Ralph Compton Bullet For a Bad Man

by Ralph Compton

  Epp took a step back, his glass of whiskey half-raised. He looked around to make sure no one had overheard. ‘‘I beg your pardon?’’

  ‘‘We buried your pa not three hours ago, and here you are drinking and carrying on. And your mother!’’ Dan glared at where Lillian was doing a lively fandango. ‘‘I swear. If I live to a hundred I will never understand women.’’

  Epp lowered his glass. ‘‘You overstep yourself.’’

  ‘‘Do I?’’ Dan Morgan said gruffly. ‘‘I have been foreman since the Circle V started. Your pa was more than my boss. He was my friend. Maybe the best friend I ever had. To see his memory treated this way makes my blood boil.’’

  ‘‘Does it, now? Then maybe I should set you straight on a few things. My pa was your best friend. Well and good. But he was my father. No one loved him more than me. No one respected him more than me. His death was stupid and senseless and it makes me sick inside just to think about it.’’

  ‘‘Thrown from his horse,’’ Dan said in disbelief. ‘‘I would never have thought it possible.’’

  ‘‘Accidents happen. I blame myself, partly. If I had been at his side, maybe I could have prevented it. Maybe I could have grabbed hold of his bridle or caught hold of him when his horse reared.’’

  Dan Morgan softened. ‘‘Don’t be so hard on yourself. Like you said, accidents happen. I have seen more men thrown and hurt than I care to count. It is just bad luck that your pa fell on his head.’’

  ‘‘One of those things,’’ Epp said.

  ‘‘Peculiar how things work out. Your pa was as fine a rider as I ever saw, yet he dies when his horse is spooked by a rattler.’’ Dan paused. ‘‘You say you actually heard the snake?’’

  ‘‘I will never forget the sound for as long as I live. I wasn’t more than twenty feet away, but I couldn’t get to him in time.’’

  ‘‘Still,’’ Dan said. ‘‘All this laughing and dancing.’’

  ‘‘What would you have us do? Wallow in misery?’’

  ‘‘No, but—’’

  ‘‘Look at Ma. Her heart broke when Boone went off and left us. Day after day, all she has done is sit in a chair with tears in her eyes.’’

  ‘‘Now your pa dies and she is her old self. Where is the sense in that?’’

  Epp watched his mother whirl at the end of the Tucson mayor’s arm. ‘‘If I had to guess, I would say that Pa’s death shocked her out of her shell. Come morning, she will probably be a wreck. But right now she is showing everyone she was proud to be Pa’s wife. She is being strong like he would want her to be.’’

  ‘‘I never thought of it like that.’’

  ‘‘No hard feelings,’’ Epp said. ‘‘I’m just glad you came to me and not to Ma. It would not take much to bring her down.’’

  Dan Morgan went to walk off. ‘‘I will come see you tomorrow so we can talk over how the ranch is to be run now that your pa is gone.’’

  ‘‘What is there to talk about? Pa is dead. Boone is gone. Ma is a woman. That leaves me. From now on, the Circle V will be run the way I say it is to be run. Any of our hands who doesn’t like it is free to gather up his plunder and his war bag and light a shuck for wherever he wants.’’

  ‘‘You don’t have to worry about punchers quitting on you,’’ Dan said. ‘‘They are loyal to the brand.’’

  ‘‘But will they be loyal to me?’’

  ‘‘Why wouldn’t they? I’ll be the first to admit that Boone was more popular. But only because you tended to keep more to yourself and seldom mingled with the punchers like he did.’’

  ‘‘That will change.’’ Epp clapped Dan on the back. ‘‘All I ask is that you give me the same consideration you gave my pa. I can’t fill his boots, but I will do the best I can. You have my word on that.’’

  Deeply touched, Dan clasped Epp’s hand. ‘‘And you can count on me to back you in anything you do.’’

  ‘‘I am obliged.’’ Epp watched the old foreman thread through the crowd, then chuckled and said to himself, ‘‘There is a jackass born every minute.’’ Tipping his glass to his mouth, he smacked his lips and joined those watching the dancers.

  The fandango was soon over. Epp applauded with everyone else, and while his mother was catching her breath, drifted over. ‘‘That was some heel kicking you did, Ma.’’

