The Ghost Riders

by James J. Griffin

  Mack and the remaining Double M hand had backed Smoky into a corner. He absorbed several blows to his face and body, but now his powerful left smashed directly into Mack’s nose, flattening it. Mack howled in pain, and grabbed his busted nose with both hands. Smoky punched him twice in the gut, then when Mack folded, kneed him in the chin. Mack dropped like a rock.

  The last Double M man standing kicked Smoky in the crotch. Smoky moaned, but fought off the intense pain to land a solid punch of his own to the cowboy’s left eye, which immediately swelled shut. Showing no mercy, Smoky moved in for the kill. He dropped the man with a combination of lefts and rights, the final one a vicious blow to the groin. The Double M cowboy dropped to his knees, then pitched to his face. He lay unmoving.

  “You’ll be feelin’ that last punch for quite a while, mister,” Smoky muttered to the unconscious cowboy. “That’ll sure teach you not to kick a man in the…”

  “Smoke, you all right?” Jim broke in.

  “Yeah. I’m okay,” Smoky said. “How about you?”

  “I’m fine,” Jim answered. Both of them stood hunched over, their chests heaving.

  “Beau, I reckon I owe you for a card table,” Jim said. He rubbed the lump rising on his jaw.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Beau answered. “It was worth losin’ one table to watch that fight, and to see those young blowhards get their comeuppance.”

  “Boy howdy, that sure didn’t take long,” Sam said. “The fight was over almost before it started.”

  “I knew it’d be quick. I tried to warn those boys they weren’t any match for Jim and Smoke, but they wouldn’t listen,” Josh said. He took his mug of beer, walked over to where Mack lay senseless, and poured it over his head. Mack came to, spluttered, and rolled onto his back.

  “What… what happened?”

  “You and your pards got your butts whupped by a couple of broken down old geezers, that’s what happened,” Josh said. “Now, I suggest you take your friends and get outta here, before you start any more trouble you can’t finish.”

  “Smoke, I think it’s time we called it a night too,” Jim said. “I’ll collect my winnings and we’ll get outta here. Unless you need us to stick around and talk to the marshal, Beau.”

  “No, you go on,” Beau said. “There wasn’t any real damage done, and I think these boys have learned their lessons. They won’t be lookin’ for any more trouble.”

  “In fact, I’d wager they won’t be lookin’ to do anything for a few days except lick their hurts,” Briggs added. He handed Jim his proceeds from the night’s play, as well as the pies.

  “You’re probably right about that, Jackson,” Josh said.

  “Okay, then we’ll head out,” Jim said. “C’mon, Smoke. Buenas noches, everybody.”

  By the time they got outside, the liquor Smoky had consumed, along with the punches he’d absorbed, finally showed its full effect. He doubled over.

  “Jim, I think I’m gonna be sick,” he moaned.

  “Somehow, I’m not surprised,” Jim answered. “And it is your own dang fault. Well, go ahead. Don’t let me stop you.”

  “All… urk.” Smoky emptied the contents of his stomach into the street.

  “Lemme know when you’re finished, pard,” Jim said, as Smoky continued to vomit. It took several minutes before Smoky’s stomach was emptied and he finally felt well enough to climb into the saddle.

  “Let’s go, Jim, before I puke again,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  Jim and Smoky got their horses settled in Munson’s livery stable, then went to the Duncan Hotel, where they obtained the last available room. By now, Smoky was once again feeling ill, his legs so shaky Jim had to help him up the stairs and into their room. Smoky toppled face down on the bed, and immediately passed out.

  “I don’t care how sick you are, pard, you ain’t hoggin’ the whole bed,” Jim muttered. He pulled off Smoky’s boots and removed his gunbelt, then shoved him aside. That done, Jim knelt down and said his evening prayers. He undressed, and slid under the sheets. Smoky began snoring, so loudly the noise seemed to shake the walls. Jim shook his head.

  “And this was supposed to be a nice, relaxin’ night in town,” he murmured. “It sure didn’t turn out that way. Well, let’s just see what tomorrow brings.”

