High Noon in Snake Ridge, page 1
High Noon in Snake Ridge
Scott Connor
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 2012 by Robert Hale Limited
Copyright © 2012, 2022 by Scott Connor
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
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Chapter One
“See you soon, Matthew,” the guard said with a smirk.
Matthew Jennings stayed silent while the gate of the Bozeman Point jail creaked open and presented him with an uninterrupted view of featureless plains that stretched to the impossibly far away horizon.
“I’m not coming back,” he said as the vastness drew him forward.
“They all say that.”
When Matthew didn’t reply, the guard kicked his rump, making him drop to his knees. Matthew got to his feet while concentrating on the fact that this would be the last time he’d be on the receiving end of such treatment.
The moment he turned around, a saddlebag slapped him in the face and wrapped around his head. While the guard laughed, he struggled to extricate himself and, by the time he’d dragged the bag away, the gate was slamming shut.
Matthew faced the closed gate, but the lure of the open space made him dismiss the thought of banging on it and shouting oaths at the guard. He turned to the endless nothing, deciding he’d never get bored of solitude, of not being given orders, of not being locked up in a small space.
He must have stood there for a while as, when he directed his thoughts to his next actions, the sun was warming his back, having risen above the clouds after his sunup release. Firstly, he investigated what was in the bag.
It didn’t take long. It was empty. Ten years of incarceration had taken away the memory of what possessions he’d had when he’d been locked away, but he doubted there had been much.
He dropped the bag to the ground and turned north toward the town of Bozeman Point. At a steady pace, he embarked on the ten-mile walk. He was still reveling in the simple pleasures of having the sun on his back and the wind in his hair when he walked into town.
He located the station where he found out that the train was due in an hour. As he reckoned that nobody would complain if he rode the rails, he leaned back against the station house wall in a position that kept him apart from the other congregating passengers – not that anyone came close to him.
When the train arrived, two freight cars were at the back so he made his slow way toward them. Nobody paid him undue attention, but, as it turned out, he wasn’t the only one planning to take this uncomfortable option.
A man emerged from behind the station house and, with his head down, ran to the freight cars. He slid open the first door, checked inside and then moved on to the second car where he clambered inside quickly.
Matthew reckoned that moving quickly was the right way to act and he hurried to the open door. When he reached it, two arms were thrust down. He locked hands and let the man draw him up.
“Howdy, Matthew,” his helper said. His voice was deep and familiar. “It’s been a while.”
In the otherwise empty car, Matthew sat back against the wall beside the space left by a missing plank. As his eyes accustomed to the lower light level inside, with a start he confirmed his companion’s identity.
“Creighton Kendrick,” Matthew said, a smile breaking out now that he’d enjoyed his first break since leaving jail. “Was this a coincidence or were you waiting for me?”
“I’d already decided to head west.” Creighton slid the door closed, cutting down the light level to just the thin strips of light that sliced through the gaps in the planks, and then settled down in a corner of the car. “But I thought I’d wait and ride along with you.”
His reply had been reasonable, but it still gave Matthew an uneasy feeling.
“I’m obliged for the company,” he said, having decided to mention the debt Creighton owed him. “After all, I haven’t seen my old friend for many years.”
“I’m grateful you never told anyone about me. So I’ve decided to cut you in on what you’re owed.” Creighton put an eye to a gap in the wood, presumably to confirm that nobody was close. “That’s a half share in four thousand dollars.”
“I’m surprised any of it’s left,” Matthew said, feeling pleased that the possibility didn’t excite him. When Creighton only smiled, he hazarded a guess. “I assume that means the others are dead.”
“Nope. After they caught you, Elijah double-crossed us and stole our money. Then Tarrant and me got detained for a while on another matter, so we had to postpone the chase.”
Matthew frowned, acknowledging the hardships they’d suffered.
“Is Tarrant out yet?”
“He should be, but I couldn’t find him. I did find Elijah. He returned to Snake Ridge and used our money to buy respect. Some say he could be the next town mayor.”
Matthew’s first day outside jail had already tired him so this revelation didn’t surprise him as much as the incredulous expression that Creighton provided suggested it should.
“Elijah was a single-minded man. I wish him luck.”
“I sure don’t.”
Creighton frowned and Matthew gathered an inkling of the full story. As the train lurched into motion, he raised his voice to be heard over the growing clamor of the rattling cars and screeching wheels.
“You’ve already tried and failed to get the money off him.”
“Three months ago I saw his picture.” Creighton withdrew a battered sheet of paper from his pocket. He tossed it on the floor and it opened up to show that it was the Snake Ridge Gazette. “I offered him a deal to keep quiet about his past, but he called my bluff and had me run out of town. I’ve not gotten close to him since, but I reckon you’ll do better.”
