LEGACY - Tragedy Strikes at Muddy Creek

By Scott Howey

On a typical sunny afternoon in Muddy Creek tragedy strikes.

The Texas Red Saloon is robbed and three people are murdered. Three outlaws escape with a pocketful of cash. Their destination is Dodge City, via Leroy. Life unfolds as characters rise and fall in pursuit of infamy and fortune. The eldest brother, a 'fast gun,' favors the former. His brother and his fiance prefer the latter. The fate of Donna, Link Soyer, Esmerelda, Barney Crisp, the Stainton brothers, and the old woman are linked through a series of tragic events which began on that seemingly peaceful day of rest. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Outlaws Publishing LLC
• Release date: May 20, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223469254

Scott Howey

Scott Howey was born in small town in rural Australia. He spent his youth traveling and working in a variety of jobs from truck driving to working with youth, before settling down into the education sector. He is the father of three daughters. Scott wrote his first western in 2017.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Mongrel. Barney Crisp’s voice was as rough as bark. Your belly is lower than a mangy cur.

The object of this derision was the banker Wilston Dink. Dink was an obtuse and obnoxious character. His laughter was loud and antagonizing. He dressed a little slovenly for a man of his position and as the day wore on, the drank more, the slovenlier he became. As a result, his manner became unbearable. He was laughing at his own jokes until Crisp decided he had had enough of the man's demeanor.

Now Barney, there's no need to get all worked up. Let me buy you a beer and let's bury the hatchet. Dink slapped Barney on the shoulder and turned back toward the bar.

Barney wasn't the brightest chap, and when liquored up, was more docile than usual. Dink was aware of this and had spent the last hour goading the bull-headed fool into an outburst. Barney rubbed his thick chin in dismay and looked at the banker. Sure enough. I'll have a drink with ya.

Dink bit his tongue. He knew when to call it quits. He shouted Crisp a warm beer, which was more froth than ale, and both men stood side by side in the rundown Texas Red Saloon. They leaned on the bar, as an old drunk staggered through the bat wings with a worn-out stogie in his mouth. His name was Longhorn Louie. It was a name he encountered on the trail years earlier. Though there was some doubt about the origin of the man's moniker, no one paid much attention to him. He was just that kind of chap. Forgettable in every regard. His wit was duller than the broad side of a hunk of lumber. The result of a kick to the head from a stubborn mule in ‘72.

He was ill-kempt and a permanent tobacco stain marred his gray and bushy beard. He spoke rarely, but when he did, everyone listened. It wasn't because he had anything intelligent to say, it's just because the man spoke rarely, and when he took it upon himself to speak, the folks reckoned that it was reasonable and just to hear what the man had to say. Such was the life of the citizens of Muddy Creek. Their lives were often intertwined, and they were dependent on one another. They facilitated one another's lies and mistruths. Crisp wasn't a failed owl-hoot, and Dink was a successful businessman. If you asked them, and no one did, at least not anymore, it wasn't the individuals themselves who were to blame for the tomfoolery that had ruined their lives. It was quite simply that the world was against them. It was a conspiracy. They also shared a dislike for the authorities. That means not only the lawmen who infrequently visited the town, but also those they had the displeasure of encountering throughout their shady pasts.

Town is too strong a word. Muddy Creek was a series of ramshackle buildings by a played-out creek, seventy miles from Wilson's Point, the closest city. The barman, who was also the proprietor of the liquor establishment, was Theodore Betts. He was a tired and lethargic man in his early fifties. He wanted money without the effort that brings forth the riches he so eagerly desired. He loved women and was in love with the town whore. Her name was Esmerelda. She wasn’t much to look at, but at a fair price she offered good service. Everyone had paid a fare to catch that train a few times, but not Theodore. He was smitten. The night I sleep with Esmerelda will be the day I marry her. Esmeralda wasn’t the type of woman to take up with just anyone, and Theodore, well he was just anyone. He wasn’t much to look at. Everything about him was out of proportion. His arms and legs were too short for his body. His movements looked awkward; but he moved swift enough, just not amazingly fast.

They lived in misery most of the time. Dink had a measly office across the street but the only customers he attracted were the nefarious kind. Instead of keeping regular hours, he worked when the occasion required and did lots of nothing else. There was no need for a bank or a banker in Muddy Creek, so Dink hung around the saloon and drank all day. In Muddy Creek, people were content to let their life drift by without much intervention from themselves. It was a dire place, and every building was warped by the sun and falling apart. Just what they would do or where they would go once the last building collapsed, no one knew for sure.

Barney Crisp, Wilston Dink, Longhorn Louie, Theodore Betts and Esmeralda passed their time in idleness. It was a lazy idleness; no reflection took place. If it did, no one shared their musings with their fellows. One day faded into the next at Muddy Creek. Where the patrons earned their income no one knew for sure, nor did they care. It all ended up in Betts’s back pocket, which he siphoned to Esmeralda in a vain attempt to win her love. There was no need to marry him when she secured all his money anyway. He wasn’t wise enough to understand. Sure, she had considered laying with him, and she would one day, but the dolt was just too darn set on being married first. It was on these thoughts and more she wasted her time. It was no giddy school romance.