  He reached over and turned down the light, then rolled onto his stomach. After covering his head with his pillow to drown out at least some of the racket Smoky was making, he soon drifted off to sleep.

  ● ● ●

  As usual, Jim was awake with the sun the next morning. Smoky was still sprawled across his side of the bed, dead to the world. Jim said his morning prayers, then climbed out of bed. He winced when pain shot through his ribs and gut.

  “I guess that hombre tagged me a mite harder than I figured,” he muttered. “Better try’n do somethin’ about that.” He pulled on his shirt, denims, socks, and boots, then headed outside to use the privy. Once he was done, he obtained a pitcher of hot water and a bar of Pear’s Soap from the desk clerk, then headed back to his room. He found Smoky still sleeping, so he placed the pitcher on the washstand, unwrapped the soap and put it alongside the basin, then stripped out of his clothes, poured the hot water into the basin and began washing. He ducked his head in the water to soak his face and thatch of unruly blonde hair, then allowed the water to run down his shoulders, back, and neck. He soaked a washcloth and pressed that against the bruise on his left side, then practically jumped out of his skin when Smoky let loose a blood-curdling scream.

  “Smoke! What the devil’s wrong with you?” Jim asked, turning to stare at his partner. “You scared me outta ten years of my life. And it’s high time you finally woke up.”

  “I… I forgot where I was for a minute,” Smoky stuttered. “I thought I was at home, and expected to wake up with Cindy next to me. Instead, I opened my eyes to see your naked, hairy butt. Believe me, that’s a sight no man should have to see first thing in the mornin’. Ow.”

  Smoky shook his head, then yelped at the pain.

  “You ain’t exactly a sight for sore eyes either, pardner,” Jim retorted. “You gonna get up, or are you just gonna lie in that bed all day?”

  “I reckon I’d best get up,” Smoky said. He rolled onto his back, waited a moment for the room to stop spinning, then attempted to sit up. He groaned, and fell back on the mattress.

  “Mebbe I will just stay here all day instead,” he said. “My poor head.”

  “Oh no, you won’t,” Jim answered. “We’ve gotta get back home, and we still need to stop by Jarratt’s first. So get your sorry butt outta that bed before I drag it out. You might want to clean up some, too. You don’t exactly smell like roses and lilacs. I left you enough water.”

  “All right, all right. Soon as you’re through washin’ up, I’ll pull myself upright… I hope,” Smoky answered.

  “That’s more like it. I’ll be done in a jiffy.”

  Jim finished washing, toweled himself off, then redressed. Once he was finished, Smoky, with a moan, sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the mattress. He remained there for a few minutes, head hanging, then forced himself to stand upright. He removed his gunbelt, undressed, stumbled over to the washstand, and gave himself a rudimentary washing.

  “There. You satisfied now, Jim?” he asked, as he dried off.

  “I will be once you’ve gotten your duds back on, so we can get outta here and get some breakfast,” Jim answered.

  “Don’t even mention food,” Smoky pleaded. “My stomach’s in no shape to hold anythin’ down.”

  “Your stomach’s condition don’t make no never mind to me,” Jim said. “Mine’s tellin’ me it’s plumb empty. I’m starved. We’re goin’ down to the dinin’ room, where I’m gonna get me a double order of bacon, ham, and eggs, with lots of fried spuds, and plenty of biscuits. And an entire pot of coffee. You could use some of that, I’d bet my hat on it.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Smoky conceded. “I’l
l at least try’n force some coffee down.”

  After Smoky finished redressing, he and Jim tossed their saddlebags over their shoulders and headed downstairs.

  “Good mornin’, boys,” Ezekiel Duncan, owner of the hotel which bore his name, greeted them, from behind the front desk. “Sleep well?”

  “Mornin’, Zeke,” Jim answered. “Smoky sure did. He slept like a baby… a baby with the croup. His snorin’ was enough to wake the dead. Although I should point out he was more passed out from drinkin’ a couple bottles of red-eye than actually sleepin’.”

  “I surmised as much, just from his appearance,” Duncan said. “Also heard you had a bit of trouble last night. Hard to believe somethin’ like that robbery happened here in San Leanna.”

