The Desperadoes of Gallows Gulch (Silver Vein Chronicles Book 3)

Book summary

In "The Desperadoes of Gallows Gulch," Wild Bill Hickok arrives in Silver Vein expecting a break but finds chaos instead. Curly Barnes, hearing of the sheriff’s captivity, rushes to rescue him only to discover his friend Scout has also been taken. Together with his deputies and Texas Rangers, they embark on a quest for justice.

Excerpt from The Desperadoes of Gallows Gulch (Silver Vein Chronicles Book 3)

I was on my way to the Milton jail to save a young man’s life. He’d been accused of having his way with the daughter of Sam Milton, the man who’d discovered the coal deposits under the ground, and the man who’d named the town after himself. But I had a sworn testimonial from Boffroy Hackett, who declared that the young man in question, Taylor Stephens, couldn’t have done what he was accused of, because on the night in question he’d been staying with his uncle in Amarillo, and Boffroy said he and the boy’s uncle took him to dinner and that he’d never been out of their sight.

Taylor was due to hang. Old Sam Milton ran the town, and it was said that the law did whatever he told it to. It was my hope that the sheriff of Milton, a man named Bool Marlowe, once he saw the testimonial, would see that he had no choice but to let the boy go. To not do so would be too much even for a corrupt sheriff.

Milton didn’t even exist a year ago, I thought, as I made my way along it’s still-being-built Main Street. When the coal had been discovered, the town had sprung up seemingly overnight to feed the ever-hungry railroad interests. It wasn’t completely true to say the town didn’t exist a year ago, so much as it seemed that way to me because I’d never been to the town and had only heard of it from people who were passing through Silver Vein. The last time I’d been in these parts it was nothing but dirt.

The town was a cacophony of hammers hitting nails and fresh timber being sawed, and building facades being hoisted up into the sky. I made my way through the growing town and reined Horse up and dismounted and hitched him up outside the jail.

“Wait here,” I told Horse. He would have waited anyway, but I liked to let him know my thoughts. Horse was very well-trained, and clearly loved me. I didn’t really need to hitch him up, but I did it anyway because I didn’t want other people to feel bad about how untrained their horses were in comparison.

I walked into the brand-new jail and saw Marlowe sitting at a brand-new desk with his boots up, snoring away in mid-nap. I didn’t know the man, but I thought I’d have a go at him anyway. I took the jail door and slammed it as hard as I could.

Marlowe woke up, reared back in his chair and fell over backwards in alarm. He thrashed about, got his legs under him, pushed himself off the floor, and then saw me standing in the doorway laughing at him.

“Sorry,” I said.

He looked like he was thinking about whomping me, but then he saw the badge on my waistcoat that said I was a Deputy U.S. Marshal.

“I reckon I must have—”

“Relax, sheriff,” I said. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself. I’ve had the very same thing happen to me on a number of occasions.”

Marlowe’s shoulders lowered and he relaxed.

“On slow days, ain’t much to do to kill time but take a snooze.”

“That is the truth of it,” I agreed.

“Especially when it’s hot out,” Marlowe added.

“Also true.”

“Well, Marshal…” Marlowe asked, realizing at last my appearance in his town was not the norm.

“Curly Barnes,” I said. This had the effect I was hoping for.

“Sheriff Curly Barnes? From Silver Vein?”

“The very one. But I’m not here on behalf of Silver Vein.”

“Well, this here is an honor! I know all about you, I bet!” Marlowe opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a book with some hideous illustration of me that some fella back East thought I might look like on the cover. The illustration was such a ridiculous likeness that I was immediately insulted.

“Don’t think I’ve seen this one,” I said, and then I tossed the stupid book back in the drawer. I was already me. I didn’t need to read a bunch of made-up bull chips about myself. If anyone was going to make up a bunch of stuff about me, I was going to be the one doing it.

“I expect you might just be the most famous person to ever set foot in Milton! I would love to spot you a bourbon in the Milton Saloon if you’ll allow it.”

“I’ll allow it, of course. But you might not want to spot me anything when you find out why I’m here.” I reached into my waistcoat and came out with the Boffroy testimonial and handed it over. He read through it carefully, and then, not meeting my eyes, handed it back.

“I’m afraid it’s too late,” he said.

“He’s been hanged?” I asked.

Marlowe shook his head. “He’ll be hanged tomorrow morning. Do you know anything about this town, Marshal?”

“No,” I said. “Other than it’s a coal mining town. And Sam Milton runs it.”

“Care to walk with me? I find it’s getting awful hot in here.” The sheriff walked over and collected his hat from the hat rack and opened the door and I followed him outside.

