Finish the Western III: A Murder in the Gulch

[Baker]

Sheriff Zeke Clayton hadn’t heard words like that in a long time. Since coming to Anderson’s Gulch, he’d gained respect as the best and hardest working blacksmith for miles around. Folks out here had seemed to care more about the health of their stock, and good metalwork, than the fact that the smith himself was roughly the shade of worked bronze. Also, due to a rapidly receding hairline he’d kept what hair was left cut short.

And is spite of the secrecy surrounding his grandfather Anderson’s will, there had been inevitable leaks, and it was whispered that much of the money that had funded some of the civic works in the Gulch could have gone to fatten the bank account of the new sheriff. No one knew for* sure*, you understand, but it had made for a respect that someone else might not have had.

Beads of sweat popped out on his shiny foreheadand scalp, and he gave the bags Sam had tossed a savage kick or two. He leaned back into the doorway, “Dave, like I said, don’t touch anything. Anyone comes by, have 'em call for Silas and the doc, they both know more about dead folks than most. Let them take a look, see what they can make of this. I’ll be back”

Giving the Nichol’s bags another kick he took off after Tuttle and Sam. Without quite knowing why he did it, he shoved the tossed coins into a pant’s pocket.

[ivylass]

Caroline pulled up in front of the blacksmith. She’d had a conversation with Charley before she dropped him off at the sheriff’s, and she had one stop to make before going to the Hasting’s residence and helping with the laying out.

As she walked into the hot gloom of the blacksmith shed, her eyes adjusting, she could hear the clanging of the anvil. Then she heard a gasp, which was strange under the circumstances.

“Mrs. Bear—Miss Caroline,” Danny stuttered, dropping the horseshoe he was fixing. Luckily the hot metal fell into a bucket of water.

“Good morning, Danny,” Caroline said. “I wonder if you could do me a favor.”

Danny gulped, casting a quick eye around for Mr. Charley. “Certainly, ma’am.”

“I’ve had to leave Sally at home to tend with her brother and Miss Belle and her children. Do you think you could make a quick trip and help her with the stock, and then take a look at the Parkers’ animals?”

Danny stood frozen, his lips numb. He nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered.

Caroline frowned. “Danny, are you all right?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am! Right as rain! I’ll finish this shoe and let Mr. Zeke know I’m going to close up for a bit.”

“You’re a sweet boy, Danny. Why don’t you come to supper tonight so we can thank you?”

“Uh, um,” Danny began. “Well, you see–”

“I’ll make fried chicken,” Caroline smiled.

Danny, although an apprentice blacksmith and getting quite good at his career, was still a growing boy. And, as Caroline rightly knew, a growing boy would never turn down homemade fried chicken.

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Six o’clock?”

“That will be fine. If you stop by the Hastings after you close up here, I’ll drive us home.” She nodded and climbed back into the wagon, turning it smartly around and heading toward the Hastings. She noticed that crossbow woman, May something, walking very quickly toward the Sheriff’s, but she figured she’d better not stop.

Danny watched her leave, then went back to work, his stomach churning.

[Baker]

When May reached the sheriff’s office the only person there was the other Deputy McReynold’s. Al. He recognized May when she entered, and in spite of what had been going on his eyes brightened a bit. May was only a little older than he, a mature thirty or so, and had a solid figure that filled out in all the right places, with dark blonde hair and blue eyes.

“Deputy, uh, McReynolds is it? Can you tell me where I can find the sheriff?” I have to talk to him!"

“Ma’am, he’s gone to see about another, well, another murder.”

May was appalled. “This place sounds like it’s getting as wild as San Francisco” she blurted out. “How long do you figure he’ll be gone?”

“Hard to say, ma’am, you want to wait for him?”

“No, I’ll try to find him on my own.”

Not being familiar with the Gulch May took longer to follow the directions given her than she would have liked. She caught up to Zeke at an angle that let her just miss seeing Capt. Tuttle and Sam Nichols before they turned a corner.

