Bullets Always Kill (The Texas Riders Western #11) (A Western Frontier Fiction) Read online

  One saloon he passed looked twice as large as the others. Hanging outside its doors was a sign: Poker Tournament Coming Soon.

  Rowan wasn’t a gambler himself, but he knew poker tournaments could draw a lot of men to the tables. He’d have to find out more about that. Might be he’d have to station his deputies around the saloon that day. He didn’t want any trouble.

  The sheriff’s station wasn’t quite in the center of town; it was several blocks closer to the east end. But it was close enough to center that he would not have far to go from one end of town to the other.

  He tied his horse off and went inside. The station was a decent size, bigger than the one he’d left behind.

  Two empty cells lined the back wall, with one window in each cell. The bars looked sturdy despite having some rust on them, and each cell had two cots with pillows and chamber pots.

  Three desks were also spread across the station. Two were seated near to each other; the third one was on the opposite side of the room. Rowan approved of the arrangement. If there were criminals locked up in the cells, they’d be covered from either side of the room. No angle would go unseen.

  At the two desks set near to each other were two men. One of them was in his early twenties and rather lanky. He looked tall even sitting down. A deputy’s badge was pinned to the outside of his shirt, and a grim expression was planted across his face.

  The thirty-year-old man to his right, seated at the largest of all three desks, had dark hair and light brown eyes, and an expression more irritable than grim. He stood up as Rowan walked into the room, and a slight protuberance around his midsection told him the man enjoyed indulging in fine meals.

  Based on his age, Rowan assumed this must be his head deputy and moved toward him with an outstretched hand. “I’m Sheriff Rowan Keller; you must be Timothy Dean.”

  The man in front of him did not extend his hand to return Rowan’s handshake. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest.

  The younger man on the left rose and said, “I’m Timothy Dean, Sheriff. Good to meet you.” He held out his hand and Rowan shook it. It was a good grip, and there was a brightness in the man’s eyes that portrayed a desire to do good. Rowan liked him immediately. As for this other fella...

  “This is Elijah Sims,” said Timothy. “Our former sheriff.”

  Sheriff Sims glared at Timothy, whose cheeks colored slightly. “We’ve been through this, Tim. Nothing’s changed. I’m still the sheriff here.”

  Rowan looked from one to the other of them, confused. “It was my understanding that—"

  Elijah Sims unfolded his arms from his chest and narrowed his eyes, cutting him off. “I’m afraid there’s been a terrible mix-up, Sheriff Keller. I’m still the sheriff in this town. So you can just turn around and go on back to Charbury.”

  Something wasn’t right. Timothy Dean could barely look at Sheriff Sims.

  “Perhaps I’d better speak to Mayor Clifton,” said Rowan. He’d been the one to write him, after all. The mayor could undoubtedly straighten this out.

  “I sent Edgar, one of the other deputies, to fetch him,” said Timothy. “He oughta be back with him soon enough.” He glanced up at Rowan and offered a half-smile, as if trying to reassure him this would all work out.

  The three of them stood in silence for a minute or two until the doors opened and a distinguished-looking man in his forties came striding in. He was wearing a gray suit of fine linen and had a sour expression on his face. A young man of maybe nineteen or twenty hurried in behind him, shutting the door and standing with his back straight to the wall.

  The older man looked at Rowan. “Sheriff Keller? I’m happy to see you made it. I’m Mayor Heath Clifton.” He extended his hand, and Rowan shook it.

  “Happy to meet you too, Mayor.” Rowan turned to Sheriff Sims. “Sheriff Sims here seems to think I’m not needed.”

  Mayor Clifton shook his head and took a step toward Sheriff Sims. “Elijah, you and I talked about this. Please, don’t make things worse than they already are.”

  Sheriff Sims set his jaw firmly in place and put his hands on his hips. “I told you I’m not leaving. I’m still the sheriff of this town.”

  “No, you’re not,” said the mayor. “I relieved you of that post weeks ago.”

  “You can’t fire me. I’ve been taking care of Blackgate for the last five years.”

