Guns on the Prairie

by David Robbins

  Staring into the muzzle, Alonzo broke out in gooseflesh. All it would take was a twitch of the young outlaw’s trigger finger to send him into oblivion.

  “Deputy Grant,” Jacob Stone said, “meet Willy Boy Jenkins.”

  Willy Boy glanced at Stone. “Do I know you, old man?”

  “We’ve never met,” Stone said, “but I know a lot about you, and these others. Puttin’ you behind bars or under the ground is my new ambition in life, you might say.”

  “Is that so, you old buzzard?” Willy Boy raised his revolver as if to bash Stone over the head.

  “None of that,” Burt Alacord intervened. He was several yards away, both pistols at waist level.

  “Why the hell not?” Willy Boy demanded.

  “Not unless Cal says to.”

  To Alonzo’s vast relief, Willy Boy reluctantly lowered his arm, saying, “You heard this old coot. These are lawmen, out to take us in or bury us. We should plant them where they stand.”

  Burt Alacord grinned at Alonzo. “Do you remember me, boy?”

  Alonzo nodded.

  Weasel Ginty, grinning, turned to Willy Boy. “That one is so dumb, he let us ride right up to him and after jawin’ a spell, we rode off without him suspectin’ who we were.”

  “You don’t say?” Willy Boy said in amusement, and then glowered. “I still think we should shoot the both of them and be done with it.”

  “That’s not your decision,” Burt Alacord said.

  Cal Grissom had been talking in a low tone to Jenna, but now he spun. “Enough bickering, Willy. Burt is right. I decide what we’ll do with them, not anyone else. Relieve them of their hardware and tie them, and we’ll deal with them later. I have a more important matter to attend to.”

  Willy Boy appeared disposed to argue but he said, “Whatever you say, Cal. You’re the boss.”

  “Don’t you forget it,” Burt Alacord said.

  Alonzo stayed quiet. He submitted to having his Colt snatched from his holster, and to another of the outlaws coming over and binding his wrists. From the descriptions Jacob Stone had given him, it was the Prussian, Spike Davis.

  A tug on the last knot, and Davis stepped back. “Dat should do, ja?” he said in a thick accent.

  Weasel Ginty, meanwhile, tied Jacob Stone.

  “Have a seat, gents,” Burt Alacord said, coming up and twirling his Colts into their holsters. “Behave yourselves, and you’ll live a little longer.”

  “Not if it was up to me,” Willy Boy said.

  Alonzo and Jacob eased down, and were promptly ignored. The other outlaws were more interested in their leader and his daughter.

  “What do you have to say for yourself?” Cal Grissom was demanding. “Leaving like you did, without a word as to why. All by yourself, and us in the middle of Sioux country.”

  “The Sioux are the least of my dangers,” Jenna said. “And before we go any further, I want to make something clear.” She pointed at Alonzo and Deputy Stone. “Those two are not to be harmed. They’ve been nice to me, and if you hurt them, I’ll never speak to you again for as long as I live.”

  “Hell, girl,” Weasel Ginty said. “They’re lawmen.”

  Cal Grissom glared at him.

  “Sorry,” Weasel said sheepishly, and took a step back.

  “I mean it, Father,” Jenna said. “I don’t care who they are. I’ve put up with a lot to be with you but I won’t abide you doing anything to them. If you care for me as much as you claim you do, you’ll honor my request.”

  Ira Fletcher shifted his weight from one foot to the other and muttered, “Your gal is askin’ a lot of us, Cal.”

  “Anyone wearing a badge is out to get us,” Tom Kent said. “We need to get them first.”

  “Did I ask your opinions?” Grissom snapped.

  Burt Alacord stepped close to Cal and swung to face the others. “We’ll do whatever he decides, just like we always do. Anyone objects, speak up, and we’ll settle things here and now.”

  Alonzo saw them glance at Alacord’s Colts, and no one spoke. But they weren’t happy about the turn of events.

  Cal Grissom beckoned to Jenna. “Let’s go off a ways and talk in private.”

  “Here will do,” Jenna said.

  “In front of everybody? What’s gotten into you?”

