Man Who Burned Hell!, page 6
Camilla snorted contemptuously. ‘You go to hell, Ike.’
He watched her leave and when the door closed behind her he said, ‘I’m already there.’
The Rocking K ranch drew its water from the Rocky Bottom Creek, and its owner, William Krouse, was far from happy when he hit town the following morning. He flung the jail door open and strode in purposefully and came to stand in front of Ford’s desk. He said in an angry voice, ‘What are you goin’ to do about it?’
Ford looked up into the lined face of a tall, grey-headed man. ‘About what exactly, Mr. . . ?’
‘Krouse, William Krouse. I’m the owner of the Rocking K,’ the ranch owner said.
‘OK. Mr Krouse, what exactly is it that you want me to do?’
‘I want you to shut down that damned mine, marshal, is what I want you to do,’ Krouse grumbled. ‘The bastards are poisonin’ the creek and killin’ my stock. When I heard that there was a marshal in town, I thought maybe somethin’ could be done about it.’
‘How long has this been goin’ on?’ Ford asked.
‘About a month.’
‘Why hasn’t somethin’ been done about it already?’
‘The previous sheriff tried and all they did was laugh at him,’ Krouse explained.
‘I see.’
When Ford didn’t move, Krouse snapped. ‘Are you goin’ to do something’ about it or what?’
Ford nodded. ‘I’ll come out and have a look around. Just give me twenty or so minutes to get my horse and I’ll be with you.’
The reply seemed to placate the rancher and his animosity vanished. ‘That would be great. Thanks.’
‘Potts?’ Ford called out. ‘Are you back there?’
The deputy put his head through the door that led to the jail cells. ‘Yeah.’
‘I’m goin’ outta town with Mr Krouse,’ Ford informed him. ‘You’re in charge. ‘If you have any problems, make a decision and act on it. Don’t hesitate. If it means shootin’ someone, then so be it.’
‘What about our prisoner back here?’ Potts asked.
‘I’ll see to him when I get back.’
Ford turned back to the rancher. ‘All right, Mr Krouse. I’ll get my horse and be right with you.’
Krouse nodded. ‘You know, when I heard about a new lawman in Serenity, I was more than a little sceptical. Now, maybe I ain’t too sure.’
‘Save your judgement for after, Mr Krouse,’ Ford said to him.
‘After what?’
‘After I clean the town up and give it back to the people. C’mon, let’s go.’
The Rocking K was in the lea of a large craggy-faced, snow-covered peak that watched over it as a father would a child. Through the tree-lined landscape of lush pasture and rolling hills, ran the Rocky Bottom creek. What had once been a clear, pristine waterway, was now a stinking, slimy, green sludge that bore no resemblance to its former self, and Ford looked down upon it from beside the ranch owner.
‘See what I mean?’ Krouse said, his hand covering his mouth.
And he did see. Out in the middle of the creek lay the bloated carcass of a once prime beast. It wasn’t the only one either. Another two lay on the far bank, and countless fish floated past on the current. The smell that emanated from the creek was one of putrefaction from the decaying beasts, combined with that of the sludge, and was overwhelmingly stomach turning.
‘I had to shift all of my cattle over on to a neighbor’s range to get them away from this water,’ Krouse told Ford. ‘I was just lucky that he had plenty of water.’
Ford spat on the ground, trying to rid his mouth of the taste left by the smell. He walked back over to his blue roan and climbed into the saddle. The sound of a powder blast trying to escape the valley rolled along the tops of the peaks.
‘What are you goin’ to do?’ Krouse asked, for the tenth time.
‘I’m goin’ to shut them down,’ Ford told him.
‘Do you want some help?’
‘Nope. I can handle it.’
‘Watch your back over there,’ Krouse warned.
‘Always do,’ said Ford as he swung the head of his roan around and pointed it towards the mine.
It was a brutal, ugly, man-made scar upon what had once been untouched wilderness. The land had been dug up by men, greedy for what lay beneath the surface, and their tool of extraction was hydraulic mining.
