Guns of Wrath

by Colin Bainbridge

  ‘I’m sorry you’ve been troubled, ma’am,’ he said.

  Corrina had recovered her composure.

  ‘I thank you for your assistance,’ she said.

  ‘I don’t think he’ll be troubling you further.’ He paused, unsure how to proceed. ‘Can I escort you back to your brother?’ he suggested.

  ‘No, thank you. It’s very kind of you but I think I’d just like to be alone for a few minutes.’

  She moved away.

  ‘Are you sure you’ll be OK?’

  She nodded and smiled. Comfort watched her progress along the deck, then glanced down at the hunched form of the man who had accosted her. Nobody seemed to have taken any notice of the altercation. He bent down and slapped the man across the face. After a few moments his eyes opened and he shook his head. Comfort grabbed him by the collar and hauled him to his feet. He recognized him now as the man he had observed coming up the gangway, and he thought he remembered where he had seen him before. He had a feeling that he had been in the Crystal Arcade on the occasion of the gunfight. He had no way of knowing whether he had been with the Drewitt boys, but in view of his current behaviour it seemed quite likely.

  ‘You remember me?’ Comfort said.

  The man wiped his hand across his mouth. He was still drunk but through the fumes of alcohol he was trying to piece things together.

  ‘You’re lucky I don’t throw you overboard,’ Comfort said.

  The man’s lip curled in a snarl of hatred.

  ‘You’ll pay for this,’ he hissed.

  Comfort was thinking. If he was right about the man having been at the Crystal Arcade, had he been with the Drewitt boys? Was his presence on the boat not just a coincidence? He decided to try and surprise the man.

  ‘Tell Wilder to keep out of my way,’ he said.

  The man had gained something of his senses, but not enough to hide his confusion and the attempt to cover it.

  ‘Wilder,’ he stuttered. ‘I don’t know nobody called Wilder. Who the hell—’

  He made to brush past Comfort but Comfort pushed him back against the rail.

  ‘Even more to the point,’ he said, ‘you’d better make sure I never see you again. Next time I might not be so lenient.’

  With a last look into the man’s face, he turned away and started to make for the bar. There was no doubt in his mind that the man was one of Wilder’s boys. The only thing he wasn’t sure about was whether his presence on the boat was coincidental, or whether he was acting on Wilder’s orders. From what he knew of people like Wilder, he wouldn’t let a matter like the shoot-out in the Crystal Arcade go unpunished. People like Wilder couldn’t afford to let anyone get away with anything that might undermine their authority. The more he thought about it, the more he had a feeling that his account with this particular hombre was still unsettled.

  Night came down. On shore a few scattered lights indicated the presence of a tiny settlement or some isolated ranch house. The moon hung low, obscured by scudding clouds. Comfort had left Bannock finishing his meal. He had been tempted to try his hand at a game of poker but the noise and commotion had sent him back on deck. He found himself thinking of Corrina Stead. He had hoped he might see her again but since the incident with the drunk she had made herself scarce. He guessed she had taken a cabin. It would probably be easy to check on her travelling arrangements, but they were none of his business. By noon the next day they should be back in Cayuse Landing.

  From there he and Bannock would travel as far as the next town. He saw no point in going any further. Bannock had been making some discreet enquiries but had been unsuccessful in picking up any information about a man called Briggs. None of the crew was called by that name. Comfort wasn’t too bothered. It was a long shot, after all. It would have been too much to expect that anyone would have heard about Briggs, much less that he might even have been working on the boat. But it was worth a try. Sooner or later something would give and he would find him.

  A cool wind blew across Comfort’s face. Muffled sounds came from the saloon and patches of light dappled the deck. The paddle wheels throbbed and the long line of the boat’s wake cut the surface of the water like a furrow.

  Lulled by the steady rhythm of the wheels, Comfort was only vaguely aware of another splashing sound and didn’t register that anything had occurred till he saw a glimmer of something red in the water. He looked down, attracted by movement. Something was threshing about. He thought he heard a faint cry, then the realization hit him that someone was in the river.

