Ralph Compton Death of a Bad Man

By Marcus Galloway and Ralph Compton

In this sharp-shooting Ralph Compton western, a man of honor becomes an outlaw.

Solomon Brakefield tried to play by the rules—and lost. When the mine Sol worked for was robbed, he went after the robbers himself. After he brought the money back, he was given no more than a handshake and a few dollars. Seems like living life on the straight and narrow just doesn’t pay.
 
So Sol seeks out Nester Quarles, known killer and train robber, to teach him the tricks of the outlaw’s trade. Quarles has plenty to teach, but there’s a price to be paid—and the currency is Sol’s soul.
 
More Than Eight Million Ralph Compton Books In Print!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
• Release date: Apr 1, 2008
• ISBN: 9781440634437

Book preview

Chapter 1

Warren, New Mexico, 1883

It was a poor excuse for a mine on the outskirts of a poor excuse for a town. On paper, the mine was originally started up to work a vein of silver found by the uncle of its current boss. Charlie had hired a few men and kept the mine going for just under a year before selling his interests to a larger company based in Albuquerque. That was just enough time for a few shops and even more saloons to open their doors as well.

Actually, it would have been generous to say that any of those businesses had doors to open. All but one building in Warren were actually tents held up by wooden frames that were barely sturdy enough to stand up to the winds that whipped in from the desert.

Every time that wind blew, it kicked up a mess of gritty sand that pelted against the tents like a dry hailstorm. The rocks on the southwestern end of camp loomed over the town like vultures. No matter how much digging was done inside the mine, the shape of those rocks remained unchanged. Charlie, on the other hand, wasn’t quite so fortunate.

In Warren’s infancy, Charlie had been a slender man with a thick head of hair. Now he was a large man with a thick, rounded head that looked to have been blasted clean by the desert winds. A bristly mustache covered his upper lip but looked more like an old brush that had been glued beneath his nose. Several lines crossed his face, neck and head, but it was impossible to tell which lines were scars and which had simply appeared there over the years.

Charlie’s office was one of the only wooden buildings in town, and it also served as his home. Despite the fact that it was one of Warren’s most expensive structures, the place wasn’t much more than a shack and groaned every time the winds tore past it. Slightly more than half of its windows had glass in their panes, while the rest simply allowed the dust to come and go as it pleased. Considering the state of the house’s owner, a few clean rooms wouldn’t have made much of a difference anyhow.

As a fairly tame breeze pulled up the top layer of dust from the ground and spat it against the front of Charlie’s house, a slightly less tame set of knuckles rapped against the door frame. Charlie didn’t twitch at the sound of the knock. Since he’d caught sight of the other man through the narrow front window next to his door, Charlie was content to sit in his chair and pretend he’d gone deaf.

The man outside knocked again. This time, he followed up with a question.

‘‘You got a minute, Charlie?’’

Charlie had plenty of minutes, but he still didn’t reply.

Before too long, the voice gained a bit of strength and spoke up again. ‘‘Uh, I know you’re in there, Charlie. I brought you your lunch, remember?’’

Looking down at the mess of bread crumbs and gravy smeared on the plate in front of him, Charlie cursed under his breath and grabbed the napkin that was tucked into the collar of his shirt. ‘‘Door’s open,’’ he grunted.

Solomon Brakefield stepped inside. He was in his mid-twenties, had a narrow jaw with a clean-shaven face and tussled dark brown hair that was currently filled with enough grit to make it seem as if he’d been deposited by the wind along with the rest of the gravel that was too heavy to fly. Sol gripped his battered hat in one hand out of necessity, but shifted it into two hands out of respect when he stepped into Charlie’s home.

‘‘What do you want, Sol?’’ Charlie asked.

Sol blinked and grinned as if the mere fact that Charlie had remembered his name was a good omen. ‘‘I just wanted to talk to you about that percentage we discussed before.’’

‘‘What percentage?’’

‘‘The percentage of profits from that silver I found last week,’’ Sol replied. ‘‘You know. The one in that section of collapsing tunnel the rest of the men wanted to seal off?’’

Straightening in his chair, Charlie let out a slow breath as he pondered the things he wanted to say. Seeing as how the younger man wasn’t affected by the disgusted look upon Charlie’s face, the boss took on a distinctly aggressive tone.