“Sheriff Clayton, I’ve got to talk to you” May called as she picked up her pace to catch up with Zeke.

“Miss Fenno, can’t it wait?” rasped Zeke, as he hurried by. “We’ve had another killing, and I need to ask…”

“No it can’t wait” she riposted. “I’ve seen Prairie Dexter! He’s all for getting out of town right now. Seems to think there was a connection between this Hastings man I, um. shot, and an old acquaintance of mine, Sam Nichol’s. Sam’s a snake, and how he could be tangled up with a storekeeper I don’t know, doesn’t seem likely to me.” Here May stopped, as she realized she was running off at the mouth, and Zeke had stopped dead to stare at her.

“Who the hell is Sam Nichol’s, no, wait, don’t tell me. Tall, dresses like a sport, and has a limp?”

“Sounds like the same old Sam” May said, now bewildered, “but how did you know all that?”

Zeke took off again. " 'Cause I just met him." He fingered the coins in his pocket and frowned again. “Fill me in as we go. but stay back when we catch up. Say, why’s a dude like that have such a gimp leg?”

“I don’t suppose you remember me saying I haven’t missed a shot in nine years?”

[Baker]

Dave McReynolds got ready to shoo off more “sight-seers”. Once he’d snagged a passerby to get the help Zeke had asked for, news of the most recent death had brought out curiosity seekers who “just happened” to be walking past Goldstone’s store.

“Get back, you can’t come in here, oh, it’s you, Silas.” Silas Jenkins, undertaker in the Gulch since it’s founding, entered with a properly grave expression. He’d only recently come from finalizing details of the Hasting’s funeral, which would take place the day after tomorrow.

“I had the word about Mr. Goldstone” he said. “Does Sheriff Clayton wish for me to handle the arrangements?”

“What he told me was that he wanted you and Dr. McCaulley to look at the body, and see what you could.” Dave paused in embarrassment, “said you and the doc had seen more death than most folks.” Silas started to frown at that, but before he could speak again Dr. McCaulley also entered.

“Dang, I’m getting too old for all this” said the white-haired doctor. “What does Zeke think I can do for a dead man?” and Dave repeated what he’d told Silas Jenkins.

The two men bent down to look at the body. Goldstone lay mostly on his back, slightly twisted to his left side, behind the counter. The pool of blood from his chest wound had begun drying, and rigor mortis had set in. Silas carefully pushed back an eyelid to look at the cornea, and McCaulley, with help from Dave, lifted the body up and peeled the shirt up, noting the lividity. The two “experts” straightened up and spoke in low tones, finally turning back to Dave.

“Can’t say exactly when he died, but judging by the signs he’s been dead at least three hours, could be a few hours longer, but not more than a day.”

Dave spoke up now. “That fits all right. I came by here after Hastings was killed, and the clerks were stocking up that big freight delivery. So he had to have come back afterwards, but nobody saw him.”

Silas Jenkins had a thoughtful look. “So who found him?”

“Well, when Alan Walker and Ricky Elkins, them’s the clerks, came by to see if Sam had shown up, and wanted them to open, they say Goldstone was just like this. That’s when Capt. Tuttle walked in, looking for Goldstone he said.” Here Dave had to explain about what he’d heard and seen with Tuttle, Zeke, and Sam Nichols. “Seems Tuttle just sort of took charge and sent them off.”

Doc took another look at the crossbow bolt. “Hmm, Silas, what do you think? Angle like that, looks like he was stabbed with it, not shot, would you say” Silas shrugged. “As long as it hasn’t been jiggled around much, maybe. Well, we can’t leave him here, you want me to take care of him?” he glanced at Dave.

The deputy told him “Sure, might as well. I’ll tell Zeke about it when I see him. Another customer huh?” with a wink. Silas just stared at Dave, who flushed and turned his own gaze away.

[ivylass]

Sally jumped as someone rapped on the door. Belle and George were sleeping, and Tessie and Mose were playing with some rag dolls on the floor, safely away from the hot stove.

She glanced at them to make sure they weren’t getting too close to the oven, and opened the door. “Danny!” she cried.

