose said that if we were going to sit here and talk business, she’d go and tend to her own business. She left us, and shortly a young señorita brought a plate of food from the kitchen. I guess Rose knows a hungry man when she hears one… the way my stomach was growling, she couldn’t have missed.

  I asked Baca if Pedro was with him, remembering that the quiet little peon was a good hand at tracking. But he told me that Pablo was still in Silverton. They’d finished their job there, but Pedro was still in Silverton for a week or two to make sure the mine owners don’t go back on their deal. Several mine owners were using strong tactics to keep some of the peons and Indios in bondage by funneling almost all their wages back to the company. Claybrook looked surprised to hear of it.

  “I’ll start looking around in the morning, but I think he’s still close by from what you’ve said… but right now I’m going to finish this food and head for my bed.” I told them, and then I turned to Baca and said. “You might stick around for a couple of days, Angel, this thing ain’t over yet.”

  I stopped at the bar and told Flynn that I was turning in. He said he would stick
around a while longer. So I bid him a good night and left. The boardinghouse was a little over two blocks up the street and on the other side. Most everything was dark except for a few lamps left hanging outside various businesses. But they were few. As I was nearing the bank, I saw a sliver of light coming through the gap where the shade had curled or just didn’t fit.

  My first thought was that Smyth or his clerk was working late. But it was very late, and it wouldn’t hurt to check in and see if everything was all right. I was just about ready to try the door, when I thought if there was a robbery in progress rattling the door could get someone killed.

  So I crept around the side trying to find a window shade that wasn’t fully drawn. I found it halfway to the back. I could see a man standing facing the cage. I couldn’t see more than his torso and part of one arm. There were no weapons in sight, which meant it wasn’t a robbery, or I just couldn’t see any guns. It could be someone trying to arrange a loan.

  Not knowing the law well enough to get into the infinite details, I didn’t know if I had any business taking a hand in what could be an innocent business deal. But I didn’t like it. And as I was ready to turn and go, the rest of the man’s arm came up and there was a pistol in his hand.

  That was enough for me.

  Chapter 22

  The window I was looking through was locked, as was the next one. But the back door wasn’t. Easing it open, I was hoping there wasn’t a squeak hiding in those hinges. I opened it just far enough to slip through. Voices were coming from the front, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. Both voices sounded angry, and I recognized Smyth’s voice, and the other one sounded like Copeland.

  The door into the bank lobby was open a few inches, and I was able to look through the crack and see Copeland standing there nervously fidgeting with the gun in his hand. He wasn’t threatening Smyth or even pointing it at him. It looked like when I’d seen men with a cane or a riding crop, they will sometimes slap their leg in time with some music being played in their heads. He seemed to be using it as a means to give his hand something to do.

  I heard him say, “Go ahead put it all in there, I haven’t got the time to waste.”

  “Don’t rush me.” Smyth replied.

  That was when I stepped out with gun in hand I said, “That’s right, Copeland, you won’t have much time left.”

  I motioned to Smyth to step out of the cage and get off to the side somewhere behind me. He stepped back and worked his way through the little gate and took a place near the door I’d just come through.

  “You had a pretty slick operation here Copeland, nobody suspected you. But it’s over and your time is up. They’ll most likely hang you with the others the day after tomorrow.”

  Copeland’s eyes were like two silver dollars… big and shiny. His face was white and glistening with sweat. He had forgotten the gun in his hand, and his eyes weren’t on me but on Smyth. He was too scared to move or do anything.

  I stepped toward him to take the gun from his shaking hand, and I heard him softly and pleadingly say, “Father?”

  There was a slight shuffling noise behind me, and then nothing until…

  Somebody was pouring a bucket of water on my head. I was fighting my way out of one nightmare and into another. Only the new one contained a lot of pain and water. I was choking and trying to find my head with my hands. When I found it, I was surprised that it was normal size because it seemed so big. When I rolled over I was able to get my eyes open, but I had to close them again due to the bright light.

  “Are you all right, Marshal?”

  “I doubt it.” Was my answer to such a stupid question. “Who are you and is Smyth dead?”

  “I’m Merl Evers, the teller… and I don’t think Mister Smyth is dead, he ain’t here though, so he could be. The safe’s empty and all the drawers. Somebody robbed us and took it all.”

  “What time is it, Merl Evers?”

  “It’s twenty past eight. I always come in early to get ready to open at nine.”

  “I want you to run up to the boardinghouse and tell Marshal Claybrook and Sheriff Flynn to get down here quick.”

  “I can’t leave the bank open; Mister Smyth would blow his gizzard.”

  “Evers… There isn’t anything to steal, it’s already been stolen.”

  “Oh… that’s right… there’s nothing to steal.” I heard him go out the door and up the boardwalk at a fast walk.

