The Major maintained a working office in town. It was in the Culhane Real Estate building, that stood some way along the main street from the jail. From where he was seated behind his desk Magnus Culhane was able to watch the activity on the street. Right now, his gaze fixed on the law office, Culhane had a worried expression on his face. His brief visit with the Texan McCall, had left him with more questions than answers. Culhane didn’t like being in the dark. He was hard but an honest man and believed he treated people fairly. He prided himself on being able to recognize a man’s true worth from what he heard from that person’s mouth – and Jess McCall didn’t strike him as being untruthful, or deceitful.
The problem there then was if McCall was telling the truth, someone else had to be lying. Perry, backed up by Flag and Meers, had presented him with their side of the story. Initially Culhane had taken his son’s word, but after his talk with McCall an edge of doubt had begun to creep in. The man had offered a straight set of answers. There was no denying that.
There was a reluctance to accept Perry might be lying. The problem was Culhane’s son had done it before. And The Major knew he had allowed it to happen. Covering for the boy was something he had come to accept. He was Perry’s father and no matter how he looked on his son’s behavior he felt obliged to protect him. It was, he understood, a requirement of being a parent. Only this time, if it came out that Perry was involved in an actual death, then even Culhane would have to step back and shoulder the responsibility.
He reached for the open bottle of whisky on his desk. The thick glass tumbler held traces of his earlier drink. Culhane topped up the glass. Raised it to his lips and drank. The whisky was a fine blend and went down smoothly. He normally enjoyed the sensation. Today was different. The liquor gave him little pleasure.
It came into Culhane’s mind that despite the trappings of success surrounding him, the ranch and his other enterprises, his life had lost much of its purpose. Since the death of his beloved wife there had been an emptiness he could not fill. He had thrown himself into his business empire, devoting himself to making it his world. In that he had succeeded and his plans for increasing his wealth filled his days. Yet Magnus Culhane was missing the most important thing to make his existence complete.
Family. The lynchpin to hold everything together. In that respect Culhane admitted he had failed since his wife died.
Perry, his son, who should have been the one factor to make sense of all Magnus Culhane worked for. The young man was selfish. He thought of no one but himself. He traded on his father’s feelings. Used his influence to get what he wanted. Few of the Boxed-C crew had any respect for him. Though Perry was supposedly part of the work force he spent as little time as possible doing anything productive. The foreman, Cole Landers, had long ago realized Perry’s disinterest in the day-to-day workings of the spread. He made sure he stayed away from Perry as often as he could. His respect for The Major made him hold his tongue. And Perry knew that too. Strutting around the ranch and making everyone understand who he was.
It was a relief to them all when Perry stayed away. Living in town and spending his days at The Golden Deuce saloon, always accompanied by his two friends, Buck Meers and Ty Flag. The three of them hung around together. Drinking. Gambling. Pestering the women who worked in the town’s saloons.
The working girls, who made their living by offering their favors to anyone who paid the going price, were reluctant to associate with the trio. Risk was part of their trade, but there were limits, and Perry and company could be relied on to go over those limits. Once they got a few drinks inside them the three became abusive. Sometimes violent. And more than one of the girls suffered at their hands on occasions. Perry himself had a vicious streak and he seemed to enjoy hurting the girls. They didn’t like it but there was little they could do. Sex and violence together brought their own problems. If a girl was mistreated it was accepted as part of the business.
Perry Culhane always bought himself out of trouble. And if he was unable to manage his father would cover for him. Culhane influence and Culhane money carried a great deal of weight. That plus Culhane’s lawyer, always there when needed, managed to keep Perry free from any real punishment.
The Major, while carrying the guilt for his son, always came through. In the aftermath Perry would be contrite, promising to stay out of trouble. Which he would do – until the next incident.
His father, aware he had to keep trying, would breathe a sigh of relief when Perry decided to ride to town, Meers and Flag with him. They had a similar mark on them when it came to doing what they were paid for. As part of the spread’s crew their actual work came to very little productively and Perry always covered for them. The Major had decided it was less of a problem if he turned a blind eye, telling himself they were at least companions for his wayward son. Not the men he would have chosen but Perry seemed to favor their company. It meant Perry was not on his own.
Culhane always made sure Perry had money in his pocket. That way he was hoping to ensure Perry had no need to find any other means to fund his reckless lifestyle. Secretly he was disappointed, almost shamed by the young man’s wasted life. He knew his late wife would have wanted him to ensure their son was treated fairly. So he gave Perry the money, knowing he was not dealing with the matter correctly. He saw it as a way of buying himself some release from the guilt he carried. He wasn’t buying happiness, simply putting off admitting his failure.
