Deadwood Gulch

CHAPTER 27

A gaping Martha managed to gasp out, “My God, Sue Beth! What are you—why—”

“Because she’s the real leader of the Deadwood Devils,” Bo said. “Isn’t that right, Sue Beth?”

The friendly, attractive woman was gone, replaced by a hard-faced killer. She ignored the questions and grated, “I said, drop the knife.”

“Short-barreled guns like that aren’t very accurate,” Bo said.

“You’re four feet away! I can’t miss at this range.”

Bo knew that was true. Sue Beth could kill him and Martha in a heartbeat. He was a little surprised she hadn’t already done so.

But he smiled faintly as he realized why she hadn’t pulled the trigger. “A gunshot right now will spoil your little ambush, won’t it?” he asked. “You want Bardwell and the rest of your hired killers to wipe out the posse from Deadwood.”

Sue Beth’s lips were faintly blue from the cold. They pulled back from her teeth in a grimace as she said, “Why wouldn’t I want them dead? The whole town could burn to the ground with everybody in it and I wouldn’t shed a tear. I haven’t cried since the day they came and told me my husband was dead.”

“That’s not the town’s fault.”

“No, but it was the mine’s fault, and the town wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for the mines!”

Bo wanted to keep her talking. As long as she was venting her rage and hatred in words, she wouldn’t be pulling the trigger.

“So you decided to ruin the mines, and you used Black Tom Bardwell to do it.”

“That’s right. He showed up in Deadwood looking for his brother, but he stopped at the Red Top for a meal first. I could tell that he was a hard, violent man, even though I didn’t know at the time he was an outlaw. I had a hunch he was the sort of man who could help me. I didn’t know how right I was, but I found out the next morning, after he’d spent the night at my place. He told me who he was and that his gang was hiding outside of town. They were the ones who had been pulling those stagecoach robberies. That’s when I laid out my plan and invited Tom to join forces with me. I was able to help him with information.” She sneered. “Everybody in Deadwood comes into my café, and you’d be surprised what people will let slip over pie and coffee!”

That was the way the picture had sprung into Bo’s mind as soon as he saw the gun in Sue Beth’s hands. When he had considered who had a reason for wanting to hurt the mines around Deadwood, he hadn’t even thought about her, but he knew now he should have. What better motive for revenge than the death of a loved one?

She had fooled everybody, including him and Scratch. That knowledge made a sour, bitter taste well up under Bo’s tongue. Usually he and Scratch were pretty good judges of character, but not this time. Not by a long shot.

“Bardwell and the others didn’t take you hostage after that bank robbery yesterday,” he said. “You wanted to come along. That was your way of getting out of Deadwood without anybody knowing what you’ve done. Bardwell wanted to take the gold and move on, and even though you hadn’t caused enough trouble to make the mines shut down yet, like you planned, you know you couldn’t keep going without him and the rest of the gang. So you pretended to be a prisoner. Why bring Marty along?”

“She happened to be in the café, and Tom thought he might need a real hostage before this was all over.” Sue Beth shrugged. “I kept the pose going up until now, just in case this bitch somehow got away. I don’t want the law after me. Which means, as soon as Tom and the others have taken care of the posse, both of you will have to die, too. In fact, I think I’ll just go ahead and kill you as soon as the shooting starts.”

Martha was still staring at the older woman. In a voice that trembled with emotion, she said, “I . . . I thought you were my friend.”

“Maybe I would have been,” Sue Beth said, “if it hadn’t been for the lust for gold that fills all of you mine owners.”

“But I never did anything to hurt you! I was sorry when your husband died—”

“Sorry’s not good enough! Sorry won’t bring him back!”

Bo said, “Neither will killing anybody else.”

Sue Beth’s face twisted. Maybe somewhere deep inside her, she knew that what she had done was wrong. Maybe there was a constant struggle going on between the woman she had been and the woman she had become. Bo didn’t know.