Ford had seen it all before. Big companies moved in, took what they wanted, and then abandoned the site, leaving naught but a wounded and barren landscape. Good for nothing.
Miners stared at Ford as he rode on to the mine site. He stopped the roan near a couple of them and asked, ‘Where’s Harper?’
The miner looked him over before answering. ‘He’s over at the tent.’
Ford looked up and saw four stained canvas tents sitting in the centre of a piece of level ground.
‘Which one?’
‘The big one.’
‘Thanks,’ Ford said and turned the roan towards the tent area.
When he reached them, Ford climbed down from the horse. He flipped the rawhide hammer-thong off and walked inside the largest tent. He found Harper sitting behind a large desk going over surveyor’s maps.
The man looked up and Ford saw evidence of their fight still obvious on his face. When he saw who it was, he screwed up his face in a snarl. ‘What the hell do you want?’
‘Have you seen the mess your hydraulic mining is makin’ of the creek? It’s ruinin’ all the water for the ranchers downstream.’
‘So what?’
‘So, get it cleaned up,’ Ford ordered. ‘Until then, you’re shut down.’
‘The hell you say,’ Harper exploded.
‘The hell I do. You shut it down or I’ll do it for you.’
Harper roared and lurched from his desk, clawing at the six-gun on his hip. Ford’s Peacemaker was out in a flash and aimed at the mine boss’ heart. His jaw dropped.
‘Don’t,’ Ford snapped. ‘I’ll kill you where you stand.’
Harper froze, his face white as he waited for the shot that would end his life.
‘Drop it,’ Ford ordered.
Harper tossed it on his desk. ‘Now what?’
‘You’re a lucky man, Harper. I would have killed most men by now but I’ll give you a chance.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’re goin’ to shut this mine down and order all your men from site,’ Ford explained. ‘After which, I’m goin’ back to town and I’ll wire your boss and tell him why I’ve closed down his mine.’
‘You can’t do that,’ Harper blurted out. ‘He’ll fire me.’
‘Better that than dead,’ Ford allowed. He waved the Colt. ‘Let’s go.’
The mine boss moved from behind the desk and walked out into the brilliant sunshine. He looked about until he saw the man he was looking for. He called out and a large mountain of a man ambled over to him. He saw the gun in Ford’s fist and started.
‘What the hell is goin’ on here?’ his baritone voice rumbled.
‘Shut the mine down, Jeff and get all the men off the site,’ Harper told him hesitantly.
‘Say what?’
‘Are you deaf or somethin’? Harper snapped. ‘Shut it down.’
Jeff glanced at Ford then back at Harper. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Damn it, Jeff!’ barked Harper. ‘Just bloody well do it.’
The big man lumbered off and Harper turned to face Ford. ‘Are you happy?’
‘I’ll be happy when all you bastards are run out of Serenity,’ Ford cursed. ‘But for now, this’ll do. If I find out that you have resumed operations before the problem is rectified, I will come back out here, take some of your black powder and blow it all to hell.’
Harper stared at him in a display of open defiance.
‘And one more thing,’ Ford said, stepping towards the mine boss.
The butt of the Peacemaker came up and Ford slammed it into the middle of the man’s already bruised face.
‘That’s for tryin’ to pull a gun on me. Next time you’ll get the bullet end.’
Chapter 8
‘The son of a bitch shut the mine down, just like that,’ Harper whined. ‘Just like that!’
‘I’ll have a word to the judge,’ Cordis told the irate mine boss. ‘He’ll see things our way.’
‘Do you think?’ Harper asked, hopefully.
‘I’m sure,’ Cordis replied. ‘Anyway, don’t worry about that at the moment, it all might be a moot point.’
‘How so?’
‘Let’s just say I have someone taking care of it, tonight.’
‘I sure hope so,’ Isom Friend put in. ‘Without the miners, the profits in town are goin’ to take a big hit.’
Cordis nodded in agreement and said, ‘Get all of your boys in town tonight. I want as much going on as possible so our new lawman will be required out on the street to keep an eye on things. He’ll present more of a target that way.’
Both men agreed to the request.
