Shootout at Bleak Point, page 1
Shootout at Bleak Point
McBain, Volume 11
I. J. Parnham
Published by Culbin Press, 2022.
Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2022 by I. J. Parnham
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Prolog
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
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Further Reading: Uneasy Partners
Also By I. J. Parnham
Prolog
“Before you go I need to tell you something,” Nathaniel McBain said.
Sheriff Cassidy Yates didn’t acknowledge that one of his prisoners had spoken to him. Instead, he signified that Nathaniel and Spenser O’Connor should dismount. Both prisoners followed his orders slowly.
Then they moved forward to stand in front of the massive gate to Beaver Ridge jail with their cuffed hands held before them. When they were in position Cassidy moved his horse on and dismounted by the wall.
He hollered for attention. Several minutes passed before footfalls sounded beyond the gate as at least two guards approached. The men stomped to a halt and then a small hatch rattled open.
A man with a grizzled face appeared and he appraised the prisoners and lawman while stifling a yawn. The guard’s bored expression didn’t change even when he noted Cassidy’s star.
“I’ve got two more prisoners who want to enjoy your hospitality,” Cassidy said.
The guard grunted in affirmation and slammed the hatch shut. Clanking sounded as bolts were drawn before the gate edged open for a few feet. The guard stepped forward. Two other armed guards loitered at his shoulder, looking out for duplicity.
“What have they done?” the guard asked, as Cassidy handed over the paperwork.
Everything was detailed in the papers, but the guard’s bored attitude suggested they wouldn’t be read carefully.
“They’re just good-for-nothing thieves.” Cassidy gestured at the two men. “Nathaniel McBain got seven years. Spenser O’Connor got eight. I’d have given them life.”
The guard laughed, showing interest in proceedings for the first time.
“For many prisoners, a year in here is life.”
Cassidy nodded and stepped aside to let the guard usher the two prisoners on. Spenser went through the gate without comment despite the guard’s slap on the back that sent him to his knees, but Nathaniel dallied and tried to catch Cassidy’s eye.
“We were thieves, but we’re not good-for-nothings because we accept now that we did wrong,” he said.
Cassidy was minded to leave without responding, but with a sigh he turned to Nathaniel.
“Don’t lie,” he snapped. “The only thing on your minds is that you got caught.”
Nathaniel gulped, appearing to acknowledge that Cassidy had been right.
“No matter what you think of us we’ll serve our time,” he said quickly when the guard raised a hand. “When we come out, we’ll go straight.”
Nathaniel waited for a reply, but Cassidy only folded his arms, so with his head down he headed inside followed by the guard, who gave him a kick to the rump for his tardiness.
“You sure will,” Cassidy said as the gate slammed shut. “Straight to hell.”
Chapter One
Eight years later. . . .
Judge Matthews slapped a hand down on his desk with an insistent rhythm until his steady beat cut through the rising hubbub. When everyone in Monotony’s courtroom had quieted, he directed a stern glare at Maynard Holdstock.
Then he stood up and left at a dignified pace for what would probably be a short recess before he received the jury’s verdict. Sitting on the front row Sheriff Cassidy Yates wasn’t concerned as his evidence had been damning, but he feared that the judge might not get enough time to reveal that verdict.
Maynard’s trial had attracted a lot of attention. Everyone in Monotony had wanted to see justice delivered to the only member of Seth Mitchell’s outlaw gang to have been brought to justice.
For the last three months the outlaws had terrorized the area. They’d attacked the silver shipments from the Bleak Point mine that traveled to Redemption before moving on to Monotony.
Most of these attacks had been foiled, so they’d disrupted the building of the railroad that would make transportation from the remote mine easier. As Monotony’s prosperity depended on this trade, everyone wanted the matter resolved.
So over the last few days numerous newcomers had arrived, many of whom were rowdy, making Cassidy fear that somebody would try to free the prisoner. As the courtroom cleared Floyd Wright, his capable deputy, nodded at him.
Then, with Cassidy’s other deputy Sykes Caine keeping watch, Wright directed Maynard to the back door and on to the jailhouse. When the deputies disappeared from view Cassidy filed in at the back of the people who were leaving the courtroom.
Many people murmured supportive comments about his part in Maynard’s capture as well as offering their hopes that this trial would mark the beginning of the end. Cassidy nodded, even though it was too early for him to believe it himself.
Once out on the boardwalk he stood at the corner of the courthouse where he had a good view along the length of the main drag. Four men had taken up positions on either side of the main drag and at both ends, and he received the pre-arranged signals from each that they’d seen no sign of trouble.
Nobody else was paying him undue attention except for one man who was leaning on a corner post and ignoring everyone else in a way that was so deliberate he had to be interested in everyone. Then the man pushed off from the post and made his slow way down the boardwalk to stand a few feet to his side.
“I’m Shackleton Frost,” he said.
