Wacos Debt

by J. T. Edson

  ‘My son?’ The thin old nester came forward, his gnarled hands gripping the edge of the wagon. ‘It’s my son.’

  The small nester moved forward also, looking down, his face losing its happy look and paling. He turned his eyes to Waco again and began to speak, ‘What—?’

  ‘My son. My son. You killed him.’ The white-haired man stared up at Waco. ‘You killed him.’

  ‘No sir.’ Waco’s voice was gentle. ‘Last night he was with a bunch of masked men who hit at the S.S.C. One of his pards shot him down, put a bullet in his back. They left him out there. I got one and wounded another before they went.’

  The old man did not appear to be listening. He was standing rigid and staring at the body. Doc Leroy had laid it out for burial and the stiffening shape looked peaceful in death. It lay face up and there was no sign of the wound. Ezra Silver licked his lips, swaying as he stood there. The other man caught his arm and supported him. Waco’s eyes went first to the towheaded boy then the three hard-faced men. He caught the glance which passed between them and saw the one with the sling shake his head and tap the butt of his gun. Waco’s attention was drawn to the knot of the sling and his eyes narrowed, then dropped to the ivory-butted gun in the man’s waistband. ‘You reckon he was with that bunch that hit the S.S.C. and they shot him?’ Talbot asked. ‘Why’d they do a thing like that, if he was with them?’

  ‘Became they wanted him dead and where we could find him,’ Waco went on. ‘The one I shot they toted off with them. Reckon they knew we’d recognise him.’

  ‘They left this one and knew you’d recognise him,’ Talbot pointed out. ‘Yet they took the other one—’

  ‘Sure. They wanted us to recognise this one. That way we start blaming the nesters. If we see the other man we know it’s not the nesters, but, waal, whoever it was.’

  Ezra Silver’s face lifted and his voice was cracked as he said, ‘My son is dead. Struck down in his prime and without a chance. He never even carried a gun.’

  ‘He carried one last night,’ Red held down his usually quick temper for he knew the man was feeling the loss of his son. ‘That one.’

  ‘Real fine-looking gun for a poor nester to be carrying.’ Talbot picked the gun up and examined it with exaggerated attention. ‘Your boy buy that gun, Ezra?’

  ‘He never owned a gun at all.’ Silver’s face was haggard and the other nester supported him.

  ‘That’s right, he didn’t own the gun.’ Waco spoke evenly. ‘Red said he was carrying one. He carried the gun but he didn’t own it. He’d been drinking some, too.’

  ‘That’s a lie!’ Silver straightened, shaking a fist in front of Waco’s eyes. ‘My boy never touched the drink of the devil. You must have taken him out to your ranch, poured whisky on him and shot him.’

  Red caught Waco’s arm, holding him as the young man started forward. ‘Easy boy!’

  The cowhands growled out angrily and Talbot hefted his shotgun in a threatening manner. Lafe Sanger’s voice cut through as he forced his way through the crowd. ‘Hold hard now, Ezra. Mary Anne Catlan wouldn’t back no play like that. Anyways, I’m deputy sheriff and this comes under my bailiwick, not Talbot’s.’

  Talbot snarled something under his breath. He’d hoped for the richer pickings of deputy sheriff but the County Sheriff was adamant in his decision to leave Lafe Sanger as deputy for the Whittle area.

  ‘All right, Lafe. Only wanted to make sure these cowhands don’t start hoorawing the town. We ain’t having that sort of thing here and I don’t aim to.’

  ‘Mister, this isn’t Kansas. You aren’t Wyatt Earp and we’re not a trailcrew just paid off.’ Waco spoke in a flat even tone. ‘We came to town to bring this gent’s son and to report that raid to the County Law. We brought the crew because we didn’t know if the same bunch would be waiting for us. Another thing you might remember as Town Marshal, it’s cowhands who bring the money into town, we pay your salary, friend. You’re a public servant. Wouldn’t you say that was right, Lafe?’

  Lafe Sanger nodded. ‘Why sure.’

  ‘Then you go get me a glass of water, friend.’

  Talbot opened his mouth to make some angry statement but there was something in Waco’s eyes which made him pause. The young Texan was throwing out a warning in those mocking words. If Talbot pushed this matter any more there would be shooting and that shotgun was not so fast or good in a tight spot against a real fast gun. That Texas boy was a real fast gun, it showed in every line of his lithe, powerful frame.