Just what made someone accept their lot in life is baffling. They considered their place just for the deeds they had done. It was the consequence of the actions they had taken and of the choices they had made. It was hard to say. The wind blows in every direction. The sun rises and sets on us all, temporarily, and permanently. The marks you leave upon the earth, are in the garden you dig, or the house you build, but mostly it is in the thoughts of those you leave behind. Gardens and houses won’t remember you; they are mere things. But life has become about things, not people, not moments and not marks. I guess it always has been, and it always will be and the sooner we acknowledge that the better off we’ll be.

Mongrel. Barney’s voice was as rough as bark.

CHAPTER 2

In a small hut three miles downstream from Muddy Creek, a plan was discussed. The conspirators were brothers Boyce and Cy Carter, and Cy’s bride to be, Darlene. They sat on a dirt floor around an upturned wooden crate in the center of the room. The brothers bounced off one another like a perpetual pendulum. Such was their relationship that it was often difficult to tell them apart, however, there were a few distinct distinguishing features. Born two years apart and boyish in looks, they were often mistaken as twins. Thin and wiry. Standing at two inches over six feet, their whiskers tried to cover pale faces but couldn't hold up against the scrutiny. Their faces were long and gaunt. They had different-colored eyes, Boyce brown, and Cy's were blue. They were a ratty band of brothers, and just like rats they slunk around at night and stole everything that wasn't tied down. Their female companion wasn't any better. She was short and stumpy. Not much to look at and she had the personality of an empty box. Boyce was the unspoken leader of the trio. He had a mite more intelligence than his brother and his fiancé combined, so the plans always stemmed from the patriarch of the family. They laughed like school kids and then Boyce drew their attention to the paper on the crate when he tapped it twice. His brother was slow to respond so he clipped him up the ear. Darlene stared at Boyce with serious intent, it was a feeling the younger brother couldn't muster. Cy was stupid and lacked forethought of planning. Once he was told what to do, he performed the task admirably, but given the man's upbringing that was no surprise. The surprise was that the elder brother had some intelligence at all.

Cy laughed, and Darlene moved closer to him as she and Boyce shared a moment when they glanced at one another. Right here. Boyce spoke as he tapped the paper again. There’s the front door, and there’s the back. His companions nodded. They were tuned in now, it was time to act, and say what you want about them, and most people did, thieving and robbing was their bread and butter. Boyce continued. I’ll go in the front because I know the layout of the saloon.

Darlene smiled. I’m surprised you had time to look around, considering you went there to lay with that woman.

Cy stifled a giggle. He didn’t want to get slapped again.

Boyce stared at Darlene, why do you think I went to see the whore in the first place?

Darlene knew exactly why, moved closer to Cy, and didn’t say another word.

Cy, you enter the back door, and wait. Don’t come right into the saloon, if anyone tries to escape, shoot them.

The younger brother was cold blooded, and he liked the idea of killing. You can count on me.

Boyce reached across and patted his brother’s shoulder. I know I can.

Darlene. She leaned forward. Once again, he pointed to the paper. Just here is the corral, behind the saloon. You will wait here with the horses. I want them pointing north. We will ride out of town in the direction of Wilson’s Point. From there, we’ll take the road east to the mountains, and we’ll return home.

I like it here, said Darlene. It’s warm and open, with more sun. Do we have to go home right away?

Darlene led Cy by the nose. He thought she possessed charm and as a result she got her way most of the time. Now was one of those times. Cy spoke up, Darlene and I have been thinking that once this job is over, we would like to see more of the country. I’m sick and tired of the mountains. There's nothing there. We want to see the big cities folks are always talking about.

Darlene cooed, and I want to ride on a paddle steamer.

Boyce sighed. Returning home was the safe option because no one would find them in the mountains. It was their home, and they knew every tree and trail. They could elude the authorities forever. He was more controlled and measured than the others, and while he had the same feelings as them, he made it sound as if he was doing them a favor. Before he could say a word, his brother spoke.

We want you to come with us, Brother. Ma and Pa are gone, and there's nothing for us at home anymore. Festus will mind the place. You know he will. Let’s live a little and see the country.

Silence sat like a weary thought on a burdened brow. They were lost in their thoughts, and the elder brother responded as a conniving and low-bellied, cold-hearted, back-stabbing worthless brother must. Darn it, you two would get yourself killed if I weren’t there to protect you. You’re the only true kin I have left. I can’t let you ride off into the sunset without me. He reached across and gripped his brother’s shoulder again. They looked into each other’s eyes. It’s time for you to do as we planned and scope the saloon out. I’d send Darlene with you but since the plans have changed, she’ll need to do some cooking so we got plenty of food for the road, besides you’re like a ghost and no one will spot you on your own. I’ll stay right here, he tapped the crate and find a new route to take once the job is done. I’m figuring we’ll head northwest, but I need both time and silence to do that. Darlene and I will meet you by the rock at sundown. You get going now.

