The Wild Gun

by Jory Sherman

  Or trying to plan an escape.

  “Cord, why don’t you just shoot this bastard so we can take a nap? Be rid of him.” Earl whispered his words so that Danny would not hear him.

  Cord took out a rhubarb stalk, wiped it down, and stuck one end in his mouth. His teeth crunched the fibrous stalk. He bit off a portion and chewed it before he spoke.

  “It would be wrong to shoot a man who is your prisoner, Earl. Besides, he’s going to do some work for us.”

  “What? Warn Horace that we’re coming for him?”

  “Make Horace sweat.”

  “Aw, we should just kill ’em all.”

  “It might wind up that way,” Cord said.

  “It might not, too.”

  “Just let me do this my way, Earl. Remember? I told you that you’d have to follow my orders.”

  “But we’ve got one of ’em. And besides, he was tryin’ to kill you.”

  “But he didn’t succeed. And now he’s disabled and will serve a purpose. My purpose.”

  “He might try to trick you, Cord.”

  “He might. I’ll still get Horace. He’s the leader, the head of the snake. Once you cut off the head, the body dies.”

  “I get your thinkin’, Cord. You got a good brain. I just think it’s useless to let this Danny feller live. He’s one of them and they don’t deserve to live.”

  “Have some patience, Earl. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

  Cord smiled. Earl looked puzzled. He had never heard the expression before and he had only a vague notion of what or where Rome was.

  “I just think you’re wrong to let this thief live when you got him cold. One shot to the head and it’s over.”

  “Back to life and death, are we? Son, you’d better think long and hard about killing another human being.”

  “I have thought about it.”

  “Not deep enough, I reckon. You kill a man, it’s something you carry with you for the rest of your life.”

  “It hasn’t bothered you none.”

  Cord stopped chewing and looked at Earl with a stern expression on his face.

  “I carry the memory of each man I’ve had to kill,” Cord said. “At the moment of death from my own hand, it’s like I’ve fallen into a deep canyon. It’s like the ground gives way under my feet. I hang in midair for a minute and feel all empty inside. Then I fall into a canyon with no bottom. I just fall until I get back my senses.”

  “God,” Earl said.

  “I wonder what the dead man’s life might have been if I hadn’t pulled the trigger,” Cord said. “And I wonder where I’ve sent the man. To hell or to someplace I can’t see? Maybe he’s gone into nothingness, just wiped out with no body and no brain.”

  “You think about that stuff a lot?” Earl asked.

  “I do. A lot.”

  “Hmmm. I guess I don’t know much.”

  “You know. You just don’t think a lot of things through. Like what Danny means to us at this point. He’s a valuable piece of property.”

  “I guess you’re right, Cord.”

  “So get over it. Don’t think about what Danny has done or tried to do to me. Just think of what he’s going to do. For us.”

  “I reckon I can do that.”

  Cord took another bite of the rhubarb.

  “Let’s ride on down,” he said. “Get this over with.”

  Earl rode back to where he’d been, behind Danny, as Cord eased Windmill down the slope through the heavy timber.

  By late afternoon, at their slow pace, they were near the ranch. Cord led them to the edge of the foothills and halted his horse. He gazed out at the prairie and in the distance he could see the tops of the house and barn.

  He looked back at Danny.

  Danny glared at him with squinted eyes.

  “That’s the ranch yonder,” Earl said. “Ain’t it?”

  “There it is,” Cord replied.

  They rode out onto the plain. Cord didn’t want to get too close, where they would be spotted, but he wanted to run Danny’s horse up to the house where all could see what had happened to him.

  The ranch house began to rise from the plain as they rode closer. Corrals and the barn came into view. And horses.

  Earl’s eyes narrowed when he saw the horses. Men were herding them to a large grassy enclosure, through a large gate. Poles ringed the enclosure.

  “Them are our horses, Cord,” Earl exclaimed. “That damned Abner . . .”