  Mayor Clifton’s face turned red. “Taking care of us? Is that what you call accepting bribes from criminals?”

  Rowan’s ears perked up. What was this? He’d heard nothing about any sort of trouble in Blackgate. When Mayor Clifton had written him, he’d assumed their current sheriff had merely decided to move on. There’d been no mention of bribery.

  Sheriff Sims’ nostrils flared, but he didn’t deny the mayor’s charges. “Nothing bad ever happened, did it? No one got hurt, so what’s the crime?”

  But Mayor Clifton was not going to back down. “Elijah, taking money from outlaws so that they may receive safe passage through Blackgate is not acceptable. How many outlaws stayed at our hotels? Dined in our restaurants?”

  “If you paid me more, I wouldn’t have needed the money.”

  The mayor spoke through clenched teeth. “You are no longer sheriff of Blackgate. Kindly leave your badge on the desk and exit the station.”

  But Elijah did not budge. His hand inched toward the pistol hanging off his belt. Rowan reached his first. He pulled the Colt Paterson from the left side of his gun belt and aimed it at the former sheriff. The man’s mouth dropped open, and every muscle in his body tightened.

  “You’d point your gun at me?” Elijah said, his voice tense.

  Rowan nodded. “I wouldn’t like using it on you, I’ve never enjoyed using it on anyone, but I’ll do what I must to protect this town. Now, it seems to me the mayor’s given you a choice: you can either leave in peace or head into one of those cells.”

  Elijah’s eyes widened. His bottom lip curled up. “You wouldn’t dare put me in there.”

  Rowan arched one eyebrow. He looked at Timothy. “Do you have the keys?”

  Timothy nodded, a little dumbstruck. He reached into his desk, pulled out a set of keys, and tossed them to Rowan, who went and opened the cell closest to the former sheriff.

  Elijah ground his teeth against each other. His hand, just a few inches from his pistol, moved up to his chest and pulled down the sheriff’s badge pinned there. It had been partially obscured under his vest, and Rowan had simply missed it when he’d come in.

  “I’ll get you back for this one day,” said Elijah to Rowan, then his head slowly turned and took in everyone in the room. “All of you.” He walked out of the station, leaving the door hanging open.

  Mayor Clifton let out a breath and wiped his brow with his sleeve. He looked at Rowan. “Sorry about all that. I didn’t think Elijah would still be here when you showed up.”

  Rowan shut the cell door and assured the mayor it was okay. It was a strange way to start off his new job, but it would give him something to write home about, at least.

  Apparently, things in Blackgate weren’t quite so perfect as the town liked to paint. He’d have to forget everything he thought he knew about Blackgate and make his own assessment of things.

  * * *

  chapter 0 2 ✪

  * * *

  After the mayor left and Rowan had been introduced to his other two deputies, Timothy took him over to the boardinghouse where he’d be staying. The room and meals were both included as part of his accepting the position as sheriff, and the woman who ran it was a kind old lady who reminded Rowan a bit of his late mother.

  One day, after he’d settled into Blackgate a bit better, he’d like to get a little house of his own. Until then though, Mrs. Smith’s Boardinghouse would do quite nicely.

  The next day, he ate his breakfast then went into the station, a little worried he might find Elijah Sims sitting at his desk again refusing to leave. But the desk was empty, and Rowan took his pla
ce at it.

  His other two deputies were Edgar Price and Donald Richmond. Edgar was only nineteen and had been a deputy for all of a year. Donald was older. At twenty-one, he’d been a deputy for the last three years.

  Timothy Dean was the oldest of the three. He was twenty-two and had been a deputy in Blackgate since he was seventeen years old. Edgar and Donald shared the desk at the opposite end of the room. Rowan and Timothy each had their own.

  Rowan wasn’t too sure what to make of his deputies, especially Timothy and Donald. They’d been working with Sheriff Sims the entire time he’d been in Blackgate. He found it hard to believe that neither man had ever suspected the sheriff of any wrongdoing. Had they been a part of it or turned the other cheek? He wanted to know.