Matthew shook his head. “I’m going back to my hometown, but I’m not going back to my old ways. He can keep my share of the money. If you want your share back, settle it with him.”
“I’d wondered if jail might have changed you.” Creighton’s benign expression flicked to a snarl in a moment as he drew his six-shooter. “It’s eighty miles to the next town. If I dump your body out of the train, nobody will ever find it.”
Creighton aimed the gun at a point above Matthew’s head. He mouthed a count down from three. Then he fired. The gunshot was deafening and even though Matthew knew Creighton had aimed high, he ducked.
Then he fingered the hole in the wall, judging that the slug had hit nine inches above his right ear. When he turned to Creighton, he was now aiming nine inches lower.
“I’m not interested, old friend,” Matthew said, meeting Creighton’s firm gaze.
Creighton narrowed his eyes with a look that said that despite the debt he owed him, he would shoot, but instead, he kicked the paper across the car.
“You should look at this first,” he said with a low voice. “You know the current mayor, the man who’ll be Elijah’s main rival.”
Matthew picked up the paper and considered a picture depicting a line of men standing proudly before a locomotive. At the end was Elijah wearing a stove hat with a foot raised on to a wheel.
The text explained the momentous event that was being celebrated, but Matthew didn’t read it. His gaze had centered on the man standing beside Elijah, the only other man in the picture he recognized. He refolded the page and threw it back to Creighton.
“I’ll do what I can,” he said.
Chapter Two
“You have a visitor, Mr. Jennings,” Wilson Coney said with a hushed tone as he leaned in through the office door.
“Tell him to go away,” a strident voice said from inside the office.
Wilson turned to Matthew while closing the door behind his back.
“He’s too busy to see you.” He offered an ingratiating smile. “Would you like to make an appointment?”
“I’d be obliged,” Matthew said using a deferential tone.
He beckoned to Wilson’s desk and the official rummaged around for an appointment book, but the moment he turned his back on him, Matthew headed to the door. To Matthew’s surprise, his brother wasn’t inside.
Instead, his father Granville, a thin, steel-haired man with round spectacles perched on the end of his nose, was sitting behind a desk. Only his head was visible behind the desk that was covered with so much paperwork, it made him appear as busy as Wilson had claimed. Wilson put a hand on Matthew’s shoulder and tugged, but the small man couldn’t move him and he slipped into the doorway beside him.
Granville didn’t reply or even stop reading the document he was holding, so Matthew took a long pace forward.
“I reckoned you wouldn’t be too busy to see your son for the first time in over ten years,” he said.
Granville flinched before he got himself under control with a roll of the shoulders. Then, with a hand to his brow, he finished the section he was reading.
“You were wrong,” he said, eyeing him over the top of his glasses.
To avoid his piercing gaze, Matthew walked around gesturing at the ornate office.
“I’m pleased you’ve done well.”
“This is your brother’s office, and I’m proud to be his assistant.” Granville pursed his lips and the silence let Matthew fill in the detail for himself – that he wasn’t proud of him. “But that’s no concern of yours.”
“It is,” Matthew said, struggling to find an appropriate response. “I’m interested in what my family has been doing.”
“I’ve never been interested in your activities.” Granville read a few lines, but the strain of ignoring Matthew made him crease his brow. So, with an angry gesture, he threw the document aside. “But I knew they’d let you out.”
Matthew sighed, pleased that he’d broached the difficult subject. He took a deep breath before delivering the speech he’d rehearsed beforehand.
“Spending ten years in prison was enough for me. I want to change my life, but people take one look at me and work out where I’ve been. I thought my family might treat me differently.”
Granville had been nodding, but the final request made him raise an eyebrow. Then, with a snort of irritation, he withdrew bills from his pocket and deposited them onto the top of a pile of papers.
“There’s thirty dollars here,” he said, gesturing at the money. “That should be enough to get rid of you.”
“I’m obliged, but I meant I was looking for work. My brother was always good to me and I enjoyed his company.” Matthew paused, this time letting his father fill in the unsaid detail for himself. “I intend to stay here and renew our friendship. So I’ll need work to pay my way.”
Granville treated him to two raised eyebrows. Then he raised his hands with the fingertips touching in an attitude of prayer.
“Take the money and go.” Granville fanned out the bills. “I don’t want you around reminding everyone that I still have you for a son.”
Matthew walked up to the desk and picked up the bills. He flicked through them, confirming that his father had been as generous as he had claimed. Then with a sneer he hurled them at him, making him jerk away.
“I need money real bad, but not that badly,” Matthew snapped as the bills fluttered to the floor.