‘Just make sure your man don’t miss,’ Friend warned. ‘I got me a feelin’ that this feller will only take so much before he releases his own brand of hell upon the town.’
‘The town sure is jumpin’ tonight,’ Potts said, on entering the jail.
‘Yeah,’ Ford allowed. ‘Maybe a little too high.’
Ford had noticed the change just before sunset. Men had flooded into Serenity and things started to get loud from then on. Now, at around 9 o’clock, things were, as Potts had said, jumping.
Ford’s deputy caught the worried expression on his face and asked, ‘Are you worried that Cordis is up to somethin’?’
Ford nodded. ‘He’s up to somethin’, all right. Blowed if I know what, though.’
Potts walked over to the gun rack and took down two of the messenger guns. He handed one across to Ford and said, ‘Shall we go find out?’
‘It’s probably what he wants.’ Ford pointed out.
‘No one lives forever,’ Potts said dismissively.
‘I wouldn’t mind tryin’.’
The sound of gunshots filled the night.
‘Sounds like somebody cuttin’ loose,’ Potts said.
‘Yeah, c’mon then, let’s go.’
Outside, the noise was louder. It pervaded the cool night air and drifted all along Absaroka Street.
‘Where do you want to start?’ Potts asked.
‘We’ll stroll along this side and check things out,’ Ford told him. ‘After we reach the end we’ll come back and check out the back streets. Keep on your toes.’
As they passed each of the four saloons, Ford put his head inside to look around. Their rounds suffered a short interruption when they had to lock a drunk away. With that done, they continued their task.
From the shadows, their progress was being constantly tracked. The bushwhacker, Raven Morris, waited patiently for what he considered the right time, then cut loose from the cover of a darkened alley.
Ford felt the slug pass close to his face. A second gunshot came followed by a grunt from Potts as the bullet buried into his chest. Ford glanced sideways and saw Potts start to buckle at the knees.
‘Potts,’ he called out in alarm.
‘I’m OK,’ the deputy groaned and kept falling.
Another shot rang out and the window behind Ford shattered. He brought the messenger gun into action. It bucked hard in the deputy marshal’s hands, sending its deadly load scything into the shadows across the street. He cast it aside and drew his Peacemaker. Without thought for his own safety, Ford advanced out on to the street, a measured rate of fire for a few shots aimed at the bushwhacker’s position.
A slug burned the air as it whipped past, leaving behind the pungent smell of cordite, as it disappeared into the night. Ford fired his fifth shot as he moved forward, which forced the bushwhacker to break cover. He’d been hiding behind a water barrel that had begun to leak profusely.
The last shot from the Peacemaker cracked and the man staggered, went down on one knee, but got up to run again, this time with a pronounced limp.
While Ford was reloading the Colt, Eddie appeared. ‘What happened?’
‘We got bushwhacked,’ Ford told her without looking up. ‘Check on Potts.’
While she did, Ford picked up his messenger gun and stuffed the breech with fresh loads. There was movement at his side and Eddie spoke quietly. ‘He’s dead.’
Ford cursed under his breath.
‘I knew there was a reason for all of this noise,’ Ford told her. ‘Now I know why. It was to lure us out so that someone could take a shot at me.’
‘How do you know it was just you?’
‘It ain’t hard to work out.’
‘Where did he go?’
‘The Dead Dog,’ Ford told her. ‘I saw him go in through the doors. He’s bleedin’, though. I managed to put a slug in his leg. Pity it wasn’t his brain, it would have made my next job easier.’
‘Surely, you’re not. . . ?’ her voice trailed away, but concern showed on her face.
‘Someone has to,’ Ford said. ‘He killed a duly appointed lawman.’
‘Yes, but look where he is.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ he tried to sound convincing.
‘At least let me help,’ Eddie suggested.
He considered saying no but the simple fact was he needed her. ‘All right. I want you to stand outside the saloon with Potts’ messenger gun. You stop anyone from enterin’. The last thing I need is someone comin’ at me from behind with a six-gun and puttin’ a slug in my back.’
Eddie readily agreed and retrieved the dead deputy’s shotgun.