  “I have nothing to hide, Father,” Jenna said. “So what if they hear us? If it’s about why I left, let’s just say I was tired of beating my head against a tree and let it go at that.”

  “Not that again,” Cal Grissom said.

  “I’ve asked you and I’ve asked you,” Jenna said, and caught herself. “No. I’ve begged you to give up your outlaw ways. To go straight. So you and I can head off somewhere they’ve never heard of you and live a normal life. A peaceful life.”

  “What’s this?” Burt Alacord said.

  “She’s been trying to convince me for weeks now,” Cal told him.

  “This is the first I’ve heard of it,” Burt said.

  “It’s between my father and me,” Jenna said. “It doesn’t concern any of you in the least.”

  “That’s what you think,” Burt said.

  “We’d follow Cal anywhere,” Weasel Ginty declared. “To the gates of hell if we had to.”

  “Ja,” the Prussian said.

  “Don’t you see?” Jenna said. “After all these years, he and I have a chance to make up for the time we’ve lost. We can be a family again. Can’t you understand how important that is?”

  “To you,” Weasel Ginty said.

  “Of course to me,” Jenna said angrily. “Who else is there?”

  “Us,” Weasel said.

  Jenna was confused, and it showed. “I’m his daughter. You’re an outlaw who rides with him. I matter more than you do.”

  “That’s just it, missy,” Weasel said. “We’re his gang. He picked each and every one of us. We do as he wants, and stick by him through thick and thin. He’s as much ours as he is yours.”

  “That’s the most preposterous thing I’ve ever heard,” Jenna said. She motioned at Burt Alacord. “Tell your friend how ridiculous that is.”

  “I can’t because it’s not,” Burt said. “In this Wease is right and you’re wrong. We have as big a stake in your pa as you do. Maybe bigger.”

  Incredulous, Jenna turned to her father. “Will you please set them straight?” She waited, and when Cal Grissom looked away, she colored and set down her cup and stood.

  “Is this why you’ve refused to go away with me and start over? Out of loyalty to them? You’d rather be with a bunch of man killers and highwaymen than your own daughter?”

  Alonzo felt terribly sorry for Jenna. She loved her father very much—and he did this.

  Cal Grissom took a deep breath. “Sweetheart, it’s not as cut and dried as you make it out to be. I care for you. I truly do. I also have an obligation to these men. We have a bond.”

  “Now you’re being preposterous,” Jenna said. “What counts more than the bond between a father and his daughter?” Wheeling, she stalked off, her back as rigid as a board.

  “Wonderful,” Cal Grissom said. “The rest of you stay put. I need to go talk to her. Make her understand.” He hurried in her wake.

  “What do we do while they’re gone?” Tom Kent said. “Twiddle our thumbs?”

  As if they had all thought of it at the same instant, the six outlaws turned toward Alonzo and Deputy Stone.

  “I know what I’d like to do,” Willy Boy said. “Tom, lend me one of your knives and I’ll carve on them some. Cut off an ear or maybe a nose.”

  “They’re not to be touched until Cal says,” Burt Alacord reminded him.

  Willy Boy swore. “This outfit gets less fun by the day.” He turned on a bootheel. “Since I have nothin’ better to do, I’ll fetch our horses.”

&
nbsp; “I go with you, ja?” Spike Davis offered.

  “Sure, metal head, tag along,” Willy Boy said. “You’re worth a good laugh, if nothin’ else.”

  Alonzo was glad to see Jenkins go. Willy Boy was a powder keg set to explode. If the others couldn’t see it, he could.

  Jacob Stone sat up. “Gentlemen. Permit me to introduce me and my friend. I’m Deputy Stone and this here is Deputy Grant. Harm us, and every lawman east of the Rockies will be after you.”

  “Spare us your bluster, old man,” Weasel Ginty said. “We’ve been at this long enough, there isn’t a tin star alive we’re afraid of.”

  “One or two, I don’t blame you,” Stone said, “but how about ten or twenty? That’s how many you’ll have huntin’ for you, all at once.”

  Burt Alacord chuckled. “You should be ashamed of yourself, old man, tellin’ whoppers like that.”

