Stampede at Rattlesnake Pass (7 page)

The sheriff’s nickname of ‘Slim’ was far
from apt, since he was a man of more than ample girth, with at
least two chins. His clothes hugged him and their aged look
suggested that he had slowly been expanding in width. As he sat
cradling his cards a thin film of perspiration covered his face and
his receding hairline. Bloodshot eyes and a half-consumed bottle of
whiskey at his elbow indicated a fondness for liquor. As Jake
watched him he wondered whether his perspiration was due to his
physical condition or to his gambling prowess, or lack of it.

Across the table from the sheriff sat a
woman of remarkable beauty. Olive skinned, full ruby red lips and
raven black hair, she was dressed in a yellow silk dress that
revealed her feminine curves to perfection. About her neck was a
black choker that favorably emphasized her long neck. Unlike the
sheriff she seemed to be the very personification of calmness. No
one would have any idea what sort of hand she held from the
expression on her face.

And there was a sizeable pot in the center
of the table. As the game went on the other three players caved in,
leaving only the sheriff and the saloon owner. Finally, the sheriff
took a gulp of whiskey from his glass, belched loudly, and then
threw a fistful of dollar bills into the pot. "Think I’ll see you,
Carmen. There’s no way you’re going to beat my hand today."

Only then did Carmen de Menendez speak.
"Let’s see, Slim," she said, laying her cards down one by one.
"Only, how do you think you can beat four aces?"

The sheriff stared in wide-eyed disbelief,
then tossed his cards down and guffawed. "Darn! That cleans me out
again. The least you could do is buy me a drink."

But Elly could keep quiet no longer. "Am I
seeing things, or are you the sheriff of Silver City?" she asked,
her eyes smoldering and her jaw set firm. "What sort of law officer
can be drinking and gambling at this time of the day when he should
be on duty?"

Sheriff Parfitt was not one to sit and take
insults from anyone, yet as he turned his bleary eyes on Elly he
was all too conscious of the tall, capable looking man with a tied
down Remington standing at her right side. "Something troubling
you, ma’am?" he asked.

"There certainly is. I have been robbed. A
whole herd belonging to the Rocking H ranch was stolen and my men
were murdered. Massacred!"

Carmen de Menendez gasped. "But that is
terrible. When did this awful thing happen, Miss - ?"

Elly tore her eyes away from the sheriff.
"Horrocks. Elly Horrocks. It happened at Rattlesnake Pass a couple
of days ago."

The Silver City sheriff shrugged his
shoulders. "So why are you telling me? Rattlesnake Pass is nothing
to do with me."

Jake had been quiet till now, but felt his
hackles rise. "What is it with lawmen in this part of the country?
They don’t seem to care about what happens outside their towns. Now
look here, you miserable piece of – "

Slim Parfitt sat forward, his face
hardening. "Now you just back off, mister. I don’t take kindly to –
"

Carmen de Menendez suddenly stood up.
"Sheriff Slim, perhaps the least you could do is to hear the lady
out." She turned and smiled at Elly. "My name is Carmen de
Menendez. I own the Busted Flush and I think it would be a good
idea, perhaps, if we all adjourned to my private office."

Without more ado she led the way through the
saloon, past an alcove where Hog Fleming, Cole Lancing, and Rubal
Cage were drinking whiskey, each with a saloon girl on his knee.
Rubal Cage had been listening to the exchange with great interest.
He smacked his girl on her butt, much to her irritation, and stood
up.

"Where you going, Rubal?" the porcine Hog
Fleming asked.

Rubal Cage frowned. "I reckon we’ve got
business that might need attending to. Come outside and let’s get
some fresh air. I’ll tell you what you need to do."

Carmen de Menendez handed Elly and Jake
glasses of wine while Sheriff Parfitt helped himself to a sizeable
measure of whiskey from a decanter on a side table in the
office.

Elly described all that had happened and
Jake told them about his encounter with the man who had been
cold-bloodedly shooting the bodies in the gully.

"In my opinion, you won’t find any of these
men this side of the Pintos by now," said the sheriff.

"That means it's likely they sold the herd
here in Silver City," said Elly. "And in that case, there will be a
record of the transaction."