  Lillian had a black fan and was briskly fanning herself. ‘‘I have not done that in years. Your father did not like to dance.’’

  ‘‘Let’s hope he is not rolling over in his grave right about now.’’ Epp cupped her elbow and steered her toward a table where the drinks were being served. ‘‘How are you holding up?’’

  ‘‘I don’t rightly know how to explain it.’’

  ‘‘Try.’’

  ‘‘I am sad and giddy at the same time. Sad to the depths of my soul that Ned is gone. I loved that man, son. I loved him more than I have ever loved anyone or thing. And now God has seen fit to take him from me.’’

  Epp recollected a quote from somewhere. ‘‘The Lord works in mysterious ways.’’

  ‘‘Exactly.’’ Lillian patted his hand. ‘‘You know, Eppley, I am seeing a new side to you, and I like what I am seeing.’’

  ‘‘A new side?’’

  ‘‘You have always been the black sheep of the family. Always went your own way. Did what you wanted to do, not caring one whit what your pa or me thought. Take Ranson, for instance.’’

  ‘‘My days of gambling and drinking all night are over.’’

  Beaming happily, Lillian squeezed his hand. ‘‘I am so glad to hear that. And so sad at the timing.’’

  ‘‘How do you mean?’’

  ‘‘Here you have finally grown up and want to do good, and your brother has gone bad.’’

  ‘‘I am sure Boone had his reasons for killing all those people.’’

  ‘‘It is decent of you to defend him. But he has cut me to the quick and I don’t know as I can ever recover.’’

  ‘‘You are doing fine tonight.’’

  ‘‘I want to honor your father with joy in my heart, not sorrow. Is that wrong of me?’’

  ‘‘Not at all, Ma,’’ Epp said. ‘‘Just be careful you don’t overdo it. You are not as young as you used to be.’’ He smiled and walked off. He had not gone far when a hand fell on his shoulder.

  ‘‘I want to offer my condolences, Eppley.’’

  ‘‘Doc Baker. Having a good time?’’

  Baker was white haired and had kindly blue eyes, and never went anywhere without his black bag. He was holding it now. ‘‘As good as I can in light of the circumstances. I liked your father. I liked him a great deal.’’

  ‘‘Didn’t we all?’’ Epp glanced around, then leaned close and said, ‘‘While I have you here, I want to let you know I am worried about my mother.’’

  ‘‘What? Why?’’

  ‘‘Have you seen how she is acting?’’

  ‘‘She is doing what she can to cheer everyone up. I call that commendable.’’

  ‘‘Not that,’’ Epp said. ‘‘I was just talking to her and she complained of chest pains. Has she said anything to you?’’

  ‘‘Chest pains?’’ Doc Baker said in alarm. ‘‘Perhaps I better go talk to her.’’

  ‘‘And spoil her mood?’’ Epp grabbed his arm. ‘‘I will bring her into Tucson in a few days and you can examine her then.’’

  ‘‘How bad were these pains?’’ Doc Baker inquired.

  ‘‘According to her, not bad at all. She thinks it is the stress. But I want to be safe and bring her in to see you.’’

  ‘‘By all means.’’ Doc Baker smiled in approval. ‘‘I must say, you have risen to the challenge of being the new master of the Circle V quite admirably.’’

  Epp continued to mingle until near eleven, when the band stopped playing and the guests who had not already done so retired. He made it a point to happen on Doc Baker as the aged physician was about to go in, and to say so only the doctor heard, ‘‘I will
check on my ma before I turn in and make sure she is feeling all right.’’

  ‘‘You do that,’’ Doc Baker said.

  Epp refilled his glass and relaxed on the settee until the voices and the patter of feet faded and the house was as still as a tomb. Maria came from the kitchen and asked if there was anything else he wanted before she went to bed. He told her no, and remarked that he was going to stay up awhile yet.

  The instant Maria was out of sight, Epp set down his glass and hurried to the stairs. He went up them three steps at a bound. The upstairs hall was empty. He glided to his parents’ room, quietly opened the door, slipped through and quietly closed the door behind him.

  ‘‘Who’s there?’’

  Lillian was in bed. She lay with her head propped on a pair of large pillows and a blanket as high as her chin. A lamp, the wick turned low, was on the small bedside table. She reached for it, saying, ‘‘I need more light.’’