Culhane knew the people in town were dissatisfied with Perry’s behavior. They accepted it under sufferance. The Culhane name was paramount. The Major was a big investor. He supported the town, surely owned much of it, and was more or less its keeper. It was another source of embarrassment to Culhane that Perry often used his father’s name to get what he wanted in town. The sadness was in the fact the majority of townspeople sympathized with him. Understood how the younger man traded on his father’s reputation. That understanding did little to cancel the resentment.
The day-to-day business of running his ranch and the enterprises in town, kept Magnus Culhane occupied. He immersed himself in it. Using the operations to fill his mind. Letting them blot out the problems with his errant son. At the back of his mind, always there, was the dread that one day Perry would go too far. The father could cover for the son, but only up to a point.
If Perry took one step too far his father’s influence and money might not be able to rescue him. Culhane was starting to consider that day might be closer than he wanted to imagine.
He heard a knock on his door and called out. The door opened and Ira Begley stood there, hat in hand.
‘What is it, Begley? Freight business can’t wait? I have other things on my mind right now. Just don’t need any of your piddling nonsense.’
Begley bobbed his head. Managed an ingratiating smile.
‘I was passing on my way home, sir. Wondered if there was anything I could do.’
Begley balanced the books down at the freight office. Looked after the financial side of the business. Culhane couldn’t fault the man’s work. He just didn’t like the man. His fawning attitude grated on Culhane’s nerves. The manner in which he portrayed himself as somehow higher up the ladder than he really was.
‘Thank you for your concern, Begley. I have everything under control. Now, if you will excuse me.’
~*~
Ira Begley made his way up the street, face still flushed with embarrassment. Damn the man. Dismissing him out of hand when he had been ready to help. First being sent packing from the jail, now Culhane. He felt slighted. Pushed aside when he held out the hand of…he saw the lights of The Golden Deuce. Shining against the coming dusk. He thought of his lonely room in the lodgings he used. Maybe a drink – a couple of drinks – would help.
He pushed in through the batwing doors and took in the sights and sounds. Although it was not yet evening as such the place was half empty. Only the long bar held a number of customers. Begley crossed to the long bar and found himself an empty space. He asked for a beer and a whisky chaser. When they came he paid and picked up his drinks, found an empty table and sat down. Behind him a mechanical piano was banging out sound. If he stayed long enough he would hear the same tunes over and over. Right now he didn’t mind. The noise helped him drown out the voices of rejection.
‘Hey, lookit who I found. Damn me, it’s Deputy Begley. The man who captured our big bad man.’
Begley looked up and saw Perry Culhane standing grinning at him. Buck Meers was just behind him and the scorched face of Ty Flag hovered close.
‘Mind if we join you?’ Perry said.
‘No,’ Begley said eagerly. He liked the attention.
The three pulled in chairs and crowded the table. They had a bottle with them. Perry topped up glasses.
‘Hell of a day,’ Meers said.
‘You really think so?’ Begley said, a sullen tone creeping into his voice.
Perry leaned forward. ‘This a celebration, or a wake, Ira?’
‘What am I supposed to think. Teague has that Texan sitting around the jail like he’s an innocent man. Your father more or less just sent me packing when I offered my help. Be truthful it’s been dogshit day.’
‘Saw the lawdog riding out of town a while back,’ Flag said. ‘You think he’s gone looking for the feller that Texan killed?’
Perry threw him a hard scowl. ‘Damned of I know.’
Flag winced as a jolt of pain burned his shoulder. He downed the whisky in his tumbler.
‘Way I see it we’d be doing this town a favor if we took that hombre out of jail and strung him up. Right now he’s sitting pretty back there. Probably laughing at us.’
He had already had a fair amount of whisky as he attempted to dull the pain of his shoulder. It wasn’t working as it should. Simply making Flag more aggressive,
‘God-damn-it,’ he said loudly, rising out of his seat. ‘I’m for going down there and busting that Texan out if his cell. Show him he can’t make fools out of us. ‘You boys seen what that yahoo done to me. I say we drag him out and give him a Culhane welcome.’
There was a ragged chorus of assenting voices from the bar.
‘Ty, sit down and shut your damn mouth,’ Perry said. ‘You trying to work up a lynching party?’
‘Wouldn’t be a bad idea,’ Meers said. ‘Cure our problem with Sturdevant…’
He realized what he’d said the moment he spoke. Out the corner of his eyes he saw Begley’s wide eyed stare and saw that the man was making a calculated guess.
