Noose Jumpers: A Mythological Western

by Trevor H. Cooley

  Tom stood quickly, $160 stuck to the sweat on his face. This is where he really wished he had Luke and Sandy as backup. “Kid, see who it is.” The specter vanished.

  “Who you talking to?” Katie asked, frowning at him from the floor.

  Dave Mather was the next to understand the depth of their situation. “Someone open the safe and get us our guns!”

  Earl LeGrande struggled to his feet. “That . . . won’t be necessary. My security will handle this. This coach is impervious to gunfire. We are safe as long as we stay inside.”

  “Yes. Let us be prudent,” said Archibald, on his knees, picking up his wife’s wig that had, once again, tumbled from her head.

  “I don’t think so,” said Hoodoo Brown, grasping LeGrande by his jacket. “I don’t trust your men so you’re gonna open up that safe. It seems too convenient that this ‘attack’ happens right when the game’s finished.”

  “Nonsense,” LeGrande said, trying unsuccessfully to pull away. “My men are of unimpeachable character. It is you players I find suspicious. Giving you your guns would be like arming the foxes in the henhouse.”

  Tom peeled the damp bills from his face. “I think you both have points. However, I’d rather have a fightin’ chance against whoever is tryin’ to rob me. Open the safe, LeGrande.”

  Dave Mather dragged a chair up against the wall and stood on it to get a view out of one of the small round windows. “Don’t see nothing from here.”

  Another round of muffled shots came from outside just as the Kid arrived with a spicy poof. “No one’s comin’ from the surroundin’ area. Shots came from up above.”

  Just then the hatch in the ceiling swung open. LeGrande’s employee Davis peered in. “It’s okay,” the man said before starting down the ladder. There was a pistol stuck in the waistband of his pants. “Some bandits attacked, but we fought ’em off-!”

  Tom didn’t let the man get to the bottom of the ladder. He grabbed his chair and swung it into Davis’ back as hard as he could. The chair’s sturdy legs cracked under the blow but didn’t give. Davis, however, did. Several of the ruffian’s ribs were broken and his head rebounded off one of the ladder’s rungs. He dropped to the floor like a sack of flour.

  “It’s LeGrande’s men!” Tom declared. “The shots were just a ruse.” He bent to retrieve the pistol.

  “No you don’t!” snapped Benjamin Crocker. The southern gentleman’s face had been slammed into the table by the sudden stop and blood was pouring from his nose.

  His cane was raised, pointed at Tom. There was a small round hole in the end of it. Tom’s eyes widened as the man’s finger tightened around a hidden trigger. How had he forgotten the Kid’s warning about that gun?

  “Tommy!” the Kid shouted, his outstretched hand making a squeezing motion.

  The bullet jammed in the cane’s long barrel. The constrictive design of the concealed weapon didn’t allow for proper dispersion of the rapidly expanding gasses. As a result, the barrel ruptured. The length of the cane exploded, sending shards of wood and metal out in all directions. Dave Mathers was struck by some of it and fell from the chair he was standing on.

  Tom was peppered by debris. His clothing, though torn in places, shielded him from most of it. The worst damage he took was from a shard of metal that had sliced open his cheek, but it was the concussive retort he felt the most. He stumbled backwards, his ears ringing.

  Crocker dropped the cane, his hand stung and bleeding. His black companion, Mr. Irvin Redding, was the quickest to respond. “Katie!” he shouted holding out his hand.

  Katie, her ears also ringing, shook her head, then hiked up her skirts and reached around to pull a revolver from somewhere behind her. She tossed the gun underhand and Irvin caught it and pointed it at LeGrande, who was crouched by the safe.

  “You don’t open that safe until I tell you too,” the man said.

  Tom was staring at Katie. “Where the hell were you hidin’ that!”

  “Her bustle, you imbecile,” Hoodoo Brown said, his eyes murderous. He raised his hands. “And I’m gonna wring her pretty little neck.”

  The red-headed woman reached a hand down into her cleavage and pulled out a small derringer. She pointed it at Hoodoo. “I don’t think so.”

  Irvin Redding looked at the wounded Crocker. “Well? Grab Davis’ gun.”