  “You recognize them?”

  “I sure do. Them horses was ours and Abner stole ’em.”

  “Steady, Earl. Nothing you can do about it just yet.”

  “Damn,” Earl blurted.

  Cord turned his horse around and rode up to Danny.

  Danny stared at him with his pale eyes.

  “You’re on your home range, Danny. Time to pay the piper.”

  “Go to hell, Wild,” Danny muttered.

  “Maybe you can put some liniment on that hand and start it to healing,” Cord said.

  “Liniment won’t help.”

  “Soak it in warm water, then.”

  “I’d like to soak you,” Danny said.

  “Well, you’re going to leave us. And you be sure and tell Horace that he doesn’t have long to live.”

  “We’ll hunt you down, Wild, like the dog you are.”

  “That’s fine. Manhunters are my specialty.”

  Cord leaned over and drew his knife from his scabbard. He cut the reins of Danny’s bridle off at the bit. Danny’s face contorted in anger.

  Then Cord sheathed his knife and rode to the horse’s rear. He doubled up his fist and slammed it onto the horse’s rump.

  Danny’s horse reacted. Its hind legs collapsed and then it leaped forward. It ran off, headed for the ranch house and the other horses. All Danny could do was hang on to his saddle horn with one hand.

  Cord turned Windmill and spoke to Earl.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said, and put spurs into the horse’s flanks.

  The two rode up into the foothills to the sound of men’s shouts as Danny’s horse galloped into their midst.

  Cord kept riding, with his brother close behind. He did not look back.

  When they stopped, back in the timber, both men were panting and the horses were winded.

  “Now what?” Earl asked.

  “Now we cover our tracks and make a wide circle. We’ll come at the ranch from a different direction.”

  “Won’t some of them be huntin’ us up here?”

  “I don’t think so. Not after what happened to Danny. They’ll be thinking about defense and they’ll have riders out looking for us.”

  “How will we get to Horace and Abner?”

  “I’ll give that some thought,” Cord said. “And we’ll wait until dark to make our move.”

  Earl looked up at the sky, marked where the sun was blazing across the afternoon in a sea of blue. So long to wait, he thought, and he had no idea of how they would ever get to Horace and Abner. The Weatheralls would lock themselves in their house. And men would be waiting for Cord and Earl, armed to the teeth, ready to shoot on sight or at the slightest sound.

  All the odds were against them, Earl thought.

  At that moment, everything looked hopeless to him.

  And, although Cord’s mind was racing, his own thoughts were not far behind.

  Everything did look hopeless.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Danny’s horse trotted into the front yard. All of those nearby saw him, saw the blood and his mangled hand.

  Men crowded around him.

  Horace and Abner heard the hubbub and emerged from the ranch house.

  “What in blazin’ hell is goin’ on here?” Horace demanded.

  Jessup spoke
up first.

  “Danny here is all shot up,” he said.

  Horace walked around Danny’s horse and saw his right hand, which Danny held up over the pommel.

  Horace swore. “How’d that happen, Danny?” he demanded.

  “Wild. He plumb busted my gun hand.”

  “Damn it all. Can’t any of you get this man? He’s makin’ fools of all of us.” Horace glared at the men gathered around him and at Abner.

  “He don’t do anything regular, boss,” one of the men said.

  “Danny, you put some iodine on your hand. Then maybe we’ll get you to a doc. Jessup, help him down out of his saddle.”

  “Sure,” Jessup said and reached up for Danny as the injured man swung his right leg over the pommel.

  “Just ease yourself down, Danny,” Jessup said. “I’ll catch you.”

  He lifted Danny to the ground. Danny wobbled for a minute or two as a wave of dizziness swept over him.

  “Lot of pain?” Jessup asked.

  “Plenty,” Danny said.

  “We’ll daub that hole with iodine and then you might wash it clean with alcohol.”

  Jessup noticed the cut reins on Danny’s horse. He let out a cry.