  “Those hombres probably figured they had easy pickin’s, in a town this small,” Smoky said. “I reckon they found out different.”

  “Indeed. Well, I’m glad you got a good night’s sleep, anyway. Say hello to Cindy and Julia for me.”

  Duncan turned his attention to another guest. Jim and Smoky went into the crowded dining room, and found an empty table in the back corner. Dora, the head waitress, came over, carrying a pot of coffee and two mugs.

  “Good morning, Jim, Smoky,” she said. “I’ve got your coffee here. I don’t mean to rush you, but are you ready to order? We’re real busy this mornin’.”

  Dora had been with the Duncan since it opened. She was in her late fifties, with iron-gray hair and sparkling blue eyes. Her motherly manner made everyone feel welcome.

  “I sure am,” Jim said. “Double order of bacon, ham, and eggs, lots of spuds, and plenty of biscuits.”

  “How about you, Smoky?”

  “Just coffee for me, Dora. Thanks.”

  “Ah, yes, I heard about your escapade in the Shenandoah last night. Really, Smoky. A man your age should know better.”

  “I know, I know. Reckon I made a plumb fool of myself. A man has to do that once in a while.”

  “I suppose. And after what happened at O’Malley’s, I can’t really blame you. I’m certainly grateful no one got hurt, except the robbers. I’ll put your order in now. It may take a bit longer, since we’re so crowded, but I’ll tell Burt to hurry it along.”

  “We appreciate that, Dora,” Jim said.

  Smoky rolled and lit a cigarette. He and Jim drank several cups of coffee while waiting for their meal. When the food arrived, Jim dug into his platter, while Smoky merely tried to keep his stomach from churning. Halfway through their meal, Marshal Colburn came in.

  “Mornin’, boys. Mind if I join you?” he asked.

  “Not at all, Tom,” Jim answered. “Pull up a chair.”

  “Gracias.”

  Dora hustled over to greet the town lawman. She placed a coffee cup in front of him.

  “Good morning, Marshal. Your usual?”

  “Sure, Dora. Hotcakes and sausage.”

  “I’ll bring it along with Smoky and Jim’s meals.”

  “That’ll be fine. Thank you.”

  Colburn poured himself a cup of coffee, took a swallow, rolled and lit a cigarette, then took a long drag on it.

  “I’ve got good news for you two. There won’t be an inquest. The third robber died durin’ the night. He never said a word before he went to Hell, except for babblin’ some nonsense, Doc says. He couldn’t make heads nor tails out of whatever he was tryin’ to say. Since it’s plain what happened, there’s no need for an inquiry. Doc Watson’ll write up a report statin’ those hombres died durin’ the course of committin’ a crime, and Josiah Stevenson’ll plant ’em later this mornin’.”

  “They have any identification on them, Tom?” Jim asked.

  Colburn shook his head.

  “Not a thing. Nothin’ in their saddlebags, neither. And their horses weren’t anythin’ special. Three or four brands on all of ’em, which means trackin’ down whoever they got ’em from would be more trouble than it’s worth. No, I’m just gonna close the books on this one. Those hombres are shakin’ hands with the devil right about now, and Texas is better off without ’em.”

  “Then that’s that,” Smoky said. “Here comes Dora with our breakfast.”

  ● ● ●

  After having their meal, Jim and Smoky’s next stop was Jarratt’s General Store. Like most frontier establishments, Jarratt’s opened early, at seven a.m., to serve the ranchers and farmers who were its main clientele. Mike Jarratt was sweeping off the front walk when they approached.

  “Jim! Smoky! Howdy. Bethea and I hoped we’d see you two before you left town,” he said. “We heard about the ruckus at O’Malley’s last night. Good work, and good riddance to the likes of those hombres.”

  “Howdy yourself, Mike,” Jim answered. “Yeah, our nice, relaxin’ night in town didn’t turn out quite the way we expected. Is Bethea inside? We both want to pick up a little somethin’ for our wives. Neither one of us is much good at pickin’ out female stuff, so we’d like her to help us.”

  “She sure is,” Mike answered. “C’mon in. Bethea, Jim and Smoky are here,” he yelled, through the open front door.

