Shot to Hell Read online

  “And there’s the harness and saddle shop next door,” Perley noticed, then reminded Possum that was Rex Cooper, whose daughter was nanny to Emma’s son. It was surprising to see the signs of growth in the remote prairieland where Bison Gap was born.

  When they reached the hotel, Wilbur Ross put them in separate rooms downstairs, in the back. This only when they insisted they didn’t want the more expensive rooms upstairs in the front. “Closer to the kitchen,” Possum said. Once they checked in, Possum and Rooster went out to the porch to sit in the rocking chairs while Perley made use of the hotel’s washroom. Before he was finished, Rachael came out to the porch and told Possum and Rooster that supper was ready and the dining room was open. “Too bad about Perley,” Possum said. “Might not be nothin’ left, if you give me and Rooster a head start.”

  Rachael had a special table set in the back of the dining room with a reserved sign in the middle of it, in honor of her special guests. She led them in and seated them. Thinking Perley would be along any minute, Bess and Kitty put the food on the table and served the coffee. “He’s gettin’ all prettied up to eat with you ladies,” Possum japed.

  “He always was kinda tidy,” Emma remarked, then frowned when she looked toward the door. “Oh, no, not tonight,” she murmured.

  Hearing her, Rachael asked what was wrong and Emma nodded toward the door. Rachael gasped when she realized who had just walked in. “Quirt Taylor! The nerve of that sidewinder to show up here. I thought Sheriff Mason told him to get out of town.”

  “What’s he coming back here for, anyway,” Emma whispered, “instead of the saloon?”

  With their backs to the front door, Rooster and Possum were unaware of the unwelcome guest, their attention captured by the generous supper before them. They were not to be oblivious of him for very long, however, for he had spotted the private party in the back of the room. Brushing Kitty aside when she tried to intercept him, Quirt swaggered back to their table.

  “Looks like you’ve got a party goin’ on back here,” Quirt smirked. “You gotta empty chair there, maybe I’ll join you.”

  “You’re not invited,” Emma said.

  “Why not?” he asked. “I left my shootin’ iron on the table back there at the door. Ain’t that the rule?”

  “Sheriff ran you and that sorry trash you run with outta town,” Rooster said, already heating up. “You ain’t got no business in here, or anywhere else in Bison Gap.”

  Quirt favored him with a sarcastic grin. “You might wanna watch your mouth, you little dung weevil. You’ve already shot your mouth off about that business in the Buffalo Hump. That was Curly that done for her husband, not me.” Turning to grin at Rachael then, he said, “Curly told me to give you a kiss for him.”

  “Get out of my dining room,” Rachael demanded.

  Her obvious anger seemed to please him. Apparently, it was his sole reason for coming to the dining room, and he stood there, enjoying her frustration. Unnoticed, because of the disturbance at the table, Perley walked up behind him. “Pardon me, but you’re standin’ in front of my chair, and my supper’s gettin’ cold.” He had no idea who the man was, or what the excited conversation was about. As soon as Quirt turned around to face him, however, he realized it was not a friendly discussion.

  “Who the hell are you?” Quirt blurted.

  “I’m Perley,” he answered.

  “You’re what?” Quirt responded, not sure he had heard him correctly.

  “That’s my name, Perley,” he repeated.

  “Your name’s Pearly?”

  “That’s right, Perley Gates. What’s your name?”

  “Pearly Gates?” Quirt laughed. “That’s even better. Well, Pearly Gates, if you don’t wanna see them Pearly Gates right quick, you’d best set down in that chair and keep your mouth shut.”

  “That’s Quirt Taylor, Perley,” Rooster exclaimed. “He’s the varmint who hangs around with Curly Williams. He’s the one who lied to the sheriff about Tom goin’ for his gun.”

  “There you go, runnin’ your mouth again.” Quirt pointed a finger at Rooster. “You’re a dead man. You just ain’t smart enough to know it.”

  “I reckon you’ve overstayed your welcome, Mister,” Perley said calmly when he threatened Rooster. “It’s time for you to walk on outta here, before we have to call the sheriff.”

  “Is that so?” Quirt replied. “I think maybe you’re right. Maybe you oughta go get the sheriff. I’ll tell you what, I’ll wait outside for you and we’ll go get the sheriff together. Whaddaya say to that?”