Slim Parfitt nodded. "Guess so. The cattle
buyer for C & SW, the Central and South West Cattle Company
will have it all documented."

"Will you take me to see him, sheriff?" Elly
asked.

The lawman seemed to hesitate, but on
prompting from Carmen de Menendez he heaved himself to his feet. "I
reckon I can do that."

Elly looked at Jake. "Will you come
too?"

Scudder shook his head. "No, ma’am. You and
the sheriff can do that just fine. I think I will maybe have
another drink in the bar before I head back to the hotel and clean
up."

Two patches of color formed on Elly’s
cheeks, but she said nothing more. Instead, she nodded to Carmen de
Menendez and followed the sheriff out.

Once they had gone, Carmen de Menendez shook
her head. "I am afraid for your friend. I have my doubts that she
will get her herd or her money back."

Jake drained his wine and laid it on the
table. "I must say, I had much the same thought. Thank you for the
wine and hospitality, ma’am." He smiled. "It isn’t exactly my kind
of drink, though, so I think I’ll have a beer and then go clean
up."

She smiled at him. "You’ll find this one of
the best saloons, Mr. Scudder. Enjoy yourself while you are
here."

The piano player began to play just as he
put a hand on the door handle, and a moment later the sound of the
chorus line started up, to much raucous laughter. "You know, ma’am.
It sounds a fun place, right enough. I think I may just do
that."

* * *

Elly Horrocks felt frustrated. Sheriff Slim
Parfitt had sent his deputy Hank Bott to find and bring the C &
SW Cattle Company agent to his office. To her dismay she was shown
the documentation in the ledger confirming the sale of the Rocking
H stock to the C & SW Cattle Company.

"There you are, ma’am," said Nat Tooking,
the myopic cattle agent over the top of his half moon spectacles.
"All legally signed, witnessed, and dated. There’s your
representative Bill Coburn’s signature."

Elly had gone pale at sight of the clear but
patently forged signature. "But that isn’t Ben’s signature," she
protested. "He was lying dead in Rattlesnake Pass when whoever
signed that."

Nat Tooking looked at her in amazement. "Did
you say he was dead? What are you saying, ma’am?"

Sheriff Parfitt interrupted, "It looks as if
you were duped, Nat."

The cattle agent stared at the ledger for a
moment, then he emphatically shook his head. "No way! I paid good
dollar in good faith for that herd. How do I know that this lady is
telling the truth?"

Elly felt her temper rise. "How dare you.
All of my crew have been murdered and my – my fiancé is lying
seriously wounded at our ranch." She stabbed the ledger with a
finger. "This deception is illegal and we shall insist on being
reimbursed."

Nat Tooking’s lips had twisted into a sneer
of contempt. "I can assure you, ma’am, that the C & SW Cattle
Company will not pay out twice."

Sheriff Parfitt raised his hand. "And before
you say anything more, ma’am – this rustling that you allege is
totally out of my jurisdiction. Rattlesnake Pass and anything that
happens there is nothing whatever to do with Silver City or with
me."

Elly glared at him. "How did I know you were
going to say something like that?" she asked sarcastically. She bid
the two men good day then strode out of the office and crossed the
street to the Silver City Classic Hotel, where she and Scudder had
booked rooms earlier.

It was not until she was alone in her room
with the door closed and locked that she sank onto the bed, covered
her face and dissolved into tears.

CHAPTER SIX

Elly was not in her room when Jake got back
to the hotel, so he cleaned up then went for a walk in order to
think things over. He strolled around the town to try and get a
feel for the place. But something kept telling him that the most
likely place he’d get answers would be the Busted Flush. By the
time he pushed the bat-wing doors open again it was dark outside
and the chandeliers had been lit, making it seem even more
inviting.

He ordered a beer with a whiskey chaser from
the same bartender who had directed Elly and himself to the card
game where they met the sheriff and Carmen de Menendez. After
paying and chatting for a few moments he headed towards a spare
table in an alcove. Like a wasp honing in on a honey pot, he was
soon joined by an attractive young woman in a gaudy and slightly
ill-fitting purple dress.

"Need some company, mister?" she asked,
taking a draw on a thin quirley that she held between her second
and third fingers. Almost immediately, she bent over with a rasping
cough. "The name is Rosalind," she said, recovering quickly and
coloring with embarrassment.