‘‘I told you I’d think it over,’’ Charlie said.

Nodding, Sol replied, ‘‘Yes, but that was three days ago. And it was a few days before that when you said any man who found a new vein in that mine would get a cut of the profits.’’

‘‘Maybe you weren’t the one who discovered it. Plenty of men were working on that section of tunnel, you know. My nephew was one of ’em.’’

Although Sol’s brow furrowed a bit, he forced himself to keep his voice calm. ‘‘Your nephew barely even steps foot into that mine, sir,’’ he said while tightening his grip upon the brim of his hat. ‘‘The moment he heard a rumble, he was the first to leave that tunnel. I was the only one who stayed.’’

‘‘Ain’t that why I pay you?’’

After a gesture that was part nod and part wince, Sol told him, ‘‘You pay me to dig silver out of those rocks. When your nephew turned tail and . . .’’ Sol stopped talking when he saw Charlie’s upper lip curl into an ugly snarl. ‘‘When your nephew decided to leave,’’ Sol amended, ‘‘the rest were told to leave as well.’’

‘‘Then why’d you stay?’’

‘‘I had a hunch,’’ Sol said proudly. ‘‘And it paid off. I found another vein of silver and you made it known that you’d reward any man who did that. You posted it.’’

Still scowling, Charlie spat out a grunting laugh and shoved his plate toward the edge of his desk. ‘‘I took them notices down.’’

Sol used one hand to fish something out that had been tucked under his hatband. It was a folded piece of paper. ‘‘I saved one, sir,’’ he said. ‘‘It’s right here.’’

Staring slack-jawed at the paper in Sol’s hand, Charlie let out a noisy breath and climbed out of his chair. Before he’d even stood fully upright, he was stomping around his desk toward the front door. ‘‘I know what I posted! You tryin’ to come in here and make demands? ’’

‘‘No, sir. I only meant to have a word with you about the percentage I’m owed. You said you’d talk to me about it before—’’

‘‘And I’m talkin’ to you about it now,’’ Charlie cut in. ‘‘I don’t have everything figured out just yet because you insisted on coming in here and spouting off before I was prepared to tell you what you get.’’

Sol drew in a breath and took half a step back. His cheeks flushed and he quickly tucked the folded paper back under his hatband. ‘‘Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you might’ve forgotten, is all.’’

‘‘I’ve been running this business perfectly well before you showed up,’’ Charlie growled. ‘‘If I had a mind to, I could run this whole damn town since the only reason it’s here is because of my mine.’’

‘‘I realize that, sir.’’

Charlie pressed his advantage like a dog sinking his teeth into a fresh piece of meat. Even though he was roughly the same height as Sol, he stalked forward as if he dwarfed the other man. Reaching out with one arm, Charlie poked Sol’s chest with a beefy finger. ‘‘Maybe my nephew left that tunnel so he could tell me about that silver. You ever think of that?’’

‘‘No, sir.’’

‘‘Maybe the only reason you were in that tunnel was because I knew there might be silver in there and I needed some men to dig it up. That is what I pay you men for, right?’’

Yes, sir.

Leaning back, Charlie let out another breath. This time, his blubbery lips curled into a grin. The layers under his chin folded one on top of another as he lowered his head in a single nod. ‘‘You got some money comin’,’’ he admitted.

Sol’s eyebrows rose, but not enough to make him look truly hopeful. ‘‘Thank you, sir. That’s all I came to—’’

‘‘Give me a few days to figure it up.’’

‘‘I appreciate that, sir, but I was hoping to take a few days for myself. I was gonna get a look at some property a few miles from here.’’

Those words slid through Charlie’s ears like pellets through a greased pig and he barely even gave a sign that he’d heard them at all. ‘‘There ain’t no way for me to know what anyone’s percentage might be until I know how much silver is dug up out of that tunnel. Could be a little, could be a lot. You wouldn’t want me to settle for the former when it could be the latter, would ya?’’

‘‘Umm, no but . . .’’

‘‘Smart man. Just get back to work and I’ll get back to you when it’s all figured up. Shouldn’t be more’n a few days.’’

‘‘But the fellow who’s going to show me that land is expecting me.’’