  Alonzo wished they would all shut up so he could think. Most of his adult life, he’d gotten himself out of scrapes using his wits and his gift for gab. They could serve him in good stead here, if only he could think of how.

  “What’s wrong with the young lawdog?” Weasel Ginty said. “He doesn’t say much.”

  “I’m behavin’ myself,” Alonzo said. “Isn’t that what you want?”

  “Are there any more of you hereabouts?” Burt Alacord asked Stone. “It would make me mad to be woken up in the middle of the night by more badges.”

  “There’s just us,” Stone said.

  Alonzo would have kept that to himself. Or lied and said, yes, there were half a dozen deputies not far off, and the outlaws had better skedaddle. He glanced over toward the trees, where Jenna and her father were having their talk. Cal Grissom was angrily gesturing, and Jenna appeared to be on the verge of tears.

  Burt Alacord came up and hefted the coffeepot. “There’s enough for all of us. Who’d like some?”

  “I would,” Weasel said.

  Ira Fletcher grunted and joined them.

  Stone picked that moment to bend toward Alonzo and say, “So far, so good, eh?”

  “We’re at the mercy of the Grissom gang,” Alonzo said. “If there’s good in this, it’s news to me.”

  “They didn’t tie our legs,” Stone said.

  “So? Are you fixin’ to kick them to death?”

  Stone replied in a whisper. “We’re goin’ to hightail it into the woods. In the dark they won’t find us.”

  “They won’t have to,” Alonzo said. “They’ll shoot us before we get there.”

  “Grissom and Jenna are too busy arguin’. Willy Boy and that Prussian fella aren’t back yet. And the other three are helpin’ themselves to our coffee.”

  “No,” Alonzo said.

  “We might never have a better chance.”

  “No, I say.”

  “You’d rather stay here and be tortured and murdered? Because mark my words, they won’t let us leave here alive, no matter what your lady friend wants.”

  “Don’t call her that,” Alonzo said, afraid the others might hear. “She doesn’t even know how I feel.”

  “Don’t kid yourself. Females always know.” Stone rose to his knees and peered from under his hat at the nearest point of woodland. “I’ll count to five and then we go.”

  “I’m not gettin” myself shot.”

  “Then I’ll go by myself.”

  “Jacob, please,” Alonzo pleaded. If the old lawman were killed, he’d be on his own.

  “I’m sorry, son,” Stone said. “It’s now or maybe never. Either you’re with me or you’re not, and if you’re not, it was nice knowin’ you.” And with that, he exploded into motion.

  23

  In a heartbeat Alonzo was on his feet and sprinting after the old lawman. A voice in his head screamed at him to stop but he kept running. It was almost as if his body moved on its own.

  “Look there!” Weasel Ginty hollered. “They’re tryin’ to get away!”

  Alonzo expected to hear the boom of a gun and feel a slug core his body. He zigzagged so he’d be harder to hit. But no shots thundered, and to his amazement, he reached the woods unscathed.

  A glance back showed Burt Alacord, Weasel, and Ira Fletcher in pursuit.

  Grissom and Jenna had stopped arguing and were staring in surprise. There was no sign of Willy Boy and the Prussian.

  Alonzo concentrated on running and nothing else. Jacob Stone had pulled ahead, even with his leg wound. For a man his age, he could really move. Alonzo sought to catch up but the brush and logs and other obstacles slowed him. He weaved, he ducked, he leaped, he tore loose from briars that hooked in his clothes.

  His chest was hammering, his blood roared in his veins. He was positive that if the outlaws caught him, they would eventually kill him, no matter what Jenna wanted. Jenna. He felt guilty for abandoning her, but his life was at stake, not hers. Cal Grissom would never let harm befall his daughter.

  A tree loomed.

  Alonzo darted around it and almost collided with Stone, who had stopped and tilted his head, listening.

  “Down!” the old lawman hissed, and dropped flat.

  “What?” Alonzo said. To him it made more sense to keep running, to put as much distance as they could between them and the outlaws. He nearly yelped when Stone knocked his legs out from under him. The next he knew, he was flat on his back.

  “Don’t move,” Stone said in his ear. “Don’t make a sound.”