All he knew was that time had run out, because Sue Beth extended her arms, pointing the gun right at his head, and her finger started to tighten on the trigger.

Before the hammer could fall, Martha Sutton suddenly lunged toward Sue Beth and lashed out with arms that were bound together at the wrists. She hit Sue Beth’s arms and drove them upward just as the little revolver exploded with a wicked snap. Martha kept moving, lowering her shoulder and barreling into Sue Beth with enough force to knock the older woman over backward.

The posse had to be close now. Close enough for the plan to work, Bo hoped. But he no longer had any choice about whether to wait.

The time had come to fight.

As Martha and Sue Beth struggled, Bo surged to his feet and whirled toward Wolf Head Rock and the Deadwood Devils. The shot had alerted them that something was wrong, and several of them spun around as Bo palmed his Colt from its holster. The gun roared and bucked in his hand as he fired.

Shots blasted from the rifles held by the outlaws. Bo felt the heat of a bullet as it whipped past his ear. Crouching, he fired again and saw one of the Devils double over as the slug punched into his midsection. Clutching his belly, the man staggered backward and took one step too many. With a scream, he toppled off the edge of Wolf Head Rock and plummeted toward the trail below.

More shots rang out from the ledge above the camp as Scratch and Chloride joined in the fight. The Devils had thought they held the high ground, but now they saw they were wrong about that. They scattered and sought cover among the rocks.

From the corner of his eye Bo saw Martha slam clubbed fists across Sue Beth’s face. The older woman sagged, obviously stunned. Bo triggered another shot, then bent to grab Martha’s arm and haul her to her feet. At the same time, he kicked away the little revolver Sue Beth had dropped.

“Get behind the trees!” Bo told Martha as he pushed her in that direction. He snapped a fourth shot toward the rocks where the Devils had taken cover and then darted behind one of the pines as soon as he saw that Martha was safe behind one of the thick-trunked trees. Gun thunder still echoed from the slopes around them as the battle continued.

Bo took a moment to thumb fresh rounds into the empty chambers of his gun. While he was doing that, he heard the swift rataplan of hoofbeats from the trail. The posse was running the gauntlet down below, but with most of the Devils shooting at him, Scratch, and Chloride, the chances of the lawman’s entourage making it past Wolf Head Rock were a lot better.

Bo snapped the Colt’s cylinder closed and thrust the gun past the tree trunk. He slammed out three shots just as one of the outlaws tried to dart from one rock to another. The man went down writhing in pain from a bullet-shattered shoulder.

The hoofbeats grew louder. Bo glanced toward the path that led up from the main trail and saw the members of the posse surge into sight with their guns blazing. Two more of the Devils went down, but Phillip Ramsey pitched out of the saddle as a bullet tore through his arm. Sergeant Gustaffson jerked as he was hit, but he managed to stay on his horse and kept firing the rifle clutched in his hands.

Reese Bardwell’s horse suddenly went out from under him as a bullet struck it. The big engineer was thrown clear, slamming to the ground and rolling over several times as he landed. His rifle had flown out of his hands when he fell.

Reese came up within arm’s reach of one of the outlaws. The man fired at him at such close range that it seemed impossible for him to miss. Reese kept coming, though, swinging one of his huge fists in a sweeping blow with so much power behind it that when the punch smashed into the outlaw’s jaw, he was lifted clean off his feet and thrown backward. He sprawled on the ground, limp and motionless, either dead or out so cold that he was no longer a threat.

Bo was watching as Reese Bardwell started to turn around. He saw the black-bearded figure leap out from behind one of the rocks and line his gunsights on Reese. Tom Bardwell might have hesitated for just a split second when he recognized his brother, but then the gun in his hand roared and spouted flame and smoke anyway. Bo fired at the same instant and saw Tom Bardwell jerk under the impact of the slug that drove into his chest. Bardwell stumbled back a step and fell to his knees.

