The Accomplice: The Silent Partner Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Fugitives

  The clearing erupted with gunfire of all makes and models. Pistols of different calibers barked and spat hot lead at the two men fleeing toward the river. Shotguns sent waves of thunder through the air and tore apart tree trunks while chipping away at fallen rock. Fortunately, most of those shots were taken in a hurry before the men pulling the triggers could get a good look at their targets.

  As he ran, Caleb ignored the panic gripping him like a cold, iron fist clamped around his stomach. He tried not to think about the bullets hissing past him or the pain that sparked in his ankles, knees, legs, and arms as he charged onto the fragile ice. The truth of the matter was that he hadn’t actually planned on making it to the river before getting caught or killed.

  Although Doc had followed Caleb to the edge of the stream, he stopped and turned so he could draw his second pistol. Caleb’s voice was swallowed up by the roar of gunfire as Doc pulled his triggers and fired into the nearby clearing . . .

  Titles by Marcus Galloway

  THE ACCOMPLICE THE ACCOMPLICE: BUCKING THE TIGER THE ACCOMPLICE: THE SILENT PARTNER

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada

  (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)

  Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia

  (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

  Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India

  Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand

  (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196,

  South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  THE ACCOMPLICE: THE SILENT PARTNER

  A Berkley Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Berkley edition / October 2008

  Copyright © 2008 by Marcus Pelegrimas.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form

  without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in

  violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  eISBN : 978-0-425-22415-1

  BERKLEY®

  Berkley Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  BERKLEY is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  The “B” design is a trademark belonging to Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  To Cherry,

  For giving me some of the best news of my life

  Author’s Note

  As always, I want to make it clear that this book is not trying to reflect historical fact. Instead, I consider it more of a historical tribute. Whenever possible, I have tried to maintain the actual names, dates, places, and events marking the colorful life of John Henry Holliday. From my own research as well as several other great volumes out there, I have endeavored to put together a fairly accurate picture of what it would have been like to work with Doc Holliday throughout the wilder years of his career. Of course, some liberties have been taken every so often, but I have struggled to keep Doc’s essence true to form. Many of the events in this book are documented fact, and the rest is hopefully a good reflection of what Doc might have done. Since none of us were there to ride alongside Doc, it’s hard to say which factual accounts are truly accurate. The following books, however, have helped me get a clearer view of the real Doc and the men who crossed his path. Doc Holliday: A Family Portrait by Karen Holliday Tanner; Doc Holliday: The Life and Legend by Gary Roberts; Deadwood: The Golden Years by Watson Parker; Wyatt Earp: Frontier Marshal by Stuart Lake; and Wyatt Earp: The Life Behind the Legend by Casey Tefertiller.

  1

  DeadwoodNovember 1876

  Caleb Wayfinder had seen some hard times in Dallas, but none of those compared to a winter in Deadwood. To be honest, Caleb wasn’t able to make much of a comparison since this was the first time he’d stepped foot in the Dakota Territories. But setting that foot upon the hard, frozen ground was more than enough to tell him what he needed to know.

  Deadwood was damn cold in the winter.

  Fortunately, there were plenty of ways for a man to warm himself.

  Main Street was littered with more than enough humanity to create a fog in the air from the steam that drifted from folks’ mouths. Smoke rose from the chimneys of more saloons than Caleb could count. As he walked along the street and did his best to avoid getting shoved or trampled, Caleb spotted the Bella Union, the Grand Central Hotel, the Bullock Hotel, and the Gem. On this cold November day, like most of the days before it, Caleb was headed for the Hazen House. It wasn’t the biggest or best place in Deadwood, but it did steady business.

  Of course, any place that served liquor and hosted plenty of working girls was bound to do good business in Deadwood.

  Caleb took his hands from his pockets so he could pull his coat a bit tighter around him. His frame was losing some of the muscle that had been there a few years ago, but that was mainly due to his focus upon his newest endeavor. Doc liked to call it “the sporting life,” but Caleb didn’t find much sport in riding from town to town in stinking stagecoaches or being jostled for hours on end inside of a crowded train just so they could part another set of fools from their earnings. Doc’s luck was holding up a bit more than Caleb’s since they’d reached the Black Hills, which could have accounted for Caleb’s sour disposition.

  The cold touch of iron pressed against his ribs and back served as a constant reminder of how Caleb had earned whatever luck he did have. One of the pistols had been won in a particularly good game of seven-card stud back in Cheyenne. That gun was the last thing Caleb had won in the past few
months and it had been put to good use since then. In fact, all of Caleb’s guns had been getting plenty of use since he’d decided to throw in with the likes of Doc Holliday.