Grunting once, Charlie nodded as if his neck had a twitch. ‘‘Well, that ain’t my concern. You want a few days? It’ll be without pay. If I was you, I’d make sure you can afford that before you go skipping about spendin’ money you haven’t earned yet.’’

Although Sol’s mouth began to form his words, he stopped short of giving them a voice. He gritted his teeth and drew his lips together into a tight line as he slowly pulled his hat down on top of his head. ‘‘I suppose I should stay around here while you figure things up.’’

‘‘Why?’’ Charlie grunted.

The concern etched into Sol’s face and the spark in his eyes made it clear that he had plenty of reasons. No small number of them had to do with the fact that Charlie was infamous for building whatever fortune he had upon the pile of deals he’d broken with his workers.

Then there were the stories about the bounty Charlie had offered for the heads of workers who’d tried to organize and demand a pay raise. Nobody could really say if the workers who’d disappeared had simply moved on to greener pastures or if they were buried somewhere in the desert. In the end, not many folks were anxious to start biting the hand that just barely fed them.

Looking into Charlie’s eyes, Sol could tell the other man was about to repeat his question amid another spray from his fat lips. Before he was subjected to that again, Sol said, ‘‘I still got some work to do. There may even be another tunnel that has some promise.’’

The folds of Charlie’s brow lifted a bit as he asked, ‘‘Really? You found another vein?’’

‘‘Maybe.’’

‘‘Good. Then stay at it and I’ll see what I can do to make you happy come payday.’’

Even though he knew Charlie was lying, Sol turned toward the door. ‘‘Thank you, sir.’’

As he walked outside, Sol kept his steps slow enough to brush against the ground. His ears strained for the first hint that Charlie might pay him some of what he was owed. Perhaps a few dollars would get tossed his way as a show of good faith. Maybe some assurances would be granted to him before he left. If there was any good faith to be shown, it was lost in the sudden slam of door against frame.

Chapter 2

‘‘You should’ve punched that fat pig right in his snout!’’

Even though he’d shouted those words, Matt del Rio wasn’t too concerned about anyone but Sol hearing them. In fact, there was so much noise in the Railway Saloon that he could barely hear himself.

Sol chuckled and looked around nervously. Fortunately, there was just as much chance of Matt’s words carrying as there was of a railroad actually buying up the land behind the saloon. While either of those things may have been a possibility when the saloon had been built, they weren’t any longer. The place was too noisy for much of anything to stand out from the ruckus, and the land turned out to be too rough for tracks to be laid down.

‘‘I wanted to punch him, believe me,’’ Sol replied. ‘‘But I wouldn’t exactly be able to keep my job afterward. Getting that bonus would be pretty rough, as well.’’

Matt chuckled and shook his head. ‘‘Getting any bonus from that pig is a task in itself. Trust me. Better men than you have tried.’’

‘‘I heard of men getting their bonuses. If Charlie didn’t pay, he wouldn’t have so many working for him.’’

‘‘Sure, he pays,’’ Matt said. ‘‘He pays just enough to avoid a riot. But them bonuses are a fool’s bet. You’re my friend and all, but you’re one of them fools if you truly think you’ll get that percentage you’re after.’’

Sol had been nursing the same glass of whiskey for nearly the entire length of time he’d been there after his workday was through. He wasn’t much of a drinker, but he sure would have liked to toss back the liquor as if it were water. He didn’t exactly have the money to do that, so he sipped at his drink and let the firewater trickle down his throat.

The Railway Saloon was a large tent filled with dozens of small round tables that looked more like oversized stools. Because the canvas walls had proven to be too big of a temptation for the local drunks to resist, there were lengths of rope along the top and bottom of each wall. Cowbells were tied to those ropes at odd intervals so they could make enough noise to alert the barkeep and his workers if anyone tried to sneak out before settling their bill. That constant jangle of cowbells gave the saloon its own brand of music that grated men’s nerves almost as much as it amused their inebriated minds.

Normally, Sol enjoyed the odd mix of bawdy singing and clattering bells. Now it seemed more like an ache in the back of his head that would follow him no matter where he tried to go. Sol closed his eyes and took another sip of his drink. Since that little bit of whiskey didn’t make a dent in his frustration, he drained the rest of it in one more swallow.