  Horace saw it, too. As did Abner.

  “Bastard made sure Danny couldn’t get away,” Horace said.

  “That Wild must be some kind of bastard,” Abner said.

  “He’s seven kinds of bastard and a backshooter to boot,” Horace said.

  “Why did he let you go, Danny?” Horace asked.

  Danny drew in a deep breath as he looked at Horace. He gave the impression that he was thinking hard before he answered.

  “He give me a message,” Danny said.

  “Oh yeah? What message?” Horace shot Danny a threatening look.

  “I told him I wasn’t no messenger and wouldn’t deliver it, Horace.”

  “Well, by God, you will deliver it or I’ll have your miserable hide, Danny.”

  There was no mistaking the threatening look now. Horace looked as if his face would explode in sheer anger.

  “Wild said your days were numbered, Horace. He told me to tell you he was comin’ for you.”

  Horace swore a stream of curses at Wild, his parents, and all his kin.

  “So, you failed, Danny. You let that bastard Wild get the best of you. You must have had him in close range for him to shoot up your hand. How close was he?”

  “Fairly close,” Danny said.

  “How close?”

  “Maybe five or six yards. He’s sneaky, I tell you. Didn’t make a sound and crept up on me.”

  Horace looked around at the few remaining men.

  “Is there any one of you man enough to go after Wild and kill him?”

  No one moved or spoke. Instead, the men turned their heads or bowed them in shame.

  “That’s what I thought. You’re all a bunch of lily-livered swine, not worth the powder to blow you all to hell. I’m disgusted with all of you. And, Danny, you can just pack your duds and ride out of here. I have no use for a man who can’t shoot a gun.”

  “I’ll leave, Horace,” Danny said, “but you better watch your ass. Wild is coming after you. You can lay good money on that.”

  Danny walked away, toward the bunkhouse.

  “You’re going to need another bridle, Danny,” Jessup called after him.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Danny said as he lifted his right hand to acknowledge the advice.

  Horace spat onto the ground.

  “We got enough men here to make sure Wild can’t get to you, Horace,” Jessup said.

  Abner cleared his throat and spoke up.

  “Well, I ain’t skeered of that Wild rascal. Just let him try to kill Horace and he’ll walk into a hail of hot lead.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Jessup said. “Same with the rest of us. I say we’ll kill both Wild and his brother, Earl, that snot-nosed kid. Just let ’em try to come here.”

  “Brave talk,” Horace said. “But he doesn’t want to kill just me. Each one of you is a marked man in his eyes.”

  “Don’t worry, Horace,” Abner said. “We won’t let him get close. He comes within rifle range, he’s dead meat.”

  The men all grunted in assent.

  “All right, then,” Horace said. “From now on, I want each man to carry a rifle or keep one handy while you go about your chores. You look, you listen, and you see anyone ride up here, day or night, you shoot to kill.”

  The men all nodded.

  “And we’ll start right away. Wild may be close. He might be watching us right now.”

  The men dispersed and Abner slapped Horace on the back.

  “That’s tellin’ ’em, Horace. You got men here who will defend you, that’s for sure.”

  Horace looked at Danny’s horse, saw the blood spattered on the stirrup and pommel of his saddle.

  “I thought Danny could do it,” Horace said.

  “Well, he made a mistake, that’s all.”

  “There’s still Eddie Lomax. I’m countin’ on him to kill them two Barnes women so’s I can take over the JB Ranch.”

  “He should be back in the mornin’ with the good news,” Abner said.

  “Let’s load up some rifles and find a place where Wild can’t see us,” Horace said. “Long as it’s daylight, we can be on the lookout ourselves.”

  “Suits me,” Abner said. “I’m in the mood for a killin’, man or boy.”

  Horace grinned as the two walked back to the house.

  A while later, Danny rode off the ranch, his right hand black with iodine and a towel wrapped around it. He had a bandage on his leg, too, a pair of bandannas that were soon soaked through with more blood.

