by Lee Lejeune
‘Here’s your grub,’ Sam said as he climbed down from the wagon.
The gunman turned his head, and that’s when Jacob made his move.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jacob reached out and struck the man’s gun with his hand. The gun fired and the bullet hit the cooking-pot and ricocheted into the fire, sending up a shower of sparks and ash. Jacob stood up and kicked the gunman in the face as hard as he could, and the man fell back against the ground. Jacob brought down his foot and pinned the man’s wrist to the ground. Then he retrieved the gun and hurled it away.
The gunman gasped and rolled over and tried to get to his feet, but Jacob was agile and strong and he kicked the man in the face again. Then he reached for his own gun and cocked it.
‘Don’t shoot!’ the man cried, stretching out his hands.
Jacob stood over him and trained his gun on his head. ‘Is that what those good folk said to you up at the cabin,’ he growled, ‘just before you shot them dead?’
‘I swear I didn’t shoot them!’ the man squealed. ‘It was Wolf and Stringer that did it!’
‘Wolf and Stringer,’ Jacob said. ‘Wolf and Stringer.’
‘That was a pretty good move,’ Sam said from beyond the fire. ‘Didn’t do that old cooking-pot of mine any favours, but I guess I can still use it. It’s almost like you’d practised that move a dozen times.’
Jacob was still getting his breath back. ‘You don’t need much practice when you see a gun pointing at you, Mr Critchley. It just comes naturally.’
‘Well, now, whatever your name is,’ Sam said to the gunman, ‘why don’t you just sit up and eat your last supper while you can?’
The gunman propped himself up as best he could. Jacob saw that he had a black eye and a horribly swollen lip, and wondered whether he was in a fit state to eat anything at all.
‘You mean you’re gonna go ahead and let me eat?’ the man gasped.
‘Well, now,’ Sam said. ‘We’re not savages here, you know. You want to eat, you just go ahead and eat, that’s if you can still chew without choking yourself to death.’
‘And just remember this,’ Jacob warned him, ‘if you make a fool move I might just have to put an end to your worthless life with the aid of this gun. And by the way, who is this guy Stringer you mentioned?’
The gunman didn’t reply. He was too busy wolfing down his food. Sam had been generous and it was a highly nutritious stew.
Jacob looked at Sam and wondered what they could do with this unnamed gunman, when the answer came out of the blue in the form of three riders. They had turned off the trail and were jogging steadily towards them.
The gunman swung round in panic. ‘My God!’ he gasped, ‘it’s them!’
Jacob grabbed him by the collar and pulled him away from the fire. ‘Get over to the wagon and take cover!’ he said.
The gunman crawled away on his hands and knees and tried to make himself invisible, which wasn’t easy.
Jacob stood up and waited with his gun held close to his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye he saw old Sam standing close by with the gunman’s gun in his hand.
‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ Sam said calmly.
The riders rode close and drew rein.
‘Good evening, Mr Critchley,’ the big man replied. ‘I thought I heard a shot.’
‘Just a passing hunter,’ Sam said.
Wolf laughed. ‘I see you got a gun in your hand, Mr Critchley. Ain’t that a little unusual for a man of peace like you?’
‘Well, I guess it is,’ Sam agreed. ‘But I do shoot the odd jack rabbit, and it comes in handy for rattlesnakes, too.’
Wolf shifted his gaze to Jacob. ‘Didn’t figure to see you here, Mr Merriweather.’
Jacob grinned and tightened his grip on his gun. ‘Didn’t figure to be here, sir.’
The man called Stringer grinned back. ‘Thought I saw a friend of ours sitting with you when we rode up. Now he’s gone. Can you explain that, Mr Merriweather?’
‘Well, I can’t explain that, sir. Maybe it was a vision of some kind. Who knows?’
Wolf nodded. ‘Like I said earlier, we have a close friend we’d like a word with.’
‘And if I see him around I’ll be sure to tell him that,’ Jacob said.
The air seemed to vibrate with tension. Jacob could feel even old Sam stiffen.
The burly man growled like a grizzly bear. ‘You like to drop that gun on the ground nice and easy?’ he said.
