Legend of the Dead Men's Gold, page 1
Legend of the Dead Men's Gold
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.
First published in 2014 by Robert Hale Limited
Copyright © 2014, 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
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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Chapter One
“It’s been a long time since you last came to Dirtwood, but I don’t have any information for you,” Oliver Kincaid said.
Newton Clay shrugged. “That’s not important. This time I have information.”
Oliver nodded and placed a whiskey bottle on the bar. He poured Newton a generous measure, but when Newton fished in his pocket for money he shook his head.
“For a man with information the first drink is free.”
“I’m meeting someone here later.” Newton lowered his voice, even though the few customers in the Hunter’s Moon weren’t paying him any attention. “Our discussion may touch upon the fate of this saloon’s former owner, which is sure to interest a man who’s prepared to provide free drinks all night.”
Oliver raised his hat to run fingers through his sparse hair.
“If I had a dollar for every customer who’s tried to sell me details of what happened to my brother. . . .”
“How much would you have?”
“About five hundred dollars.”
“Now that’s a coincidence.” Newton swirled his drink. “Because for five hundred dollars I’ll tell you what happened to Trip.”
“If I had five hundred dollars I wouldn’t be tending bar.”
“Four hundred?”
Oliver sighed. “Do we have to waste time on this ritual? When you’ve had a few drinks you know you’ll tell me everything for nothing.”
“Three hundred, then?” Newton frowned when Oliver shook his head. “I’ll whet your appetite with the name of a town for free: it’s Helliton.”
“The place they call Hell Town?” Oliver raised an eyebrow. “It’s said there’s no way into that outlaw stronghold.”
“There isn’t, except I’m meeting Santiago Pinchete. He plans to take over Helliton and he wants a town-tamer. So I thought I’d take his offer and your money: two hundred dollars, to be precise.”
“I tend bar.” Oliver tapped the whiskey bottle. “I don’t have two hundred dollars.”
Newton chuckled with a gleam in his eye that said the negotiation was closing in on the right price. Oliver merely topped up his glass before he moved to the other end of the bar but, as it turned out, Newton didn’t try to continue their conversation.
For the next hour Newton nursed his glass while Oliver served his customers. Later two men he didn’t recognize arrived individually. One man took a glass of whiskey to a table, choosing a position facing the door, while the other man joined Newton.
“I’m surprised you came,” Newton said after introducing Oliver to Gabriel Bigelow.
“I’m still looking for a way into Helliton,” Gabriel said. “But I haven’t changed my opinion that town-taming is a bad way to make money.”
“Having information is always the easiest way.” Newton gestured at Oliver. “For instance, my old friend has promised to give me a hundred dollars to solve an old mystery.”
Oliver paused from cleaning glasses to shake his head, while Gabriel noted that the other newcomer was passing the time by flicking a gold eagle from hand to hand.
“You said Santiago hadn’t made this offer to anyone else.”
“I didn’t think he had.”
“Then who’s the gunslinger?”
“That’s Erebus Finch, twice as fast on the draw as a spooked rattler and twice as mean.”
Newton nodded before joining Gabriel in leaning on the bar in pensive silence. It was approaching midnight and Oliver’s regular customers were sloping away when a tall, stern man arrived.
Erebus straightened up while Newton and Gabriel beckoned him on, confirming this man was Santiago. At the bar Santiago inspected his glass for marks before he let Oliver pour him a whiskey.
He led Newton and Gabriel to Erebus’s table where he regarded the last straggler. Newton caught Oliver’s eye and, getting his meaning, Oliver rounded this man up and directed him to the door.
This late in the evening he had difficulty in walking so by the time Oliver had cleared out the room the meeting was underway. While Santiago outlined his offer quietly Oliver, despite claiming the meeting didn’t interest him, stood by the table holding a whiskey bottle.
Although he couldn’t hear what Santiago was saying Newton noted, with a sly smile, his attempt to eavesdrop. Oliver had accepted he wouldn’t hear anything interesting, and he was gravitating back to the bar when Gabriel scraped back his chair and stood up.
“I’ve heard enough of this madness,” he said. “Any man who tries to tame Helliton won’t survive to enjoy his first sundown.”
Newton shrugged while Santiago spread his hands, showing he wouldn’t try to talk him around. So while shaking his head Gabriel made for the door. Santiago waited until he’d gone before he gestured for Oliver to top up their glasses.
“So that leaves me to choose between you two,” he said as Oliver poured three full whiskey glasses. “I hope whichever one of you I pick will enjoy more than one sundown.”
“That’ll depend on how Helliton reacts to its first town-tamer,” Newton said.
“They’ll react badly. I’m looking for the fourth town-tamer.”
Newton winced and Erebus tipped back his hat, this being the most animated reaction that Oliver had seen him make.
“What happened to the first three?” Oliver asked.
