The Deer Run Trail

by David R Lewis

  “Thanks, Homer,” I said. “You saved my place an’ maybe me, too.”

  “Nothin’ to it,” he said. “Slow night an’ all.”

  “Arberry is gonna be some pissed off,” I said.

  I could see Homer’s grin by the light of the lantern.

  “See,” he said, “somethin’ good can come outa almost anythin’.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  A couple a bluevests come walkin’ up, one tall an’ kindly thick, the other one shorter an’ thin. The big one stomped up to me.

  “What the hell is goin’ on here?” he holler’d.

  “Been a shootin’,” I said. “Clarence Banks is on the way to git your boss to investigate.”

  “Who’s that layin’ over there?”

  “Fella name a Clyde Franklin,” I said.

  “Clyde Franklin? By Jesus, he’s one a our’n!” the bluevest yelled.

  “Not anymore,” I said.

  “He’s dead?”

  “Looked like it to me,” I tolt him.

  “Well did ya even fuckin’ check him?”

  Homer, his feet still on the rail, spoke up. “Didn’t need to,” he said. “It was my Sharps that hit him. That gun kills buffler with one shot. A human don’t stand no chance at all.”

  The big fella turned on Homer an’ snarled. “So you done it!” he said.

  “Yessir,” Homer said, spittin’ a little piece of tobacco off his tongue. “I give him first shot an’ he took it. He just warn’t no good at it.”

  “So that’s it, is it?” bluevest thundered. “You just gonna start killin’ us off?”

  Homer grinned. “Don’t have to,” he said. “You fellers could always run away.”

  That big fella was almost in a rage. “Oh, you dirty bastards! I wanna see him!”

  He started toward the body then an’ I stepped in front of him. “Why don’t you shorten up yer reins, mister,” I said. “Ain’t nobody here touched anythin’ over there, an’ you ain’t goin’ to neither. Let’s just wait for Yont.”

  He went to push by me then, so I grabbed that shotgun outa the crossdraw an’ smacked him right smart on the elbow with it. He howled an’ fell down, clutchin’ at his arm, but bounced up purty quick. That arm I hit wouldn’t work at all, an’ he went for his Colt with his off hand. I stepped up an hit him a helluva lick on the other elbow. He howled agin’ but kept his feet, both arms hangin’ loose. I lifted his Colt an’ took a quick glance at his partner, but that fella was just standin’ there, watchin’. The big one was so mad he was almost in tears, but there warn’t nothin’ at all he could do. I speck that made him some madder. He started in cussin’ me, an’ I spoke to him, soft like.

  “If you don’t shut up, the next hit you git is gonna be in the mouth,” I said. “I ain’t got no sympathy for the fact you cain’t protect yourself.”

  His partner spoke up. “For chrissakes, Irwin,” he said, “shut the hell up. It’s embarrassin’.”

  He settled down some, an’ went off a ways, his arms loose like an’ danglin’. I walked over to his partner.

  “Thanks,” I said. “He’s hurt, but he ain’t broke. His arms’ll work in a while.” I handed him the big fella’s Colt. “Hold this for him, will ya?” Give it back when he’s gone from here.”

  “I will,” he said. “You coulda hurt him a lot worse.”

  “I thought about it,” I said.

  He grinned at me an’ walked over to where his partner was still kindly hoppin’ around. I went back to the porch an’ set on the rail. Homer chuckled an’ smacked me on the leg with the back of his hand.

  “Right purty,” he said. “You ever consider a career in law enforcement?”

  It took Yont about ten minutes to show hisself. He come bustlin’ up with Clarence an’ two more bluevests.

  “What the hell is goin’ on?” he yelled.