‘‘Looks like you’re out to raise some hell tonight, huh, Sol?’’ Matt asked as he raised his glass.

Despite the nod Sol gave the other man, he wasn’t able to make the gesture too convincing.

After emptying his own glass, Matt slammed it back onto the bar and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘‘Want another round?’’

‘‘I can’t afford it,’’ Sol replied.

‘‘This one’s on me. After all the rounds you’ve bought in the months I known you, I’d say I owe you a few.’’

Sol grinned with genuine surprise. ‘‘That’d be great,’’ he said. ‘‘Thanks.’’

Matt smiled even wider as he waved to get the bartender’s attention. They were at the end of the bar farthest from the door, simply because they were less likely to be shoved outside from that spot. ‘‘Hey!’’ he shouted. ‘‘A couple more drinks over here!’’ Seeing that he still wasn’t getting a response from the wiry man behind the bar, Matt leaned over until he almost slid across the top of the warped wooden boards and onto the floor.

As soon as the bartender felt the tug at his apron, he reflexively swatted at Matt’s hand. The barkeep clipped Matt’s shoulder, which was just enough to take away the rest of Matt’s balance and send him to the floor.

Wincing from a mix of pain and embarrassment, Matt held up two fingers. ‘‘Two more whiskeys, please?’’

‘‘What in the hell’s wrong with you, boy?’’ the barkeep snapped.

‘‘Me and my friend’s glasses are empty,’’ Matt explained sheepishly.

Before the barkeep could respond to that, a shot blasted through the window and cracked one of the rickety supports holding up one end of the tent. That was enough to silence most of the conversations in the saloon as men either drew their own weapons or ducked for cover under the pathetically small tables.

‘‘Holy—’’ Matt grunted before being cut off by another shot. After that piece of lead had hissed through the saloon to punch through two walls, Matt gasped, ‘‘Was that gunfire?’’

‘‘Yep,’’ the barkeep replied. ‘‘Some fools in the street got guns.’’

‘‘Who?’’

Sitting with his back against his bar and his knees drawn up to his chest, the bartender looked as if he might be sitting alongside a river, skipping stones. He shrugged easily and reached for a shotgun propped against a central spot behind the bar. ‘‘Don’t know for certain, but I can see ’em through my window,’’ the barkeep replied as he nodded toward the flap that was held open by a crudely stitched hook and eye. ‘‘Looks like there’s three or four of ’em headed toward Charlie’s place.’’

‘‘Do you think they got Charlie?’’ Matt asked.

Pausing as another wave of gunshots crackled outside, the bartender grinned and shrugged his shoulders. ‘‘You wanna ask ’em, you can be my guest.’’

When he heard something moving directly behind him, Matt twisted around and cocked his fist up close to his right ear. He almost took a swing at Sol, even after he’d spotted his face.

‘‘What’s the matter?’’ Sol asked. ‘‘Were you hit?’’

‘‘Hit? No. Those shots are being fired over at Charlie’s place.’’

‘‘The hell they are,’’ Sol replied. ‘‘I counted at least five bullets passing through this saloon.’’

The barkeep winced at the sound of that and muttered, ‘‘Aww, damn!’’

‘‘What do those men want with Charlie?’’ Sol asked.

Matt shook his head as if he’d suddenly found himself in a dream. ‘‘I don’t know what’s going on. I just hope I don’t get hit by any of that stray lead.’’

‘‘Hear, hear!’’ a nearby drunk hollered.

Sitting with his back against the outside of the bar, Sol drew his pistol and checked to make sure it was loaded. His gun belt was old and well worn, but not from excessive use. It had been handed down from one of his cousins right before Sol had struck out for New Mexico. With all the commotion going on around him, Sol couldn’t even recall which of his cousins had previously owned that holster.

Sol leaned toward the door and said, ‘‘I’m going to see who those men are.’’

‘‘What?’’ Matt hissed from the other side of the crack. ‘‘Are you loco?’’

‘‘Not hardly. I may not be able to trust Charlie farther than I can toss him, but he sure won’t be able to pay me if he’s killed. He won’t be able to pay any of us.’’

