Noose Jumpers: A Mythological Western

by Trevor H. Cooley

  The Stranger’s scarred face twisted in distaste. “Never did like that thing. Told Bobby so when he had it made. Too shiny. Too fancy. But that was Bobby. Always wanting to be the hero.” He spat in disgust. “He loved that thing. You should get rid of it.”

  “Yeah, but is this what gave the Sheriff that other power?” Luke pressed.

  “No. You had that gun with you during the shootout, remember?” the Stranger reminded him. “And it was locked in his safe before that.”

  “Right,” Luke said in disappointment. “But if we found out what Jeb has of Estrella’s and take it away, will he lose the power?”

  “Maybe. If you destroyed it,” the Stranger allowed.

  He put the gun back into his shoulder holster. So the sheriff had something else of Bobby’s. Luke tried to think of what it could be. He was pretty sure the town buried his hat and chaps with him. Maybe his horse?

  His hand tightened on the gun’s pearl grips. “Sandy’s out there somewhere right now looking for the answer. I should’ve told him what I knew. He might’ve helped me figure it out.”

  “Oh? How would you have explained that? Tell him a ghost told you?” The Stranger laughed; a mocking, demonic sound.

  Luke gritted his teeth. “But I wouldn’t have necessarily had to do that. I could’ve told him that I felt like it was Bobby’s power. I could have made it sound like my idea. No backer mentioned.”

  “He’d think you were looney,” the Stranger said.

  “No. He just might believe it. His mother believed me when I saw you the first time.” Luke said, feeling more sure of himself. “Besides, he was there. He felt it too. He’s out looking for an explanation. I should be out there with him. Maybe we could find the answer.”

  “You ain’t tracking him down tonight,” the Stranger said.

  Luke stood, looking towards the front of the ravine. He wasn’t that great of a tracker, but maybe he could try. “I could wake Tom. Get him to go too. Together we could track him down.”

  “You think he’s gonna abandon this job of his?” the Stranger asked.

  Luke frowned. Not likely. Not with that much money at stake.

  “Sleep on it,” his backer advised. “Either you go out into the desert, dodge outlaws while you try to find Sandy, then convince him that Jeb stole Bobby’s power. Or-.” He blew out another plume of smoke, this one coiling through the night air like a snake made of cloud. “You go with Tom. Split $70,000. Catch up with Sandy later.”

  “It’s obvious what you prefer,” Luke said.

  The Stranger shrugged. “Now’s the wrong time to go after Jeb. Better chance of growing your reputation with Tom.”

  “By sitting there while Tom wins the money?” Luke asked.

  “You’ll get to use your guns. You know it ain’t gonna go as planned,” the specter replied, and with a burst of black mist, he vanished.

  Luke slept until mid-morning and awoke less sure of his direction than he had been the night before. The Stranger’s ridicule of his plan to join up with Sandy grated on him, but at the same time it made sense. Turning down the chance to make $35,000? It was more money than he had ever dreamt of owning.

  Tom spent the day telling Luke more about his plan, outlining every aspect and going over every contingency. Luke had to admit that the scheme was well put together. It seemed like it could work. Perhaps the Stranger had been right.

  He probably would have agreed to the deal before dinner if he hadn’t been so frustrated with all the accidents that kept happening. As he was putting on his vest that morning, two more buttons had popped off. Then, when he was sitting down to sew them back on, his cot collapsed and he jabbed the needle right through his finger.

  That was just the beginning. Throughout the day it was as if the ground itself was conspiring against him. Luke kept tripping over nothing at all and every rock he stepped on shifted about. He rolled his right ankle twice and the last time he did it, the heel of his right boot popped right off. Without any way to fix it, he’d been forced to use his old worn boots.

  He went to bed that night grumbling and slept fitfully; his dreams chaotic and troubling. Luke awoke the second morning with nerves already frazzled. At breakfast, a bird pooped on his flapjacks. Later, he raided one of his stashes for a flask of mescal. He opened his flask and took a drink only to discover that the interior of the flask had rusted out.