Then, with as much dignity as he could muster, he turned on his heel and left the office. He was halfway down the stairs when Granville started berating Wilson for having let him in. Down in the lobby, Matthew took deep breaths to calm himself down.
When that didn’t work, he stood at a window and tried to enjoy the everyday – for others – sight of people going about their business in a bustling town. Since he’d left, Snake Ridge had expanded.
A railroad bridge had been built ten miles out of town across what had once been deemed an impassable gorge. Then a depot had been built, which had attracted yet more people. A small settlement that twenty years ago had only one trading post now had a hundred times more businesses.
He opened the door and, aside from the wood creaking, a low noise sounded. Matthew stopped and the sound came again, this time letting him identify it as someone groaning. He ducked outside, confirmed that nobody was close by and then slipped back into the lobby.
He hurried to the closed door at the bottom of the stairs and cautiously put a hand to the wood. The door swung open to reveal a table and a line of chairs around the walls. One of the chairs had been toppled and that drew his attention to the feet sticking out beyond the table in the far corner.
At a run he rounded the table and the sight of the blood made him skid to a halt. He hadn’t met his brother Newman in ten years, but he recognized the wounded man’s sparse fair hair and his tall form.
Newman was lying on his chest. The volume of blood that had pooled beneath him suggested that he’d been hurt some time ago, perhaps even before he’d arrived. Meeting Newman had been the only part of his homecoming he’d been looking forward to.
So the sight of him lying there, apparently stabbed and possibly dying, made Matthew sway and he had to grab the table to stop himself falling over. With a heavy heart, Matthew turned him over, and his brother flopped on to his back, his eyes blank.
“Who did this?” Matthew said, aghast as he put a hand to Newman’s blood-soaked chest.
Newman twitched and he gasped in a ragged breath. His eyes moved and his unfocused gaze drifted to Matthew and then past him.
“Matthew?” Newman said, his voice like the wind. “Is that really you?”
“It is.” Matthew turned to the door. “I’ve come back, and I need to get you to help.”
“There’s so much I want to tell you, but it’s too late.” Newman exhaled a long breath. “I forgive you.”
Then his head lolled to the side. When he didn’t draw in another breath, Matthew ran from the room calling for the help that he knew his brother was already beyond needing.
Matthew’s former partner in crime, Elijah Moon, owned the Horned Moon. As the saloon was lowly enough to eke out his meager funds, Matthew went in and bustled to the bar. Creighton had given him enough money for a room along with a few drinks, so he leaned on the counter beside a sour-faced man who was drinking himself into oblivion.
Matthew reckoned he’d found the right place to spend a couple of hours and, with an equally sour expression, he ordered a drink and reveled in the sullen atmosphere. Nobody talked to him and only a low susurration of muttered conversations filled the room, letting him put his thoughts in order about his past so that he could plan his future.
Ten years ago, in what now felt like it had been a different life, he had lived here. While his elder brother Newman had been responsible, he’d been wayward. His only memories of his family came from the time after his mother’s death, when he had argued with his father while Newman leaped to his defense.
He’d met three equally disillusioned young men, who had just ridden into town. With Elijah Moon, Tarrant Blocker and Creighton Kendrick he had spirited away the contents of his hometown’s bank in the dead of night.
The robbery had gone so smoothly, the finger of suspicion had never been pointed at them. This had especially pleased him, as his brother had just delighted his father by being appointed as the town’s first marshal.
A month later, when they’d split up the $4,000 they’d hidden away, the money no longer felt substantial and the urge to steal again had consumed them. They’d moved on, hoping to continue their success.
Creighton had been the leader, planning their activities in meticulous detail. Tarrant had been the safe-breaker, priding himself that no lock could defeat his light fingers. Elijah had been the gunman, although Creighton’s planning had been so good his talent hadn’t been used.
When he thought back, Matthew had to admit his role had been the least skilled. He had gone into town first, checked out the area and reported back. His had been the only face anyone saw and that had been his downfall.
After a month of planning, their first raid after leaving Snake Ridge had gone disastrously wrong. The bank staff in Rock Pass had been edgy and his activities had aroused suspicion, so before the other three men had ridden into town, law officers had descended on him.
While the others melted away, he’d been arrested for attempted bank robbery, the only charge against him that could be proven. He’d kept his silence about the others’ involvement, but he’d still gotten ten years.
The only positive result was that his time in jail had convinced him that he wouldn’t return to his old ways, but his homecoming had been even more disastrous than he’d feared. That thought made him grip his glass tightly and confirm he did want one thing: to have Newman’s killer brought to justice.
Sundown arrived and he was thinking about seeking out a room when a raised voice sounded behind him. He hunched over his drink and ignored the distraction, but the drinker to his left, Walt, screeched and then was dragged backward and deposited on the floor with a thud.