Jacob grinned and his teeth gleamed in the light of the fire. ‘Is that an order or a request?’ he asked.
‘Take it whichever way you like,’ the burly man said, ‘just as long as you do as I say.’
Jacob lowered the cocked gun and pointed it at the burly man, ‘Why don’t you just turn your horse and ride away?’ he said quietly.
‘Is that an order or a polite request?’ Wolf said. And he and Stringer drew their guns.
‘Take it whichever way you like,’ Jacob said. He glanced at Sam and saw that Sam was still holding the gun.
‘Now listen up, boys,’ Sam said quietly. ‘We don’t want to get too excited here, do we? Why don’t we. . . .’ But he never had the chance to finish his sentence because at that moment two things happened: Jacob fired his gun and dived away to the left, and Stringer and the burly man fired their guns simultaneously.
For a long moment nothing happened, and then the burly guy’s horse pranced to one side and the burly man slid from the saddle and fell to the ground. Then everything happened at once. Jacob was stretched on the ground firing as fast as he could. The horses were prancing and rearing, and Wolf and Stringer were firing wildly at Jacob. And Sam was running with surprising nimbleness and diving for cover.
Wolf and Stringer reined in their horses and then turned them towards the trail and galloped away.
Jacob crouched and ran forwards. The retreating gunmen turned and fired several times without effect, but Jacob knew that a man on a horse had a one-in-fifty chance of hitting his target, so he didn’t waste bullets firing back.
He ran to where the burly guy was lying. The burly guy raised his head and gasped. ‘You . . . you. . . .’ he croaked. And then blood came bubbling from his mouth and he fell back dead.
‘What a way to go!’ Sam reflected.
‘What a way to live!’ Jacob said. He looked down at the gun Sam was still holding. ‘Did you fire that thing, my friend?’
‘Never fired a shot in my life,’ the old man said.
Jacob looked towards the painted wagon. ‘What happened to the guy you fed?’
‘I don’t know,’ the old man said. ‘He’s probably half a mile away by now.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Jacob went to the back of the wagon and peered through the darkness towards the river. He could just make out the silhouette of a man among the horses and burros. He ran on towards the river just as the man was about to mount one of the horses.
‘You mount that horse and I’ll take a pop at you!’ Jacob shouted. ‘I’ve already shot one man today and another won’t make much difference.’
The man hesitated and then dropped back on to the ground.
‘Now walk slowly towards me,’ Jacob said.
The man moved forwards slowly with his hands up.
‘That’s good enough,’ Jacob said. ‘I’ve saved your worthless hide once already, but twice might be a little too much to expect.’
‘So you killed the big man?’ the man said.
Jacob shook his head. ‘I didn’t want to, but it was necessary to stop him and his buddies from killing you. And I would say it’s a little ungrateful of you to turn tail like that.’
The man was now standing close beside him. ‘So what will you do now?’ he asked.
‘Me and my friend Sam will need to think about that. Just walk back to the wagon nice and easy, and we’ll talk about our plans for your future, such as it is.’
They crouched by the fire. Sam’s usual calm demeanour had returned. He looked at the
prisoner and smiled. ‘That was damned ungracious of you, boy,’ he said to the prisoner. ‘And since we’re talking, maybe you could tell us your name. I’m always happier knowing a man’s name. Numbers aren’t quite the same, are they?’
The prisoner looked across at him with a puzzled frown. ‘Name’s Killop,’ he said.
‘Which is somewhat appropriate for a killer,’ Sam speculated.
A look of defiance appeared on Killop’s face. ‘I tell you, I didn’t kill those people!’ he declared.
‘Well, that’s good,’ Jacob said, ‘because come sun-up, you’re going to have the chance to prove it.’
‘What do you mean?’ Killop asked him. He obviously didn’t know how to take these two weird hombres who talked so strangely.
‘What I mean is this, my friend,’ Jacob said. ‘After we’ve all taken a good hearty breakfast we’re going to ride into town and lock you up good and tight in the town jail so you can face the judge and give your evidence. And if what you say is true, you might have the chance to see Wolf and Stringer and your boss man swing from a tall tree for the crime.’