Perry glanced in the direction of the bar. No one had heard. The men lined up there had only one thing on their minds – the next drink.
Perry tipped the whisky bottle and filling up Begley’s glass again.
‘Don’t pay Meers no mind there, Ira. I guess we’re all getting a little strung out here. Buck’s just worried we might be forgetting we need to let the marshal handle this. Right, Buck?’
Meers swallowed his own drink. ‘Yeah. I mean this is enough to shake any man’s nerves. Seein’ that burned feller and then taking on that roughneck Texan an’ all.’
Ira Begley downed his drink. He pushed his chair back and turned from the table.
‘Going already?’ Perry said.
‘I’m not much of a drinker. You know that. Better I get some food down me.’
He walked out of the saloon without another word.
‘Loose mouth is what you got,’ Perry said to Meers. ‘You said enough to make Begley start to think.’
‘He’ll have forgotten by the time he has his meal,’ Meers insisted, thought even he wasn’t convinced.
‘If he starts spreading the word,’ Flag said. ‘Jesus, Perry, the goddamn marshal is convinced that McCall feller didn’t do it. He ain’t even arrested him. This comes out we’ll swing for it.’
Perry tossed down another whisky, his mind racing with possibilities. Trying to come up with something – anything that might give them a way out.
‘Ease off, fellers. Teague is out of town. McCall is in the jail. Gives us a chance to make sure Begley don’t decide to get talkative.’
‘What you aiming to do?’ Meers said. ‘Gun him down in the street?’
‘I’d do that if I thought I could get away with it. We find him and do it quiet like.’
‘Wait ‘til he comes out that eating place he always uses,’ Flag said. ‘He never goes anywhere else.’
‘We talking crazy or something,’ Meers said. He lowered his voice. ‘Murder is what we’re thinking about.’
Perry leaned in closer. ‘What we did out at Sturdevant’s place was worse. You forgot that? We need to cover ourselves. So we got to make sure Begley doesn’t say anything that might get people thinking.’
‘Hell, we didn’t set out to kill Sturdevant. Too much whisky and it got out of hand,’ Meers mumbled under his breath, reaching for the bottle again. Before he could lift it Perry grasped his wrist. ‘Leave me be,’ Meers said, jerking his hand free.
The batwings swung open as a trio of men came in, crossing to the bar to loud hails from friends.
‘Right now we got a chance to stop Begley getting people suspicious,’ Perry said. ‘Long as we play smart. Now Begley might speak up, or he might not. You’ve given him enough to go talk to Teague when he gets back. If he does that’s only going to make that lawdog think hard about what happened.’
‘Me, I’d put a couple of slugs in the little pissant,’ Flag said. ‘Let me do it, Perry.’
‘You and that damned gun,’ Meers snapped. ‘Always wanting to shoot someone.’
‘You’re not thinking clear, Ty,’ Perry said. ‘A body could identify you from a mile off. Face all burned. Arm in a sling. And guns attract attention.’
‘Show up with your face like that you’d likely scare Begley to death,’ Meers said.
‘Best you stay here,’ Perry said. ‘Leave this to Buck and me.’
A few men were wandering away from the bar in the direction of the door and Perry nodded at Meers. They stood and fell in with the exiting men. They followed the others and wandered casually to the exit, eased themselves out through the door. Darkness had already dropped. Lamps had been lit behind windows. As the bunch of men dispersed Perry and Meers moved along the boardwalk. They were heading for the eating house where Begley would be taking his meal. As they walked by the window, unnoticed by the occupants they were able to see Ira Begley at one of the tables, bent over his food. They moved on by. At a store, owned by Major Culhane, Meers sat on one of the chairs lined up and watched the eating house while Perry went inside to buy tobacco. He spent some time with the proprietor, simply passing time until Meers caught his eye through the window, nodding to indicate Begley was on the move.
~*~
Ty Flag stared at the nearly empty bottle. His belligerent mood had worsened the longer he sat downing whisky. He was wallowing in self-pity, blaming the world for his problems – and concentrating on the tall Texan named McCall. The man was the reason Flag was in constant pain from his burned face and the hole in his shoulder. He refused to even acknowledge that he and his partners had created the situation that led to McCall hitting out at them. What mattered was that Flag had been hurt and made to look a damn fool.
He snatched up the bottle and poured whisky into his glass. It stung his burned, cracked, lips when he drank. Flag banged the glass down on the table.
