Bullets Don't Argue Read online

  It was obvious by then that Cantrell really planned to kill Perley, and for his gang’s entertainment, he decided to make a game of it. “You’re right, we need to be fair about it, so you ain’t gonna face but one of us. That’s fair, ain’t it?”

  “Well, it sounds fair, but I think it would be best if we just call this a little misunderstanding and forget about it,” Perley said. His plea for peace fell on deaf ears, and he was faced with four insolent grins, anxious for their fun to begin. “Which one do I go up against?” Perley asked.

  “Let’s stand in a line, boys,” Cantrell told his men. They all dismounted and lined up, like he said. “Get a little more room between you. I don’t want nobody to get hit with a wild shot, in case he gets one off.” They put a couple of paces between themselves, all grinning in anticipation of the fun.

  Perley centered himself in front of the line of gunmen. He took time to glance quickly at Possum, who met his glance with a helpless look. “Which one do I go up against?” Perley repeated.

  “Well, I reckon you’ll find that out when I count three,” Cantrell replied. “We’ll let Scofield do the job for us, boys.” They all grunted in response, having played the game before, knowing Perley had no idea which one Scofield was. “You might be interested to know, Scofield’s the fastest gun I’ve ever rode with,” Cantrell added. “You ready, Scofield?” All four, including Cantrell, nodded. “All right, how about you, Perley? You ready?”

  “All right,” Perley replied, “you’ve had your fun, so it’s gone far enough. You’re attempting outright murder, if you’re serious about this. I don’t wanna do what I’m gonna have to do.”

  “I ain’t never been more serious about anythin’ in my whole life,” Cantrell said. “When I say three, you damn sure better reach for that gun you’re wearin,’ ’cause if you run, you’re gonna get four shots in that yellow streak down your back. Now get ready!” He paused for only a second. “One . . . Two . . . Three!” The sound of the word “three,” was followed instantly by the report of two gunshots, so close together they sounded as one. The knees of the man standing beside Cantrell buckled, and Scofield slowly sank to the ground, his bullet having plowed harmlessly into the ground. All eyes were locked on Perley, who stood with his .44 cocked and ready for the next man to make a move. No one was inclined to test him again, still frozen, unable to believe what they had just witnessed.

  They were further discouraged by the sound of the cocking of both barrels of Possum’s shotgun behind them. “I reckon this little party is over,” he announced.

  “There wasn’t any reason for this,” Perley said. “A couple of you fellows pick him up and load him on his horse. Then you can ride on outta here and let peaceful folks go about their business without your boss stickin’ his nose in it. And you tell him the straight of it. Tom Parker and his wife had nothin’ to do with what happened here today. They didn’t even know we were gonna show up at their door. I’m sorry you had to lose one of your men, but he pulled on me, so he didn’t leave me no choice.”

  Without waiting for orders from Cantrell, Harley Justice and Pete Walker moved quickly to lift their partner’s body and lay it across his saddle. Perley and Possum kept their weapons trained on the three stunned deacons, who were still in a state of shock. Something like this was not supposed to happen in Butcher Bottom. When they were back in their saddles, however, Cantrell was able to recover some of his bluster. “You got the jump on us this time, Mr. Perley Gates, but this ain’t the end of it. You can’t come in here and do whatever you want. I don’t know what you’ve got on your mind, but you’d best be outta this bottom before the sun rises in the mornin’.” He looked at Tom then. “And I expect the Reverend is gonna be wantin’ to have a little talk with you.”

  “Get the hell outta here, before I unload this shotgun on your behind,” Possum said, having heard enough out of Cantrell’s mouth.

  “You’ve been warned!” Cantrell spat as he kicked his heels into the blue roan’s belly and loped away from the yard.

  CHAPTER 6

  For a long few minutes, no one said a word. They all stood watching until the deacons disappeared from view around the bend in the path that led to the road, half expecting them to appear again at a full charge toward them. The silence was broken by four-year-old Melva. “Mama, what are they gonna do? Are they gonna come back?”