  ‘Now hold it all of you.’ Lafe Sanger pushed forward, hand resting on the butt of his old Leech and Rigdon revolver. ‘Ezra we all respects your loss but there ain’t no call for you accusing Mary Anne’s crew of what you did. Was your boy’in town last night?’

  ‘He came to town,’ the old man’s face was working. ‘But he never took a drink in his life, nor did he ever wear a gun.’

  Once more Waco’s attention was taken by the three gun-hung men and the nester boy. The boy’s face was pale and he appeared to be troubled by something. Then once more Waco’s eyes went to the knot of the sling and he remembered something Doc Leroy taught him about the way to put on a sling. Waco knew that there was something between the three gunmen and that boy. He was never one to let a chance slip by. The three men were turning to walk away and Waco stepped forward from the others, jerking his head in a signal which brought Doc and Red after him. They did not know what was wrong here but they were ready to back his play.

  ‘Hurt your arm, friend?’ Waco’s voice, soft and caressing as it brought the men to a halt.

  All three men turned, fanning out slightly, the one with the sling nodded his head. ‘Fell off my hoss, landed on it.’

  ‘That’s real unlucky, falling off your horse,’ Waco answered; the two men turned as if to walk away. ‘Don’t go yet, friend. You want to take care of things like that. Has Doctor Smethers seen it?’

  ‘Why sure. He fixed it up for me.’ The man did not turn fully round although the other two did.

  ‘Might be as well let Lafe there take a look, too.’

  ‘Meaning?’ The man’s voice dropped slightly.

  ‘I wounded one man last night. Hit him in the right shoulder.’

  ‘You’re asking for trouble, boy.’ The gunman at the right spoke up, hand lifting over his gunbutt. ‘You tend to your own business or you’ll be buying a tolerable heap of grief.’

  The lethargy left Waco now, his voice suddenly that of a suspicious lawman questioning a suspect. ‘I Want to see, that wound.’

  ‘All right, boy. All right. Not any trouble at all.’ The man lifted his left hand towards the knot of the sling.

  ‘Take ‘em!’ The man at the right hand dipped down towards the butt of his gun.

  Doc Leroy’s right hand flickered and the gun was in it, ahead of the other man. The gun rocked back in his hand, throwing a shot into the body of the man, knocking him off his feet before his gun was even clear of leather. Waco’s hands were going down as Doc made his move. Two shots sounded as one. He felt the hot breath of the bullet as it passed his cheek. The bullet missed and in no way put Waco off his shot. He’d made a near fatal mistake in his judgment of the man, meaning to wing him. Now there was no time, this was a real fast gun and a man could not take chances with such. His gun roared and the bullet kicked into the centre of the man’s chest, staggering him, and he went down after Doc Leroy’s victim.

  Red Blaze never thought of himself as being a fast man with a gun. It took him all of a second to draw and shoot. The man he was up against was not good either and must have panicked at the way his two friends died. His gun was lifting clear when Red’s hand twisted palm out, lifting the long-barrelled Cavalry Colt from the holster a fast done cavalry twist. The seven and a half inch barrel kicked up as flame tore from the muzzle and the man reeled under the impact of the bullet which caught him high in his shoulder. He went backwards, hit the hitching rail and hung there trying to raise the gun. Talbot yelled out something and
brought up the shotgun, firing. The gunman was slammed backwards, caught by nine buckshot, his gun dropped and he followed it down.

  ‘What the hell?’ Red swung around, his face angry.

  ‘Don’t you know more’n stop shooting when a man’s got a gun in his hand?’ Talbot answered. ‘He could have killed you.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Red’s growl was deep. Talbot was right in one way. It was a prime rule for a lawman to keep on shooting when a man he’d wounded still had a gun and was willing to use it. Talbot might have been acting in good faith or there might have been a more sinister motive. The man was now dead. He might have been taken alive and able to talk.

  Waco went forward with his gun held ready and rolled his victim over on to his back. There was no need for caution now. The man was dead but it was close, very close. There’d been no time for fancy shooting when dealing with a man like that. He was one of the topguns, the speed he brought the gun from his waistband and with his left hand showed it. For once in his life Waco had made the near fatal mistake in judging another man’s gunspeed.

