Twin Peaks Ranch
When Abe Sobel rode up to the ranch three days later, he was met by a tall, lean man with dark hair and piercing black eyes.
“The name’s Turley,” the man said. “I’m foreman of the place. What can I do for you?”
“Yes, I’m looking for an old friend, who may be here. His name is Sid Shamrock.”
“Shamrock?” Turley shook his head. “No, sir, I don’t know nobody named Shamrock. You sure you’ve come to the right place?”
“No, I’m not sure that Shamrock would be here. But I believe his brother owns the place. Brad Houser?”
“Houser? Yes, sir, he owns the place, all right, ’n he does have a brother here, but his brother’s name isn’t Shamrock.”
“I see. Well, would you tell him that Abe Sobel is here to see him? He knows me.”
“All right, wait here, I’ll tell ’im.”
Houser was writing figures in a ledger when Turley spoke to him.
“Sobel? Yes, I know him,” Houser said when Turley told him of his visitor. “Tell him I’ll see him in a few minutes. But before I see him, please ask Mr. Knox to come to the office.”
“Yes, sir.”
When Turley stepped back outside, Sobel was watering his horse at the trough.
“What did he say?” Sobel asked. “Will he see me?”
“Yeah, but he asked that you wait for a minute—he has some ranch business to take care of first. If you’d like some coffee, go on into the cookhouse there ’n tell the cook that I sent you.”
“Thanks,” Sobel replied. “A cup of coffee would go real good right now.”
Turley stepped into the bunkhouse, where he found Knox playing poker with three of the deputies.
“Knox, Mr. Houser wants to see you.”
“May as well go see ’im, I ain’t doin’ no good in this game,” Knox said, getting up from the table. “What’s he want to see me about?”
“Houser don’t share nothin’ with me that has anything to do with you bodyguards or deputies,” Turley said.
Knox chuckled. “No, I don’t reckon he does, does he?”
When Knox stepped into the ranch office, Houser was standing at the window.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yes, there is a man here named Sobel. He is here to look for my brother.”
“You mean Cap’n Harris?”
“Yes, but Mr. Sobel knew him as Sid Shamrock. I’m going to send you with Sobel out into the Pine Flats.”
“What for? Cap’n Harris ain’t there. He’s back in the bunkhouse. I just seen ’im.”
“You don’t understand. I don’t want Mr. Sobel to find my brother; it could mean trouble for him, and for me. He is one of the reasons I hired you in the first place, to protect me from men like him. When you get Sobel out to the Pine Flats, I want you to take care of him in the same way you took care Slim and Dooley.”
“You mean you want me to take him out there and kill ’im?”
“That is exactly what I mean.” Houser opened a drawer on his desk, then took out some money. “Here is two hundred and fifty dollars. Once the job is done, wait there until my brother comes out there to meet you. He’ll have another two hundred and fifty dollars for you, and he’ll help you bury Sobel. I don’t want any trace of him ever found.”
“Yes, sir, don’t you worry none, I’ll take care of Sobel for you.” Knox cracked an evil smile. “I told you there’d be times when you needed me to do things like this for you. You know, if we was partners, you wouldn’t have to pay me nothin’ extra to do things like this.”
“Partners? In Twin Peaks?”
“Yeah, well, we wouldn’t have to be full partners. I’m talkin’ about somethin’ like maybe thirty or forty percent.”
“We’ll discuss it when you get back,” Houser said. “Now, wait here until Sobel comes.”
When Sobel came into the office a few minutes later, Houser greeted him effusively.
“Mr. Sobel, it has been quite a while since the little adventure we shared.”
“Yeah, it has,” Sobel said. “I see that you done pretty good by it.”
“I did indeed. Mr. Turley tells me that you are looking for my brother.”
“Yes, I would like to see him again. Your foreman said that you had a brother here, but that it wasn’t Sid.”
Houser chuckled. “Oh, it’s him, all right, but after a little adventure, or should I say, misadventure, he had in Seven Oaks, he found it necessary to change his name. Right now he is with the herd in an area we call the Pine Flats.”
