Rio Loco

by Robert J Conley

  Of a sudden, I begun to worry about my Bonnie. Would Chugwater mess with her? I wondered. I didn’t think so, but then you never know what a bastard will do whenever he gets desperate. I thunk about taking all my posse over to the Hooch House, but then, who would watch the jail? I didn’t have enough men to split them up neither. Not against that bunch of Chugwater’s. I drank my whiskey on down fast and poured me another glass full. I thunk to my own self, If that Chugwater bothers my Bonnie, there’ll be hell to pay. I won’t kill him. Not right off. I’ll tie his ass up and strip his skin off. Real slow. I’ll skin him alive and tack his hide up right in front of him, him there all raw and bleeding. He had ought to know it too, and if he knows it, he’ll leave her alone and just only pay for his damn drinks over there, is all.

  “Dingle,” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “Has any a’ them seen you with us? Besides them two I just kilt, I mean.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Then you’d oughta be safe out there. I want you to go back over to the Hooch House and set in a corner and keep your eyes and ears open. If anything happens that hadn’t ought to, come back over here and tell me.”

  “I’ll do it,” he said, and he headed for the door.

  “Wait a minute,” I said. I got up and tuck a Webley Bulldog pocket pistol outta my gun rack and I dropped it into his coat pocket. “Go out the back door,” I said.

  “Okay.” He turned and went out through the back room. He was a-carrying his notepad with him.

  Polly said, “Barjack, will he be all right?”

  “I think so,” I said. “They don’t know that he’s with us. He’s just only a scribbler, is all. They won’t mess with him.”

  “Barjack,” said Sly, “what if I was to slip out the back and sneak around to see if I get a chance to take any of them out, one at a time? Narrow the odds, so to speak.”

  I rubbed my chin and give it a thought. It seemed like not a bad idee. “I think there’s enough of us in here,” I said. “It sure as hell couldn’t hurt nothing. All right. Go on ahead.”

  He headed into the back room.

  Chapter Six

  Well, now, let me tell you what. I were uncomfortable. I had ole Butcher up on top a’ the jailhouse a-watching, and ole Dingle down at the Hooch House a-watching and a-listening, and now ole Sly out a-hunting lone cowboys to kill, and there I was just a-setting in the office killing time with my rest of the depitties and that damned ole Owl Shit setting in the can. I felt kinda like I had ever’body else out a-doing my work for me. Then I thunk about it a little bit deeperlike. It come to me that maybe that there was just the way it had ought to be. Being town marshal, I had a lot a’ responsibilities, and I had the job a’ delegating that there responsibility too. You might even say that were the mainest part a’ my job. That there delegating. Why, hell, I weren’t s’posed to do ever’thing. I felt some better whenever I seen it like that. Yes, sir. It seemed almost like as if I weren’t s’posed to do nothing a’tall. I poured myself another glass full a’ whiskey and relaxed.

  “I wish we could be doing something,” Churkee said all of a sudden.

  “We’re a-doing all we can do for now,” I said.

  “Barjack?” said Happy.

  “What?”

  “Do you think we can hold out here against all a’ them Chugwater hands till the judge gets here?”

  “Hell, yes,” I said. “We been doing all right so far, ain’t we? Ain’t we got ole Sly, the widdamaker, with us? And Churkee and Polly over there. Ain’t they top guns? And then you and Butcher ain’t no slouches. And how about me? Hell, I’ve got books writ about me, ain’t I?”

  “Yes, sir,” Happy said.

  “Just who the hell is Chugwater anyhow? He’s just a old rancher. A cowpuncher. That’s all. He ain’t nothing to worry about.”

  “I guess not,” Happy said. “He’s sure got a bunch a’ men working for him, and if they ain’t enough, he’s got the money to hire more whenever he wants to.”

  “Hell, I’ve got money, ain’t I? I’m one a’ the wealthiest men in Asininity, ain’t I? Chugwater ain’t got nothing on me. No, sir. He’s just got that damn funny name, is all. Chugwater. I don’t know if he’s named after that damn crick what runs by the edge a’ town or if the crick was named after him. I ain’t for sure. But that ain’t no claim to fame no-how. Chugwater. Named after a crick what’s dry for more than half a’ the year.”

  “Chugwater Crick,” Happy kinda mused. “Funny. I never even thought about that before.”

  “Well, you think about it. Don’t it seem silly to be a-worrying over a man with a dumb name like that? Chugwater.”

  “Barjack, that Chugwater Crick runs through here from plumb out to Chugwater’s ranch, don’t it?”

  “I reckon it do,” I said.

  “That’s funny,” he said. “Do you reckon his mama named him Chugwater?”

  “How’d I know?”

  “Can I say something, Marshal?”

  I looked around right quick at Owl Shit there in the cell. It were him what ast that question. “What the hell do you want?” I said.

  “I just asked you if I can say something, ’cause I don’t want to get no water throwed on me.”