“Your ma asked me to stop by and do some chores for you and the Parkers,” Danny said, shuffling his feet and staring at the ground.

Sally looked at him, biting her lip. “Well, I’ve fed the chickens and milked the cow, but I haven’t had a chance to weed the garden yet. Why don’t you head over to the Parkers first. Our garden can wait, but their cow can’t.”

Danny nodded. “How do I get to the Parkers?”

Sally gave him quick directions, her heart pounding. Suddenly, in the daylight, she felt very shy around Danny.

Danny glanced up. “Your ma also asked me for supper tonight. What did you tell her?” he asked, suddenly angry.

“Nothing!” Sally cried, indignant. “Uncle Mose had a talk with me after you left, but I haven’t told my folks anything.”

“Oh? What did he say?” Danny asked, scornfully.

Sally straightened her shoulders. “That I should ask myself why a boy would care so little for me and my reputation that he would ask to meet me in a barn instead of on my porch.”

To his credit, Danny blushed. Without another word he headed off toward the Parkers.

[Baker]

Danny had hoofed it out of town on his own two feet, without waiting for the ride Caroline would have given him. That might have meant riding with Charley. Not that he was afraid of Sally’s dad, you understand, just…wary.

By the time he arrived at the Parker’s the two milk cows were full to bursting, so he took care of them first. Danny mucked out the horse stalls and fed all the animals, giving Belle’s Diablo a wide berth when the stallion was hostile at the approach of a stranger. Belle’s small garden looked dry so he pumped some water to pour over some of the more drooping plants, but otherwise did nothing else there.

While working Danny had time to think about Sally, life, Sally, his job, Sally. He really liked her but her pa seemed so, well, intimidating. Danny had told Sally the secret about his own parents, and she hadn’t seemed put off at all. But what would the parents, especially the father of a nice girl like Sally think? She was smart, getting prettier by the day, and didn’t look down her nose at a fellow who did the rough kind of work Danny had chosen.

Danny figured it was getting on towards being time to going back to the Charging Bear spread, but thought he’d better wash up first and at least brush his clothes off. He’d forgotten he might need a clean shirt or something. Lost in thought he headed out of the barn but halted when he heard the sound of several horses being ridden up. In case whoever it was was suspicious of why he was alone here Danny moved quietly to the doors and peeked out where they were cracked open.

Danny knew Jesse Parker by sight, although not personally, but what was he doing on a horse, his hands tied up, led by another? In his own place no less. Damn, he looked beat up too, and mad as hell. The rest of the riders were strangers to Danny, but, wait a minute. That little guy. Hadn’t he been in that show that had come to town? Danny had watched from the standing area, not wanting to spend a hard earned quarter for a seat.

The other riders seemed in too much of a hurry to notice the Parker’s place must have been cared for in their absence. Two kept guns on Jesse as he was shoved off his limping horse. One rider leaned down to cut the rope binding his wrists.

“C’mon JB,” one hollered. “We don’t have all day! McTavish’s posse can’t be too far out, even if we came cross country!”

“Shut your piehole” was the laughing response. “I want this bastard to hear me out!”

Jesse took a wary step backwards, rubbing his wrists and wondering why he’d been brough here of all places. “Starling, I can’t imagine anything I’d rather here less than you!” he snarled.

JB drew his horse around, getting ready to follow the others. " I just wanted him to know that I’m so* sorry* I had to leave my fellow jail-breaker behind when his horse went lame. And I’m sorry he was so stupid to want to head for the first place a posse would look, or that I’d “forget” an escape planning note letting the law know I’d head here. Starling touched a spur to his horse. "Goodbye sucker! Maybe I’ll look in on your widow later! After all, McTavish is going to have a pretty itchy trigger finger for the guy who shot his deputy!

Before Jesse could choke out a reply the others had ridden away. Danny figured he could show himself now and shoved on the barn door to open it. Hearing the doors creak behind him Jesse whirled around. “Who the hell are you?” he barked, as he saw the young man.