Reese was still on his feet, holding a hand to his side now. Bo saw crimson welling between the engineer’s fingers. Reese took a step toward his wounded brother. Tom Bardwell, his face a twisted mask of hate, struggled to lift his gun and shoot his brother again, but his strength suddenly deserted him. The revolver slipped from his fingers and thudded to the ground. Bardwell followed it, flopping face-first.

Reese turned and looked at Bo for a second. Then he gave the Texan a curt nod of thanks.

The shooting was over. The rest of the posse dismounted, and Sheriff Manning moved quickly to check the bodies of the outlaws who lay sprawled here and there on Wolf Head Rock.

While Manning was doing that, Bo stepped over to a groggy Martha Sutton, who was shaking her head as she struggled to get to her feet.

Sue Beth Pendleton was gone.

Bo took Martha’s arm and helped her stand up. “Are you all right?” he asked her. He didn’t see any blood on her, but a bruise was already starting to show on her jaw.

“Yes, I . . . I’m fine,” she said. “Mrs. Pendleton walloped me pretty good, but I—” She stopped short and looked around. “Where did she go?”

“She must have slipped off during the ruckus,” Bo said. He saw that the revolver Sue Beth had had hidden somewhere in her clothes still lay on the ground where he had kicked it. He picked it up and tucked it behind his belt while he looked around for her.

“Bo!”

The shout from above made him look up. Scratch stood on the ledge with Chloride. He called down, “Are you all right, Bo?”

Bo was waving to indicate that he wasn’t hurt when hoofbeats suddenly sounded close by. Martha cried out a warning. Bo jerked around and then leaped aside as one of the horses belonging to the Devils loomed up, practically on top of him. He caught a glimpse of Sue Beth riding the unsaddled animal as he threw himself out of the way just in time to avoid being trampled. He pushed himself to his knees as she galloped toward the path leading down to the main trail.

Before she could reach it, Andrew Keefer leaped in her way, yelling and waving his arms. The horse veered away from the stocky mine superintendent. Then Henry Manning shouted, “Mrs. Pendleton, wait!” He tried to grab the bridle Sue Beth had slipped onto the horse, but she frantically jerked the animal away from him.

The horse was already spooked from all the gunfire and powder smoke. Neighing shrilly, it reared up and danced backward. Out onto Wolf Head Rock it went, plunging and bucking, and Sue Beth screamed as she fought to bring the horse under control. That scream turned into a shriek of terror as hooves slipped on snow-covered rock and the horse’s legs skidded out from under it. Bo and everyone else watched in horror as the horse slid off the edge, taking Sue Beth with it.

“My God,” Martha said in a shocked, hollow voice. A big hand fell on her shoulder, and she turned to find herself standing next to Reese Bardwell. She buried her face against his massive chest as a shudder went through her.

A few yards away, Phillip Ramsey stood with his right hand clutching his bloodstained upper left arm. He glared at Reese and Martha and then shook his head. The young bookkeeper wasn’t hurt too bad, Bo thought . . . at least not physically.

He left Reese Bardwell comforting Martha while Ramsey looked on in disgust. Bo had spotted Olaf Gustaffson sitting propped up against a rock, and now he hurried toward the sergeant.

“How are you, Olaf?” Bo asked as he knelt beside the non-com.

“I think I’ll live,” Gustaffson replied. “A bullet got me in the side and knocked out a chunk of meat, but it went on through and didn’t hit anything too important, I hope.” He looked toward the protruding rock where Sue Beth and the horse had fallen. “I’m sorry about Mrs. Pendleton. What a tragedy.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Bo said.

By evening, everyone was back in Deadwood except the troopers who had been left to guard the loot at the Devils’ hideout. The next day, Chloride and several other drivers would take wagons up there to retrieve the gold and bring it back to town, where somebody would have to sort out which part of it belonged to who. Bo was glad he wasn’t going to have anything to do with that job.