  Timothy caught Rowan looking at him and his jaw tightened. “Something on your mind?”

  Rowan nodded. “Now that you mention it, yeah. I was just wondering about Sheriff Sims. You worked with him the last five years, is that right?”

  Timothy nodded. “That’s right.” There was something defiant in the way he spoke. Rowan was pretty sure the man knew where he was going with this.

  “Did you have any idea he was taking bribes from outlaws?”

  Timothy rolled his shoulders back. “If I had, I’d have turned him in myself.” He kept his eyes on Rowan, daring him to continue with his questions.

  Donald cleared his throat from across the room. “Sheriff Keller, if there’s one thing any of us here are guilty of, it’s ignorance. None of us knew what Sheriff Sims was up to. He only met with those men in secret.”

  Fair enough, but Rowan still had questions. There were still things that didn’t add up. “If all these outlaws were coming in and out of your town, how is it no one noticed them?”

  Timothy turned his chair so he was facing Rowan. “The men Sheriff Sims was taking money from weren’t big-time outlaws. Sure, they had bounties on their heads, but it was for small stuff. Stealing horses and things like that. Most of them didn’t even have pictures to go with their posters.”

  “That’s right,” said Edgar. “None of the outlaws were murderers or bank robbers.”

  “So far as you know,” said Rowan.

  The three deputies looked blankly at him. “What?” asked Edgar. His voice trembled a bit.

  “So far as you know,” Rowan repeated. “Just because Sheriff Sims claimed he never let murderers through your town doesn’t mean it’s true.”

  His deputies’ faces fell. They looked around at each other as if the idea hadn’t occurred to them before. Rowan didn’t want to keep ragging on them though; Donald was right when he’d said their greatest crime was ignorance. But they were all young. They’d learn. Maybe they already had.

  Rowan only had one more question. “How was the sheriff caught?”

  Timothy spoke up. “Mayor Clifton himself saw Sheriff Sims in an alleyway taking money. He walked right up to them and demanded to know what was going on. The outlaw got scared and confessed everything if the mayor would let him go. Then he and Sheriff Sims had a long talk, and that was that.”

  The station doors opened then and a townsman poked his head into the room. “There’s a fight over at the Silver Gulch, you might want to get down there,” the man said and went away again just as fast as he’d come.

  Rowan looked at Timothy with raised eyebrows.

  “The Silver Gulch is the biggest saloon in town,” Timothy said, grabbing his hat and getting to his feet. “They’re holding a poker tournament there next week during the town’s ten-year celebration.”

  Rowan stood up and looked at Edgar and Donald. “Think you can manage things here for a while?”

  “Sure thing, Sheriff,” said Donald. Edgar nodded.

  Timothy led the way to the Silver Gulch. The poker tournament sign fell over as two men came barreling through the batwing doors and landed tangled up together on the wooden walkway just out front of the saloon.

  They rolled around together, throwing punches. Neither man attempted to draw a gun on the other though. Rowan took that as a good sign. He and Timothy pulled the men apart as onlookers circled around them.

  A pretty blonde woman stood with her arms folded, shaking her head. “Harry, Jasper, you two fools deserve each other,” she said.

  The men looked contritely at their feet. “Sorry, Tillie,” said the bigger of the two, a trickle of blood oozing out of the corner of his mouth. He wiped it with his hand.

  Tillie pointed one finger at him.

  “Now apologize,” she said. “Both of you.”

  The big man looked at the fella he’d been fighting with, shuffled his feet, and held out his hand. The smaller man looked at it, still irritated, but took it anyway. “You still owe me a dollar, Jake,” he said.

  Jake scoffed. “Say that to me one more time, Jasper, and I’ll—” He lifted his fist and shook it at the other man.

  Tillie shook her head. “Get inside before I grab that bucket of spit and douse you both with it.”

  The two men exchanged a look, and Jake’s fist immediately lowered. He looked at Jasper, “Fine, you won the game fair and square, I guess. I owe you that dollar. Come on.” They went into the saloon together, and the crowd dissipated.