  Caleb smirked and shook his head as he twisted around to let a disgruntled miner walk past him. Right about now, Doc was probably enjoying some hot coffee at the Bella Union. Odds were just as good that Doc hadn’t even gotten up and read the newspaper yet. Since Caleb’s bankroll had run as dry as a poor miner’s pan, he hadn’t seen too much of Doc. After a few more paces down the street, Caleb was given an abrupt reminder of what had been filling his days as of late.

  “Go to hell, you damned whore!” a man with long hair and a greasy beard spat as he stumbled through a nearby doorway.

  Following the loudmouth outside was a fellow who looked more like a bear than a man. He filled up the doorway with a set of wide shoulders, bowed legs, and a gut that hung down low enough to cover his belt buckle. When he spoke, the thick brown beard covering most of his face parted like a furry sea. “That’s why you don’t get no women, Jake! You got a filthy mouth.”

  Strangely enough, the loudmouth looked at the big man as if he didn’t even know he was there. Jake tried to straighten himself up, but looked more like he was being held up by a rope. “Go fuck yourself, Paul. That’s all I got to say to you.”

  Despite the formality of Jake’s tone, the words he spoke were blunt enough to smack the big man in the face and take away the smirk that had been there before.

  “What did you say?” Paul asked.

  Jake glanced back and forth nervously. There had been plenty of other folks out there with him before, but most of them knew well enough to give Jake and Paul some room after that. Seeing that he was on his own, Jake focused as best he could and squared his shoulders to the big man.

  “You heard me,” Jake said. “This is ’tween me and that whore.”

  Without taking his eyes off of Jake, Paul turned just enough to direct his next question over his shoulder and into the saloon behind him. “You hearin’ this, Stephanie?”

  As big as Paul was, he was shoved aside like a scarecrow as the short, stout blonde marched outside. She wasn’t dressed in much more than a slip, which wasn’t nearly enough to cover her generous curves and ample bosom. Even so, she seemed to have more than enough fire in her belly to ward off the bite of the winter wind.

  “That prick didn’t pay!” Stephanie shouted.

  Jake’s only response was a shrug as he said, “You didn’t hold up your end.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my end. You just need to worry about yourself.”

  “There’s plenty wrong with your end,” Jake replied. “There’s too much of it, for starters.”

  “Well, you’re the first man I’ve ever met who couldn’t get his pecker straight enough to get the job done.”

  Jake narrowed his eyes as if he’d been rapped on the nose. The next move he made was a quick, fumbling grab for the pistol tucked under his belt. By the time his hand found the weapon’s grip, Jake was being knocked off his feet.

  Caleb’s shoulder slammed into Jake’s chest like a kick from a mule and he wrapped his arms around Jake’s midsection just to make certain Jake hit the ground first. Gritting his teeth and letting out a reflexive grunt made the Indian portion of Caleb’s blood boil to the surface. At least that way Caleb had something softer than frozen mud upon which to land.

  Most of the air was knocked from Jake’s lungs when he hit the ground. Caleb scrambled up so he was on one knee with a tight grip around Jake’s collar by the time the loudmouth got his bearings.

  “You son of a b—” was all Jake managed to say before his mouth was closed by Caleb’s fist.

  As Caleb punched Jake in the face, he found himself hoping the loudmouth would keep fighting back. Every time he felt the sting of bone against his knuckles, Caleb thought about his recent losing streak. By the time his current occupation passed through his mind, Caleb found another bit of reserve strength to put behind his fist.

  “That’s it, Caleb!” Stephanie shouted. “Hit him again!”

  The blonde’s shrill voice was still making its way through Caleb’s ears when he saw a little foot wrapped in a boot with a pointed toe slam into Jake’s ribs. Before she could get another kick in, Stephanie was hauled away by the big man who’d previously been filling up the nearby doorway.

  “Come on, now,” Paul said as he struggled to pull Stephanie back while also avoiding her flailing feet. “The Injun’s got his hands full enough.”

  “Just one more, Paul! I owe it to the limp-dicked asshole.”

  Despite the fact that he was being pummeled and was too drunk to put up much of a defense, Jake gritted his teeth and started swinging at Caleb when he heard the insult that had just been sent his way. Jake managed to land a glancing blow off of Caleb’s cheek, but that wasn’t nearly enough to get the dusky-skinned man off of him. The bunch of men who’d stepped up to surround Caleb, on the other hand, stood a much better chance of getting that job done.