Cy jumped up and gathered his belongings. He was inspired to act. You can count on me brother. Boyce stood, moved to the door, and opened it for the sap. They merely exchanged a glance. Boyce followed his brother outside. Cy mounted a hopeless looking bay, and without saying a word reined to the left, clicked his tongue, and left. Boyce watched him for a moment. It wasn’t out of some heartfelt sympathy for his younger brother, he just wanted to make sure he left. When he returned to the hut, Darlene was lying on the makeshift mattress in the corner of the room.

CHAPTER 3

The only sound was that of a fly buzzing. Its trajectory left several annoyed patrons of the Texas Red Saloon. Barney waved his hand nonchalantly while Dink swatted at the pest, but the best he could do was knock over an empty glass. It was midafternoon, the hottest time of the day, though the only person taking a siesta was Esmerelda. She always disappeared at this time of day. Longhorn Louie shuffled through the back door to his seat in the corner. It was a tiresome and loathsome lot that inhabited the watering hole. A newcomer stepped through the batwings. He was a tall and rangy character with shocking red hair and freckles. His lope was long, and he ambled across to the bar. Theodore watched the man enter the room with an eagerness he hadn't seen in a while, however, the stranger was quick to sense the mood and curbed his enthusiasm.

What will it be? Theodore asked while trying to stifle a yawn.

The man slapped his palm on the table which brought the patrons out of their malaise. Beer, clean, cold and fresh.

Dink laughed but it was Barney who spoke. His throat was dry and sparse. The holy trinity.

The stranger looked dopey, unsure what he was talking about. What's that partner?

Barney waved his hand as a sign that it was a waste of time repeating himself.

The man paid for the beer and studied it carefully before fighting through the foam to get to the ale. The bloke tipped his head to the ceiling and gulped hastily.

Where are you from, partner? The barman managed, though it was obvious he asked out of politeness, not because he had any enduring interest in the response.

California. It was a lie. He was from Arizona.

You're a long way from home.

The stranger wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. That was the hottest beer I ever drank.

Barney and the banker laughed. The proprietor was offended. I take it you don't want another.

That's right. Have you got a woman of the house around here?

You mean a whore? Barney added.

She ain't no whore. Betts insisted.

She’s a whore if I ever did know one, added Dink.

Before Betts could respond, the stranger said, Well, is she a whore or not?

Betts moved to the back of the bar and pulled a chain which ran along the wall clear through the ceiling. She'll be down directly.

What's your name sonny? Betts asked.

People just call me Red.

What does your mother call you?

I ain't got a mother.

Longhorn Louie passed from east to west and exited the saloon. Red watched him cautiously.

Dink was interested. Everyone's got a mother.

Red was becoming agitated. Not me. He moved across to the other side of the room and stared at a faded picture of a woman on the wall.

Dink asked Barney, How does a man not have a mother?

The other man shrugged his shoulders and continued to trace the movements of the fly on the other side of the bar.

That's my sister. Betts said as he snuck up on the man from California. Pretty, ain't she.

He whistled softly, sure is. Where is she?

Dead. His voice was deadpan and flat. Red turned to speak to him, but he walked away. He began to follow when he heard footsteps on the stairs. It was Esmerelda, and despite the light and the time of day, she looked all right. To a love starved man from California, she looked almost spiritual. She wasn't as pure or as healthy as spirit, but she sure came across like it. She flicked her hair over her shoulders as she descended the stairs.

They met at the bottom of the stairs, when she reached out a hand he took it, and she led him to the wonder beyond. The room was empty of noise. Betts sat down and stared into space waiting for the day when Esmerelda would see the error of her ways and swear her undying love to him. It was such fancy that dreams are made of. Barney watched the fly, while Dink sat on an empty glass. It was an altogether boring day in Muddy Creek much like any other. There was work to do, and if one was of an entrepreneurial mind there was some money to be made, but the patrons were quite content to dwell in their misery.

It wasn't long before they could hear the bed squeak from the room above. They looked at Betts who always became despondent on such occasions. He knew they were looking at him and refused to return their stare. Unrequited love. It was the way life played out. Betts was in love once before, married in fact, but that didn't work out. He soon grew aimless and decided that the only way to be rid of the woman was to kill her, so that's what he did. He hacked her to death with a tomahawk while she slept. The first split her head open and rendered her unconscious. The rest were unnecessary, yet he delivered forty-four more blows to her head. There was nothing left of it when he finished. He simply washed up, burned the place down and left.

The lad has some stamina. Dink muttered as the bed continued to squeak.

Barney contributed. "Savoring the joy while he can, I'd say. When I was young that's what I'd do. Drinking, women