Houser raised his hand toward the other man who was in the room.
“This is Mr. Knox. I have asked him to take you to see my brother. Then afterward, if you are agreeable to it, I thought the three of us might have dinner in town tonight, at Tacky Mack’s.”
“Yes, yes, that sounds like a fine idea,” Sobel said.
This might be easier than he had thought it would be, Sobel thought. If they were already in town, all he would have to do is find some way to excuse himself, then go to the sheriff with the wanted poster. The sheriff would arrest Shamrock, authorize payment of the reward, and Sobel could be on his way, $5,000 richer.
Houser stepped out of the office with them and stood there watching as the two men rode off. Not until they were gone, did he call out to one of the deputies.
“Mr. Wix, would you please ask my brother to come see me?”
Houser waited until Shamrock came to him a few minutes later.
“Whadda you want?”
“Mr. Knox has taken an old friend of ours out to the Pine Flats to look for you.”
“What did he go out there for? I been right here, all along.”
“That is why I sent him out there. The old friend I’m talking about is Abe Sobel. We don’t want him to find you. As a matter of fact, we don’t want him here, at all.”
“Why not?”
“Think about it, Thomas. He knows what happened back in Sulphur Springs. He also knows that he could bring all this down on us. It makes us perfect candidates for blackmail.”
“Blackmail? How could he blackmail us? He done that job with us, remember?”
“He could win amnesty by turning state’s evidence. That’s why I’m going to have Mr. Knox kill him.”
“Oh yeah, right. That’s probably a good thing.”
“After Mr. Knox has done the job, he is going to wait for you to join him, out in the Pine Flats.”
“What for?”
“He thinks it is because you will be bringing him two hundred and fifty dollars, and helping him bury Sobel, but that isn’t the reason. Do you remember when I asked if you would be willing to take care of Mr. Knox?”
“Yeah.”
“Now is the time. Mr. Knox has become a liability to us, and I want you to kill him.”
“He’s awful fast, Brad. I’m not sure I can.”
“I’m not asking you to make a contest of it, Thomas. I just want you to kill him.”
Shamrock smiled. “Yeah, I can do that. You want me to bury them both out there?”
“Take a couple of shovels with you so Knox will think you are going to help bury Sobel, but there’s no need for you to bury either of them.”
“If I don’t bury them, they’ll be found.”
“We want them found.”
“Why?”
“Don’t worry about it, I know what I’m doing.”
* * *
When Shamrock dismounted half an hour later, he saw Knox standing over Abe Sobel’s body.
“You got the other two hundred ’n fifty dollars?” Knox asked.
“Yeah, and two shovels,” Shamrock said, taking them down from where he had them tied to the saddle. He handed one of the shovels to Knox. “You start digging at that end, and I’ll start at this end.”
As soon as Knox turned his back, Shamrock swung his shovel around, catching Knox in the back of the head and knocking him down. Then, as Knox lay on the ground, Shamrock shot him twice.
* * *
Later that same day, Turley came into town driving a buckboard. Houser was in the seat beside him, and Shamrock, on horseback, was riding alongside. They stopped in front of the sheriff’s office, and as Turley remained with the buckboard, Houser and Shamrock stepped inside.
Sheriff Sharpie was sitting at his desk, working on a kerosene lantern that was disassembled before him.
“Sheriff Sharpie, I don’t know if you have met Captain Harris, a territorial deputy, specially commissioned by the governor,” Houser said.
Sheriff Sharpie stood and extended his hand. “I haven’t met you, Captain Harris, but I have certainly heard of you. Welcome to Chugwater.”
“Thanks,” Shamrock said.
“Unfortunately, Sheriff, this isn’t a social call,” Houser said. “Earlier today an old friend of ours, Abe Sobel, came to pay a visit. He wanted to take a look around the ranch, so I assigned one of my men, Knox, to show him around. My brother, hearing that an old friend had come to visit, rode out to catch up with them. That’s when it happened.”
“That’s when what happened?”
“I’ll let my brother describe the event,” Houser said, looking toward Shamrock.