  He spat out the dusty brown liquid. “Damn you, Tom!”

  “What?” Tom asked. He was sitting not far away, playing solitaire.

  “Everything’s wrong!” he shouted.

  Tom bared his teeth at the Kid who was reclining nearby, quite happy with himself. He then turned a look of innocence Luke’s way. “Is this somehow my fault?”

  “It feels like it’s your fault,” Luke said accusingly.

  “That don’t make sense,” Tom said with a laugh. “I’m sitting here minding my own self. I didn’t . . . do whatever burned you just now.”

  “No, but things aren’t sitting well with me right now and I’m pretty sure you’re somehow to blame,” Luke said.

  “Well, I ain’t pranking you if that’s what you think,” Tom replied. “I haven’t done that since we were kids. Besides, why would I do that? We have a job to plan and little time to do it. I don’t want you pissed off.”

  “Well, maybe that’s part of it,” Luke said, his frustration causing his thoughts to spill right through his mind and out his mouth. “Sometimes things just aren’t right. Maybe all this stuff that’s happening is God’s way to tell me that this is one of those times.”

  “You’re relying on God now?” Tom scoffed.

  Luke glared. “Sandy is out there looking for a way to beat Jeb Wickee and we’re sitting up here talking about joining a fancy card game? What if we could help him? Maybe he needs us.”

  “You’re talking so fast I don’t even know what you’re saying,” Tom replied. “Sit down. Calm down and let’s talk this through.”

  “No!” Luke said. “Sometimes things just aren’t right.”

  He strode back to the shack and gathered his bedroll and his saddle bags. Then he headed to his horse.

  “What are you doing?” Tom asked.

  “I need to get away from here for a bit. Maybe I’ll see if I can find out where Sandy went,” he said. Now that he said it out loud, he felt better. This felt like the right thing to do.

  “You’re gonna try to track him?” Tom said incredulously. “He’s been gone two days now. He could be anywhere in any direction.”

  “I figure he probably headed for one of those bandit camps that don’t like the Sheriff,” Luke mused as he loaded up his horse with gear. “Like the Birch Gang. Their hideout’s not that far. Maybe he thought they might know something about that power Jeb has.”

  “The Birch Gang is small time,” Tom said, panic growing on his face. “They probably know nothing. Besides, they ain’t exactly our friends.”

  “Yeah, but they don’t hate us either,” Luke replied, throwing his saddlebags up on his horse.

  Tom placed his hands on the sides of his head and grabbed double handfuls of hair, knocking off his hat. He tried to speak reasonably. “Luke. Think about this. You’re not gonna catch up to him. Even if you did, then what? We have a job to do. Seventy Thousand Dollars! Remember? You can’t just gallop off. We’ve gotta leave in two days!”

  Luke placed a comforting hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I won’t be gone that long. I’m just going to ride out for a few hours to see what I can see. You’re probably right and he won’t be at the Birch Gang hideout. But what if he is? I could bring him back here and we’d all go on the job together. Back to your original plan, right? Either way, I’ll be back before nightfall.”

  “You sure?” Tom said. “Then why did you bring your bedroll?”

  Luke looked at it, surprised it was there. “Just reflex, I guess. I’ll be back soon.” Luke mounted up and trotted off, leaving Tom standing there flabbergasted.

>   “You better be back tonight!” Tom shouted. “You realize you’re leaving me without a horse?”

  The Stranger was waiting for Luke at the end of the ravine. The specter was astride his black horse, looking dark and menacing “You really planning on coming back?”

  “Yeah,” Luke assured him, though it felt like a lie coming out of his mouth. “I just needed out of there for a while.”

  “This is a bad time to feel flighty. You know Jeb’s looking for you.”

  “No,” Luke disagreed. “This feels good. I’ll track Sandy as far as I can and then I’ll head back. Besides, you’re here to tell me if I get too close to anyone.”

  The Stranger spat. “Sure.”

  17: The Difference Between Fate and Destiny

  An excerpt from the Tale of Luke Bassett

  “By my stars, it’s Johnny Ringo.”