Jake indicated the chair beside him. "Be
glad of it, Rosalind," he replied. Then pointing to her cigarette:
"You are mighty young to have a cough as bad as that. Those gaspers
are not good for the lungs, you know."

"Preacher man, are you?" she returned coyly,
raising an eyebrow with mock sarcasm.

Scudder shook his head. "Just a simple man
with simple tastes."

She giggled. "That’s not the way most men
talk when they come to the Busted Flush. Some of them have very –
complicated – tastes. Care to buy me a drink?"

Jake signaled to the nearest bartender who
sent another smiling saloon girl over with a tray and Rosalind’s
usual, a mint julep. She sipped it, took another puff on her acrid
quirley and coughed again.

Jake shook his head. "How old are you,
Rosalind?"

"Twenty," she replied swiftly.

"More like sixteen or seventeen, I reckon."
He reached over and removed the quirley from her hand and ground it
on the floor under his heel. "Come on, I think some fresh air would
do you more good than that drink and those coffin nails."

Rosalind shook her head vigorously. "But I
can’t. I have to – "

"Yes, you can," Jake replied. "I’ll pay you
for your time. All I want is to just walk around a little. Have a
chat."

And without further protest Rosalind felt
herself being gently propelled through the busy saloon and out of
the bat-wing doors onto the boardwalk.

"A walk in the moonlight, how romantic," she
giggled.

"Tell me about yourself, Rosalind. Where are
you from?"

One thing about Rosalind was clear. She
could talk. By the time they had strolled to the end of a long
boardwalk she had told him what he was sure was a pack of lies. She
claimed to have been at college back east, to have fallen in love
with an engineer and to have come west with him.

He proffered her his arm as they stepped
down from the boardwalk into the dusty street and began to cross
the mouth of a darkened alleyway.

"But then he had an accident and I – "

Neither of them had expected the burst of
activity to erupt from the darkened alley. Jake heard a rustling
noise and immediately moved sideways. His right hand darted for his
Remington. But he had started at too much of a disadvantage. Before
he could clear leather he felt a searing pain on the top of his
right shoulder, which shot down his arm. Instantly, he realized he
had been struck a glancing blow with some kind of bludgeon that had
been meant to kill rather than just maim. With his right arm
temporarily out of commission he knew that he was vulnerable.

As was Rosalind! Jake heard her scream and
chancing a glance to his left he saw a man wearing a bandana over
his face dragging her into the alleyway.

Another flurry of movement alerted him to
the fact that his own assailant had regrouped and was in the act of
re-attempting to stove in his head. He could not dodge aside again,
so he dropped, and at the same time threw himself sideways,
sweeping his legs in a scissors movement. He made contact and heard
a howl as a body fell on top of his legs. Immediately, Jake grabbed
the plank of wood that had been used on him and wrenched it free
with his left hand.

The assailant rolled free and leaped to his
feet, a hand reaching for a gun at his side. Jake lashed out with
the plank and caught the man’s gunhand before he could draw the
weapon. Then as the other cried in pain he changed the direction of
his swing and struck for all he was worth at the man’s groin. There
was a shriek of pain, then a rasped command. Jake could not make
out what name the man called out, but it was clear that it was a
cry for help from the other.

Jake was struggling to his feet when
Rosalind was thrown at him and he was bowled over onto his back,
with her landing on top of him. He shoved her gently aside, his
right arm now reflexively going for the Remington at his side. It
came up, not quite as smoothly as usual, and he let off two shots
in the direction of the two assailants as they departed into the
greater darkness.

Then all he was aware of was Rosalind,
sobbing beside him.

"Oh, God! Take me away from this, mister. I
want my - !" she moaned, pressing herself against his chest.
"Please take me away from this miserable life."

Predictably, when gunshots sounded out in
the darkness there was a slow build up of commotion. No one rushed
to investigate, for fear of catching a stray bullet, but gradually
the curious edged along the boardwalk until the source of the
shooting was located. Then the muttering and mumbling became louder
as rumor and slow seepage of fact merged into one another, and a
crowd began to form around the entrance to the alley.