  “Thanks to Mr. Perley Gates, I expect they will,” Rachael answered, more than a little perturbed over the incident that had just happened. Her mind could not hold the horror she had just witnessed, the killing of one of Raymond’s deacons. She turned to her husband. “Tom, what are we gonna do? There’s gonna be hell to pay for what just happened here. You know Raymond isn’t gonna stand for this. There ain’t no tellin’ what he’ll do.” She swung around to glare at Emma. “We’ll be like Emma, shunned, and forced to leave Butcher Bottom. Why did you come back, bringing this gunman with you?” Emma, as much disturbed as her sister, could find no words to answer.

  “Now, calm down, honey,” Tom said. “We’ll just have to face whatever comes our way, but I’ll take care of you and the girls, no matter what.” His words were meant to calm his wife and daughters, but he couldn’t hide all the concern he felt, himself. Raymond’s word was law, and the deacons were brought in to enforce that law.

  Also, at a loss for the proper words for his part in what had just happened, Perley was moved to apologize. He had not wished to kill a man, and the gunfight was not his idea, but he had not been able to resist protesting the liberty those deacons felt they could take. “Ma’am,” he addressed Rachael. “I’m just as sorry as I can be for what I did. I mean, I ain’t so sorry I did it. I’m sorry I had to do it. I was tryin’ to talk to that fellow, but he plainly didn’t wanna talk about it. When he decided to have that other one draw on me, I didn’t have any choice but to shoot him before he shot me. I don’t know how much trouble I’ve caused for you, but I’ll surely stand by your husband to protect your family.”

  “I don’t know what you and Tom can do to. . . .” Rachael started before she was interrupted.

  “And me,” Possum volunteered before she went further.

  She paused to give him a strained look before continuing. “I don’t know what you can do against the whole community. We may be finished here, our land, our home, if Raymond orders us to be shunned. We’ve got no place to go.”

  At last able to speak again, Emma remembered her reason for coming to Butcher Bottom, and she was more determined than ever. “It doesn’t matter if they shun you,” she blurted, “or if they make you leave. That’s why I came here, anyway, to persuade you and Tom to get out from under Raymond Butcher’s thumb. I can help you find some land to own, yourself.”

  Not at all ready to be mollified by her sister, Rachael snapped at her. “Yeah, you look like you can help somebody. Come rollin’ in here carryin’ a baby, in an old wagon with one wheel that looks like it’s fixin’ to fall off. Travelin’ with a gunslinger and a man old enough to be your father. And speaking of fathers, is that Slocum boy you ran off with really dead, or did he up and leave you with a baby?”

  Emma took a step back, staggered by her sister’s fury, and now feeling her own temper rising. “Well, after hearin’ what you think of my help, I ain’t sure I wanna help you get off of this sorry piece of land that His Majesty, Raymond Butcher, lets you farm for him and his holy church of the devil. Maybe I’ll use my money for something else!” Flabbergasted by the bitter argument between the two sisters, all three men stood mute, afraid to speak, lest they feel the heat from one or the other of the combatants.

  “Your money,” Rachael scoffed. “You talk like you’ve got money. You know what it costs to buy land and build a house and barn?”

  “She’s got the money.” Everyone turned to look at Possum, including Perley. When no one said anything after his calm statement, but continued to stare at him, he said, “Emma’s got enough cash to get a right smart homestead started.”


  As surprised as anyone, Perley had to ask, “Where does she have to go to get it?” He felt certain there was no money in the wagon, especially since Jack Pitt lost his life to find out.

  “Back there where we camped last night,” Possum said. “Me and Emma buried it while you was takin’ a bath in the river. We didn’t think it was a good idea to come in here with that money in the wagon, in case somebody might get to snoopin’ around in it.”

  “You mean we came all that way from the crossin’ with a wagon full of money?” Perley asked. “And you didn’t even tell me about it?”

  “Well, you never asked me if we was totin’ any money,” Possum said, “and I didn’t want you worryin’ about protectin’ it all the way down here.”