[ivylass]

Dex was eating scrambled eggs and coffee at the Phoenix. He badly wanted a whiskey, but the Phoenix had a strict policy of no liquor before noon.

He was furious at May. He could hardly move onto Solace without his star act, and so he was stuck in this town, scared to death and unable to do anything about it.

As he lifted his hand to get a refill on his coffee, his jaw dropped. Who should limp in but Sam Nichols and an army captain. Dex began to shake. He had nowhere to run.

Nichols banged his fist on the bar. “Two bourbons, and right quick!”

The bartender, a huge man whose stature gave a false impression of slack fat instead of pure muscle, merely raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, gents, we don’t serve liquor before noon. Can I get you a cup of coffee instead?”

“I don’t think you heard me, son,” Nichols snarled. “I said bourbon. Now.”

“You’ll get no liquor before noon,” a voice said quietly. Ian McLeod emerged from the back room, a pot of fresh coffee in his hand. “You can either come back at noon or have something to eat.” Then, to Dex’s dismay, he topped off his coffee cup.

Nichols’ eyes widened as he saw who Ian was serving, then a slow, evil grin spread over his mouth. “Reckon we’ll have something to eat after all,” he said, sliding into the seat next to Dex. Tuttle sat on the other side, laying his Army pistol on the table next to Dex’s plate.

[Baker]

Danny held up his hands in a defensive manner. “Uh, Dawson, sir, Mr. Parker. Danny Dawson.”

Jesse rubbed his wrists where they’d been chafed by ropes, and looked around for any sign of the posse that must be coming from Solace. “What were you doing in my barn Danny?”

“Well, Mr. Parker, Mrs. Charging Bear, Sally’s mother, she asked me to help look after the place.”

“Do you know, did my wife get to their place yesterday?”

“Mrs. Parker? Uh, yessir, Sally told me about coming here, so I guess she was there. Didn’t see her though.” Jesse blew out a sigh of relief.

“Mr. Parker, I saw what was going on, are you in trouble?”

“I sure am Danny. Damn! Those bastards took my Goliath with them, if I had a better horse I could stay ahead of the posse from Solace and get into the Gulch, get things straightened out.” Here he halted, and his eyes narrowed, looking south. “Hoo-boy, I think I’m in deeper trouble right now.”

Danny shaded his eyes and looked. “Looks like five riders” “You have sharp eyes, son. Shoot! Maybe I can talk my way out of this.”

“Mr. Parker! If you want to hide for now, I have an idea. C’mon!” and he urged Jesse towards the house. The older man hesitated only a second, then ran after him. “Tell me what you have in mind” he called.

Not too long later a flinty-faced Sheriff MacTavish and his four riders thundered off the road up to the Parker’s spread. A door to the house was propped open, a big trunk on the porch, and the barn door was wide open as well, with a wagon standing under it. As the posse pulled up Danny led out two horses, preparing to hitch them up.

“You, kid! Who are you? You belong here?” said MacTavish.

A slow-witted yokel looked out of Danny’s eyes. “Uh, well, they told me to come and…”

MacTavish looked towards the house. “You trying to steal stuff?”

“No sir!”

“You seen anyone come in here lately?”

“Well, um, some guys came here a while back, but they didn’t stay…” Danny was interrupted by a shout from one of the posse. “Sheriff, looked here!”

MacTavish spurred his horse over, and saw where the rider was pointing. To a tracker it was obvious that several horses had been there recently, heading in from out country, then taking off at a different angle. Sheriff MacTavish whirled around, back to Danny. “Tell me about who you saw!”

The obviously dim young man stumbled his way through a description of some “bad guys”, as he continued to harness the horses, and the other searched the barn and grounds. MacTavish gave up in disgust as the young idiot tried to remember just how many riders had come in. He didn’t care if he was trying to loot a murderer’s place.

“We’re leaving!” he hollered to to others. “Mount up!” and the posse rode off. Danny continued his “act” for some time, in case the law returned, but after the wagon was fully hitched, and he’d loaded some household gear in it, he walked out of the house and rapped on the trunk. The top popped open and Jesse groaned as he unfolded his frame out of the cramped space.