  “Might be the best thing at that,” Perley answered. “Might be a good idea to let the sheriff decide what to do.”

  “All right,” Quirt said, struggling to keep from laughing, “Mr. Pearly Gates, I’ll wait for you outside. Don’t make me wait, or I’ll come in and drag your ass out of here.” He turned around and headed for the door. “Pearly Gates,” they heard him mumble to himself and chuckle as he picked up his pistol and replaced it in his holster.

  Cow pie, Perley couldn’t help thinking as he followed Quirt to the door. He had a pretty good idea what was going to be waiting for him outside the hotel, but he couldn’t take a chance on a crazy gunman shooting up the dining room. He went to the table and strapped on his gun belt. “Perley, don’t!” Rachael cried out, suddenly realizing he was actually going to answer Quirt’s challenge. As if her cry was a signal, everyone jumped up from the table to rush to the door. Possum and Rooster both grabbed their weapons from the table, ready to come to Perley’s defense.

  “Whoa!” Perley blurted and held up his hand. “I ain’t sure what this fellow is up to, but I don’t think he wants to walk down to the sheriff’s office with me. Possum, if you and Rooster want to help me, go out the front door of the hotel and see if there’s anyone else out there. I don’t wanna walk into a firin’ squad. If he’s by himself, like he says, I’d rather just handle it, myself, so there won’t be lead flyin’ all over the place. All right?”

  “Whatever you say, Perley,” Possum answered and looked at Rooster to make sure he was in agreement. Rooster nodded. They strapped their guns on and went through the door to the hallway connecting the hotel and the dining room.

  “You ladies stay inside,” Perley said, then walked out the door.

  Outside, Perley stopped in the shadow of the doorway to take a look at what he might be walking into, not at all sure he was doing a smart thing. Waiting for him, just as he said he would, Quirt was standing about fifteen yards from the door. Smiling in the fading light of sunset, his weapon holstered, he motioned for Perley to come forward. “Don’t be shy, Pearly, come on out and we’ll go to see the sheriff, unless you wanna just settle it between us. Just you and me, man-to-man. Whaddaya say?”

  “I think it would be a whole lot better if we just go talk to the sheriff, like we said,” Perley answered. “I’d rather do that. That’s better than somebody gettin’ killed, ain’t it?”

  “No, Pearly, I don’t think that’ll do any good. I think we’d best settle it right now. So you just walk out away from that door and stand right there.” He pointed to a spot about fifteen yards in front of him.

  “We don’t have to do this,” Perley said.

  “Yes, we do,” Quirt snapped, getting impatient with Perley’s reluctance to face him. “You drag your yellow behind out here, or I’m gonna shoot you down in that doorway.”

  Perley walked out to the spot designated and stopped. “You’re sure?”

  “Damn you!” Quirt swore. “Turn and face me!”

  Perley started to turn around, but before he had turned halfway, Quirt reached for his pistol. Hearing the sound of Quirt’s hand on the handle of the Colt. 44, Perley placed a bullet in the center of Quirt’s chest while in the process of turning around. Quirt’s pistol dropped from his hand and he stared in disbelief at the ugly hole in his shirt before he sank to his knees, then fell forward.

  Standing by the front corner of the hotel, Possum said to Rooster
, “I told you so.”

  “I didn’t see him draw,” Rooster declared. “One second he was standin’ sideways, the next second I heard the shot.” He shook his head and swore. “Damn!”

  They walked out from behind the corner. “You all right, Perley?” Possum called out. “There weren’t nobody else back here, just that crazy fool.”

  “I tried to talk him out of it, but he was determined to have it out,” Perley said as Possum and Rooster walked up to stand over the body.

  Possum couldn’t help wondering if Perley’s seeming reluctance to shoot was in fact a planned ploy to frustrate his adversary to the point where he was prone to shoot in anger—which might cause careless concentration. Nah, he told himself. Perley don’t think that deep.

  “I was plannin’ to just hit him in the shoulder, but he jumped the gun on me and I didn’t have much time to aim,” Perley explained.

  “Looks to me like your aim was pretty damn good,” Rooster declared as he stared down at the hole in the middle of Quirt’s chest. “Wonder what in the world he came up here to the hotel for. Just to make mischief, I reckon.”