  Unknown to him, Wild’s bullet had opened a puncture hole in his femoral artery and he would die before he reached Cheyenne.

  He lost consciousness and fell from the saddle. On the ground, he bled to death as he stared at the mountains and longed for their serenity.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Ernesto was restless. He couldn’t sleep. He kept thinking of Jesse and how he had died. He thought, too, of Abigail and Lelia, alone in that big house without a man. It wasn’t fair.

  He walked through the stables and into each stall. There, he petted the horses, checked their fetlocks and stroked their withers. He spoke to each one in low tones.

  Abigail had told him that they must go over their stock and select the best horses. She wished that he would take a herd of their finest mounts and try to sell them to the army.

  “Jesse planned to do that anyway,” she said to Ernesto. “We have a mortgage payment due at the bank soon.”

  That’s when a messenger rode up that afternoon and handed her a statement from the bank. It stated that they had sold her mortgage to Horace Weatherall and he was now legally the holder.

  “This changes everything,” she said.

  “It could not be worse,” Ernesto said. “Horace will be waiting like the vulture to pounce on you.”

  “So I must make that next payment, and there’s one more after that.”

  “I will try and sell the horses to the army,” Ernesto said. “But after that?”

  “I don’t know, Ernesto. Jesse would know what to do. We might have enough to buy more horses at the auction in Denver.”

  “Those are not the best horses sometimes,” he said. “Some are wild, others have been misused or mishandled.”

  “Still, we must raise more cash,” she said.

  “We might be able to find good horses in Mexico. At very low prices. I would go there and speak to my cousin, Julio Vargas. He catches wild horses and breaks them. He is just over the border.”

  “That’s a long way from here,” Abigail said.

  “A long ride, yes, but we could add good ho
rses to your stock.”

  “I’ll think about it,” she said. “Thanks, Ernesto.”

  Ernesto thought about the ride to Mexico as he checked each horse in the stable. They had about twenty good horses that the army might buy. After that, they had another dozen or so of breeding stock that would produce in time. Probably not enough to help Abigail save the ranch.

  He walked out in back of the stables and found a clear spot, where he rolled a cigarette. He lit a match and smoked as he looked up at the night sky. It was filled with stars, and the Milky Way glowed like a huge band of light.

  The night sky gave him comfort. He thought of how far away those stars were and wondered if someone up there was looking down on earth. The universe was a great mystery, but showed the handiwork of a superior mind and perhaps a being that was God. Ernesto was not a religious man, but he believed some superior being had designed the earth and the heavens.

  Ernesto was jarred from his celestial reverie by just the tick of a tiny sound.

  It wasn’t much, the scrape of a boot on stone, a scuff of a heel in the gritty dirt, a toe rolling over a pebble.

  Somewhere. Out in front of the house.

  A dog? A loose horse?

  One of the hands?

  Ernesto stood at attention, all of his senses on full alert.

  He crept through the barn, a hand on the grip of the converted Remington .44-caliber on his hip, a pistol fully loaded with six bullets.

  Eddie Lomax reined his horse to a halt when he saw the glint of moon atop the Barnes ranch house. He ground-tied the black mustang to a bush after he eased slowly out of the saddle. He would not need his rifle, so he left it in its boot.

  He walked carefully toward the house, his pistol loose in its holster. He touched the skinning knife on his belt, his fingers tracing the curve of the smooth bone handle, the grooves in its surface. Touched the hilt, and it was cold to his fingertips.

  He moved so slowly that he did not disturb or alarm the horses in their pens and corrals. One step, two. Pause. Listen. Another step. Stop, listen. Two more short steps, then listen.

  The house was dark, so he knew the occupants, the two women, were in bed. Probably asleep.

  More steps.

  Too dark to see the ground clearly. His sole disturbed a small round rock. The rock made a sound as it rolled into another.