  Homer took his feet offa the rail an’ looked at me. “I got this,” he said, an’ stood up. “Howdy, Sheriff,” Homer went on. “That ol’ boy layin’ dead over there come to Ruben’s place carryin’ a jug a coal oil. I watched him splash some a that coal oil on the wall a Ruben’s house. Then, I’ll be damned if’n he didn’t reach into his pocket an’ take out a box a matches. Bein’ a experienced law enforcement officer, I come to a conclusion. Since ol’ Rube over here is fixin’ to kick yer ass somethin’ terrible in the upcomin’ election, an’ since this ol’ boy layin’ dead was one a yer little posse, I concluded that his behavior an’ the articles he had with him represented to Mister Beeler an’ his home serious threat, doncha see? I announced my presence an’ requested that the dead feller over there cease an’ desist his hateful activity. He took exception to my innerference an’ drawed his handgun. Then he aimed it at me an’ fired it. He mostly missed. In a effort to end his felonious activity an’ protect my own life, I aimed my Sharps at him an’ fired it. As you can see, I didn’t miss. We have kept the scene secure for you to look over, knowin’ you’d be concerned an’ all. One a your pups attempted to interfere an’ invade the scene. Officer Beeler here wouldn’t let him. That’s about it, wouldn’t you say, Officer Beeler?”

  “I speck so,” I said.

  “Now there are two or three gentlemen over there,” Homer said, noddin’ toward them boys that was waitin’ “that come on the scene right after it happened. They can attest to the fact that everthin’ is just as it was. I’m sure that yer investi-by God-gation will arrive at the same conclusions as ours has. I am just terrible sure a that, Arberry. Ain’t you?”

  Yont walked over to the body an’ looked around a little bit. Homer set back down, propped up his feet, an’ rolled another smoke. He’d just set fire to it when Arberry come back.

  “I can’t see anything to dispute what you told me,” he said.

  “That’s some good police work, Sheriff,” Homer said. “Why doan you git aholt of the undertaker an’ git that fire-startin’ piece a shit drug off?”

  Yont stomped away then, his two deputies trailin’ along behind him.

  “Hey, Homer,” I said, “you ever consider a career in law enforcement?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Things got kindly quiet for a couple a days. I took duty in town durin’ afternoon an’ evenings, Homer patrolled durin’ the evenin’ an’ night, Clarence took days, Marion come an’ went as he pleased, an’ Arliss? Arliss was just Arliss.

  Miss Harmony an’ me went for a buggy ride one mornin’, down by the river. We come back to the livery, turned out the team, an’ was considerin’ a bite to eat at the Sweetwater, when I heard a shot come from down that way. I took off an’ hustled in that direction. When I come on the main street, I seen three fellas carryin’ another fella as fast as they could around the corner an’ into the Doc’s office. I went over that direction an’ up the steps, bein’ careful ‘cause there was so much blood.

  The doc was bendin’ over the fella, rippin’ open the leg of his pants, high up on the thigh. Blood was pumpin’ outa him in spurts.

  Oh, Lord. It was Clarence. He was white as a sheet.

  The doc got a strap around his leg up by the crotch an’ tightened it down, then commenced to fussin’ with the wound. Purty soon he stood up, shakin’ his head.

  “There ain’t nothin’ I can do for him, boys,” he said. “That bullet plumb ruined that big artery in there. There just ain’t nothin’ I can do.”

  “Is he dead?” one a them fellas asked.

  All of a sudden, that blood flow just quit.

  “He is now,” the doc said.

  The office door crashed open an’ Miss Margie come tearin’ in, squallin’. She throwed herself on top a Clarence, clutchin’ at him an’ callin’ his name. Then she just broke down into cryin’. It was pitiful seein’ her like she was, an’ him like he was.

  That fella spoke up agin.

  “I seen it,” he said. “She was with him, walkin’ down by the Houston House. There was a feller standin’ there that said somethin’ to her. This fella
here stepped up an’ the other fella just pulled an’ shot him. Just like that. They wasn’t more than three feet apart. Then he went in the saloon.”

  I took Miss Margie by the shoulders then, an’ kindly eased her up offa Clarence. She stayed bent over some, holdin’ herself an’ moanin’ like. I urged her to the door an’ out onto the landin’. I seen Miss Harmony comin’ up the way, an’ she seen me. I settled Miss Margie on the steps, an’ she set there, still bent over, but quiet, an’ I went back inside to talk to the witness.

  “You seen the fella that done the shootin’?” I asked.

  “Yessir.”

  “You know him?”

  “Nossir,” he said. “I seen him around town the last few days. Squat feller. Got a face that looks sorta like a hog. Smells sour.”