“Danny, I have to admit, I never would have thought it’d work. I heard them walk right by me! Dang, this trunk wasn’t even locked. How’d you get the idea.”

The young blacksmith’s brow furrowed with a bit of resentment. “Folks think I don’t know anything since I haven’t had much schooling. But that doesn’t mean I can’t read you know! I do a lot of reading, Zeke gets me books. I got this idea from a story where some folks hid a letter in plain sight.”

“You read Poe?” Jesse’s face couldn’t conceal his surprise, bringing a scowl from Danny. “Well, Danny, all I can say is I’m sure glad you do read! And I’ll get you more reading later, when we get into the Gulch. At least this time I can hide under the blankets, not this trunk.”

“Mr. Parker, they’re expecting me back to the Charging Bear place, Sally’s ma asked me to dinner…” Jesse caught the note of yearning in Danny’s voice, and the way he said Sally “Well, maybe that would be better after all. That’s heading north, back towards Solace, probably the last thing anyone would expect. That’s where we’ll go then.” He slapped Danny on the back. “Kid, you sure can pick a way to impress a girl!”

[ivylass]

Dex shifted in his seat. He stared straight at Nichols. “When did you get into town?”

“Not too long ago,” Nichols drawled. He leaned back and lit a cheroot. “Never thought I’d see you again. You’ve done a fair job of keeping one step ahead of me. Are you afraid I’ll call in more of your debt?”

“I did what you wanted,” Dex said. “I gave May a job like you asked me to!”

Nichols laughed. “You think that begins to cover what you owe me? Dex, my boy, I could own your third-rate show if I wanted to mess with such a thing. But that’s neither here nor there,” Nichols said. He leaned over and blew smoke in Dex’s face. “Where is she?”

“Right here, Sam,” said a voice behind him. Nichols whirled to see his lovely sweet May standing between the batwing doors of the saloon, with that darky field hand just behind her.

“Where’d you put my bags, boy?” Nichols asked as insultingly as he could. May took two steps into the saloon, holding a pistol in her hand.

“Never mind him,” she said. “Let’s dance, you and I. I’m done with running scared.”

[Baker]

Zeke stepped past May, pushing her hand down, and giving her a hard look. “Miss Fenno, I’ll have no vigilante action while I’m in charge here.” May gave him a hard look back, but conceded his authority.

Nichols eyes widened as he finally noticed the star on Sheriff Clayton’s chest. “Damn” he sneered “the sheriff is a ni…Oof!” Sam saw stars. He hadn’t seen Ian McLeod materialize soundlessly beside him.

Ian rubbed his fist as Sam rubbed his swelling, bleeding nose. “I don’t believe you two gentleman are welcome here any more. Don’t worry, your breakfast is on the house. Now get out!” Tuttle and Nichols rose to go, but before Prairie Dexter could scuttle off on his own, May put her hand out and looked him straight in the eyes. “I’ll be seeing you too Dex.” He groaned again. Why did life have to be so complicated?

"Capt. Tuttle, " and here Zeke put out his own hand to halt the military man. "Tell me, why were you at Goldstone’s? "

“If it’s any business of yours, Sheriff, I’d been sent there by my aunt. My first time in this fair town, as I’m resigning my commission to help her run the ranch she lives on.”

Zeke and Ian both looked blank for a couple of seconds, then Zeke caught on. “Tuttle. You’re Martha’s nephew?”

“That’s right, Mrs. Martha Tuttle Anderson. She says since her husband Will Anderson had that stroke, she needs help working the place. Now, if you’ll let me pass, I’m going with my friend Nicky.” And with that he took Sam by the elbow and began to walk out of the Phoenix.

But Zeke decided this newcomer needed a little enlightenment. “Well, Capt. Tutlle, or will it be Mr. Tuttle now, maybe you should choose your friends more wisely.”

