Episode 4: Clear Night Sky

My house felt especially empty that night and the beer started to make me feel bloated as I arrived home. After Lawton started to weep in front of me in the saloon, I soon felt out of my depth and said my goodbyes. Before I left, he told me that he had rented a room in the saloon and he wanted me to visit him in the morning to further discuss his plan.

The night sky was perfectly clear outside my window and I felt a cool breeze creeping through the house. I lit a small blaze in my fireplace and sat down.

In an instant, Lawton had transformed himself from an entertaining distraction to a whole bunch of trouble. So far, his plan was to have me help him bury the gold and then lay low until he could safely take it to the claim office and strangely, divide it between him and myself. He had come into possession of an extremely valuable amount of gold and he told me that three men who killed his father for it, were now after him. That was enough for me.

The fire crackled at my feet and I reached for my pipe from the sidetable. As I packed the tobacco, my decision to never contact Lawton again came quickly. For almost two decades, I had run a semi-successful business in this little town. I had built friendships and valuable clients over the years and purchased a comfortable home from a friendly old woman named Marjorie. My years as a useless drunk were behind me and I had gradually adjusted to the loss of my wife.

I was not about to let Lawton's circumstances destroy any of it.

During my time here, I had seen enough horror and terrible acts to become aware of trouble when it comes. Lawton might be exaggerating about these men; it might be just be a story of make-believe simply created by a drunk. But if there was a kernel of truth to what he told me, then I wanted no part of it. I didn't care how closely I resembled his father. This town had presented me with enough sorrow for one life.

I crawled into bed and feel asleep watching the fire, happy in the knowledge I would friendly turn down Lawton's offer if I saw him tomorrow.

********

Scanlon the bartender was relieved to begin cleaning up the tables. His day had been long and the books weren't adding up as he planned. All he wanted now, was to retire upstairs with a nice bottle of scotch to fog his brain and ignore his debts.

As he started to pack away the beer glasses, the front doors creaked open and a short, chubby man stepped toward him. Scanlon looked up and was startled when the man started to speak. His voice had a strange, high-pitched tone.

"Is there a Norman Lawton staying here,?" he asked.

Episode 3: A Better Place

"My pa was a saint, Mr Tupper. He was a goddamn saint of a man."

Lawton was around two shot glasses from dead drunk when I sat down, slurring virtually every word that came from his lips. My beer was warm, but I drank it regardless.

"He didn't deserve do be shot by those boys. Just when he became rich too. Bastards."

I sympathised with him. He was coping with the grieving process by numbing himself with alcohol. Something I know all too well.

"Law...I'm sorry, what was your first name?" I asked him.

"Uh, Norman"

"Norman, I can't imagine what you're going through and it was indeed a horrible way your father died, but he's a better place now.

"I know, he's with Ma and Jesus now."

"Yes, that's right and he wouldn't want you too feel bad. He gave this gold to-"

"Hey, keep your voice down." he barked suddenly. "Nobody knows about this find."

"I'm sorry," I replied in a whisper, "but this gold is yours now and your father would want you to enjoy it, don't you think?"

"I suppose your right, Mr Tupper." His eyes were welling with tears. A drunk's remorse. "He was a goddamn saint."

The whiskey flowed freely.

"That's why I asked you here. I wanted to split it with you."

I was confused at first. I thought he was talking about his whiskey.

"Split what?"

"The gold." he whispered. "I wanted to bury it for a spell but after everything's died down, I'll dig it up. When I do that, I'll give you some."

My beer was churning in my stomach. It was as if the air had been sucked out of the saloon and I suddenly felt rather sick. I questioned him.

"What? Why would you to give me any of your gold?"

"Well, you're helping me and...you kind of remind of him. My pa."

"Norman, I haven't agreed to anything. Your idea of using one of my coffins to bury this gold is ridiculous. I run a business, Norman. I couldn't bring myself to do that, I'm sorry."

His shoulders sank and immediately regretted being so hard on him.

"It's very kind of you to offer me a share of your father's find but I wouldn't feel right in taking it. Your father gave that to you. For your life, not anyone else's."

"Yeah, but I like to share Mr Tupper." he whispered. My heartstrings were pulled. This man had been through hell and back and all could do was scorn him for being kind. I felt awful.

"Look, I can't promise anything Norman but...let me give it some thought."

The saloon suddenly felt cold and I looked from the window to see the sunset dwindling on the horizon. Norman looked at me with drunken grin.

"Yeah, just think about it, alright?" he said.

My beer tasted a little better now. I sat quietly with Lawton and we drank together in silence. The barman watched us with interest, probably waiting to see if we would spend more money. His saloon was largely unknown to me. My time was usually spent at home in my study, not mixing with drunks and petty criminals; the usual clientele of this establishment.

Suddenly, I remembered something Norman had said.