Cassidy relaxed. “I was told you were coming. I should have some work for you soon.”
“And even more later from the sound if it.”
“I’m obliged for your confidence in me, but if the railroad workers or the miners find the rest of Seth’s gang first, there won’t be much left for you to escort to Beaver Ridge jail.”
“That doesn’t matter none to me. I get paid to take men from the court to the jail, but I’ll be pleased if men like Maynard stop being handed over to me.”
Cassidy nodded. Then he turned to the law office while Shackleton concentrated on the other side of town. Aside from the crowd milling around near the courthouse in anticipation of being called back, all was quiet and that worried him.
He flinched, identifying his concern. He’d covered all directions from which trouble could come, and that left only one alternative: that everything was peaceful because the trouble was already here and it had already happened.
He caught Shackleton’s eye to alert him to his concern and then walked briskly down the boardwalk to the law office. He stopped beside the window. There was no movement within and that was odd as Wright ought to be in the main office while Caine patrolled the jailhouse.
Cassidy walked by the window and reached out to rap on the door. It should have been locked, but the moment his hand touched the wood the door was yanked open. Then a hand clamped down on his arm and tugged him inside.
Cassidy went stumbling through the doorway. Men were standing on either side of the doorway in the shadows and one of them stepped forward and delivered a solid blow to the back of his head that sent him to his knees.
He crumpled over to lie on his side with his vision swirling and when his eyes focused, he had been disarmed and standing over him was the man he’d been trying to find for the last three months: Seth Mitchell.
“So Sheriff Cassidy Yates is finally lying at my feet,” Seth said with an arrogant gleam in his eye.
Cassidy tried to snap back a retort, but his head was still ringing from the blow he’d received and only a groan escaped his lips before he rolled over on to his back. Seth snorted with approval and then delivered quick orders.
Cassidy couldn’t concentrate enough to discern the words, but he understood their intent. Clearly these men had lain in wait for his deputies. Now they had freed Maynard and they were ready to make good their escape.
Footfalls pattered past him as the outlaws congregated beside the door. They murmured comments to each other as they coordinated their move outside and, among the voices, Cassidy heard Maynard urging them to leave now.
Hearing his voice helped Cassidy gather his senses and, moving slowly so as to not draw attention to himself, he placed his cheek to the floor letting him see the forces he would have to take on. Three men had come for Maynard, this being half the numbers Cassidy knew Seth had at his disposal.
The men were standing by the windows, but it wasn’t clear why they weren’t leaving. A few moments later a shadow flittered at the corner of his vision before Shackleton walked past the left-hand window.
Unlike Cassidy, after he’d moved from view he didn’t carry on to the door. The outlaws turned to each other, silently asking what they reckoned he was doing. Cassidy wondered that himself, but he resolved to help him.
He slapped a hand to the floor, brought his knee up and rolled into a kneeling position. He righted himself, but then he made the mistake of trying to stand up and, with his senses still rattled, that unbalanced him.
He went sprawling at the feet of the backmost outlaw, who snorted a laugh at his predicament. The noise made the other three men turn to him and, perhaps fortuitously, Shackleton then stepped up to the open door.
The nearest man received the same treatment that had been meted out to Cassidy when Shackleton grabbed his arm and dragged him out onto the boardwalk. The man’s momentum sent him sprawling away and out of Cassidy’s view.
This sight was too much for Maynard and he burst out after him. Seth followed him as did the other two men, but they had to wait their turn and that gave Cassidy enough time to regain his senses and kick off from the floor.
This time he kept control of his movements and, with an arm thrust out, he plowed into the back of the hindmost outlaw, shoving him along to the wall. The man rebounded and turned, his fist rising to punch Cassidy, but Cassidy was now alert enough to sway back from the blow.
Cassidy delivered a short-armed jab into his assailant’s stomach that made him fold over. Then, using two bunched hands, he gathered a firm grip of the back of his opponent’s jacket and hurled the man across the room.
The man tumbled into the side of the desk, folded over it and clattered to the floor on the other side. After his exertions Cassidy stumbled for a pace. He put a hand to his forehead and took deep breaths, but he couldn’t delay for long as sounds of consternation were rising up outside.
Someone shouted a warning and a gunshot blasted followed by a quick second shot. Cassidy hurried to the downed man, claimed his six-shooter and headed to the doorway where he found that the scene outside was broadly as he’d imagined it.
Seth and Maynard were trying to cross the main drag, but their route had been blocked by the people who were milling around and seemingly unsure whether to get involved or flee. Either way, the crowd was adding to the confusion while, closer to the law office, Shackleton was slugging it out with the outlaw who had first come out of the office.
Cassidy reckoned Shackleton could deal with his opponent so he concentrated on the other two men. They had abandoned their attempt to cross the main drag and instead they hurried along the boardwalk, heading away from the courthouse.