  Without hesitation he climbed over the rail and plunged into the water. He hit the surface with an ungainly splat. Something like a giant hand seemed to grip him and pull him under, forcing him down and down despite his desperate efforts to escape and rise to the surface. He looked up and saw a gigantic shape like a leviathan passing over him and he was sucked down even further. A dark shadow loomed above him. It was the paddle wheel and he was buffeted like a fallen leaf in the vortex.

  He kicked his legs and felt himself begin to rise but the surface seemed a long way off. His lungs were bursting and he had given up hope of coming to the top when suddenly his head broke through and he began to gulp the marvellous air into his lungs in desperate mouthfuls.

  He turned his head. The giant shape of the boat had pulled away and he became aware of the red object struggling in the water nearby. After a moment the object disappeared. Taking as much air into his lungs as he could hold, Comfort dived again beneath the surface. For a moment he could see nothing in the murky gloom and then he saw the object of his search slowly sinking towards the depths. He kicked out and succeeded in getting an arm round the man’s neck. Kicking desperately, Comfort sought to bring him to the surface. The man was limp and heavy but as they emerged he began to thrash and struggle. Comfort shouted as loudly as he could for the man to desist and he must have heard because his struggles died down and instead he lay back, his head just above water and his shoulders supported by Comfort.

  Comfort looked about, trying to get his bearings. The night was black but there was a faint flickering gleam to his left and he decided to try and make for it. He lay back, kicking his feet and straining to keep the other man afloat. It was hard going and he was beginning to think they would never make it when unexpectedly his feet touched bottom. Half-swimming and half-walking, he struggled onwards and began to rise out of the water. He realized that he had come on a sandbank and that the light he had seen was a buoy indicating the channel. In a few moments he was out of the water, dragging the other man with him. Only when he laid him on the sand did he give an involuntary gasp. It was Bannock! The oldster began to cough and splutter violently. Comfort laid him on his chest and began to pump and massage his back in a desperate effort to expel the water from his lungs. It seemed to take a long time but then Bannock’s head turned and he looked up at his rescuer.

  ‘Are you gonna be OK?’ Comfort said.

  The oldster managed to nod his head. After a few more moments his teeth glimmered in the darkness and Comfort surmised he was attempting a grin.

  ‘That steamboat,’ he whispered. ‘I sure don’t think much of the service.’

  He kneeled for a few moments and then lay on his side, his head resting on his bent elbow. Still coughing and retching, he struggled to turn over and sit up.

  ‘Don’t suppose you got any dry tobacco?’ he said.

  Comfort reached into his pocket and produced his pouch of Bull Durham. It was wrapped in oilskin and although it was soggy, it seemed to have survived. Together, they rolled a couple of limp looking cigarettes. Only after they had done so did they realize that they had nothing to light them with.

  ‘Hell, just how far are we from shore?’ Bannock said.

  Comfort’s eyes were adjusted to the darkness and he could see that there was only a narrow stretch of water between themselves and the nearest shoreline. The banks appeared to be quite steep and he was just trying to calculate the likeliest spot for them to get ashore wh
en his thoughts were interrupted by a movement behind the recumbent form of the oldster. He had heard no sound, nothing like a splash, but the next instant there was a dull muffled noise like footsteps and something glistened in the moonlight. Bannock uttered a shout and with surprising energy leaped to his feet. He wasn’t a moment too soon. The next moment a pair of gaping jaws snapped shut where his head had just been. Comfort, realizing that they were under attack by an alligator, reached for his six-gun, but when he pulled the trigger the wet gun failed to fire. Instantly he flung it at the head of the alligator which, ignoring the oldster, turned its attention to Comfort.

  With unexpected speed it slithered forward, its head held high and its jaws opened wide. Comfort could smell the rancid odour of its mouth. He leaped to one side and as the alligator slithered by, turned and flung himself on top of it. It was an instinctive reaction and he had no idea what he was going to do next. The alligator continued its forward momentum and the next moment Comfort felt the water slide over him. He realized that he was in danger of being dragged under and fell away into the water. The alligator turned as Comfort struggled back to the sandbank. The alligator was splashing now as it came up behind him and Comfort thought his time was up.