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “God’s honest truth, I didn’t know why I was coming this way. ’Til now.” – Fated exchange between Johnny Ringo and John Henry ‘Doc’ Holliday. West Turkey Creek Valley, Arizona, July 9 1882.

  At first, Sandy’s tracks were easy to follow. There hadn’t been any rain or wind storms the last two days and hardly anyone but the three of them came out this way. The hoof prints in the soft dust of the narrow trail stood out. Luke followed it for two solid hours before reaching a small stream. This was where his inexperience with tracking first caught up to him.

  The ground at the banks of the stream was hard and rocky. He could see where Sandy’s horse had entered but there were no obvious tracks on the far side. He climbed down from his horse and squatted, examining the area. A good fifteen frustrating minutes passed and he considered heading back.

  When Luke finally saw a pair of partial hoof prints in a patch of dirt, he let out a hoot. He hadn’t lost the trail! This wasn’t the direction that Luke had imagined Sandy going, though. The Birch Gang’s hideout was south of here, while Sandy had headed north along a hard packed road.

  Luke grinned as a feverish excitement came over him. It didn’t matter which way Sandy had gone. He could do this. Luke headed down the road for a ways, then led his horse westward as Sandy’s trail led him off of any beaten path and into a rock-strewn desertscape of scrub brush.

  It wasn’t easy going. He kept losing the trail, sometimes following false tracks, and each time this happened it took concentrated effort to pick it up again. Nevertheless, he pressed forward eagerly. Each print found was a thrilling piece of the puzzle that kept him going. Hours passed. Heat, thirst, and fatigue faded from his mind and he kept moving.

  Suddenly, he lost it. The trail ended. The last hoof print faded halfway through as if, like Pegasus of legend, Sandy’s horse had sprouted wings and flown away. Luke searched frantically for several long minutes hunched over and waddling like some devolved old prospector in search of gold.

  Once exasperation had caught up with him Luke stood, grumbling, and called out, “Hey! Stranger! I need your help here!”

  “I knew you wouldn’t be back in time,” announced the specter’s voice from behind him. Luke spun around and saw the Stranger standing there, cool and dark, one gloved finger pointing up. There was a disappointed look on his face,

  “What do you mean? There’s still-.” Luke glanced up at the sparse red-rimmed clouds and winced. The New Mexican sunset had turned the sky a brilliant pink and scarlet hue. Looking around himself, Luke realized that he and his horse were standing in the middle of open flatland. The hills he had exited from were far on the distant eastern horizon where darkness loomed. The Stranger was right. He wasn’t going to be back in time.

  Reality crashed in on him and Luke felt a sudden surge of guilt. Tom had already been ready to pull his own hair out when he left. No doubt Tom was pacing around and cursing his name about now and Luke knew he deserved it.

  Luke told himself that he hadn’t meant to lie but, now that he thought about it, part of him had known it when he promised. In a way, when Luke had given his promise to Tom, he’d been trying to convince himself. After all, chasing after Sandy was a stupid idea, especially considering the money involved.

  His face paled at the reminder of the money.

  “What am I doing out here?” It was so unlike him to rush into something like this. To Luke’s ordered mind, it seemed like insanity. He had run away from the biggest job he’d ever been offered just to stand open and exposed in the desert for any of Jeb’s thugs to see? He swung around to face the Stranger. “And why the hell didn’t you stop me?”

  The Stranger’s one good eye tightened into a glare. “I talked, but you weren’t listening.”

  “You didn’t try all that hard,” Luke accused. “You let me ride right out of there like an idiot!”

  “Now just a dag-blamed . . .” The specter took a step back, his growl turning into a grimace. “You’re right, blast it!” He chewed his cigar. “This whole thing reeks of fate.”

  “Fate?” Luke scoffed. He smacked his lips. Man, was he parched. “You said there's no such thing.”

  “I said there's no such thing as Destiny. Fate is something different,” the Stranger corrected.

  “Those two words are synonyms!” Luke argued.