He winced after contributing to the discussion for the first time, and sure enough Santiago directed a cold look at him while leaning back in his chair.
“That’s of no interest to a bartender.”
“Except it’s a good question,” Newton said, interrupting presumably to reduce Oliver’s embarrassment.
Santiago nodded and bade Oliver to stay and hear the answer.
“I guess an inquisitive bartender should know. The first was gunned down from four different directions before his first sundown. The second took the precaution of staying in the office I’d given him. Two days later I found him slumped over his desk having been shot in the back.”
“What about the third?” Newton said.
“He killed the second, so I decided I needed a new man from out of town, which brings me back to the question of which one of you do I choose.”
Santiago smiled at one man and then the other while Newton faced Erebus, his raised eyebrows inviting him to speak for the first time. Erebus still took several moments to respond.
“Choose wisely,” he said, his voice almost too low for Oliver to hear him.
“I’m a ruthless man,” Newton said. He picked up his glass and raised it in salute to his rival. “Are you?”
Erebus opened his hand, revealing the eagle he’d been tossing earlier. He flicked the coin and caught it. Erebus nodded, as if he approved of the result although he hadn’t looked at the coin.
Then, with a thin smile on his lips, he moved to take his glass with his left hand. The action made Oliver uneasy. By the time he’d identified his concern that Erebus, while tossing the coin, had shown himself to be right-handed, it was too late.
Erebus used his motion of leaning forward to disguise his slipping his hand down to his holster. Then he ripped his six-shooter out and, before anyone could move, in a fluid motion he fired.
His gunshot sliced into Newton’s chest, making Newton throw his head back in shock, his expression being one of surprise tinged with pain. He turned to Oliver before he slid from his chair and slumped over in an ungainly heap on the floor.
“I am,” Erebus said. He turned to Santiago.
Santiago raised himself to examine Newton’s form before nodding.
“I believe I’ve found the right man,” he said.
Luckily, Santiago then ignored Oliver while Erebus merely narrowed his eyes, warning him to stay back and acknowledging he was only a bartender. As both men left the table and headed to the door, Oliver dropped to his knees and rolled Newton over on to his back.
“I guess fifty dollars is out of the question?” Newton breathed with his eyes pained.
“I’ll pay you whatever you want, but the information can wait until I can get you—”
“It’s too late,” Newton said through gritted teeth. He grabbed Oliver’s arm. “You can have everything I know about Trip for nothing. Find the queen of hearts.”
Oliver waited for more, but Newton’s hand was loosening its grip. Oliver shook his shoulders.
“What does that mean? How does that. . . ?
He trailed off as Newton’s hand slipped away from his arm and landed on the floor with a thud.
The newcomer held a drawn gun and sported a fierce scowl, but Vaughan Price still smiled broadly.
“I assume you’d like a fast horse, and you’re in luck, as I have plenty,” he said while spreading his hands and inviting the man into the stable.
“You assumed wrong,” the man said. He walked toward him. “I want information.”
Vaughan rubbed his hands. “I might have that, too.”
The man stomped to a halt and rubbed his bristled jaw.
“Then tell me about Ballard Swift.”
“Ah.” Vaughan took an involuntary pace backward. “I don’t know much about him.”
“You sure knew plenty when you spilled your guts to the bounty hunter Gabriel Bigelow.” The man raised an eyebrow, inviting a response, but Vaughan’s mouth had gone dry. “Last month Gabriel tracked Ballard down and Ballard got a bellyful of lead. It took him two days to die.”
Vaughan gulped, but the action failed to moisten his throat.
“Did you know Ballard well?”
“I’m Tobias Swift.” The newcomer squared up to Vaughan, grabbed his collar and hoisted him up on tiptoes. Cold metal jabbed into the underside of Vaughan’s jaw. “I’m here to give you a choice.”
“What choice?” Vaughan bleated.
Tobias walked Vaughan backward. “It’s a simple one: I can make this either real quick or real slow.”
“There has to be another way.” Vaughan waved his arms as he struggled to keep his balance. “I . . . I told Gabriel nothing other than I sold Ballard a horse, and he hadn’t even come to Prudence about Ballard.”
“Stop babbling and choose.” Tobias jabbed the gun deep into Vaughan’s skin, making him raise his chin.
“I don’t want to choose. I must have something you want.” Vaughan met Tobias’s eye, but there was no hope of a reprieve in the man’s cold gaze, but with Tobias taking his time over enacting his revenge, he thought quickly and then opted for his best chance. “Have you heard of the legend of the dead men’s gold?”
With an angry snarl Tobias threw Vaughan backward, making him go clattering into the side of a stall before he broke through the wood and went sprawling on his back.
“Ballard got shot up because of your tales.” Tobias came around the end of the stall and trained his gun on Vaughan’s stomach. “So I sure don’t want to hear no stories about cursed gold.”