  I looked down at Clarence agin’ an’ noticed his holster was empty. Somethin’ scratched at my mind. “This man pull his gun?” I asked.

  “Nossir,” the fella said. “He never had the chance.”

  I started for the door just as I heard Miss Harmony shout fer me. I busted out on the landin’ an’ she looked up at me. “Margie ran off,” she said, pointin’ down the way. “Ruben, she’s got a gun!”

  I headed down them steps to chase her, but my foot went out from under me, slippin’ in that blood, an’ I fell them last two steps. I smacked my knee purty hard an’ that slowed me down quite a bit. I got to my feet an’ went on, as fast as I could. I come around the corner an’ seen her runnin’ down toward the Houston House. She had a block an’ a half on me. I give it all I was worth but it warn’t near enough.

  I was still half a block behind her when she darted into that saloon. I run on an’ heard a gunshot, followed real quick by two more. I pulled my Schofield, busted through them swingin’ doors, an’ had to step lively to one side to keep from trippin’ over Margie where she lay on the floor. It was that side step that saved me, I reckon. Pig Wiggins was right there, not twenty feet away. He got off two shots at where I warn’t. I got off one at where he was.

  That bullet hit him in the throat an’ rocked him back some. He started to raise his piece an’ I shot him agin, this time in the belly. He sat down on the floor then, pink foam flowin’ out his mouth an’ blood runnin’ down his neck, lookin’ confused. Then them little pig eyes a his found me, an’ I couldn’t stand it. I shot him agin’, dead center chest, an’ he flopped over on his back, his right leg twitchin’ an’ his heel thumpin’ on the floor.

  I heard them doors bang open behind me an’ Marion say “Ruben?”

  “I’m all right,” I said, an’ turned to Margie. She was layin’ on her back, hit twice in the chest, Clarence’s handgun layin’ a couple a feet away. I lifted her head an’ looked down at her.

  “Clarence?” she said, an’ the light in her eyes went out. Just like that.

  Miss Harmony was waitin’ outside when I walked out. She put her arms around me an’ we hung onto each other for a spell. Marion come out after talkin’ to some folks an’ findin’ out what happened. The three of us stood there, not sayin’ much while the undertaker come an’ went. As the hearse pulled away, Arkansas Bill Cole come down the street on horseback. He turned his bay in our direction an’ stopped.

  “I heard what happened, an’ I doan hold with it,” he whispered. “Bad business, boys. I’m done here. See ya on down the trail.”

  “Better not,” Marion said.

  Cole brimmed his hat an’ touched the bay into a short lope. We all just stood there an’ watched him ride away.

  Nobody said nothin’ fer a while, an’ I noticed Marion’s jaw twitchin’ some. Purty soon, he spoke up.

  “By God, Ruben,” he said. “This here ends today.”

  He walked off then, an’ I follerd him.

  Arberry Yont was settin’ at his desk when we come in his office. He stood up real quick an’ started to say somethin’ an’ then there was a hole in his face where the top a his nose usta be, an’ the blast of a gunshot slammin’ offa the walls. As Yont hit the bookcase behind him an’ slid to the floor, Marion put his Colt back in the holster. I swear, I never seen him draw, cock, nor fire. It was that fast. It was just that goddam fast.

  “That’ll do it,” Marion said.

  I walked around the desk to where Yont lay, lifted his revolver outa the holster an’ tossed it on the floor.

  “I’m a witness,” I said. “I seen him pull on ya.”

  “Damn right you did,” Marion said, an’ walked out.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Deer Run made me temporary sheriff until I could git voted in at the election. A bunch a fellas left town. In what usta be Yont’s office I found a little safe set into the floor under a rug. Took me a while, but I prised it open. Inside there was near sixteen thousand dollars. I give Marion, Arliss, an’ Homer each a thousand an’ kept a thousand for myself. The rest I passed onto the consolidated churches old folks fund. Homer went back over to Gasconade County an’ Marion went back to marshalin’. About three weeks after I took office, two fellas by the names of Hank Buford an’ Emory Nail showed up with a note from Homer sayin’ they was good men an’ needed work. I hired me two new deputies on the spot. Miss Harmony an’ me kept on keepin’ company, an’ she made me try to start callin’ her just Harmony.