‘Now remember, whatever happens, don’t come in,’ Ford warned her. ‘If I get killed, then leave town. Find United States Marshal Bass Reeves and tell him what happened.’
Eddie hesitated before saying, ‘OK.’
‘Right, then let’s go and find ourselves a killer.’
They walked along Absaroka Street with shotguns loaded and ready. Once level with the saloon, Ford paused, then thumbed back both hammers and trod calmly towards the boardwalk. He stepped up on to the warped planks and hurried across to the doors, Eddie a short distance behind him ready to take up her post.
As he was about to push through, a man emerged from inside. Ford brought the butt of the gun up in a sharp arc under the man’s chin. A couple of his teeth shattered from the impact and he reeled backward into the saloon. Ford followed close behind and before anyone could react, he unloaded one of the messenger gun’s barrels into the ceiling.
‘Listen up!’ he shouted and waited for the raucous noise to abate. ‘A few minutes ago, a man limped in here. I say limped because I shot him.’
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
‘No one came in here,’ a large miner snapped. ‘Get outta here before you’re carried out.’
Ford approached the man and stopped in front of him. He was a full head taller than the deputy marshal but Ford didn’t let that intimidate him.
‘There’s a blood trail on the floor, friend. Are you still sayin’ that nobody came in here?’
‘Damn right.’
‘And if I tell you that this man just shot and killed my deputy?’
A brazen smile split the man’s face. ‘Too bad.’
The butt of the messenger gun travelled the short distance between them and slammed into the man’s gut with brutal force. He doubled over, gasping for breath, and Ford followed up by bringing the gun crashing down on the base of his skull, turning his lights out.
Ford looked up at the gathered crowd through the haze of the smoke-filled room. There was uncertainty on many faces but an element of defiance on others.
‘Like I was sayin’, I’m after a feller who came in here.’
‘No one came in here! Are you deaf or somethin’?’
Ford watched as the crowd parted and let Cordis and Sam Beck through.
‘So I keep gettin’ told,’ Ford responded. ‘But that blood trail on the floor there tells me different. It seems to go on over to the bar.’
‘Had a drunk rail worker in here earlier,’ Cordis explained. ‘Fell and cut himself on the glass he was carrying. Nasty wound.’
Ford glanced about the room and his attention was drawn to a man on the landing at the top of the stairs a Winchester in his hands. The position gave him a clear shot at Ford who assumed that the man would fire on Cordis’ say so.
Ford nodded, apparently accepting the explanation. Instead, he changed the shotgun to his left hand to free up his right. Then he pointed the weapon at the crowd in front of himself and said, ‘Move.’
No man, drunk or sober, wanted to argue with a loaded messenger gun. Some had already seen what it would do and knew that Ford wasn’t afraid to use it.
With cautious moves, they stepped back, clearing a path between Ford and the bar. He never moved. He called out, ‘I know you’re behind the bar. I can see the blood trail leadin’ straight to it!’
The bartender paled and darted out of the way.
A heavy silence hung in the air.
‘Come on out,’ Ford called again.
When nothing happened, Beck sneered, ‘Looks like you were mistaken, marshal. Ain’t nobody come in here, so how about you haul your freight back outside.’
Ford showed no annoyance at the smug look on Beck’s face. Then the deputy marshal did the last thing they expected.
He squeezed the trigger.
Chapter 9
Thunder from the messenger gun filled the room as flame and smoke belched from its cut-down barrel. Most of the buckshot charge shattered the long mirror that hung on the wall behind the bar, smashing bottles on the shelves in front of it.
Sharp shards of glass and wooden splinters rained down behind the bar bringing forth a yelp of fear and pain. The concealed man leaped up covered in glass and alcohol. He brought up his six-gun to fire at Ford, but the deputy marshal had his Peacemaker out and fired.
It bucked in his fist and the man spun around from the bullet strike. With a loud cry of pain, he fell to the floor. Ford swiveled at the hip and lifted the angle of his Peacemaker. The foresight settled on the gunman on the landing, who was in the process of sighting his rifle on Ford’s chest when the deputy marshal fired again.