"What did you mean when you said 'when everything dies down'?" I asked.

"Huh?" He had slipped into his world. I sat up and looked at him.

"You said you'll dig up the gold when everything dies down. What did you mean by that?"

Lawton looked up at me and thought for a few seconds.

"Well, I can't keep it with me right now. I have to bury it as soon I can."

"Yes, but why?"

"Because Mr Tupper, I think those boys that murdered my father are following me."

All of a sudden, my beer tasted sour.

Episode 2: Murder and Treasure

I closed my store early that day. Mrs Strickland came by just before I locked up to give her daily update on her husband's condition but I was in no mood. He'd been struck down by some mystery illness for months now and every day she came by to tell me whether or not he died so I would be ready to take his corpse. My personal thoughts were that he was faking a sickness in order to avoiding conversing with his wife on a regular basis.

"He'll drop by tonight, I'm sure, Mr Tupper!" she squealed as she hurried past. I simply rolled my eyes. It had become my usual response to her rhetoric rather than highlighting her ignorance. Deranged as she was, she would eventually be a source of revenue.

The man with the gold nugget was named Lawton and he asked me to meet him at the saloon further up the street later that afternoon, hence my early closing. I did feel foolish to agree to such a meeting I have to admit, but I was also captivated by this man's tale of woe.

It seemed he had procured the gold from his father's claim in Black Falls, Wyoming. After years of prospecting, his father had hit the jackpot and found this monster nugget on the south end of his claim, washed up in a recent rainstorm. The rain had dislodged decades of soil and granite to reveal the gold and almost gave Lawton's father a seizure when he saw it. But before he could lay claim to such a an amazing bounty, he was shot and killed by a group of men who stormed onto his claim and demanded he hand it over. As luck would have it, his father had already given the gold to his son and told to get the next train out of town. Somehow expecting his killers, it seemed. Lawton only learned of his father's demise when he received a telegram a few days ago. As he explained this to me, nervously standing in my office, I remember thinking that I wished he'd brought his father's body to me. The undertaker in Black Falls was a shylock bastard who would charge grieving people hundreds of dollars while burying their loved ones in faulty, broken coffins made of cheap ply wood.

I hurried up the street to the saloon, not quite knowing why I'd agreed to such a meeting. The closest approximation I could come to was that after three decades burying bodies, an exciting tale of murder and treasure over a few drinks was good enough reason to close early as any. The saloon doors stubbornly pushed open and I stepped forward towards the bar, asking for a small beer. There weren't many patrons at this time of the afternoon. Sproadic groupings of sullen prospectors huddled in the corners, wanting to drown their sorrows before heading back to their claims. One bored whore clipped her toenails behind the bar until the barman told her to go back upstairs.

Lawton was hunched over a bottle of whiskey at one of the window tables. His satchel was in his lap with one hand gripping its handles. His other hand helped him with the whiskey. I paid for my beer and wandered over to his table. If only I had known the sheer hell that awaited me.

Episode 1: Funny Business

I've had a corpse wake up on me one time. He was a young gangly kid who'd been shot twice in the head and by all accounts, was dead as a doornail. But the damndest thing happened when I started to hammer his coffin together. He started screaming and hollering and pounding on the wood like a wild hyena. I dropped my hammer and fell on my ass as I thought I was witnessing some kind of divine resurrection. The kid ran out of my store at top speed but only got a few steps down the street when he collapsed and crunched face first down into the dirt. This time he was really dead.

The doctor finally arrived after half the town and poked and prodded the poor kid's body for what seemed like hours. I'm sure one of those jackals would have stolen his shoes if they weren't sitting in my office already. After a quick examination, the doctor told us that the kid had indeed passed on but it wasn't from the two .45 shells that lodged themselves in his skull. Incredibly, both of the bullets failed to hit any vital parts of his brain and simply knocked him out cold. The eventual cause of death when he stormed out of my offices was, if you can fathom it, shock. The kid was so scared that he was in heaven or hell or some such thing that his pilot light just went out.

When the doctor finished explaining things, all the townsfolk quickly disappeared off the street and I was left to pick up the kid and put him in his coffin after all. From what I understand, he's buried with his Ma and Pa underneath that big pine tree north of town. It's a funny business I've chosen. Not laugh-out-loud funny, mind you.
Although, I did laugh when a scruffy man in greasy overalls walked through my door this morning.

"You the proprietor, mister?" he said, nervously.

I looked him up and down. At first I thought he was going to rob me.

"I am the undertaker here, yes sir, what can I do for this fine sunny morning?" I said.

"Well, I need you to arrange a coffin for me."

Before I had a chance to talk about size and wood type, he quickly produced a leather satchel he'd been carrying and emptied its contents on my desk. It was a gold nugget the size of a dinner plate.

"I want you to bury this." he told me.

It was around here that I started laughing.