  “Aw hell, that legend belongs to Redding,” the Kid groaned, looking at the black man and the filthy woman that had appeared next to him, her arm resting on his shoulder. “I should’ve known.”

  Benjamin Crocker looked not at all genteel as he hobbled to the base of the ladder. He bent and pulled the revolver from Davis’ waist with his good hand.

  “You all okay?” Lucien’s beefy, but expressionless face appeared at the hatch. He looked down at the motionless man on the floor. “What happened to Davis?”

  “Just get down here,” Irvin said. He gestured with his gun. “The rest of you except for LeGrande, move to the back. Take a seat.”

  “Naww,” said Tom. “Lucien, not you too. Why you gotta turn on me like this?”

  The burly man descended the ladder quickly and turned to tower over him. “Because that really was my wife.”

  Tom’s shoulders slumped. “Come on.”

  “Joking again,” Lucien said, pulling a gun of his own. “I just don’t like you. Now move like the man said.”

  “What happened up there?” Redding asked.

  Lucien shrugged. “Turns out Morris wasn’t exactly truthful when he said he had every one of the security crew on our side. We had to clean up a bit.”

  The rest of them moved to the rear of the coach as instructed, LeGrande’s liveried servants walking wordlessly with hands up. Archibald and his wife were acting suddenly frail, though Tom caught a glimpse of a small gun in the wig that the old man still had clutched in his hand.

  Hoodoo stopped to help Dave Mather up off the floor and the dark-eyed man scowled up at him. “Last time I do anything for you,” Mather growled, holding his side.

  “Shut up. You’ll be fine,” Hoodoo replied.

  “Seems to me that there’s nothin’ but foxes in this hen house,” the Kid observed and Tom had to agree.

  It made sense now. The two men were partners. Mather had been acting as Hoodoo’s feeder, making sure to lose money to him so that Hoodoo stayed in the game. It was a good strategy. They just hadn’t known about Tom’s luck. Or all the robbers.

  “Alright LeGrande. Now you open the safe,” Irvin Redding said. “And if you try something I’ll put a hole in you. Lucien, get the cash out of the safe. Benjamin, grab what’s on the table. Just don’t get blood all over it.”

  Tom watched bitterly as LeGrande opened the safe and Crocker began stacking the bills on the table. Lucien set everyone’s guns aside in a casual pile and pulled a bag out of the safe. He started setting stacks of bills inside of the bag.

  “I still expect my winnings when this is all over, LeGrande.”

  “Then you shall have to get it back from them, Mister Dunn,” the narrow man said, smoothing back his hair. “This money belonged to you the moment you won. You are the one being robbed. Not I.”

  “You can’t have it back,” Lucien assured him as he filled the bag.

  “Katie, open that door,” Redding ordered, his gun trained on the unarmed people in the rear of the carriage. “It’s hot as blazes in here and only getting worse.”

  “Just a minute,” Katie replied. She approached Tom, her derringer pointed at his face. “I wanna know where Dunn’s friends are. Tell me, Tom. Where are they? They lurkin’ outside, waitin’ for us?”

  Tom smirked. “Sorry, Miss Weiss. After Puerta Muerte, we split up. They went wherever they wanted to go. I hightailed it to Las Vegas with my entry fee.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she said, her eyes narrowed.

  “Just open the damn door, woman!” Redding snapped. “You go out first, followed by everyone else. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Sco
wling, Katie moved to the heavy door and pulled the latch, allowing it to slide open. Bright light spilled into the coach along with a refreshing breeze. She jumped down, then grunted as she struggled to pull out the ramp with one hand without putting her gun away. “Nevermind. Y’all can jump down just as well as I can!”

  Tom followed her out, hopping down the four-foot drop. The enormous stagecoach was parked outside an old abandoned trading post. The building was run down, the roof half caved in, the paint on the sign mostly peeled away, but the hitching post was still in fine condition. There were several horses tied to it, including Tom’s own palomino, Bitey.

  “Uh, Tommy? Somethin’ I should tell you.” The Kid appeared in front of him, no longer wearing a uniform. He was in Mexican peasant attire, his feet bare and his sombrero held in his hands in front of him. He looked positively contrite. That didn’t bode well.