  ‘‘It is only me, Ma,’’ Epp said quickly. Smiling his best smile, he went over and sat next to her. ‘‘I came up to see how you are doing.’’

  ‘‘My, my,’’ Lillian said. ‘‘I can’t recall the last time you were so thoughtful. You never came in here when your father was alive.’’

  ‘‘I respected your privacy.’’ Epp put his hand on hers. ‘‘How are you feeling?’’

  ‘‘Tired, son. God-awful tired. I hardly slept a wink last night and I was on the go all day.’’

  ‘‘You did fine. Pa would be proud.’’

  ‘‘What is to come of us, Eppley? Your brother, vanished. Your father, dead. There is just the two of us now. I need your help. I can’t run the Circle V by my lonesome.’’

  ‘‘I don’t expect you to. Don’t worry. Thanks to Pa, I know all there is to know about ranching.’’

  ‘‘Yes, you do,’’ Lillian said. ‘‘And the first thing you must tend to are those rustlers. Your pa was convinced a brand artist is working our range. He even suspected—’’ She stopped. ‘‘No, I shouldn’t say without proof.’’

  ‘‘What did Pa suspect, Ma? It would help me to know.’’

  ‘‘He thought someone here on the Circle V must be in cahoots with them. It is the only way they could take so many of our cattle without us catching on.’’

  ‘‘Pa thought that?’’

  ‘‘Yes. We talked about it a few days before he died.’’

  ‘‘I’ll be damned,’’ Epp said, and then realized what he had said. ‘‘Sorry, Ma, for the strong language. What else did Pa tell you?’’

  ‘‘That we should set a trap for the rustlers. We should bunch the cattle so the rustlers have to show themselves to steal some, and when they do, we will have them.’’

  ‘‘Pa was smarter than I thought.’’

  Lillian smiled sweetly. ‘‘He would be proud to hear you say that. It meant a lot to him, you standing by us when your brother ran off.’’ She made a teepee of her hands. ‘‘Lord, watch over my Boone and bring him back to us.’’ Suddenly Lillian grasped Epp by the wrist and pulled him toward her. ‘‘You must find him, Epp. You must send men out. Have them cover the whole territory. They are bound to find him, and when they do, they are to let him know we will welcome him back with open arms.’’

  Epp reached around behind her and took one of her pillows and placed it in his lap. ‘‘Let me fluff this for you.’’

  ‘‘Did you hear me?’’

  ‘‘Yes, Ma. I heard.’’ Epp squeezed her shoulder. ‘‘But you shouldn’t get worked up like this.’’

  ‘‘I can’t help it. I am so distraught over Boone, I can’t think straight. Promise me you will do as I asked. Promise me you will leave no stone unturned to find him.’’

  Epp chuckled. ‘‘Funny that you should mention a stone.’’

  ‘‘What? Why?’’

  ‘‘Oh, no reason.’’ Epp bent and kissed her on the forehead. ‘‘All in all you have been a good mother. It’s not your fault.’’

  ‘‘What isn’t? Your brother running away?’’

  ‘‘Sometimes people do not turn out as everyone expects. They try and they try, but they just don’t see the sense to living like sheep when they are a wolf.’’

  ‘‘I don’t understand.’’

  ‘‘You don’t need to. All you need to know is that I am sorry your heart could not take the strain. I am sorry it burst and you died in your sleep, and there was nothing anyone could do.’’

  ‘‘What are you talking about?’’

  ‘‘This,’’ Epp Scott said, and jammed the pillow over her face.

  Border Ruffians

  Hard men in a hard land.

  They thundered south, riding with an assurance born of experience and a belief in their own invincibility. No one spoke. No one joked or even smiled except for Drub, who every now and then glanced at Boone Scott and grinned.

  The border they were bound for was not much of a border. It was not much of anything besides an imaginary line on a map that divided the country to the north from the country to the south. On a map the border existed, but in reality there were no guards or markers or any signs to show that north of the line was one country and south of the line was another.

  The hard men had crossed back and forth so many times that they knew exactly where the border was. They knew it was rarely patrolled, and the times those rare patrols took place. They knew that to the people and government of Mexico, they were gringos. Worse, they were notorious desperados, killers and horse thieves. Men without souls.