  “No they ain’t! Destiny means your future is set and you have no choice in the matter. That’s bunkum! A man sets his mind to it, he makes his own future. Fate, on the other hand, ain’t about the future. It’s about the now.”

  Luke pulled his canteen from his horse’s saddle and took a few deep swallows. He wiped the sweat from his brow, surprised at how shaky his legs were. “Well, right now I’m in the middle of the desert. How is this my fate?”

  The Stranger folded his arms and gave Luke the steady look that he knew meant a lecture was coming on. “Remember what I told you about the true nature of the world?”

  Luke sighed. “You said the world is here because man believes it is.”

  “Yeah. You know how many people there are in this world? Millions. Millions of independent minds believing different things, some of ’em stronger or more focused in their belief than others.” He raised his hands, palms out. “Now, opposite beliefs often clash and cancel each other out.” The specter slammed his hands together with a loud smack.

  “But other times, the tides of belief bend around each other and force the world to bend to their reality.” The Stranger sent his hands at each other again, but this time the palms didn’t slam together, instead reaching around to grasp his forearms. “When that happens, things go sideways and the rules get all bent out of shape. If you get caught up in the middle of that, sometimes you end up where you don’t expect to be. Like out in the desert. That’s fate.”

  Luke blinked at him. “You’re serious?”

  The specter shrugged and took a pull on his cigar. He exhaled and in the light of the sunset, the smoke shone red as blood. “It’s a good sign, actually. Means your talent’s growing. Folks of no importance don’t even feel a breeze when fate blows by. But the stronger you get, the more often something like this latches on to you and the harder it is to resist.” He folded his arms again. “Whenever you find yourself bursting to act in a way you normally wouldn’t? That’s a good sign fate has you by the balls.”

  Luke stared as if the Stranger had laid an egg. “So . . . you’re saying I came here because a bunch of people believed me here?”

  The specter laughed. “Your britches ain’t that big yet, Boy! But you sure got caught up in something. You’re here because you need to be. We just don’t know why you were brought out here yet.”

  Luke looked around at the dimming landscape. “There’s nothing here.”

  “Oh, I got a feeling there will be,” the Stranger replied.

  “Well, I’m not going to wait around for it to happen,” Luke said. “Tom will be pissed, but there’s still plenty of time for me to get back before he was planning on leaving.” He grabbed his horse’s reins and turned it around. Then he climbed back into the s
addle and rode back the way he had come.

  The Stranger’s horse appeared in a flare of black mist and trotted alongside him. The specter soon arrived on its back. “You gonna push your horse through the night on uneven ground like this?”

  Luke frowned at his backer’s logic. He had done so before and in worse conditions but, as tired as he was, it would be easy to make a mistake. He and Tom would have a hard time reaching Las Vegas without a horse. He yawned. “No, but I want to get out of the open. I’ll stop for the night when I find a good spot.”

  He found a place just as the last vestiges of blue faded from the sky. There was a dry creek bed not far from the road. It was just behind a short hill, allowing him to tether his horse without fear of it being seen. He went without a fire, chewing some dried beef while he laid out his bedroll.

  Before he laid down, he called out to the Stranger. “Wake me at first light. I’m heading back as quick as I can. Then Tom and I are going to that card game and getting rich.”

  The Stranger’s grunted reply didn’t sound convinced, but he said nothing.

  Sometime just before morning, Luke awakened to the familiar smell of cigar smoke. The Stranger’s low voice vibrated in his ears.

  “You got visitors on the other side of this hill,” the specter said and Luke opened his eyes. The near three-quarter moon let off just enough light that he could see the Stranger standing over him, looking towards the road. “Black Spots. Three of ’em.”

  Luke slid out of his bedroll and pulled on his boots. “They coming this way?” he whispered.

  He turned his glowing eye onto Luke. “No. Stopped just off the road. Decided to set up camp.”

  “Anyone we know?” he asked. The Black Spots were one of the largest bands around and they had some heavy weights in their ranks.

  “Peons,” the Stranger replied dismissively. “They were talking about you Red Stars, though.”

  Luke listened carefully and heard muffled voices in the distance. “And?”