“Well, sir, just as I got there, I seen Knox robbin’ poor old Abe of two hundred ’n fifty dollars, then as Abe give ’im the money, he shot ’im. I yelled at Knox, ’n he shot at me, so I kilt ’im.”
“Both bodies are in the back of the buckboard, parked out front,” Houser said.
Once outside, Sheriff Sharpie pulled just enough of the canvas back to see their faces. He nodded. “This is Knox, all right, I remember him from shooting Hastings and Carson. And what did you say this man’s name was?”
“Sobel, Abe Sobel,” Houser said. “He is an old family friend.” Houser shook his head. “How awful that he came all this way to visit friends and wound up like this. I blame myself, you know. After all, I’m the one that hired Knox. If I had had any idea that something like this would have happened, I would not have been so robust in defending him when you had him under arrest, earlier. If I had let him stay in jail, poor Mr. Sobel would still be alive.” Houser pinched the bridge of his nose. “I guess you could say that, under the circumstances, I am doubly responsible for the demise of an old friend.”
Houser put his hand on the canvas that covered Sobel’s body. “I will make all the arrangements with Mr. Welsh. I want the best coffin for Mr. Sobel.” He looked at Knox’s body. “And the cheapest for this . . . this murderous despoiler of a young man’s life.”
There was no funeral for either one of the bodies, nor did anyone but Welsh and the two gravediggers show up at the cemetery when Sobel and Knox were buried. There were a few comments around town about Knox, none of them favorable, as the general consensus seemed to be that his death was no great loss.
There were some, however, who questioned why Houser, who had professed that Sobel was an old friend, and had even bought an expensive coffin for him, had not arranged for a funeral.
* * *
Two days after Knox and Sobel were buried, Asa Hanlon, who owned a ranch seven miles west of Chugwater, stepped into the kitchen, sniffed audibly, then smiled. “Honey, I don’t know what you’re cookin’, but it sure smells good.”
Jenny Hanlon, who was standing at the stove, laughed. “Asa, I do believe I could fry shoe leather in bacon grease, and you would tell me it smelled good.”
“Jenny, my love, if you fried it, it would smell good ’n I’d most likely eat it, too.” Asa walked over and kissed her on the cheek, then he bent over and kissed her swollen belly. “What do you think, little baby in there?” he asked. “Do you think it smells good?”
“You’re crazy,” Jenny said with another laugh.
“Yes, crazy for you,” Asa said.
“How is it going?” Jenny asked as she whipped flour into the meat drippings to make gravy.
“I’ve got five of ’em cut ’n branded,” Asa said as he grabbed a biscuit and took a bite from it. “We’ve got close to two hundred head now. You know what, Jenny? By the time little Johnny is old enough to help out on the ranch, we’ll be big enough to start hiring some hands.”
Jenny patted her protruding stomach. “What makes you think it’ll be a Johnny? It could be an Alice, you know.”
Asa shook his head. “No, the first one’s got to be a boy. I’ll need ’im to help me out, then we can . . .”
“Asa, there are some riders coming here,” Jenny said anxiously, interrupting her husband in midsentence.
“Wonder who it is and what they want?” Asa said. With the biscuit still in hand, he stepped out onto the porch of the small, two-room house.
“What can I do for you gents?” he asked.
“This here your place?” the lead rider asked.
“Yes, sir, it is.”
“How many head are you runnin’?”
The curious expression on Asa’s face was replaced with a look of irritation. “Mister, I don’t know that that is any of your business.”
“Well, seein’ as we’re about to take ’em, I plan on makin’ it my business.”
“The hell you say!” Asa ran back into the house, then reached up over the door for his shotgun.
“Asa, what is it?” Jenny asked in alarm. “Why are you getting your gun?”
Before Asa could load his gun, two of the men came rushing in behind him, pistols in hand. Both men fired, and Asa went down.
“Asa!” Jenny screamed.
The two men shot her as well, and she fell on top of her husband. With her last, conscious act, she put her hand over his.
“Let’s get them cows,” one of them said.
“Let’s eat first,” another said as he grabbed one of the biscuits.