  Although his back was turned he sensed that the gaping jaws and razor-sharp teeth were about to slice him when he saw Bannock skip forward with a knife in his hand. As the alligator’s jaws closed he jammed the knife between them, wedging it there so the blade sank into the roof of its mouth. Comfort felt liquid spurt on his back; he didn’t know whether it was blood or water and he didn’t take any time to find out. Together, he and Bannock scrambled to the far end of the sandbank where they turned, expecting the alligator to come after them. Instead, the creature stood for a few moments, only its tail moving, then, as quickly and suddenly as it had arrived, it turned and slipped into the black waters.

  Its two erstwhile victims watched it vanish into the darkness, then turned and looked apprehensively about them, expecting the alligator to emerge again and continue its attack. Every ripple carried a sinister overtone of dread and fear but nothing happened. The alligator, at least temporarily, seemed to have gone. They looked at each other.

  ‘D’you reckon that critter’s on Wilder’s payroll as well?’ the oldster queried.

  Comfort looked across the river.

  ‘Hell, I wonder what else might be lurkin’ in there,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t fancy waitin’ to find out,’ Bannock replied.

  They both regarded the narrow strip of water between themselves and the shore.

  ‘Me either,’ Comfort said, ‘but what are we goin’ to do about gettin’ across?’

  The oldster thought for a moment.

  ‘I guess we ain’t got no choice. We just got to chance it,’ he replied.

  They stood on the edge of the sandbank, hesitating to go back into the water.

  ‘It ain’t far,’ Comfort said. ‘Do you think you can make it?’ A sudden thought struck him. ‘Hell, can you even swim?’

  The oldster gave a faint grin. ‘Reckon I can now,’ he replied.

  Despite the desperateness of their situation, Comfort couldn’t help breaking into a laugh.

  ‘Well, now’s the time to find out,’ he said. ‘Try and stay close to me.’

  With a look at each other, they took off their boots and, holding them over their heads, stepped into the water, being careful not to make a splash which might attract the alligator or another of its kind. After a few steps Comfort stumbled and fell face forwards into the water. He had been expecting to have to swim but although the riverbed shelved downwards, it was only slight. They moved forward. They couldn’t help but make some splashing. The water began to rise but it reached no higher than their waists.

  The shore was getting near but both men’s nerves were stretched and they looked anxiously about them for signs of an alligator. At times they each felt something slither between their legs and Comfort stepped on something soft which made him flinch. Their clothes were having a dragging effect and progress was slow. The bank was quite high but at one point it seemed to have crumbled and they directed their course to that point. There were rocks and stones beneath their feet and they both kept stumbling but the water was now no higher than their knees and with another few steps they were out of the water and staggering up the river bank. The stones gave way to mud and it wasn’t easy to grope their way up. The earth was soft and muddy and they both slipped back but, clutching at anything which might give them purchase, they succeeded at last in reaching the top.

  They sat down on the grass to get their breath back and then pulled on their boots. Although they were wet and exhausted, their overwhelming sensation was one of relief. They looked over the dark expanse of the river. The paddle steamer had long disappeared and the only dim light was the buoy which marked the sandbank.

  ‘Well,’ Bannock said. ‘It weren’t quite the boat trip I was envisagin’. Don’t reckon I’ll be takin’ another in a hurry.’

  Comfort suddenly found himself thinking of Corrina Stead. Would she miss his presence on the boat?

  ‘There ain’t much point in lyin’ about here,’ he said. ‘I reckon we’d best get movin’.’

  The oldster coughed. ‘I could sure do with a drink,’ he said.

  ‘Have you any idea where we are?’ Comfort replied.

  ‘Yeah, I think so.’

  ‘Must be a long haul to Cayuse Landin’.’

  ‘We don’t need to go all the way to Cayuse Landin’. Besides, we’re wanted men there, remember.’

  ‘So what you got in mind?’

  ‘Like I said, I got a shack. It’s still a long ways, but it’s closer and safer than Cayuse Landin’. It ain’t much, but it’ll seem like a palace after this.’