  “I reckon,” Perley said. “Now, I expect we’d best really go get the sheriff.”

  Possum thought he knew why Quirt called Perley out, but he didn’t share it with them. Quirt called Perley out because he looks so young and innocent that he appears to be an easy target for a gunman like Quirt. Well, Quirt, Possum thought, more than likely it wasn’t the first mistake you ever made. He turned to see Emma and Rachael coming out the door, now that there appeared to be no more shots following the one. Soon a small crowd of spectators gathered to see the origin of the shot fired, unusual in that it came from the hotel and not the saloon. It was awhile later that Sheriff John Mason arrived on the scene, after one of the spectators evidently told him someone had been killed.

  Mason walked up to stand over the body. “Quirt Taylor,” he mumbled low. He looked up then at Perley, Possum, and Rooster, in that order. Then he brought his gaze back to focus on Perley. “Who are you?”

  “My name’s Perley Gates,” he replied.

  Mason’s gaze remained on Perley for a long moment. He was familiar with the name. He had heard it enough since he was hired as sheriff. But the pleasant-looking young man standing before him looked nothing at all like he had imagined Perley Gates to look. Mason looked around again before asking, “Can somebody tell me what happened here?”

  “Just like it looks, Sheriff,” Rooster spoke up. “That piece of trash layin’ there came into the dinin’ room where we was fixin’ to eat supper, lookin’ to cause trouble. He called Perley outside to face him in a gunfight.” He paused then to point down at the body. “He lost. And that was after he tried to shoot before Perley had even turned around.”

  “Anybody else see it?” Mason asked.

  “I did,” Possum immediately replied. “It happened just like Rooster said.

  “I saw it,” Emma spoke up, “ just like he said.”

  “I saw it,” Rachael followed, “just like Rooster said.”

  To everyone’s surprise, one other witness stepped forward. “What they said is the way it happened,” Harvey Poole, the Baptist minister, said. “I was on my way back to the church when I saw the dead man and that man,” he pointed to Perley, “about to have a duel. But the dead man didn’t wait for him to turn around before he tried to shoot him. It’s a sin to take another man’s life, but I have to believe the one still standing was given no choice.”

  “Thank you, Reverend,” Mason said, while thinking to himself he was going to have to tell Ned Stark he couldn’t very well discredit the witnesses. “Well, I reckon there’s no doubt it was self-defense. I’ll get Floyd Jenkins to come get the body.” He turned back to Perley then. “What brings you back to town, Mr. Gates?”

  “As you probably know, Possum and I spent some time here and we thought we’d come back to see how our friends are doin’. Maybe you know Possum is half-owner in the new hotel, and he naturally wanted to see how Emma and Rachael were gettin’ along. I mean, it being kind of unusual for two ladies to build a hotel. Looks to me like they’re doin’ everything right, though. What do you think, Sheriff?”

  “I reckon I’d have to agree with you,” Mason said. “They’re doin’ a lot better than a lot of people expected.”

  “I think they’re concerned about seein’ more roughnecks and troublemakers in town durin’ the last few months,” Perley went on, interested to hear the sheriff’s comments on the subject. “Sounds to me like most of the trouble comes from fellows like this one and his friends who ride for Ned Stark. Must make your job harder.”

  Mason hesitated, not sure what this seemingly guileless young man’s reasons for being in town really were. He decided to play along until he knew more about him. “Your friends are right,” he said. “There have been some incidents in town lately, but no more than most other cow towns, I suspect. I know that face-off between Tom Parker and Curly Williams was hard for Rachael Parker to take, but it was just one of those things that happen when men are drinkin’. I am truly sorry for Rachael.”

  “That fellow, Curly Williams, he rides for Ned Stark, right?” Perley asked. “Same as this one who came after me.”