  Perley shook his head while he took all that into his brain. “So this fellow, Jack Pitt, the man I shot, he knew you had some money, and that’s why he tracked you down? Where’d the money come from?” He paused and held up his hand. “No, wait a minute, I don’t wanna know.” He had a definite feeling that they had not come by it honestly.

  “We didn’t steal it, if that’s what’s worryin’ ya,” Possum was quick to respond. “It’s some money me and her husband came by, and there ain’t nobody else knows about it.” He paused, trying to think of every reassurance he could. “And ain’t nobody else gonna come lookin’ for it. Pitt was the only other person who knew we had it.”

  After Possum’s lengthy guarantee, Perley was more convinced than ever that whatever money they had come by had to have a smelly side to it somewhere, so he simply said, “Well, that’s good. It’s your and Emma’s business, and I don’t need to know nothin’ more about it.”

  When Perley saw the way Tom and Rachael were looking at each other, it was apparent they were thinking how great it would be to pack up and leave Butcher Bottom to raise their daughters somewhere else. A few minutes later, Rachael approached Emma and put her arms around her. “I’m sorry I flew into a fit, honey,” she said. “I was just so upset and afraid after Branch Cantrell came here lookin’ for you. I didn’t know what was gonna happen to my family. I should have known you were my angel lookin’ after me and my girls.”

  Ain’t nothing better to patch up a fight between two women than to spread a little money between them, Perley thought as he watched the sisters make up again. “I reckon we’d best be thinkin’ about what we’re gonna do if those deacons are gonna pay us another visit,” he said. “I don’t think that one fellow, the one who does all the talkin’, was very happy with the way things went.”

  “His name’s Branch Cantrell,” Tom said. “He’s the boss of those gunmen Raymond calls his deacons. The one you shot was Scofield—never heard his first name—the other two were Harley Justice and Pete Walker. And any one of them is just as liable to shoot you in the back as any dry-gulchin’ murderer out there. They ain’t been deacons but about a year now. Nobody here knows where they came from, but Raymond made a trip over to Fort Worth and came back with the four of ’em. Everybody calls ’em deacons ’cause that’s what Raymond said they were, but ain’t none of the four ever showed up in the meetin’house on Sunday.”

  “Strictly enforcers,” Possum commented.

  “I reckon you’re right,” Perley said, then back to Tom, he asked, “Other than the three gunmen he’s got left, has he got anybody else?” He wanted to get an idea of how many might be coming to punish Tom and Rachael for their sins, and of course, him and Possum as well. “What about the rest of his flock? Will the other members of his congregation step up to come against us?”

  “I swear, I don’t know,” Tom replied. “There ain’t but a few men my age or younger in the community that might grab their shotguns and come after us. Maybe he’ll just say we broke his laws, so we’ll have to get out, and we’ll just be shunned like Emma was.”

  “Looks to me like you’ve got to make a decision, and move on it right away,” Perley said. “I’m sorry I pushed you to make that decision right now, but as young as your family is, the sooner you find a place that’s better for your daughters to grow up in, the better it’ll be for all of you.”

  “What about Bison Gap?” Rachael suddenly suggested, finally calming down to the point where she could give some consideration to what Perley had just said. “Remember that mule skinner that brought those sacks of coffee beans to Tuck’s Store?” She and Tom had been there when the driver and Jeremy Tuck unloaded the coffee and he was tellin’ Jeremy about settlers startin’ to claim land around Bison Gap. “Remember he said there was a lot of good land still available for farmin’ or cattle?”

  “I remember,” Tom said. “Maybe we shoulda settled there. He said they had a post office there now.”

  “Then, if Emma’s tellin’ the truth about wantin’ to buy us a place,” she turned to look directly into her sister’s eyes, “why don’t we pack up and go now?”

  “Suits me,” Tom answered.

  “Now you’re talkin’,” Emma piped up.