“What’s that supposed to mean. bo…Sheriff?”

“Just thought we relations should stick together.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Guess my great-aunt didn’t tell you.” Zeke gave a nasty little laugh. “Will’s my grandfather’s brother.” He chuckled some more at the appalled look on Tuttle’s face.

[AncientHumanoid]

The bright morning sun hurt Nichol’s face as he tilted his head back, desperately trying to keep the blood from his nose from spotting his suit. Leaning back against a hitching post for support, he daubbed at his nose with a silk hanky.

Satisfied that his nose was merely bloodied and not broken, he decided to see about getting a hotel room on his own. Looking around the main street for a sign, he saw one that actually made hsi mood change for the better. “Saddles, Gunsmith, and Bank.”

“What a wonderful little town after all,” he muttered to himself and made his way over to the multi purpose building. Right next door to it, he passed a hand lettered sign nailed to a post of the porch saying, “Rooms to let, shower, laundry” written out in child like block letters.

Opening the door of the gunsmith/bank building rang a little bell. As he limped over to the gun counter, the floor boards craeked loudly, making Sam grimace with the sound of his imperfect gait. “No sneaking around this place,” he thought to himself as he glanced over to the iron bars seperating the bank from the rest of the building.

[Baker]

Tuttle, who had accompanied Nichols out of the Phoenix, had noticed his surveillance. “Nicky ol’ sport,” he said in a low tone, “I think you can do better than this. That place next door? I saw a good hotel on my way into town, called the Silverlode.”

“Oh I know that” said Nichols, out of the corner of his mouth, “but a more private room might be useful for a lot of reasons. We’ve got some planning to do, you and I, don’t you think? I know you, you’ll have some schemes going, and I have my own scores to settle. Come and see me after you get settled in at that ranch you talked about, we’ll talk.” Tuttle gave a nod and took off.

Sam Nichols could play at being charming and personable when it was needful. A middle aged, graying man stepped out of the back to greet him, and Sam greeted him warmly. “Good day friend, I’m new here in town and saw your establishment. I wondered if I could ask a few questions.”

[ivylass]

Belle was playing with Tessie on the porch. George was gurgling on a blanket laid on the floor next to her. Sally was giving Little Mose a bath, as the little wretch would insist on playing in the mud next to the pump. Tessie, by some miracle, had managed to avoid that particular adventure with her bosom buddy.

As Belle jogged Tessie up and down on her knee, enjoying the little girl’s giggles, she felt a sense of peace and contentment steal over her. The last several months had been like a long nightmare. She didn’t know if it was Mose’s tonic or her good long cry, but she felt more energetic than she had in weeks.

Suddenly Tessie squirmed away from her and went wobbling down the steps toward the yard, “Daddy!” she screamed, running as fast as her plump little legs could carry her. Belle looked up, startled, and smiled in complete joy as she saw Jesse and that blacksmith boy, Daniel something, come up the walk. She snatched up George and followed Tessie to meet the man of the house.

[Skywatcher]

Tuttle was on his way to the Triple-A when he heard a voice calling him. “Ho there, Captain!” He turned to see a stocky, one-eyed man standing between the batwing doors of a saloon called the Tumbleweed. “You look parched! Why don’t you come in for a drink?”

Tuttle paused, thought for a moment, and turned. “An excellent idea, friend.” As Tuttle approched, he a spark of recognition washed over his face. “Colonel Poole?”

Hank let out a chuckle. “Mister Poole now, and I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Shoot, everyone in Laramie knows you, Poole! And you you lost that eye.” Tuttle paused again. “You’re serious about that drink? The other place wouldn’t serve any whiskey before noon.”

“Anyone in uniform is welcome to drink here, as long as they don’t get too carried away. First one’s on the house.”

[Baker]

Dinner that evening at the Charging Bear ranch was a happy occasion, even with the tension surrounding the accusations against Jesse. Charley had returned from his own business in town and let Jesse know that Zeke was aware of what was going on.