  He bent down, holstering his gun and taking out a knife. Cutting away the sling below the knot he slit-open the shirt and opened up the bandaging around the man’s shoulder. He straightened up and pointed down to the hole.

  ‘This’s one of the men who rode on the raid last night. The other two must have been with him. What’s his name?’

  ‘That’s Dave Tull. Works for Mr. Brarsand,’ Sanger answered.

  Waco swung around and saw both Brarsand and Della Christine in the crowd although he did not know them. ‘Where do I find this Mr. Brarsand?’ he asked grimly.

  CHAPTER SIX

  A LETTER FROM MOLLY

  ‘YOU’RE looking at him, boy.’ Brarsand stepped forward, his eyes taking in every detail of Waco’s dress and appearance.

  ‘He your man?’

  ‘He worked for me. I fired him a couple of days back. Della found he was rigging the roulette wheel.’

  Waco glanced at the saloon girl, noting the swollen, blackened eye and the fact that lipstick could not hide the swollen mouth. He wondered how she’d gained the battlemarks. Della did not give him a chance to find out, she nodded in agreement to what Brarsand said. ‘Sure, we caught him and the boss fired him.’

  ‘What’s he been doing since then?’ Waco asked.

  ‘Hanging around town. What’s he been doing?’

  ‘He led a raid on the S.S.C., Mr. Brarsand. Killed the old gent’s boy, either him or one of the other of the bunch did.’

  ‘You’re sure he was one of them?’ Brarsand asked, never taking his eyes from Waco’s face.

  ‘Near enough sure. I hit one in the shoulder, just like he’s been hit. Then he allowed he’d seen the doctor and had the wound fitted up but I knew he was lying. No doctor put that sling on.’

  ‘How’d you know that?’ Talbot growled. ‘Looks like an ordinary sling, to me.’

  ‘Sure look real ordinary. ‘Cepting that a doctor allus fastens a reef knot. They’re taught to do it that way, makes the knot ride easier on the shoulder. Ask Doc Leroy here, he’ll tell you.’

  ‘‘Sides Doctor Smethers went out to the Jones’ place to see Mrs. Jones having a baby.’ Lafe Sanger spoke up. ‘Went yesterday and hasn’t been back yet.’

  Waco remembered what he’d heard about Dave Tull and picked up the gun which lay by the man’s side. It was a real fine Colt, costly and showed sign of having had the mechanism worked on for extra speed. It was the, sort of gun a real good man would tote. Then Waco looked down at the grips, holding them to the light. The right side grip showed just that slight discolouring which told him why he was still alive. That gun was slightly different in grip from the other. It was only the slightest variation, but in the hands of a master would make all the difference.

  It was that slight difference, undetectable except to the man who owned the gun, which saved Waco’s life. Tull was used to handling the gun in his right hand, changing it to the left threw him off that vital split-second. His using that gun meant only one thing. Waco took up the gun which Ben Silver had carried, hefting it and the other in his palm. Although he was not used to the guns he could tell they’d been balanced one against the other. This was the second of Tull’s guns, the one he’d always used in his left hand.

  ‘This’s Tull’s other gun. He left off his gunbelt because he’d look real strange walking around town with an empty holster at his left side. He must have given the boy the other gun when they got near to the S.S.C.’

  ‘It happened for the best then. I think you might be right about them.’ Brarsand saved Talbot answering this for which the town marshal was pleased. He owed his post here in town to the good offices of Brarsand and did not want to jeopardise his chances by taking the wrong sort of attitude. Brarsand stepped to the old man and patted his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry about this, Ezra. Your boy came in the saloon last night but I made him leave. I didn’t want to offend you any by serving him. I don’t know where he went after that. It might have been to the Hood City Saloon.’

  ‘It warn’t,’ Lafe answered. ‘I was there all night. Saw him once but he never came in. He was with your boy, Wilben.’

  ‘Not me, Mr. Sanger,’ the tow-headed boy spoke hurriedly, his face pale as he stared down at the three bodies. ‘I left him early on. I didn’t see him at all after—’

  ‘After what?’ Waco snapped.

  ‘Nothing.’ The boy looked even more frightened. Turning he walked away before another word could be said to him.