  “What?” Tom asked warily as the other men helped Mrs. Clay down from the coach.

  “Somethin’ big’s about to go down. I should’ve seen it coming but so much was happenin’. . .”

  “Big?” Tom said. He couldn’t see how it could get much bigger than his $70,000 winnings being stolen before he had a chance to spend any of it.

  “Well, remember that wind of fate I saved you from before? Well it didn’t die down. In fact, it’s turned into a dag-gum cyclone and right now we’re stuck right in the middle of it.”

  “Great,” Tom breathed.

  “What’re you bein’ so sarcastic about?” Katie asked.

  Tom glared at her. “Your plan. It was such a long shot. How’d you even know I’d be in this game?”

  “You don’t notice a girl unless she’s all gussied up, do you?” she said, shaking her head. “I was workin’ with Teddy back in Mesilla when you were there practicin’ your safe opening skills. I sat right next to you at dinner once.”

  “No way,” Tom said. “I’d remember you.”

  “Your eyes were on Belinda,” she reminded him.

  Tom smiled. “Oh. Right.” That blonde beauty had resisted him the whole time he was there.

  “Yeah,” she snorted. “I nearly shot you the night I heard Teddy drunk and blabbin’ about our plan, but Teddy assured me you weren’t no threat. Said you were small time.”

  “Small time? I hope they hang him,” Tom said.

  “After you left, I went to Puerta Muerte to tie up some loose ends before heading to Las Vegas. Imagine my surprise when you come into the bank with your gang, don’t even recognize me, and rob the place, leavin’ me to the hands of the Sheriff!”

  “I can see how that might steam you,” Tom admitted. He found the anger in her eyes quite fetching. It’d be easy to fall for this girl. He grinned at her. She stomped on his foot. “Ow! Blast it, woman!”

  “He tossed me in jail! Kept me there for a day and a half. It weren’t easy to convince him to let me leave, neither,” she said. Her eyes narrowed. “Sittin’ in that jail gave me a lot of time to realize what you were up to, Tom Dunn. Stealin’ just enough gold to get into the game. It’d be smart if it wasn’t so stupid. Who steals from the biggest hive of bandits in the west?”

  “We just stole from the Sheriff,” Tom said defensively.

  “I know that, but no one else does!” Katie said. “You think he’d tell the truth about that? To hear him say it, you stole everybody’s money but his own. He’s got every gang in the region out lookin’ for you!”

  Tom wasn’t surprised. He had already assumed as much after seeing the wanted posters in the bounty hunter’s bag. “Still don’t explain how you got in with Redding and his gang.”

  “Only got to Las Vegas just after you did. Had to come up with somethin’ after you got Teddy jailed. Getting’ in with Hoodoo was Redding’s idea,” she replied.

  “Hey! Dunn!” Shouted Redding. While Tom and Katie had been conversing, he, Lucien and Crocker had exited the coach and were climbing onto horses. Redding was still standing on the ground. He was holding the bag of cash with his left hand, while his pistol was gripped in his right. “Get over here with the others. You too, Katie.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” Tom said to her. “Help me get the jump on them and I’ll share some of my winnings with you.”

  She turned her derringer back on him. “Shut up and get movin’.”

  While they moved closer to the rest of the gamblers, Tom saw concern on Katie’s face. This part of the plan hadn’t gone as she had hoped. She called out to the gang leader. “What do you want me to do?”

  Redding ignored her question. “Morris!”

  “I’ll be right down!” replied LeGrande’s security chief. He was still on top of the carriage, rifling through the pockets of the employees he and Lucien had been forced to kill earlier.

  Redding pointed his gun up at the rotund man. “Don’t bother. You won’t be coming with us. You are out of my gang.”

  Morris straightened. “Hey, we had a deal! I’ve spent months putting the security together.”

  “You told me that you had every single man on your staff bought!” Redding accused. “Lucien says that you had to shoot them!”

  “We didn’t need ’em all!” Morris exclaimed.

  “So you decided to keep the money I gave you for yourself and put my plan in jeopardy? My men do not deceive me! And since you are no longer one of my men . . .” Redding fired. The bullet struck Morris in the neck. The security man, clutching his ruined throat, tumbled from the top of the coach, his fancy new hat fluttering down after him.