  A couple days after I was formally elected, I asked Arliss if I could borrow the wagon.

  “Rube,” he said, “I’m gittin’ tired a givin’ you permission to use that wagon. I have tolt ya that it’s as much your’n as it is mine. Take the durn thing!”

  “Thank you,” I said, grinnin’ at him.

  He eyeballed me some. “Whatcha need it for?” he asked.

  “I gotta go down to the yards an’ git me a mess a lumber.”

  “Why the hell do you need lumber?”

  Arliss,” I said, “if you must know all my business, I’m fixin’ to build a bedroom onto my little house.”

  Ya see, Miss Harmony an’ me had been talking some, an’ had reached a agreement. It warn’t gonna be just me an’ Arliss anymore.

  *****

  Author’s notes:

  Save an author; write a review.

  I would love to know what you think about DEER RUN TRAIL. Ratings and reviews are a great way to applaud (or boo) an author, so please consider leaving a review for DEER RUN TRAIL.

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  Please continued to the next page to read the first 4 chapters of the next book in the TRAIL series, NODAWAY TRAIL.

  Thanks,

  David

  Cutthroat Trail

  Coming in early 2016!

  Ruben, Marion, and Homer take to the trail once more…this time traveling to “The Nations” Indian Reservation in the Oklahoma Territory as they search for bloodthirsty serial killers.

  Check up on David R Lewis through his Ironbear Ebooks Facebook page for all the latest information on his writing as well as “bits” from his books. He posts daily.

  *****

  PREVIEW

  Saddle up with Ruben again as the sage continues when he and Marion ride the

  NODAWAY TRAIL

  CHAPTER ONE

  I was settin’ in front of the Sheriff’s Office thinkin’ about gittin’ me somethin’ to eat when he come ridin’ in on that big ol’ roan a his. I watched him git off an’ wrap a rein around the rail. He favored his back some. The roan got busy with the trough an’ he clanked his way up on the boardwalk, them Mexican spurs a his lettin’ a fella know evertime his boots hit. I hadden seen him in over a year, not since me an’ Harmony got hitched. He eased down in a chair beside me an’ I noticed a scar on his left cheekbone that wa
dden there afore. His big droopin’ mustache had gone near total gray. He put a ankle on a knee an’ squinted at the street for a minute.

  “Sheriff,” he said.

  “Marshal,” I said.

  We set there for another minute afore he grinned an’ slapped me on the knee.

  “Ruben, gawdammit!” he said, “are ya alright?”

  “I believe I am, Marion,” I said. “How the hell are you?”

  “I’m trail tired, boy,” he said, “an’ that there is the straight of it. What’s the Sweetwater got on special today?”

  “Are you so feeble ya cain’t even walk over an’ find out?” I asked him.

  “Mebbe you outa come with me in case I fall over and cain’t git up.”

  “Maybe I should,” I said. “We got laws agin’ folks layin’ around in the street in this town.”

  Marion grunted an’ stood up, then walked off down toward the corner on them godawful long legs a his. As usual, I followed along behind.

  We took a table near the back an’ the owner, a fella name a Hershel, come over.

  “Rube,” he said. “Marshal. We got some extra nice catfish today with green peas an’ fried potatoes, or chicken stew an’ cornbread.”

  We both took the catfish an’ stayed purty quiet until after we et an’ got coffee. Marion stirred a little brown sugar inta his.

  “Miss Harmony alright?” he asked.

  “Fixin’ to have a baby,” I said.

  “The hell she is!”

  “Yessir. Miz Clary says it’ll be a spell yet. Prob’ly November sometime.”

  “Ain’t that fine. You got a kitchen built on that place a your’n yet?” he asked.

  “Nossir,” I said. “After Harmony said she was gonna have a baby, her daddy wanted us to move into his place down at the livery. Nice big house, plenty a room. Even got that pump from the cistern right there in the kitchen. So we done it. I help out with the stock an’ on the forge some. So does Harmony. Cain’t git her to quit. We give my place to Arliss, it bein’ right behind his shop an’ all.”