  “Let him go,” a man grunted from behind Caleb.

  Pulling his fist back to put Jake down for good, Caleb replied, “Step back, mister. This fight’s almost done.”

  “You’re damn right it is,” the man said. His words were punctuated by the metallic click of a pistol’s hammer being thumbed back.

  Caleb froze with his fist still hovering next to his right ear. His eyes darted to try and get a look at what he was up against as the bitter cold seeped back into muscles that had so recently been warmed through the unexpected scuffle. Since he wasn’t quick to look behind him, Caleb felt the tap of a gun barrel against the back of his head to speed him along.

  “Back away from him and be quick about it,” the man behind Caleb said.

  Jake showed Caleb a bloody grin as he scuttled back like an overweight crab and then climbed to his feet. “Good to see you boys,” he said.

  The man pointing the gun at Caleb was slender and several inches shy of six feet tall. His narrow face was streaked with dirt and set into a cautious scowl. “What’s happening here?”

  More than happy to step forward, Stephanie didn’t pay any mind to the drawn guns. “Your friend’s too cheap to pay for what I gave him, that’s what.”

  “That whore barely even spread her legs to earn her pay,” Jake replied as he leveled a trembling finger at her.

  “I did plenty! It ain’t my fault you weren’t—”

  “That’s enough, Steph!” Caleb interrupted before the fires could be stoked any higher. “Did you do everything he wanted?”

  “Well . . . no. But that’s only because he couldn’t—”

  “Fine. Then you’ll be paid for what you did do.” Looking over to Paul, Caleb asked, “That fair enough?”

  Reaching behind him, Paul accepted something from within the saloon. When he brought his meaty hand back around, it was wrapped around a sawed-off shotgun. “He’ll also need to pay for the damage he done to this place when he threw his fit.”

  Jake shook his head and wagged a finger at the big man in the doorway. Now that half a dozen others were gathered around him, he wasn’t having any trouble screwing up the courage to speak his mind. “To hell with that. I want my money back. All of it! Get the owner out here. I don’t need to talk to nobody that gets paid to toss good folks out on their ears.”

  “You won’t hear any different from the owner, Jake,” Caleb insisted. “You did damage and you got something from Steph. All of that needs to be paid for. Once the account’s settled, you can all be on your way.”

  For a moment, Caleb thought that Jake might do the sensible thing. Then, after a few seconds, Jake looked around and defiantly asked, “What if I don’t?”

  Caleb hadn’t worked at the Hazen House for long, but he’d worked in more than enough saloons to know what was at stake. If an ignorant cuss like Jake could get out of paying what he owed while also getting the best of the saloon’s two best bouncers in the process, he could show all t
he people gathered on that street what a bunch of spineless idiots were running that place. In a business fueled by equal parts liquor and greed, that simply would not suffice.

  Caleb straightened up and shifted his coat open just enough to display a few of the guns he wore. “You’ll pay. One way or another, you’ll pay.”

  Jake had been coming to the Hazen House long enough to know that Caleb wasn’t bluffing. Some of the men who’d come to help him on the street, however, weren’t so well informed. One of those men went for his gun as Jake snapped his head around to try and convince him otherwise.

  The man who went for his gun had the scruffy look of a miner who blamed Caleb for all the worthless dirt he’d sifted through over the years. He wasn’t able to clear leather, however, before Caleb snatched one of his .44s from the double-rig holster strapped around his waist.

  Caleb drew and fired as he dropped to one knee. His shot missed its target, but hissed close enough to the other man’s head to get him running away from the saloon.

  Of the others surrounding Jake, two of them kept their wits about them enough to draw weapons of their own. A clean-shaven man in his late twenties pulled a Smith & Wesson from its holster and fired an overly anxious shot into the ground. The second was a man in his forties who let out a profanity as he pulled his trigger and sent a piece of hot lead through the saloon’s front window.

  “Get the hell out of the way!” Paul shouted.

  That was enough to get Caleb moving to one side. Unfortunately, that also cleared the way for one of Jake’s friends to fire a shot at the doorway where Paul was still standing. The big man flinched as the bullet whipped past his head and sent splinters spraying out of the door frame.

  Caleb let out a breath and focused on a single target. He aimed his pistol as if he was simply pointing his finger and then he squeezed his trigger. The gun barked once and ripped a bloody gash through the chest of one of the men who’d fired at him. When he shifted his eyes toward the clean-shaven man, he saw that one’s gun barrel was already pointed directly at him.