Reese Bardwell, Ramsey, and Gustaffson had had their wounds patched up by one of the local doctors, and they were all expected to make a full recovery. Sue Beth Pendleton’s broken body was down at the undertaker’s, along with the bodies of the outlaws. John Tadrack was going to be busy for a while.

It didn’t seem right that those varmints would be laid to rest properly while Lieutenant Holbrook and the other soldiers killed in the avalanche would probably sleep for eternity under those tons of rock . . . but that was the way of the world, Bo knew. Justice was a relative thing, and often incomplete.

The Texans and Chloride were striding along the boardwalk when the door of the Argosy Mining Company opened and Lawrence Nicholson stepped out in front of them. The mine owner smiled and said, “Good evening, gentlemen. I’ve been hoping you’d come along so I could have a word with you.”

“What do you want?” Chloride asked, not bothering to be overly polite about it.

“Why, I’d like to offer you your job back, Mr. Coleman,” Nicholson said. He looked at Bo and Scratch. “And I’d like for the two of you to work for me as well.”

Scratch shook his head. “We’re a mite too old to swing a pickax.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll find something better than that for you. I’m sure I’ll need some good men to guard our gold shipments.”

Bo said, “You shouldn’t have any more trouble. All the Deadwood Devils are either dead or behind bars in Sheriff Manning’s jail.”

“The Deadwood Devils aren’t the only bandits in the world, you know,” Nicholson said. “I’m sure there’ll be more trouble in the future.”

“Yeah, well, you’ll have to find somebody else to handle it,” Scratch said. “We’re makin’ a run for Mexico, soon as the snow melts.”

Nicholson sighed. “I can’t persuade you to change your minds?”

Bo shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

“That is too bad. I can’t get you to work for me, and I’m going to be losing my chief engineer and superintendent, too. Possibly even my bookkeeper.”

“How do you figure that?” Bo asked with a frown.

“Now that Marty Sutton knows how Reese and Phillip feel about her, I fully expect both of them to resign from the Argosy and go to work for the Golden Queen, so they can continue their rivalry for her affections.”

“Now that could cause some problems,” Bo said.

“But somebody else’ll have to handle that fracas, too,” Scratch added.

Nicholson chuckled. “To tell you the truth, I’m not really that upset about it. I figure that sooner or later, Marty will decide between the two of them and then settle down to get married and have children, and she’ll let me buy her mine at a reasonable price. If you put the Argosy and the Golden Queen together, you know, it would be the biggest mining operation in this part of the country.”

“That thought crossed my mind,” Bo said, not mentioning that at the time he had been trying to decide whether or not Lawrence Nicholson was really the ringleader of the Deadwood Devils.

Nicholson nodded and bid them a good night. As the three men strolled on down the street, Scratch asked, “How would you feel about comin’ to Mexico with us, Chloride?”

“What, you mean you want to associate with an old-timer like me?” Chloride asked with a disgusted snort.

Scratch grinned. “I reckon we’ve sorta got used to havin’ you around.”

“Well, thanks but no thanks. I got a job drivin’ for Miss Sutton, and I intend to keep it.” Chloride grinned under his bushy mustache. “Besides, I got a feelin’ that bein’ around the Golden Queen’s gonna be pretty entertainin’ once those two young fellas are all healed up.”

“You’re probably right about that,” Bo said. He paused and looked across the street. The Red Top Café sat there, closed and dark. Bo couldn’t help but think about how nice it would have been to walk into the warmth of that place, to have a bowl of stew and a piece of pie and a cup of coffee, to look across the counter and see Sue Beth Pendleton with a friendly smile on her face . . .

“‘Smile and smile, and be a villain,’” he murmured.

“What’s that?” Scratch asked.

Bo shook his head. “Nothing.” He paused. “Wind’s turned around to the south. It feels a little warmer already. Won’t be long before the snow’s all gone, and we can light a shuck for Mexico.”