“We’ll be going back to town tomorrow anyway, for Hasting’s funeral” Charley told him. We’ll take you in with us, best you stay here tonight, as no telling who all will be looking for you between here and your place. Danny, could you set off before the rest of us, for the Parkers, and do for their stock again? We’ll stop by and pick you up in our wagon." Danny just nodded his assent, without speaking. It seemed a safe way to please Sally’s father.

Belle was sitting close to Jesse, looking more alive than he’d seen in a while. They were holding hands under the table too.

But Belle Parker wasn’t the only radiant face at table. Sally’s eyes shone as Jesse related how Danny had had the unorthodox idea of how to hide him. “Dan” he said, with a quick mind like that you could end up doing anything, be a teacher, a lawyer, or run your own business."

Danny ducked his head in embarrassment, trying to shrug off the praise. He always felt so awkward in social situations like this. “Only business I want is to be a blacksmith” he said. “I like the reading and all, but the smithin’ is better. It’s , well, it’s fun. I like working with my hands, and trying fancy work though. I made a flower once, out of copper.” For Danny this was a long speech.

“Oh Danny, you never said you made stuff like that!” gushed Sally. “Or about the books either! The times we talked you told me about coming to the Gulch, and how Zeke was teaching you the smith work , and” Here Sally suddenly shut her mouth, after seeing the ghost of an amused crinkle in Mose Doubletree’s eye. Caroline caught the look, and suddenly guessed why Sally, on her last few visits with her into town, in spring and summer, had always seemed to take a little longer with her errands than expected. *Hmm, he seems like a good boy. Best keep an eye on them both to make sure it *stays *that way" * she thought.

Folks started getting ready for bed as soon as supper had been cleared up, and the dishes washed. Arrangements were crowded, and Danny and Mose had to doss down on cots in the kitchen, but it wasn’t all that long before the house was quiet.

---

The simple room Sam Nichols had arranged for was not of the luxurious quality he preferred. But there were compensations. The sour looking old woman who had rented it asked few questions beyond whether he could pay on time, and the gold coin he’d handed her had assured him of the back room, the one that had it’s own door and key. The bank had proved to be not much more than a front for a pawning operation, but the clerk had been happy to oblige Sam with answers to a lot of questions about the going’s on in Anderson’s Gulch, and he had hinted he had a few shadier customers who could come in “handy” during rough dealings. As he lay back in the narrow bed, he wondered what Tuttle’s angle was. Running the ranch, sure, but what else? Tuttle was an amoral cuss, willing to do most anything to get what he wanted. “Oh well”, he thought, as he drifted into sleep “Ill lend him a hand in his business, and he can help me take care of May.” What Sam Nichols didn’t know is that Tuttle had already touched the life of May Fenno, although the two had never met.

[ivylass]

Hank slipped out of the Tumbleweed, leaving a snoozing Tuttle snoring with his head on the table and a half-empty glass of whiskey in his slack hand. For an army captain, Tuttle couldn’t hold his liquor very well.

Hank hurried toward the Triple A. He thought he’d better let Martha Tuttle know her nephew was back in town.

She would not be happy.

[Baker]

I normally would post an item like this in the control thread, but I just wanted to figure something out. Wasn’t Martha the one who sent for Tuttle in the first place? I assumed after the second story that Will married Martha, to help hold onto her share of the AAA, then he had the stroke I mentioned and that’s why she sent for her sister’s boy. Of course maybe she will be unhappy because he’s a drinker.

[ivylass]

Baker, check the control thread. I think I found a way out of this little difficulty. As I will demonstrate…

---

“Lawsy, knock off that racket!” Martha exclaimed, pulling a wrapper over her nightgown. She was just about to climb into bed when a horrendous rapping came at the front door of the Triple A.

She grabbed her shotgun and stood with her hand on the doorknob. “Who’s raising all kind of hell at this ungodly hour?”

“It’s Hank Poole, Martha,” came a voice. Gasping, Martha quickly opened the door.

“Heavens to Betsy, Hank, you scared the daylights out of me,” the motherly housekeeper-turned-chatelaine of the Triple A cried. “Come in. What brings you out here so late?”