  Wilben watched his son with worried eyes, then gave his attention to the old man. Ezra Silver was standing with his hands still gripping the edge of the wagon, his face drawn. He still could hardly bring himself to believe his son was mixed, up in such doings. Yet the boy was dead, and so were three other men.

  ‘My boy, drinking. Riding about in a hood,’ the old man’s voice sounded strangled with grief. ‘What devil’s work was it he was about?’

  ‘A man in likker does strange things, mister. Especially a man growed taking if for the first time. It was a real smart idea somebody had. Bring a nester along with them, leave him dead and stir up trouble between the ranchers on this side of the Ranse and the nesters on the other.’ Waco’s voice was gentle. ‘I’m sorry it came to killing.’

  Mary Anne climbed down from the wagon with Lee by her side. She was pale-faced like most of the crowd, for the town of Whittle was not used to the savage sudden death which struck on the streets from the guns of those three young Texas men. She moved alongside Waco and her voice was steady as she said, ‘Leave it, boy. Mr. Silver I can’t express in words how sorry we all are about your loss. Take the wagon and carry your boy home.’

  Silver looked up. He did not appear to know what the girl was talking about. Wilben gripped the other man’s arm gently and led him to the side of the wagon and helped him in. Climbing up into the wagon he reached for the reins and looked down at the girl. ‘Thank you, Miss Catlan. I’ll return the wagon as soon as I can after taking care of Ben’s burying and getting Ezra settled down.’

  ‘Stay by him, there’s no rush for the wagon,’ Mary Anne replied.

  Wilben started the wagon forward, headed along the street. His son came from the sidewalk and climbed alongside him while Silver sat on the edge, rigid and with eyes staring ahead of him. The crowd started to break up now. Talbot and Lafe Sanger told some of the watchers to help carry the bodies to the undertaker’s shop and followed them. On the street, Mary Anne stood by Waco and glanced at Della, wondering how the woman’s face came to be marked up. Della was glaring her hate at the ranch girl who caused her to get a beating from Brarsand after losing him five hundred dollars. Though she hated Mary Anne, Della did not intend to resume hostilities. Brarsand was definite in his orders about it.

  ‘You figured all that out well, young man,’ Brarsand remarked. ‘Bring your crew down to the Tavern and have a drink.’

  ‘Not now, thanks. The boys are headed back to the spre
ad right now. I’ll be going with Mary Anne as soon as we’ve seen Colonel O’Dea.’

  ‘Have you decided to take my offer, Miss Catlan?’ Brarsand went on as the S.S.C. men followed Red back to where he’d left his horse. ‘Although, with things happening as they are I wish I hadn’t made it.’

  ‘It doesn’t need any thinking about. I’m not selling the S.S.C. and nothing’s going to make me. Not riders or any other thing.’

  ‘What makes you think there’s someone trying to scare you out?’ Brarsand was still smiling and friendly as he looked the girl over.

  ‘What makes you think somebody isn’t?’ Mary Anne was just as friendly sounding. ‘That try last night was aimed at scaring either me or the ranch crew. It didn’t come off.’

  ‘I can see that,’ Brarsand replied truthfully.

  ‘Mister,’ Waco’s voice cut in bringing the other man’s attention to him. ‘There’s two real good reasons why Mary Anne here won’t be scared out of her spread.’ His hands brushed the butts of his matched Colts guns. ‘I’m wearing them.’

  Brarsand’s eyes strayed down to the staghorn-butted guns, noting how they were worn. He knew how fast Dave Tull was with a gun and this boy beat him to the shot. ‘They’re real strong reasons.’

  ‘Sure. The next man who tries making a play at the S.S.C.’s going to find out how strong. We’ll be seeing you, Mr. Brarsand.’

  Brarsand did not reply as Waco and Mary Anne walked along the street. Then he turned and took Della’s arm under his own, walking her back to the Tavern. ‘That’s a shrewd, smart young man. He’ll take some watching. I wonder who he is. He isn’t a hired gun, I’m sure of that. I thought she was the last Catlan.’

  ‘She was.’ Della was sullen and resentful still. ‘Them two boys were the last of the brothers. There was a button they adopted, I’ve heard Sam talk about him. Boy they just called Waco, didn’t know who he was or anything. Went off and rode for Clay Allison for a spell. That might be him. He’s good with a gun.’