  Alonzo opened his mouth to protest being dumped on his backside but the crash of underbrush strangled the outburst in his throat.

  From somewhere to their left, Weasel Ginty bawled, “Where are they? I’ve lost sight of them.”

  “Me, too!” Ira Fetcher shouted.

  “Spread out!” Burt Alacord yelled. “They have to be around here somewhere.”

  Alonzo glimpsed movement in the trees, and scarcely breathed. A silhouette took shape, moving away.

  From the direction of the clearing, Cal Grissom called out, “Did you catch them? What’s going on?”

  “Not yet,” Burt Alacord replied.

  Alonzo glanced at Stone but couldn’t see his face in the dark.

  The crackle of brush warned of another outlaw, coming close.

  Alonzo was so mad at himself, he could spit nails. This latest impersonation of his had become one nightmare after another; Deputy Stone, the Sioux, the outlaws. The only good thing that had come of it was Jenna. Even there, his affection for her was one-sided. And once she found out he wasn’t a lawman, that he’d deceived her this whole time, she’d want nothing more to do with him.

  Hooves drummed, growing louder.

  Alonzo tried to sink into the earth.

  From the sounds, there were two horses. Willy Boy was on one of them because he hollered, “Where are they? Point us the way they went.”

  “We don’t know,” Weasel Ginty answered. “The ground up and swallowed them.”

  “I leave you alone for two minutes and you let them get away,” Willy Boy said. “We should have shot them when I wanted to.”

  Burt Alacord piped up with, “Quit your damn gripin’ and start searchin’. Swing west. Davis, you swing east. Circle wide, and we’ll catch them between us.”

  “You’re not our boss,” Willy said.

  “Boy, you’re startin’ to aggravate me,” Burt Alacord said. “And that’s the last thing you want to do.”

  “Fine,” Willy spat.

  The horses made a lot of noise as they separated.

  Stealthy footsteps came near. Dry leaves crunched, and a shape materialized not a dozen feet away.

  Alonzo tried to melt into the earth. He could feel eyes on him, or thought he could. He was mistaken, though, because presently the shape turned and crept in a different direction.

  The next half-hour was one of the most terrible
of his life. The outlaws were determined to find them, and ceaselessly roved back and forth. Now and then one would come so close that Alonzo imagined he heard the man breathing.

  Then someone came plowing through the woods, and Cal Grissom bawled, “Anything yet?”

  “Not a sign,” Burt Alacord replied, sounding disgusted that the outlaws had failed to find them.

  “They got plumb away, Cal,” Weasel said.

  “I doubt that,” Grissom said. “We’ll look for them in the morning. For now, call everyone back.”

  A few shouts from Alacord, and the outlaws made off toward the clearing. A rider passed within a pebble-toss of Alonzo. Willy Boy, Alonzo suspected. Gradually the woods grew quiet, until the sigh of the breeze was all that broke the stillness.

  “We did it,” Jacob Stone whispered.

  “Good for us,” Alonzo said. He felt as if he’d aged ten years.

  “We have a fightin’ chance now,” Stone said, and sat up.

  “The two of us against all of them,” Alonzo said, “and they have guns and we don’t.”

  “A good lawman never gives up.”

  But that’s just it, Alonzo thought to himself. He wasn’t a lawman. He was a fake. He’d rather flee than fight. If it wasn’t for Jenna, that’s exactly what he’d do. Propping his elbows under him, he pushed up and sat with his head bowed in dismay.

  “What’s the matter with you?”

  “Life couldn’t be better,” Alonzo said bitterly.

  “You have to quit lookin’ at the bad side of things. That will only get you down.” Stone held out his arms. “Here. Untie me, and I’ll untie you. Then the fun will commence.”

  “I’m almost afraid to ask,” Alonzo said, “but what sort of ‘fun’ do you have in mind?”

  “Tanglin’ with those outlaws, of course.”

  * * *

  Most of the others, including Jenna, had turned in, but not Willy Boy Jenkins. Not so long as Cal Grissom and Burt Alacord were still up. Willy wanted to hear what they had to say, so he nursed a cup of coffee and listened, while acting as if he wasn’t the least bit interested.