  Rowan looked at his deputy, who was busy talking with a pretty brunette saloon girl who was dressed a little risqué but not nearly so much as he’d seen other saloon girls dressed as.

  Rowan left his deputy to chat it up and went to talk to the blonde, Tillie. There was something intriguing about her. “Looks as though you had things pretty well in hand,” he said, trying to sound complimentary. “Not sure you even needed my help.”

  She looked him up and down. “You’re the new sheriff?” He nodded. “Good. I didn’t like that last one much.”

  Rowan raised an eyebrow. “Did you know he—”

  “No,” she said, cutting him off. “No one knew what he was up to. I didn’t like him because... Let’s just say he had wandering hands. Every time I brought him a drink, they ended up somewhere they didn’t belong.”

  She smiled at Rowan with pink painted lips, and he took another look at her. She was dressed similarly to the brunette Timothy was talking to.

  “You work here?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Tillie April.”

  Another saloon girl. Too bad. She was pretty and seemed nice enough, but Rowan had learned long ago that women like her were usually more trouble than they were worth. Tillie April probably wasn’t even her real name, just her working name.

  He introduced himself, nodding politely, and asked about the upcoming poker tournament.

  “It’s next week, same as the town’s celebration.”

  “When does it kick off?”

  “The celebration kicks off Friday night and goes through Sunday. The big dance is Saturday though. The tournament’s all day Saturday and into Sunday, if it goes that long.”

  “Got a lot of men signed up?”

  She nodded. “A dozen as of now, and we’re expecting more.”

  “Any I might’ve heard of?”

  She crinkled her nose. “Wade Sharp,” she said, her voice tensing with the name.

  “I’ve heard of him but never met the man in person.”

  Wade Sharp had a reputation as a good gambler with a bad attitude. Some people said he was dangerous, but so far as he knew, the man had never done anything more than yell and make a fuss if he got a bad hand, which was rare.

  Even on the occasions his hands came out bad, Wade still managed to win the game. In fact, Rowan had never heard of the man losing. Judging by Tillie’s expression, she didn’t think much of him.

  She listed off a couple of other big-name poker players whose reputations preceded them, and Rowan thanked her for the information.

  She gave him a look then leaned in closer and said. “This town’s pretty good, overall, but that doesn’t mean it’s safe. Be careful, Sheriff.” Then she turned and went into the saloon.

  * * *


  Tillie watched the sheriff through the front window of the saloon. He walked over to his deputy and got him away from Sallie, who came in a moment later.

  “What did that deputy want?” Tillie asked.

  Sallie shrugged. “Same thing as most men, I guess. Only he goes about it a whole lot nicer. He actually asked me to dinner.” Sallie’s eyes got a little dreamy. “I might just go, too.”

  Tillie smiled at her friend. Timothy Dean was a good man. She hoped Sallie took him up on that dinner; she deserved something nicer than this life she’d been living.

  At least the Silver Gulch wasn’t as bad as other saloons she’d been in. There were no upstairs rooms rented by the hour. The girls were here to dance with the men and get them to buy more drinks, but that was all.

  If one of the girls wanted to make a little extra money and take things to the next level, that was her right, but it was also at her discretion. Most of the girls here got by on what the owner paid them plus their tips.

  “Did that sheriff ask you about anything?” Tillie asked.

  “The sheriff?” Sallie said, making a face. “No, why?”

  Tillie bit her bottom lip. “No reason.”

  Sallie’s face lit up. “I saw him talking to you. You like him, don’t you? Want me to see if I can get Tim to set us up for doubles?”

  But Tillie quickly shook her head. “No thanks, Sallie. I’m not interested in him like that.”

  Sallie shrugged. “If you say so.”

  Tillie thought the sheriff seemed nice enough, but she wasn’t looking for romance. She had not given him a fake name. April was her middle name.

  When she’d started searching for Wade Sharp, she’d dropped her last name of Swanson, just in case he recollected it from his poker game with her father. She did not want to take chances.

  Jake and Jasper started calling out to Sallie, and she went to bring them a smile and a drink.