  The decision to leave was made that simply, with little more discussion on the feasibility or the quickness of it. They would go on the reliability of the mule skinner’s word, encouraged to do so by the certainty they all felt that they would be driven out of Butcher Bottom by Raymond and his congregation. The question to be answered next was whether they would be able to pack up all their belongings and leave safely. There was sure to be retaliation from the deacons, even if the others chose not to drive them out. Then, if they were successful in pulling out of Butcher Bottom unharmed, there was the matter of driving their wagons and their cow to Bison Gap, a distance of close to one hundred miles, according to the mule skinner. Nevertheless, there was a certain spark of spirit generated by the thought of a new life in a new place where there would be no Raymond Butcher controlling their lives.

  The job now was to pack up everything they could fit into the two wagons and onto the horses. It was obvious they were going to be unable to take everything they had managed to accumulate since building their house, but Possum fashioned packsaddles for Jack Pitt’s two horses, plus loaded down Perley’s and his packhorses. Since Rachael insisted that Emma should live with them, there were items of furniture that Emma had left behind, creating more room in her wagon. When they had filled every square inch of space, they rounded up Tom’s extra horse and the cow, and the two-wagon train rolled out of the yard to take the road south out of Butcher Bottom. It was the same road Perley, Emma, and Possum had ridden in on. Riding ahead of the wagons, Perley rested his rifle across his thighs, ready in the event their exodus was challenged. They passed the meetinghouse with no sign of anyone outside. Tuck’s Store was the first place they met anyone.

  Jeremy Tuck saw the two wagons approaching his store, so he stood on the porch to see who they were. When he recognized Tom and Rachael sitting in the first wagon, he called out to them. “Hey-yo, Tom! Where you folks headin’?”

  “Away from Butcher Bottom!” Tom called back and encouraged his horses with a little slap of the reins.

  “Are you comin’ back?”

  “Ain’t plannin’ on it.”

  Astonished to see them heading out of town, Tuck could only think to say, “Good luck!” He wondered if Raymond was aware of their leaving.

  After they passed the sign that greeted all strangers who chose to visit Butcher Bottom, Perley reined Buck back to wait for Possum to catch up to him. When he did, Perley rode along beside him. “We got a late start on the day,” Perley said. “How far are you plannin’ on driving these horses? They’re sure as hell loaded down.”

  “I figure we’d best stop at that little place on the river where we camped before,” Possum said, which surprised Perley. “I know that ain’t but about four miles,” Possum continued, “but if we don’t stop there, ain’t no use headin’ to Bison Gap.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Perley said, “that’s where you buried the money.” He had been thinking about the extra time it was going to take to reach Bison Gap. Five days at best, and by the tim
e he returned, there would be no telling how far behind the Triple-G cattle drive he would find himself. He had only agreed to go with Possum and Emma to Butcher Bottom, and he should be able to return to the herd in good conscience now. But he couldn’t bring himself to desert them now when he had been the major reason they might be in danger. I should have kept my mouth shut, he told himself.

  “I just hope like hell nobody’s dug it up while we was havin’ that little visit with the deacons,” Possum said.

  “Where did you bury it?”

  “Under the wagon,” Possum said and grinned.

  * * *

  “What does he want?” Raymond Butcher asked when Jenny Bloodworth rapped loudly on the door of his study and announced that Branch Cantrell wanted to talk to him.

  “He didn’t say,” Jenny answered, “but I reckon it’s got somethin’ to do with the feller he’s got layin’ across his saddle, dead as that chicken I cooked this mornin’.”

  That was enough to capture Raymond’s attention at once. “Who was it?” He got up from his chair and started for the door. “Where is he?”

  The crusty old woman was his housekeeper and cook, having held the same position for his father before he died and left Raymond to build on his religious cult. As such, she enjoyed a certain immunity from the spiritual messages that Raymond received, supposedly directly from God. Her place in Raymond’s house was never threatened by any of the young girls who were brought into the house for Raymond’s personal guidance and training, training that had very little to do with the kitchen. In her usual tone of indifference, she answered his questions. “He’s out at the front porch, and the dead man is one of your deacons, the one called Scofield.”