  By the time Claybrook and Flynn made it to the door, I had pulled myself up and was sitting on the floor with my back against the bottom of the cage. I’d found my gun and was able to open my eyes. There was a large brass candlestick on the floor, and my guess was it had some red hair and brains on it.

  Fighting my way through the fog in my head, I was able to tell Claybrook and Flynn what had happened here the night before.

  “And you think Smyth was the one who conked you with the candle stick… You reckon he’s in on it?” Claybrook asked.

  “I’d bet money on it… in fact I think Bartholomew Smyth was the brains of the outfit… Just before I got clobbered, Copeland called him ‘Father.”

  “I’ll bet he put a little extra into in after the way you made him squirm over those bank accounts a few days back.”

  I asked the clerk, who had just walked in, “Where does Smyth live?”

  “Oh, he lives in that white two story house just across from the boardinghouse… you can’t miss it.”

  Sandy Corbel came in on his way to relieve Billy Stevens at the jail. I told him, “There’s a big Mexican fella named Baca who has a room above the Lucky Lady, ask him to come to the Bank, and tell him we’re still in business.”

  Ethan and Flynn went off to check on Smyth’s house… Although they didn’t expect to find him there, they still had to check it. Mrs. Gladstone came in with a roll of bandages and went to work on my head. That wasn’t a lot of fun, but she pronounced me to be hard headed and lucky to be so. When she was finished, I didn’t feel any better, but I thanked her anyway.

  I asked Evers if all the money had been taken and he said, “Unfortunately, it was, Marshal. There’s not enough to pay me what was owed.” I told him we’d try to get it back, but he didn’t seem too hopeful. So, I asked him to check all the windows and the back door, and give me the key to the front…. He was officially unemployed.

  He was just handing me the key when Baca came through the front door. Evers dropped the key, missing my hand by six inches. He backed up a few feet and as Baca came toward where I was sitting, Evers circled around him and took off out the front door… Angel Baca was an imposing figure.

  “Aye Benito, you seem to be someone who needs a keeper. Did you never learn to duck? We go now, or we wait for you head to get more pequeño… eh…small?”

  “We can go as soon as I can stand up without my head exploding… of course some coffee and breakfast wouldn’t hurt.”

  “Si… When you say so.”

  Claybrook and Flynn came back from Smyth’s home looking like they had wasted a half hour. They found nothing but a ledger that would take a puzzle maker to unravel. The bank’s account ledgers were still here, so if we could recover the money, there’d be a chance the depositors would be paid something. Outstanding loans could still be collected to pay off creditors. It was something but not enough.

  I told them we were going after Copeland and his father, and of course, they didn’t think I was ready. They both were ready to go along, but I told them they needed to stay and make sure the trials went as they should. And if there were hangings they would be legal and by the book. There was no argument from Ethan, he knew I was right. But Flynn was ready to resign his post as temporary Sheriff. I didn’t accept his badge.

  Baca went back to the Lucky Lady to collect his gear, and I went to the boardinghouse for some coffee and breakfast. Stevens was finishing his coffee as I came in. The coffee and food did wonders for my headache, but I knew it would be with me for a while. Billy went out and saddled my hors
e, while I ate. Mrs. Gladstone had a batch of biscuits for the trail, and there was plenty of Copeland’s salt pork left.

  Before I forgot something that had been on mind, I pulled Ethan aside and said, “We can’t claim rewards on those men in the jail or the ones we’ve buried, but those boys that have been there with us can. I’d take it kindly if you’d see to it that Flynn, Corbel, Stevens, and Coakers kin get those rewards divided equally.”

  “Yeah… I can do that, but Flynn is the sheriff. He can’t take any rewards either.”

  “Sure he can… I never swore him in… Maybe with a little money, he can pay his fines and won’t be an indentured cowboy… although, I’d hate to lose him.”

  “Sounds fair to me.” he said.

  I was nearly ready to go, when Angel came through the door, I heard Mrs. Gladstone take a sharp breath and utter, “Oh my!”

  If we’d had one of those photographer fellas around to take her picture standing between Baca and Claybrook… the smile on her face would have been worth a million words. Each man was tall, handsome, and charming, but they were so different… She was having a good day.

  Chapter 23

  We left shortly after I’d finished eating… might I add, against all objections. Our first task was to find the right trail to follow. Both horses had been kept in Smyth’s stable, at least for a short while, so it was up to me to identify them, track them through town, and see where they went from there. The biggest problem was watching every turn off in both directions to make sure they didn’t slip away in the confused mess of hundreds of tracks. Which was exactly what they did.

  After three blocks they turned off to the north, but they only rode a short distance before turning back to the south. Then they re-crossed the east west main street after the fourth block and continued out of town going south across open ground. There was enough scrub growth and bunch grass so the tracks didn’t stand out. So it was slower going than I had while trailing Jesse Peters.