  “Go on and say it,” I told him.

  “She never done that.”

  “Who? What are you talking about?”

  “Mama. She never named him Chugwater. What kind of a mama would name a kid Chugwater?”

  “She never?” said Happy.

  “No. She never.”

  “So what the hell did she name him?”

  “Charlton,” said Owl Shit.

  I bursted out a-laughing so hard that I like to fell outta my chair. Whenever I kinda caught my breath again, I tuck out another glass and poured it full a’ whiskey. “Happy,” I said, holding it out, “give this here to Owl Shit. He deserves it for letting us in on that little family secret.”

  Happy tuck the glass over to the cell and handed it through the bars to Owl Shit, who grabbed on to it real eagerlike and slurped on it right away. “Thank you, Barjack,” he said. Then he turned to Happy. “Say,” he said, “is Happy your own real name?”

  Happy kinda hung his head like as if he were ashamed a’ something. “Yeah,” he said, “it is.”

  “Your mama give it to you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How come her to call you that? Happy.”

  “Well, Owl Shit, whenever I final come on out, she were Happy.”

  “We could give you a nickname, Happy,” said Churkee. “Something like, maybe, Gregory.”

  “Barjack,” Happy said, “ain’t it about time for me to relieve Butcher?”

  “I reckon as how it is,” I said, and he hurried on outta the jailhouse. Just as he slammed the door shut behint him, I heared a shot ring out. Churkee was the first one to the door, but I was close behint him.

  “What was that?” Churkee called out.

  Butcher come a-walking around the corner. “That was Happy shooting at a cowboy,” he said. “I asked him, how come you to do that? And he said, Barjack’s orders. If we see one a’ Chugwater’s men, we’re s’posed to shoot him first and ask questions later. Is that right, Barjack?”

  “That’s what I said. You never heared me say it on account a’ you was up on the roof.”

  “It was all right, then?”

  “Damn right,” I said. “Did Happy hit the son of a bitch?”

  “I think he shot a hole in the cowboy’s leg,” said Butcher. “He howled and went a-hopping into the Hooch House.”

  “Maybe he’ll bleed to death,” I said. We all went back inside the marshaling office, and I went back behint my desk. I was a-looking out the hole in my front door what Pistol Polly had put there whenever she like to of kilt ole Dingle. I seen a flash across it from outside, and just in time I reckanized ole pettifogging Peester, the mayor a’ Asininity. Pistol had raised that shotgun, and I yelled, “Don’t shoot.” She just had
time to raise that barrel up as she pulled the trigger. The roar a’ that scattergun inside the office like that damn near made my ears deaf, but I did hear Peester scream, and whenever the smoke cleared a little bit and I could see out the hole again, I didn’t see him nowhere. I got up and run to the door and jerked it open to look out.

  I seen Peester on his back in the dirt where he had fell off a’ the boardwalk. “Peester,” I said, “are you hurt?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I am. My butt is bruised.” He reached over and picked up his silly little bowler hat and helt it up for me to look at. “And look. My hat is ruined.” It did have little holes all in it.

  “That ain’t no loss,” I said. “You can buy you a real one to replace it.”

  “What the hell was that all about?” he said, struggling to get up to his feet. “I might have been killed.”

  “I couldn’t be that lucky, Your Orneriness,” I said. “Get up and come on in.”

  I went on back to my chair behint my desk and set down. I tuck me a drink a’ whiskey. Peester come huffing in then. “Why was I nearly killed?” he said.

  “On account I hollered out a warning just in time,” I said. “If it weren’t for that, you woulda been.”

  “You know what I mean,” he said. His face was red, and he was a-trembling all over. “Why are you shooting at people through the front door of your office?”

  “Oh, that,” I said. “Well, I told ever’one who might be coming into the office to holler out their name before they went for the door. I guess I forgot to tell you. You see, we got a killer in jail here. It’s Owl Shit Johnson. Ole Chugwater’s baby brother, and Chugwater is a-trying to break him out. He’s got the town plumb full a’ his cowhands right now.”

  “Is that what all the shooting has been about?”

  “Sure as hell. Are you just now getting around to asking about that?”

  “Never mind that,” he said. “I came down here to give you this telegram.”

  He helt out a piece a’ paper toward me, but I never reached for it. I tuck another swaller a’ my whiskey. “Read it to me,” I said.

  He looked more than a little put out, but he went and read it out loud anyhow. “The judge is detained in Frog Gulley. Stop. Will be in Asininity a week late. Stop. That’s it.”

  I come up outta my chair real fast. “A week late,” I roared. “Goddamn it. He can’t do that to me. A week late.” I picked up my glass and drained it down. Then I picked up the bottle and refilled the glass. I dropped back down into my chair real heavylike. Ever’body in the room come a-gethering around me.

  “What’s the matter with that, Barjack?” Peester said.