Cassidy gave chase, slowly at first, but speeding up as the cool wind enlivened him. He was twenty feet behind them and he reckoned they were aiming to reach the stables five buildings away from the law office.
The two men had scurried past three buildings when gunfire blasted tearing splinters from a corner post and making them turn their heads, seeking out the source of the trouble. It wasn’t obvious where the gunfire had come from, but Cassidy knew the men he’d positioned at this end of the main drag were making their move.
Another burst of gunfire sounded, causing Seth to slide to a halt, but the more desperate Maynard took flight across the main drag. Cassidy made an instant decision and he hurried off the boardwalk and then across the hardpan to intercept him.
He’d gotten to within five paces of him when a warning cry came from behind. He turned at the hip to find the outlaw who had been fighting Shackleton had defeated him and he was running toward him with his six-shooter thrust out.
The man fired on the run and the shot kicked dirt at Cassidy’s feet. Cassidy made him pay for his poor aim and a low shot to the chest made him fold over. The man ran on for two paces before he dropped down on to his front and hunched his back before becoming still.
Seth had now moved on and, when Cassidy turned back to seek out Maynard, he, too, had disappeared from view. Cassidy kicked at the ground in irritation and walked on at a slow pace as he tried to locate him.
Quickly he confirmed they hadn’t gone down the alleyway beside the Shaw hotel and that meant they had to have doubled-back toward the courthouse. He turned that way and, after a few paces, he came to a halt.
A semicircle of townsfolk had surrounded two men. Maynard was kneeling while Shackleton held him from behind with an arm thrust up his back.
“One of them got away, but I got the one I came here to collect,” Shackleton called to Cassidy. “That’s assuming the jury aren’t fools.”
The two men Cassidy had positioned at the end of the main drag were exchanging views while shrugging, suggesting that Seth had escaped their cordon, but Cassidy still mustered a smile when he joined Shackleton.
“The case against him was watertight, and there’s another one in the law office so you’ll be back soon to collect him.”
Shackleton nodded. “I’d be obliged if you’d keep Seth busy while we spirit this one away.”
Cassidy slapped Shackleton on the back. “Is your partner in town, too?”
“No. I left Nathaniel out of town in case of trouble like this, and we’ve never lost a man.” Shackleton dragged Maynard to his feet. “We don’t intend to start now.”
Chapter Two
“What’s wrong, Nathaniel?” Shackleton asked when they were five miles out of Monotony.
Nathaniel McBain didn’t reply immediately, concentrating, as he had done for the last hour, on keeping a close eye on their charge.
“I’ve not been to Monotony for a while,” he said. “I have bad memories about that place.”
“You didn’t go there this time either. . . .” Shackleton trailed off while nodding, suggesting the obvious thought had hit him. He lowered his voice. “I’ve never asked you about your past. I know you’re a changed man, but if there’s anything relevant to this mission you need to tell me, I’d be obliged if you spoke up now.”
“There’s nothing you need to know.”
Nathaniel turned in the saddle to Shackleton and gave a reassuring smile. Unfortunately, the speed with which he then turned away probably had the opposite effect. After riding on for a few minutes he resolved to talk to him when they’d made camp for the night, but right now he wanted to get his thoughts in order.
Once, Nathaniel had been Sheriff Cassidy Yates’s deputy, but he’d turned his back on that life and become an outlaw. With his partner Spenser O’Connor he had embarked on a spree of robberies in which the only thing they could say in their defense is that they’d never killed any innocent folks.
Eventually Cassidy had captured them and although he’d deemed them to be cut from the same cloth as Maynard Holdstock, Nathaniel had vowed to serve his time and go straight. He’d done just that and now he assisted Shackleton in delivering convicted men to jail and sometimes prisoners to courthouses.
He’d used his knowledge of the criminal mentality to good effect and he and Shackleton had forged an exemplary record. That didn’t change the fact he hadn’t wanted to head into town and risk facing the man who had brought him to justice, and he still wasn’t sure why not.
The four hours they rode on that day didn’t help him to work out why either. By the time they stopped to make camp under the lee of a collection of boulders 200 yards off the well-worn trail, he was chiding himself for not taking the opportunity to show Cassidy he’d been wrong about him.
Shackleton didn’t question him and he took care of their prisoner while Nathaniel made a guarded fire, although he didn’t light it. Then they both remained pensive while they considered the terrain with the studious gazes of men who expected trouble.
When the unexpected came it arrived in the form of a man afoot. He didn’t look like trouble, something that always made both men uneasy. The man was shuffling down the trail toward them, his weary pace showing he didn’t expect to find anywhere to rest that night and, as they’d passed no settlements that day, he faced a long journey to Monotony.
Shackleton and Nathaniel turned to each other and with facial expressions alone they silently decided that with a prisoner to guard they wouldn’t be neighborly. So they settled down behind the unlit fire with Maynard sitting between them as the man shuffled on by.
