Vengeance Is Black by George G. Gilman

Author:George G. Gilman [Gilman, George G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction
Publisher: Pinnacle Books
Published: 1973-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

*****

The town was once called Somewhere. It was perched on the side of a high valley in the depths of the Black Hills. It was not much of a town: just a cluster of timber and mud shacks built along one side street. On the other side was a stream and beyond this a series of openings giving access to mine tunnels burrowed through the hill.

It had been called Somewhere by the score or so silver prospectors who had established the settlement many years previously — because the story which all of them had heard indicated that there was a rich silver lode, ‘somewhere’ deep in the valley side. Almost half the prospectors had died trying to find the lode. All the rest, save one, had left. They had confined expression of their disappointment to a simple act—painting out the first four letters on the town marker and adding two more, so that it read NOWHERE.

The man who stayed behind did not repaint the sign, but continued to refer to the wretched place by its original name. His own name was Marshall and in between digging in the tunnels for the lode he was certain existed, he acted as lawman. He was past eighty, scrawny thin and quite mad. But not too insane to realize that it was better to be lawman in a town without people rather than one with.

So he had welcomed the three black outlaws who selected the town as a hide-out. Had he not done so, he would have died under Clay’s shotgun. For their part, the trio of gunmen played along with Marshall’s fantasies; since the crazy old man was a good hunter and could cook passably well. They even, with much glee, promoted him from sheriff to marshal.

He had breakfast ready for them when they rode into town with the loot and two prisoners from the stage hold-up. It was mid-morning and hot. A wind was blowing from the south-west but it was not a cool one. It lifted and swirled dust from the parched valley. The men rode with bandanas over their mouths and nostrils but Elizabeth Day, slung across Clay’s horse, and the boy riding on the cantle behind Will had no protection. They coughed and their eyes streamed with tears sprang from irritation as much as fear.

Marshal Marshall heard their approach and ran from his filthy shack, leveling a Winchester.

“Okay Marshal, put down the gun. First let’s eat and then have some fun,” Clay chanted as he reined his white horse to a halt and slid from the saddle.

The crazy old man cackled with laughter as he saw Clay lift down Elizabeth, his fingers digging into her breast and thigh.

“You scored okay then, Clay?” Marshall said, lowering the rifle from the aim as Will swung from the saddle, his leg knocking the boy to the ground.

The boy began to cry, but stopped abruptly when the man with the pock-marked face and dead eyes lifted him bodily by the hair and back-handed him across the cheek.

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