  With that, Redding whistled. A white mare with long well-muscled legs trotted up to him. He rubbed her neck and climbed aboard, then affixed the bag full of Tom’s money to his saddle.

  “Just a damn minute, Redding! Wait for us,” Katie yelled, grabbing Tom’s wrist and pulling him towards the horses.

  “I don’t think so,” the gang leader replied, turning his gun on her. “Your addition to the plan was intriguing at first, when there were three outlaws to turn in. But for just one? Hardly worth it. You can have him all to yourself. Let’s go, men.”

  “What about Davis?” Lucien asked uncharacteristic concern in his voice.

  Redding looked at the slumped figure that they had pulled from the carriage. He was breathing, but raggedly, blood bubbling at his lips. Tom winced. He hadn’t realized that his blow had done so much damage. The man likely had a punctured lung.

  “He’s not going to recover any time soon,” Redding decided. “Besides, putting him on a horse would just make him worse. Sorry, Lou, he stays behind.”

  Lucian turned his eyes on Tom and a snarl rippled across his normally expressionless features. He pointed his pistol. “You’re the one who did this.”

  Tom’s hands went up. “Lucien, my friend, I know you said you didn’t like me earlier, but think of the great time we had. The jokes we shared.”

  The burly man cocked his hammer. Tom grimaced, hoping that the Kid would come through again. Just then, Lucien jerked back as a bullet pierced his shoulder, the impact causing him to tumble backwards off of his saddle. The retort of a distant rifle shot followed a brief moment later.

  “Go!” Redding didn’t wait around to see who had fired, he spun his horse around and galloped away, rounding the old trading post to use the building for cover.

  Crocker sped after him, but not quite as fast. Just as he was rounding the back of the trading post, a bullet struck his shoulder. He was nearly knocked off of his horse as well, but the southern gentleman somehow managed to hold on.

  Tom took advantage of the moment and rushed to Lucien’s side. While the man was still stunned, Tom kicked the pistol out of his hand and picked it up. “I’d suggest you stay down,” Tom warned him.

  He ran around to the back of the trading post and fired at the retreating robbers. It was a long shot, but what better use of his luck? Then again, his luck never seemed to apply to the directionality of bullets. He didn’t come close to hitting either of them.

  Tom looked back to
the coach. Most of the group had huddled down, trying to make themselves look small. Hoodoo and Dave Mather had climbed up into the stiflingly hot, but relatively-armored interior.

  Tom didn’t feel the same sense of fear as the rest of them. It might have been foolhardy, but he didn’t think it likely that the distant shooter would shoot him too. He stepped out into the open, trying to gauge where the shot had come from. The Kid was already there, his hands over his eyes as he peered into the distance. Tom joined him.

  A man was riding across a distant ridge towards him. He carried a long rifle in one hand and was wearing a tan duster and an absurdly tall hat. Following behind him were five other armed riders. Bringing up the rear were two figures on a horse-drawn cart.

  “Like I said, a dag-gum cyclone,” the Kid said. His hands dropped, a smile turning up the corners of his lips. “You realize who that is?”

  The hat threw Tom off for a few seconds, but soon his eyes widened. “Holy hell, that’s Sandy!” He let out a hoot and waved his hat in the air. “Maybe fate ain’t always a bad thing after all!”

  “Uh, Tommy, you got a runner,” the Kid warned.

  Tom turned to see Katie running for the horses. He ran after her. She reached the side of a grey and white dappled horse and got her foot up in the stirrup. The Kid snapped his fingers and the worn strap that held the stirrup to the saddle snapped.

  Katie grunted in surprise, but didn’t let that stop her. She jumped up, grasping the saddle horn and tried to swing her leg over. This was where her long skirts held her back. Before she could struggle her way up, Tom reached her side. He grasped her around the waist, yanking her back from the animal.

  “Let go of me, you idiot! I don’t want to get shot!” she yelled.

  “That ain’t gonna happen,” he replied.

  Katie fought, swinging her elbows back at him. When that didn’t work, she reached for her gun. Tom was ready for that, reaching for it at the same time. For a moment, their hands wrested inside of her cleavage. Then Tom’s fingers found the metal.