  Bethea Jarratt came from behind the counter, where she was stocking a shelf with tinned peaches.

  “Good morning, Jim, Smoky.”

  “Mornin’ yourself, Bethea,” Jim answered.

  “Same from me, Bethea,” Smoky added.

  “What brings you by?” Bethea asked. “Have you heard from Charlie? We just got a nice letter from Mary Jane. She says they’re having a wonderful time in Galveston, and to say hello to you and Julia. I can hardly wait to see them again.”

  “No, I haven’t,” Jim said. “I don’t imagine I will, until he and Mary Jane get back home. It won’t be long now. They’ll be here next week. Charlie’s leave is up then, so he’ll have to get back to work.”

  “Besides, I’d imagine Charlie has his mind on other things instead of writin’ letters,” Mike said, chuckling. He winked at his wife. “Things mebbe you and I should be thinkin’ about doin’ tonight, Bethea.”

  “Why, Michael Jarratt!” Bethea blushed. “You shouldn’t talk like that where people can hear. It’s just not decent.”

  “Neither is what I’m thinkin’ about.”

  “Michael!” Bethea blushed even redder. “You’re incorrigible. Enough of that kind of talk. Smoky, Jim, may I help you with something?”

  “You sure can,” Jim answered. “It was our wives’ idea for us to take a night in town. We want to get ’em a thank you present. Nothin’ too fancy, just a little somethin’.”

  “Every woman wants something fancy,” Bethea said. “She may say she doesn’t, but she does. I believe I have just the thing. Step over here and take a look at these.”

  They followed Bethea to a side counter, from which she removed a white blouse, trimmed in lace. Embroidered flowers highlighted its bodice.

  “I just got these in from St. Louis. They’re the latest fashion, perfect for going to socials, perhaps a church dance, or even a dinner party. I’m certain Julia and Cindy will be taken with them. What do you think?”

  “I dunno,” Jim said. “I like it, but I’m not certain Julia will.”

  “Of course she will,” Bethea replied. “Smoky?”

  “I’m certain Cindy would really appreciate one of those, but what about her and Julia having the exact same blouse?” Smoky said. “That might be a problem.”

  “Nonsense. It needn’t be one at all. This one with the blue flowers will complement Cindy’s complexion very nicely. And the one with the yellow will pick up the brown in Julia’s eyes, so it will be very flattering. They’ll have the same blouse, but different. Take my word for it, your wives will love these. And don’t worry about getting the right size. I know men don’t know about such things, but I’ve been selling clothes to the womenfolk in this town for years, so I know just about everyone’s size. I think these would be the perfect gift.”

  “Bethea’s right, boys,” Mike added.

  “You’ve c
onvinced me,” Jim said. “I’ll take one with the yellow flowers.”

  “And I’ll take the one with the blue,” Smoky said.

  “Wonderful,” Bethea said. “I’ll wrap them right up. Is that all you’ll need today?”

  “That’s everything I need,” Jim said. “Well, except some more peppermints for my horses.”

  “And I need some more Bull Durham and cigarette papers,” Smoky said.

  “I’ll get those while Bethea wraps the blouses,” Mike offered.

  The purchases were made and paid for. After saying goodbye and taking their leave of the store, Jim and Smoky went to the livery stable, to retrieve their horses for the ride home. Hal Munson was sitting on a barrel outside the front door. He got up at their approach.

  “I figured you boys’d be along any time now,” he said. “Got your horses fed, watered, and brushed for you. All you’ve gotta do is saddle up and you can be on your way. Sure is a lot easier dealin’ with Sizzle than that Sam hoss of yours, Jim,” he said.

  “I’ve gotta give you that, Hal,” Jim answered, with a laugh. He headed inside the barn. Sizzle gave a loud whinny as soon as he saw him. When Jim entered his stall, he buried his muzzle in Jim’s belly, then nosed his pocket.

  “Of course I’ve got your candy,” Jim said. He gave the big paint a peppermint, then rubbed his shoulder. “Ready to head home?”

  Sizzle nickered.

  “All right, then. I’ll get your gear.”