Hank stepped inside, hat in hand. “I can’t stay long. I just wanted you to know that Alfred is in town.”

“Alfred? Why is he here?”

“He said you sent for him, to help out after Will’s stroke.”

Martha shook her head slowly. “Nooo, I mailed a letter to Marcus. Why would Alfred show up instead? He knows how I feel about him.”

Hank shrugged. “Don’t know, ma’am. I just thought you should be warned that the nephew you didn’t expect is here. Good night, Martha.”

Martha closed the door behind him, puzzled. Why wouldn’t Marcus come? Why did Alfred come? Did he somehow intercept Marcus’s letter?

“Well, forewarned is forearmed,” Martha said to herself, as she turned back to bed.

[Baker]

"What the hell?’’ thought Alfred Tuttle, “*is it an earthquake *here?” Then the pain in his head woke him, and he felt the hand that was shaking his shoulder.

“Hey buster,” said Tommy, “you’ve got to clear out. The Tumbleweed isn’t a hotel room. You got to go sleep it off somewhere else.”

Tuttle ran his tongue along gummy teeth. His mouth tasted like the bottom of a birdcage. How long had he been passed out here? Getting to his feet he cursed under his breath as he caught sight of himself in the mirror behind the bar. He was another one who took pride in his appearance. Glancing to the windows he saw it was dark outside. “Damn that Poole.” he muttered, as he began to walk to the door, feeling to be sure his wallet was still in place.

“Barkeep, where did Col. Poole go?” he rasped

“Hank? He took off an hour ago, said to let you stay just a while.”

When Tuttle had arrived in the Gulch he’d first arranged a room at the first decent hotel he’d seen, the Silverlode. Now he traced his way back, and made his way upstairs to one of the better rooms. Moving carefully to the lamp, in the darkened room, he halted in his tracks at the sound of an accented voice, speaking quietly. “Boss, we got problems” the shadowy figure whispered.

Tuttle jumped and hissed back, as he turned up the lamp. “Jeezus Yuri, don’t keep doing that! So what are you talking about?”

“We dropped the guy off like we was told, but I seen the Solace sheriff later, riding back to his place. He just had the posse with him. Starling took off, I don’t know where. What you want us to do now?”

The former officer sat down heavily on the bed, and started unbuttoning his rumpled uniform coat. “Shoot. Got to think about that. Listen, tomorrow I have to go out and try to make nice with my dear aunt Martha. That’ not going to be easy, I think word of my arrival may have gone on ahead. But with the papers Marcus was so kind enough to sign, I can play hard if I have to. She’s just an old lady, how tough can she be? I’ll see you day after tomorrow, just find me and we’ll talk then. And ask around, find a guy named Sam Nichols and tell him I want to see him again then too.”

“Sure thing, you’re the boss.”

“That I am, and don’t you forget it” Yuri left and Tuttle fell back on the bed, asleep again almost instantly.

---

Silas Jenkins was up and out early the next morning. It was the day of the Hastings funeral, and Silas took pride in having arrangments just so. The funeral itself wouldn’t start until noon, to allow folks from outlying places time to arrive. Humming to himself he began to polish off the shiny funeral cart.

---

Silas wasn’t the only early riser. Sheriff Zeke Clayton was out just past dawn. He’d brewed his own coffee, using it to chase some cold cornbread. Zeke figured on getting a proper breakfast later, but he had a lot to do before attending the funeral. He’d not been close with Hastings, but figured he could circulate and keep his eyes and ears open. He might learn something. But he still had some other calls to make, and wanted to telegraph MacTavish in Solace, to start straightening things out there. God, he hoped Parker was okay.

[Skywatcher]

The 5’5" Yuri Shostakovich had left his fellow acrobats of the Moscow Circus to seek fame and fortune in the United States. So far, he had yet to find either. He didn’t particularly like the way of life he had fallen into but it kept him fed and Prairie Dexter’s troupe gave him a venue in which to ply his trade.