“It’s not a story. That’s what Gabriel came to see me about.” Vaughan raised his hands in a beseeching gesture. “I know the secret of the gold!”
Tobias sneered. “The legend says that only dead men find the gold.”
Vaughan noted that Tobias had lowered his gun slightly, so, while he still had a chance to talk his way out of his predicament, he got up on to his knees and smiled.
“In my current situation that doesn’t concern me.”
Tobias narrowed his eyes, but when Vaughan said no more, he returned the smile.
“Show me the gold and you’ll get to prove the legend wrong,” he said.
Chapter Two
“Who was he?” Doctor Tweedmouth asked after confirming Newton’s demise.
“I don’t know,” Oliver said, not meeting Tweedmouth’s eye. “He said he was passing through and he was a friendly enough customer, but clearly he and the other man had a problem with each other.”
“I assume you don’t know who the other man was either?”
“You know me. I don’t ask no questions.”
“I’ll be sure to tell that to any lawman who takes an interest.”
Tweedmouth raised an eyebrow, inviting Oliver to offer a better explanation, but Oliver turned away and headed out of the surgery. It was past midnight and Santiago and Erebus had already left town, presumably on their way to Helliton.
As Oliver wandered past quiet buildings he pondered on what Newton’s last words had meant. So as he went into his saloon he had his head lowered and it took him several moments to register that he had customers.
Four men were loitering around the saloon room with surly gleams in their eyes. He stopped two paces in from the doorway.
“I’m closed,” he said.
“You look open to me,” the man at the bar said. He had his back to him and he was leaning over his glass of whiskey.
Oliver put on a fixed, good-host smile and headed behind the bar to face him.
“It’s been a long day, but enjoy your drinks before you leave.”
Oliver raised an eyebrow, inviting the man to offer a name, and he admitted to being Rex Amney, a name that meant nothing to Oliver, before gulping his drink.
“I assume that means you’ve had plenty of visitors tonight?” Rex smiled slyly and turned to the dark stain in the corner where Newton had breathed his last.
“It’s not been a trouble-free night.”
This uncommitted answer made Rex nod, and the other men took this as their cue to move closer. Sure enough, when the first man reached the bar, Rex turned around, his hand rising to grab Oliver’s collar. Oliver jerked aside and Rex’s hand closed on air.
“You move quickly for a fat bartender.”
“You ask too many questions for a customer.”
Rex snarled as he scooped up his whiskey glass and hurled it at Oliver. The whiskey sprayed out of the glass and splashed into Oliver’s face. With his eyes burning, Oliver backed away and by the time he’d shaken the liquor from his eyes Rex had rolled over the bar.
Then, while moving forward, he thudded a low punch into Oliver’s rounded belly, which made him groan and fold over. The moment Oliver straightened Rex ran him at the bar, making Oliver belly-up to the bar and tumble over it.
He landed on the floor on his side, from where, as fast as he was able, he got to his feet, but already two men had closed in on him. They grabbed one arm apiece and shoved him backward to pin him against the bar.
They held him until Rex joined them. He stood in front of Oliver with a smirk on his face.
“Why did Santiago come here?” Rex said.
“He met Erebus Finch,” Oliver said, starting with the simplest part of tonight’s events.
Rex flinched, while the men holding him tensed before they turned to Rex for instructions. Rex took his time in replying, his eyes glazing as he digested information that had clearly troubled him.
When he got over his surprise, with an angry grunt he slapped Oliver’s cheek backhanded, sending him leaning backward over the bar. When Oliver righted himself, Rex delivered a fierce two-fisted blow that settled deep into his substantial stomach.
Only the men holding him upright ensured he didn’t crumple to his knees. He still lowered his head, which let Rex slap the back of his neck with a double-handed blow that tore him away from the men holding him.
He went sprawling on the floor where he lay on his chest, gasping for air while willing the pain in his stomach and neck to recede. When he’d regained enough of his senses to feel confident that he could stand up, he raised his head, shaking it, only to find that Rex’s boot was swinging toward his face.
He tried to swerve away from the foot, but he was too slow to avoid a stinging kick to the jaw that sent him rolling along until he fetched up against the base of the bar. He lay grunting in pain and tasting blood, and he must have blacked out, as he sensed that the men were no longer standing around him.
He flitted in and out of consciousness while a disjointed conversation ensued, the voices sounding fuzzy and seemingly coming from a distance. He couldn’t concentrate on what was being discussed, although he heard them talking about Erebus and Santiago before the murmured conversation coalesced into a low and soothing buzzing sound.
Harsh brightness and warmth dragged him back to consciousness, making him think it was morning. He could no longer hear the conversation and he didn’t sense that anyone was close by, so he stretched out, giving himself time to regain his strength.
Liquid dripped on his outstretched hand. The shock made him draw the hand away. The back of his hand still felt odd and it wasn’t until a cloying taste in his throat made him cough that he realized the liquid had been hot and it had scolded him.