After chewing on that for a few seconds, Matt cursed under his breath. ‘‘You’re right.’’

‘‘You want to come with me?’’

No.

Snapping his pistol shut, Sol asked, ‘‘Will you come with me anyhow?’’

After another pause, Matt replied, ‘‘I guess. It sounds like the shooting’s about done anyway.’’

Sol got his feet beneath him while the gunshots tapered off until finally their echoes faded away. Only then did Matt stick his head up from behind the bar.

‘‘Sounds like they’re gone,’’ Matt said happily. ‘‘That calls for another round.’’

Although all the drunks within earshot were plenty happy to hear that, Sol wasn’t so enthusiastic. Standing up with his gun in hand, he continued toward the front door. ‘‘Then stay here where it’s safe,’’ he told Matt. Glancing at a set of holes that had been recently blasted through the canvas wall, Sol added, ‘‘Or at least where it’s kind of safe.’’

Matt saw those holes and he also saw Sol walking through the door. After letting his eyes bounce back and forth between those two sights, he cursed once more and hopped over the bar. ‘‘Not so fast,’’ he hissed as he made it out of the saloon. ‘‘If they are still about, you don’t want them to see you.’’

Crouching a bit as he slowly walked down the crooked lane that passed for Warren’s Main Street, Sol squinted into the distance. The street ahead of him was littered with water troughs, hitching posts and a boardwalk that looked more like a series of boards that had fallen off the back of a slowly moving wagon. Another saloon was in his line of sight, but that place served up more whores than whiskey. The patrons in there had probably been too busy to even notice any gunfire.

There were also two stores nearby, which were merely open-backed wagons covered by drooping awnings. The people who ran those stores had most definitely heard the shots, since they were huddled under their wagons.

Sol approached the closest wagon and hunkered down to put his face a bit closer to the old woman hiding beneath it. ‘‘Did you see who fired those shots?’’ he asked.

The woman shook her head. ‘‘I didn’t see nothin’.’’

‘‘The barkeep in the Railway says it was some men over at Charlie’s place.’’

Before too long, the old lady nodded. ‘‘Yeah. Maybe two or three of ’em.’’

‘‘I thought you didn’t see anything,’’ Matt pointed out.

When the old lady shifted her gaze to Matt, she showed him plenty of fire in her eyes. ‘‘And if Charlie is alive and in any condition to ask about it later, that’s just what I’ll tell him.’’

‘‘Do you know if those gunmen are still around here?’’ Sol asked.

The old lady leaned forward just enough to put her nose out slightly past a wagon wheel. She stretched her neck out a bit more so she could look in the direction of Charlie’s house. Once she’d seen her fill, she allowed herself to plop back into her original spot. ‘‘You’re that Brakefield boy who works at the mine?’’ she asked.

Sol nodded. ‘‘Yes, ma’am.’’

‘‘Maybe you should come under here with me where it’s safe.’’

‘‘I appreciate the offer, but Charlie may need some help.’’

The old woman scowled and shook her head. Although she clucked her tongue a bit, she didn’t say another word.

‘‘She may have a point, you know,’’ Matt told him.

But Sol already had his sights set upon Charlie’s house. ‘‘Then you can stay here and I’ll go.’’

Matt glanced down at where the old lady was hiding and saw her scoot a bit farther under the wagon. As much as he wanted to join her, he gritted his teeth and took hold of his pistol. ‘‘We need to find the law is what we need to do,’’ he said once he’d caught up to Sol.

‘‘The law don’t even care enough to post a man in camp,’’ Sol pointed out. ‘‘Why would they start to give a damn about some shooting now?’’

‘‘We could always let them know what happened. I bet the sheriff will ride out here.’’

But Sol kept walking. His back was to the Railway Saloon and his eyes were locked upon the house at the end of the crooked street. One hand was wrapped around his old .44 and his free hand was outstretched to brush against each hitching post he passed along the way.

‘‘It might be too late to catch those gunmen now,’’ Sol whispered. ‘‘By the time the sheriff comes along, there won’t even be any tracks left to follow.’’

‘‘Really?’’ Matt asked hopefully. ‘‘You think it may already be too late?’’

Sol glanced back at the other man and had to smile. Matt looked like he’d just heard the working girls in town had