  Mason was rapidly becoming uncomfortable with Perley’s questions, but he attempted to hide his impatience. “Yes, I believe they did work for Stark, but I expect it’s just a coincidence. As far as Tom Parker’s death, I couldn’t arrest Curly Williams for that any more than I can arrest you for Quirt Taylor’s. I’m afraid Bison Gap is like every other cow town in Texas—can’t help attractin’ cowhands with time and money on their hands. Now, if you don’t have any more questions, I’ll get back to my job to try to keep the peace.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff,” Perley said. “I ’preciate you takin’ the time to talk to me. I hope you don’t have to get called out for any more trouble tonight.” He started back to the dining room where his friends had already gone. On the way, he considered the conversation he had just had with the sheriff. He didn’t talk like a rotten sheriff who was in cahoots with an obvious outlaw cattleman. He wondered if he was as rotten as Rooster maintained.

  It was a sober supper party that returned to the table. Bess stood near the end of the table, hands on hips, as she looked over the plates of food now getting cold. Seeing her concern, Rachael said, “It’ll be fine, Bess. Those potatoes needed a little cooling-off, anyway.”

  “Hell,” Rooster said, “pour some of that molasses on ’em and you won’t know the difference.” He picked up the bottle to demonstrate. When Perley sat down, Rooster said, “I reckon you just got a real welcome back from Ned Stark, and you had a little talk with our sheriff, too.”

  “I doubt Ned Stark had anything to do with it,” Perley said and waved off the molasses when Rooster offered it to him. “Ned Stark doesn’t even know who I am.”

  “He does now,” Possum remarked. “At least, he will when ol’ Quirt don’t show up for breakfast in the mornin’.” He paused to cut off another big bite of steak. “I wish he’d had the courtesy to wait till after supper before he showed up, though.”

  Rachael offered to dump the cold food and fill their plates with hot food, but everyone protested, especially after Bess commented. “If I do, there ain’t gonna be food enough to feed the few payin’ customers still comin’ in.” She and Kitty kept the coffee cups filled, however, and Bess put a new tray of biscuits in the oven. The discussion on the possible ties between Sheriff John Mason and outlaw Ned Stark continued until Rachael called it time to clean up after supper and prepare the kitchen for breakfast in the morning. Since the hotel desk was already closed for the night, Emma stayed to talk a while longer with Possum and Perley before they decided to go to bed. Since it was late, Emma offered Rooster a cot in Possum’s room, but he had the problem of what to do about his horse. Perley offered to take it down to the stable for the night, knowing Horace Brooks used to stay there until late. So Perley took Rooster’s black
gelding down to the stable, arriving just as Horace was closing up. When he returned to the hotel, Rooster was already asleep in Possum’s room.

  CHAPTER 4

  Sheriff John Mason looked up from his desk when he heard the front door open. “I figured I might be seein’ you sometime today,” he said to Ned Stark. He was a little surprised to see Ned this early in the morning, however, and he commented on it.

  “I needed a couple of things from the store,” Stark replied. “And I figured as long as I was here, I’d let Floyd give me a shave and trim up my hair and mustache.” That didn’t surprise Mason. Stark was vain about his appearance. “While I was there, I paid Floyd to bury Quirt Taylor.”

  “I don’t have a bottle here in the office,” Mason said, not sure, if the visit was friendly or not. “But I could offer you a cup of coffee.”

  “No, thanks,” Stark said, then got right to the reason he was there. “I lost a man here last night. Quirt Taylor was a good man. I hate to lose him. How did it happen? The story I got this mornin’ was he got gunned down in a face-off with some stranger. The first question that came to my mind was, was it a fair fight? Quirt was pretty damn fast with a handgun, maybe as fast as Curly Williams. I wouldn’t know which one to bet on, if they were facin’ each other.” He continued without waiting for Mason’s answers. “Next question I would ask is, who the hell is this fellow, and what’s he doin’ in Bison Gap? I don’t see anybody in any of those cells in there. Did you have to shoot him?” He finally sat down in a chair in front of Mason’s desk and waited for the sheriff’s answers to his questions.

  “Things ain’t always easy to fix,” Mason attempted to explain. “In the first place, your man went into the hotel dinin’ room where this fellow was eatin’ supper and told him to face him outside or he was gonna shoot him in there. And all that in front of a room half full of folks eatin’ supper. Accordin’ to the witnesses outside, Quirt tried to draw on him while he was still turnin’ around to face him. The fellow cut him down before Quirt could get off a shot. End of story. Quirt was just unlucky to challenge a man that’s evidently fast as greased lightnin’. I figure he got what he asked for.”