  Comfort rose to his feet. The first glimmerings of dawn were touching the sky.

  ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Let’s get started.’

  The oldster stood up. He bent down, coughed and spluttered once more, then drew himself upright.

  ‘This way,’ he said.

  They began to walk. The coming of dawn brought with it a chilling breeze and they both felt miserable in their sodden clothes. Comfort began to think about the reason for having ridden the paddle boat in the first place and his first conclusion was that it had been a waste of time. At least they had come out of it in one piece. Then he found his thoughts reverting again to Corrina Stead. His meditations were interrupted when Bannock touched his arm.

  ‘Listen!’ he said.

  Comfort stopped. At first he could hear nothing other than the lapping of water but then a shift in the direction of the breeze brought the unmistakable sound of hoofbeats.

  ‘Could be anybody,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah, and it could be some more of Wilder’s boys.’

  They stepped back into the sheltering cottonwoods lining the riverbank. Comfort was beginning to be irritated by Wilder. Whenever he tried to concentrate his attention on finding Briggs, the rancher seemed to crop up.

  ‘I forgot to thank you for what you did back there with that alligator,’ he said. ‘Come to think of it, that’s the second time I’ve had to say thanks for comin’ to my assistance.’

  ‘Hell, you saved my life when you jumped into the water after me,’ the oldster responded. ‘It’s me should be thankin’ you.’

  ‘What exactly happened to you?’ Comfort said.

  ‘I don’t know. I came out of the saloon to look for you. Next thing I knew someone had come up behind me and hoisted me clear over the rail. Took me completely by surprise.’

  Comfort quickly told him about his fracas with the man who had accosted Corrina.

  ‘It had to be him. He must have realized you were with me and figured it was an easy way to get his revenge. Goldurn it, I probably even put the idea into his mind when I said I ought to have chucked him overboard.’

  The sound of horses was drawing closer and they both melted back into the cover of the trees, from wh
ere they were able to peer out and see a considerable distance down the track. They could now hear the rattle of wheels and then a wagon came into view, pulled by two straining horses. It was partly covered and going very slowly.

  ‘What the hell is that?’ Comfort breathed.

  A smile wreathed the oldster’s mouth.

  ‘Unless I’m very mistaken, that’s the Reverend Bent,’ he replied.

  Comfort gave him a puzzled look.

  ‘He travels about in that old wagon. Expect he’s done a meetin’ in Cayuse Landing and is on his way to Willow. He’s headed in that direction.’

  ‘He’s up and about mighty early,’ Comfort replied.

  ‘Sure. He’ll have camped someplace overnight.’

  Comfort still looked unconvinced.

  ‘Don’t worry. He might preach fire and brimstone, but he’s OK.’

  The wagon took a turn in the trail, revealing some writing scrawled on its canvas side:

  Repent Your Ungodly Ways. The Hour Is Nigh

  ‘Hey,’ Bannock said. ‘We’re in luck. The reverend knows me. We’ve both been around a long time. We could hitch us a ride in the wagon.’

  ‘I hope you’re sure about this,’ Comfort said.

  Without waiting to explain matters further, Bannock stepped out of the trees and stood on the track. Comfort followed close behind. There was no change in the progress of the wagon. It lumbered on at the same plodding pace.

  ‘Howdy, Reverend!’ Bannock called.

  The reverend raised his whip by way of answer and then, coming close, drew the wagon to a halt.

  ‘Is that you, Bannock? Seems like you’re a long ways from anywhere. Where’s your hoss? And who’s that with you?’

  ‘Ain’t got no hoss. We took us a ride on the paddle boat. Had to get off kinda early, you might say.’ He turned to Comfort. ‘This here is a good friend of mine. Reverend Bent, meet Mr Will Comfort.’

  They exchanged nods. For the first time Comfort took notice of the new arrival. He looked to be about sixty and was as gaunt as a rail. He wore a chimney-pot hat and a long dark coat, and under his chin curled a long tuft of beard that made him look like a billy-goat.