“Sam Milton runs this town, all right,” he said. “And he dotes on his daughter Katie. His wife, Ellie, died of fever some years back. It’s just the two of them now. And he’s a very protective father. If I were a boy, I would never even consider having anything to do with the daughter of a man the likes of Sam Milton.”

“The boy might have been thinking with his nether parts. When I was becoming a man, just about all I cared about was making my nether parts happy. But the boy is innocent,” I said. “You read the letter.” The man who preceded me as sheriff of Silver Vein, Jim Shepland, was the most honest man I would ever meet. His presence was still very much alive in me, and I would often ask myself what old Jim would do in this or that situation. And he would have never allowed a boy to die based on what might be a false accusation. But I knew that Jim Shepland was the white buffalo of sheriffs. All too many sheriffs were perfectly willing to do whatever someone told him so long as that person was willing to pay.

Marlowe was looking down at his boots now, but then he finally nodded.

“Here, whether you’re guilty or innocent depends on the decision of one man.”

I was afraid of this. Marlowe wasn’t loyal to justice. He was loyal to Sam Milton. Or he was afraid of him. Either way, I could see he wasn’t going to be much help.

“Look sheriff, I under—”

“The only reason I’m sheriff is because Milton told me I was. There was no election or anything of that sort. Just his choosing me for the job. And all I have to do is whatever he tells me, and I make more money being the sheriff of this town than in any of my previous occupations. One thing you can say about Sam Milton, he will pay a fella good money.”

Walking down the street, I noticed a doctor’s office and a bank and a restaurant and general store. All brand-new and doing good business. Five years ago, it would have been crazy to start a town this far south. But the Comanches and Kiowas and the bandits coming up from Mexico had all been pushed back, and now it was safe for people.

The saloon was brand new and smelled like fresh lumber, but there was nothing to it but a small wooden bar in a tent with but a few bottles behind the bar. As a saloonkeeper, who knew about such things, it was hard for me to take seriously. But I needed to try and get Marlowe on my side when it came to the Stephens boy, so I couldn’t let my true thoughts out on the matter.

“Nice place,” I lied.

“Now, we won’t be able to talk in here,” Marlowe said. “Johnson, a bottle.” The skinny kid behind the bar looked at me and asked, “Mister, are you Curly Barnes?”

I nodded. “And what’s your name?”

“Cooper Johnson, sir.” He scurried behind a tent flap and disappeared.

“Told you. Famous!” Marlowe cried, smacking me on the back.

I could only shrug. “I expect I’ve got a recognizable face.” And this was true. My red hair and thick mustache made me stand out. And with Silver Vein not that far to the north, and with the badge on my waistcoat, it wouldn’t have been all that difficult to figure out who I was.

Cooper came back with a nice bottle of bourbon I recognized and set out three glasses. Marlowe said, “There’s just the two of us.”

“Sheriff, I can’t not have a drink with Curly Barnes! It wouldn’t be right! This here, Curly, is reserved for special occasions. And I’d say that’s you!”

“Aw, it’s okay, Sheriff,” I said. I could tell he was a little put off by the bartender. “This is a quality bourbon,” I said. “If you’re ever in Silver Vein I’ll return the favor.”

Cooper smiled and poured out three toots of bourbon and the three of us slurped them down.

“A toot with Curly Barnes. My word,” Marlowe said, shaking his head. Then he took the bottle and the two of us walked outside and sat down at a small wooden table.

“I’m in a pickle,” Marlowe said. “If I do the right thing, for all I know Milton might just up and arrest me and lock me up in my own jail.”

“If you show him the letter—”

“It won’t matter. He’s blind with rage over this thing. Katie is pregnant, you see. And the boy, Taylor, the more he insists on his innocence, the angrier Milton gets. Why do you think he’s set to hang? It ain’t like he shot some fella in cold blood. It’s because he had the dumb gumption to go and get sweet on the only daughter of Sam Milton.”

“Sheriff, I understand your situation. But I can’t let you do Milton’s bidding. Not in this case. I know the truth. And the magistrate in Amarillo, Judge Baines Murphy, knows the truth, as does the editor of the Amarillo Times. Hanging that boy would be an outrage.”

Marlowe poured himself a stiff measure of bourbon and took a slug.

I felt sorry for Marlowe, but I wasn’t about to ride out of town knowing that boy was set to hang for something he didn’t do.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Marshal. There’s nothing I can do. Whatever the truth is, Sam Milton is set on this. The way he sees it, Katie’s reputation, as well as his, is at stake.”

“There’s one thing you can do,” I said.

“And what’s that?” he said, giving me a sincere look.

“Take me to see Sam Milton.”