  The purpose for this raid was to help themselves to a lot of horses. As Old Man Radler explained to Boone before they left Porter’s, ‘‘Horse stealing is my bread and butter. I have buyers on this side who will buy all I can get from the other side.’’

  ‘‘Do the buyers know the horses are stolen?’’

  Old Man Radler had given Boone a strange look. ‘‘What kind of question is that? Sure they know. So what? They get the horses for less than if they bought them on this side, and I make a profit since I get the horses for free.’’

  ‘‘How do the Mexicans feel about you helping yourself?’’

  ‘‘About as you’d expect. Which means you could have your brains blown out if you’re not careful. You might be as fast as Skelman, but speed does not make you bulletproof.’’ Old Man Radler had glanced at Drub. ‘‘Since my son has taken a shine to you, Lightning, I will give you a word of advice. Be like a cat in a room full of dogs. Have eyes in the back of your head. Because if you don’t, I can guarantee you won’t make it back.’’

  They rode at night and lay up during the day. It was night when they crossed the border. They always crossed at night and then rode back in broad daylight so they could see whether the Mexicans were after them.

  Ten more miles brought them to the Menendez Rancho. One of the oldest and biggest in all Mexico, the Menendez family were famed far and wide for the quality of their horses. They raised the finest anywhere, and were protective of those they raised.

  The patriarch of the family, Anastasio Menendez, hired only the top vaqueros. To qualify, a vaquero had to be good with a caballo and good with a reata and good with a pistol. That last was important. They had to be very good with a pistol because the vaqueros on the Menendez Rancho were fighting vaqueros.

  They fought off Indians, and they fought off anyone who thought they could help themselves to Menendez land, but mostly they fought off rustlers.

  This was imparted to Boone by Vance Radler when they came to a ridge overlooking grassy lowland broken by arroyos and sprinkled with mesquite. ‘‘I don’t much like greasers,’’ Vance concluded, and then grinned at Galeno. ‘‘But I sure as hell have a healthy respect for the Menendez vaqueros. If they see you they will shoot on sight, and you better be damn quick shooting back or you will be damn quick dead.’’

  Drub was listening. ‘‘Don’t you worry about my friend, Vance. He can take care of himself.’’

  ‘‘He can shoot bottles,’’ Vance said. ‘‘But bott
les do not shoot back. How do we know he can handle this?’’

  Skelman was listening too. ‘‘Idiot,’’ he said.

  That shut Vance up.

  Old Man Radler waved an arm and they descended to the flatland, riding at a walk with their hands on their revolvers, and peering every which way. Dawn was still an hour and a half off and without the moon they might as well be at the bottom of a well.

  ‘‘This always spooks me,’’ Drub whispered to Boone.

  ‘‘Hush, you infant,’’ Vance snapped.

  Old Man Radler twisted in the saddle to glare at both of them. His mouth worked, but he did not vent the cusswords he plainly wanted to utter. His meaning, though, was clear: Open your damn mouths again and you will by God answer to me!

  They did not open their mouths again.

  It was half an hour before lights appeared. Not many but enough to tell Boone that they were close to the Menendez hacienda.

  Old Man Radler reined to the west and led them another half mile. Drawing rein, he raised an arm and the rest did the same. He motioned at Galeno, who went on ahead. In five minutes Galeno was back. He whispered in Old Man Radler’s ear, and Old Man Radler turned.

  ‘‘This is it, boys. The herd is where we thought it would be. Five hundred or more.’’

  ‘‘Are we taking all of them?’’ Boone asked.

  ‘‘I wish to hell we could. But we will be lucky if we get half. A dozen vaqueros are riding herd and over thirty more are camped nearby.’’

  ‘‘That is a hell of a lot of vaqueros,’’ Wagner said. ‘‘Menendez keeps hiring more all the time.’’

  ‘‘From here on out, no slacking. All of you know what to do. Lightning, this is your first time, so stay close to Drub. And, Drub, you remember that the vaqueros will be out to kill you. The last time you nearly got a bullet in your brain.’’

  ‘‘I’ll remember, Pa.’’

  ‘‘Good. Let’s go.’’

  They moved as silently as their creaking saddles and the dull thud of hooves allowed. Soon they spied the herd, a mass of horseflesh at rest in a broad open area. Around the perimeter rode men in sombreros, the silver conchas on their gun belts, and the silver on their saddles gleaming in the starlight.