A look of horror appeared on Killop’s face, which wasn’t pretty at the best of times, and he gasped ‘I can’t do that! Those men will kill me first!’
‘Well, my friend, I hope that’s not true because you’re our ace in the hole. So we’d better make sure you stay alive.’
Killop slept by the fire under Jacob’s watchful eye. He could have made a break for it, but Jacob figured he had seen enough sense to keep quiet and sleep. Jacob stretched out behind the wheels of the wagon so that Killop couldn’t see whether he was asleep or awake, and Sam slept in the wagon as usual.
As soon as the first glimpse of dawn began to show, Sam was up and about, rustling up the good hearty breakfast Jacob had promised. Jacob crawled out from under the wagon and prodded the sleeping Killop with his boot. ‘Get your butt up, my friend. There’s heavy work to be done.’
Killop peeped out from under the blanket Sam had provided. ‘So, it’s morning,’ he said.
‘I guess his majesty the sun would agree with you on that, and we must soon be on our way. But first you’d better take a leak and then you can help me with the horses.’
The horses had been hobbled, so if Killop had managed to mount up the evening before he wouldn’t have got very far, anyway. After searching along the river bank they came across Stan Salinger’s horse with its characteristic blaze, and close by, the dead man’s horse.
Sam hitched the team of mules to his wagon, and they were ready to go.
‘So, do I ride in the wagon?’ Killop asked Jacob.
‘What you do is you ride ahead of us on Stan’s horse,’ Jacob said. ‘I guess that horse has got used to you by now. He might not like you a lot, but he’ll be happy to carry you to hell and back if you ask him nicely. Horses are like that. They’re very obliging creatures. You could say they’re man’s best friend, though some hombres would claim that honour for the dog.’
Jacob and Killop waved the flies away from the big man’s body and hoisted it across the back of his horse with some difficulty since he was as heavy as a whole stack of hay, though he didn’t smell quite as sweet. Jacob then looped a lariat around Killop’s body so he couldn’t make a break for it, and ordered him to mount up. After that the whole cavalcade started towards town, with Killop leading the way with a rope attached to Jacob’s saddle horn, followed by the dead man’s horse with the corpse across its back, and then Sam on his wagon drawn by his burros.
It wasn’t long before they came to the outskirts of town, and already the inhabitants were going about their daily business. Old Sam Critchley waved to the folk he knew, which was almost everyone.
‘Hi there, Sam!’ one man shouted. ‘So you’ve come back with your healing hands.’
‘Just bringing in the fruits of my labours with the help of my good friend Jacob Merriweather,’ Sam replied cheerfully. ‘You seen Sheriff Olsen this morning?’
‘Not so far,’ the man replied with a laugh. ‘He likes the streets to have a good airing before he steps out.’
‘Well, I hope he’s had a good hearty breakfast because he’s got an awful lot to do today,’ Sam said.
The man looked at the body lying across the horse. ‘Has there been a shooting, Sam?’
‘Well, yes, some hombres took a pop at us. So my friend Jacob here had to shoot back, and unfortunately, this poor benighted guy was in the way of a bullet. So we’ve brought him in for respectable burial.’
Actually, the man had done Sheriff Olsen an injustice, because at that moment Olsen appeared at the door of his office with the first quirly of the day in his mouth. When he looked up and saw the cavalcade approaching, he opened his mouth wide and the quirly fell on the sidewalk.
‘What the hell is this!’ he exclaimed.
‘This is an important delivery, Sheriff,’ Jacob said. ‘One dead man who tried to kill us, and one living gunman who tried to rob us. So I hope you’ve got room in your jail to lock a man up until the judge shows up, and then we can take this dead man to the funeral parlour so the director can do his business. Mr Critchley tells me he’s quite an expert in putting the dead under the ground on Boot Hill.’
Sheriff Olsen stepped off the sidewalk and looked up at the body. ‘Who is this?’ he asked.
‘Well,’ Jacob said, ‘I know he doesn’t look too healthy at the moment, but he’s one of the hombres who took a pop at us last night, and he’s also one of Jack Davidson’s ranch hands. If you look a little closer, I think you might recognize him.’