‘Hey, Ty, you all right?’ one of his friends called from the bar.
‘Do I look all right?’
Flag pushed to his feet, swaying slightly. Even the effort of moving made his shoulder pulse with pain. He pulled his Colt from behind his belt.
‘Go easy with that thing in here,’ the bartender called.
He knew Flag of old. When the man drank too much he became aggressive. With the added pain of his injuries he was becoming increasingly angry.
‘Go easy? I’ll go easy when I settle with that Texan…’ Flag moved on heavy feet to the door. ‘Any of you boys with me? Time we got ’er done.’
He shouldered his way through the batwings and across the boardwalk, almost stumbling when he went down the steps. He didn’t even notice the men who followed him.
Flag weaved his way down the street. He could see the windows of the jail, light showing through the glass. He raised his Colt, hammer back, and triggered a shot that shattered glass.
~*~
Mort had sent out for food for himself and McCall. He picked up the tray holding a plate of stew and made his way through to the cells. He had the tray balanced in one hand as he unlocked McCall’s door.
‘Smells good,’ McCall said.’
‘Always good from Casey Biggs place,’ Mort said.
He swung open the door to pass the tray over, McCall stepping forward to take it.
It was then that one of the jail windows was smashed, the crash of a shot sounding, the slug passing through the office to take a chunk of timber from the gun rack.
Mort’s head jerked around. The tray slipped from his grasp and dropped to the floor. The deputy snatched at his holstered pistol and ran for the jail door.
‘Don’t…’ McCall yelled.
Mort ignored his warning. He yanked open the door and went through.
The moment he showed himself on the boardwalk another shot rang out and Mort was turned sideways on, the slug embedded in his leg. He staggered and went off the edge of the boardwalk, slamming face down on the street.
~*~
McCall had followed close on Mort’s heels, snatching a rifle from the gun rack as he passed it. A long barreled Henry .44 caliber repeater. McCall turned the rifle over and checked the slide on the underside. It showed the weapon was fully loaded. McCall worked the lever, just to be sure, and saw a shiny cartridge being ejected. Plenty more in the magazine and one in the breech.
As he reached the open door and stepped through he heard the shot that put Mort down.
He saw the figure of Ty Flag, his gun up and leveled. Two men were close at his side.
More men were coming out of the saloon.
‘McCall – that’s the sonofabitch who burned me,’ Flag yelled, and swung his weapon around. ‘I want that bastard…’
~*~
Ira Begley was walking out of the eating house. As he emerged he saw Perry and Meers closing in on him. A sudden panic gripped him and Begley found he was rooted to the spot.
‘Time to talk, Ira,’ Perry said quietly, but the threat was strong in his voice.
They were suddenly standing on either side of him.
‘No,’ Begley said, because he understood now, and knew Perry wasn’t going to let him escape.
Shots rang out down the street. Near the jail.
Perry glanced that way and even in the lamplight he recognized Ty Flag. His gun was out, his second shot sending Deputy Monk to the ground.
And seconds later the tall figure of Jess McCall appeared from the jail.
People were running out of the saloon. Spilling from the boardwalk. Customers were emerging from the eating house, pushing by, unmindful of them.
Begley saw his chance and tried to follow but he felt Meers’ hand close around his arm.
No one paid any attention as Begley was pushed bodily into the alley beside the eating-house. Meers and Perry crowding him.
‘You figured it out,’ Perry said as he and Meers stood close. ‘You know.’
‘I…was only guessing,’ Begley stammered. ‘When Buck said…’
‘I knew he understood,’ Perry said.
‘I won’t say anything, Perry, not about…’
‘Well we can’t afford to take that chance, you piece of horseshit,’ Meers said. ‘Never did trust you. Always too ready to tell tales.’
Meers’ right hand moved up from his waist and Begley caught a glimpse of something gleaming dully in the weak light. A moment later he felt a hard blow in the region of his ribs. Meers jerked his hand. This time there was a soft, tearing sensation and a spear of blinding pain. Begley would have screamed but he felt Meers’ big, work roughened hand clamp over his mouth, blocking off any sound. The pain increased as Meers jabbed and jabbed again, stabbing and ripping, and even in his confusion Begley knew he had been knifed. His legs slipped from beneath him and he went down on the ground. Into the trash and the dirt. He drew his knees up to his chest, curling up against the terrible pain, his hands clutching at his torn body where blood was starting to pour from the wounds, while the night grew even darker around him. As the world began to shut down for him Ira Begley lost all interest and he was dead before the sound of more gunshots reached the alley.