Olsen didn’t bother to take up Jacob’s offer. Instead he turned his attention to Killop, who was still sitting on Stan’s horse, looking more than a little apprehensive. ‘So what’s with this hombre?’ the sheriff asked.
‘I’m surprised you don’t recognize him, Sheriff, because he’s one of Davidson’s bunch too.’
Olsen looked baffled. This was uncharted territory, and he didn’t quite know how to navigate it.
‘So,’ Jacob continued, ‘I want you to lock up Mr Killop in the town jail and make sure he’s safe and sound because he’s a key witness in a trial for the death of those two innocent folk you found up at the Salinger place.’
‘You can’t lock me up in the jail!’ Killop protested. ‘I’d be a sitting duck in there.’
‘Well,’ Jacob said, ‘I think you have to take your chance of being roasted, but I don’t think you need worry too much because Mr Olsen here is going to put you in the best cell in town and make sure you’re fattened up in good time for the trial.’ He looked at Olsen. ‘Isn’t that so, Sheriff?’ he asked.
Olsen looked nonplussed. ‘I need to take advice on that, Mr Merriweather.’
‘Good idea,’ Jacob said. ‘Send the judge a wire – he’ll know how to advise you.’
They locked Killop up in the town jail and took the body over to the funeral parlour. The funeral director looked at the body and exclaimed, ‘Why, I know this man! I saw him in town only the other day. He’s one of Jack Davidson’s men. How was he killed?’
‘Well, I myself had that pleasure,’ Jacob replied. ‘He was about to shoot me, but I managed to shoot him first. Otherwise you might have been putting me in the ground instead of him. So I have no regrets to speak of.’
Jacob stepped out of the funeral parlour and saw a crowd of townsfolk congregating round Sam Critlchey’s wagon.
‘What’s happened?’ ‘Who got killed?’ ‘How did it happen?’ they were asking.
Poor Sam was trying to keep calm in the face of this bombardment. He held up his hand and spoke, ‘Good people,’ he boomed out like an Old Testament prophet. ‘There’s nothing to worry about. Some men attacked us by the river and we managed to fight them off and, as you saw, one man got killed in the mêlée. And Sheriff Olsen has taken a man into custody. That’s all I can say at the moment. Best to go back and attend to your business. No doubt you’ll hear more about it later.’
‘Who’s the
man in the town jail?’ a man demanded.
‘You’ll have to talk to Sheriff Olsen about that,’ Sam told him.
Jacob didn’t pay much attention to this babble. His eyes were on a group of women at the back of the crowd, among them Marie Silversmith. She was staring at him with her keen inquisitive eyes. He threaded his way through the crowd until he reached her.
‘I heard what happened,’ she said. ‘Thank God you’re safe!’ Her hand reached out towards him.
‘I’m afraid I had to shoot a man,’ he said, ‘but the guy who took a shot at us up at Stan and Beth’s cabin is in the town jail. His name’s Killop.’
Marie smiled. ‘Why don’t you come to my place and sit down. You must be exhausted.’ When she used the word exhausted Jacob realized he was indeed weary. Sleeping under Sam’s wagon and keeping a weather eye on Killop hadn’t been exactly conducive to sleep!
He went over and unhitched his horse and then Stan’s horse.
Marie Silversmith’s cabin was somewhat back from the main drag. Beside it there was a pasturage where Marie grazed her horse. Jacob released his own horse and Stan’s, and Marie’s horse looked up and neighed.
‘A friendly greeting,’ Marie said. ‘That’s a good sign.’ She gave him an arch smile. ‘Please come inside.’
‘Well, Marie,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to ruin your reputation.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘You don’t need to worry about that, Jacob. I have no reputation to lose. As I told you, I’m thought of as a witch.’
They went inside and Jacob noted immediately how tidy the place was. ‘So this is where the witch lives,’ he said. ‘I see no sign of a broomstick.’
‘I find horseback more convenient,’ she said. ‘I don’t care too much for heights. I get nervous even climbing the stairs.’ She looked him full in the eye with those large, spellbinding eyes of hers. ‘I’ve been worried about you, Jacob. You could have been shot.’
‘Well, I was a little worried myself.’ He looked straight back into her eyes and smiled.