  “That means we have to hold out here against Chugwater and his army for a whole damn two weeks,” I said.

  “Well,” he said, “do your best,” and he turned to head back out the door. “I’ll be back when this entire unpleasantness is over with.” He slammed the door behint him as he left.

  “I wish you’da kilt him, Pistol,” I said.

  “It was you that stopped me,” she said.

  “Don’t remind me.”

  “Barjack,” said Churkee, “how are we going to hold out in here for another whole week? We haven’t even got through the first week yet.”

  “We can do it,” I said, not hardly believing my own words. “We’ll have to go out and stock up on some stuff. Food. Ammunition. Tobacco.”

  “Some soap,” said Polly.

  “Okay,” I said. “Ever’body think on what we’ll need, and we’ll make out a list.”

  We got the list all made out, and then Polly said, “Who’s going to go out and fetch all that stuff?”

  “I think you’ll go,” I answered her. “I don’t think Chugwater and his boys’ll shoot a gal.”

  “All right,” she said. “Who’ll set here with this shotgun?”

  “Churkee,” I said, and Churkee walked up to her and tuck the gun. She got up outta her chair and he set down in it. I scribbled out a note authorizing Polly to charge up all the stuff on the list at whatever store she had to go into to get it, and she tuck off. I settled back down to wait. I had put extry bottles a’ whiskey on the list right at the top with a note to get it from the Hooch House, and I had put ceegars down and then I had put dynamite. A bunch a’ sticks, and a box a’ matches. I remembered how I had done near blowed up the whole town a-getting them Bensons that one time. I would do it again if it were called for.

  By God, it weren’t long before Bonnie come a-hollering at the front door, and we let her in, and she had some men with her a carrying a goddamn bathing tub. They set it down in the empty cell, and she sent them out to lug pails a’ hot water in.

  “What the hell is this all about?” I said.

  “Polly said that some folks in here sure needed a bath,” she said. “She had bought some soap, but said you needed a tub. Here’s the soap. I brung it along.”

  “Where’s Polly?” I said.

  “She’s still a-shopping,” Bonnie said. “You give her a long list.”

  “It weren’t all that long,” I said.

  “She had to stop at the Hooch House,” Bonnie said, “and at the general store. I seen that list. It was long.”

  “All right,” I said. “I guess it were.”

  I didn’t want to get into no fight with Bonnie right there in front a’ all a’ my depitties and even ole Owl Shit, so I just agreed with her and shut the hell up. “Well, anyhow,” I said, “I don’t need that damn thing. I just had me a bath.”

  Bonnie looked over at me and smiled, a sickening, sweet smile, and I give her a grin in return.

  “You can hang a blanket up on the bars there,” she said, “and it’ll be almost like having a private bathroom. Where you keep your blankets, Barjack?”

  “In the back room,” I said.

  She waddled back there and come out in another minute with a stack a’ blankets in her arms, and she went over to the cell and went to hanging them up. And by God, she was right. She damn near made a private bathroom right there in my jailhouse. Then she reached down between her great big tits and hauled out that bottle a’ bubbly stuff and went and poured some in the water.

  “Now,” she said, stepping back out into the office, “I suggest that you nasty ole men wait till Miss Polly returns and let her use the water first. Then you can take your turns.”

  “They’ll wait,” I said.

  “I had me a bath just a few weeks ago,” Butcher said.

  “You’ll get another one today,” said Bonnie.

  Butcher looked at me with a kinda pleading look, and I looked back at him kinda sternlike and I nodded my head. Well, here come Polly, and she hollered out her name and come on in and put the stuff all on my desk. Bonnie told her that her bath was ready and showed her into the cell. Well, Polly were pretty damn thrilled. Then Bonnie tuck a chair and set her ass down on it right where someone coulda walked to take a peek around the blanket that was a-hanging there, and she pulled out her little Merwin Hulbert thirty-two caliber what I had got for her.

  “The first man what walks over thissaway,” she said, “is going to get shot.”

  Ever’one moved back the other way. Whenever Pistol Polly final got outta the tub and got herself dressed up again, she tuck the shotgun back from Churkee and told him to take a turn in the tub. He never had to be told twice. He went right in there, and then Bonnie and Polly went to fixing us up some good sandwiches with part a’ what Polly had brung back from her shopping trip. She even tuck one in to Churkee so he could eat while he was in the water.

  By and by, he come out and he was all dried and dressed. I looked at Butcher. “Harvey,” I said, “I think it’s your turn now.”

  “Aw, Barjack—”

  “Go on,” I said, and so he stomped his ass on into the cell behint the blankets.

  “It ain’t fair, you calling me that name when you won’t even tell me what yours is,” he yelled. I heared him splashing into the water.

  “There a
in’t nothing wrong with Harvey,” I said. “It’s a perfect good name. I think I knowed someone else who was called by that name once. Harvey.”

  Chapter Seven

  We all of us slept around in the jail that night except for either Happy or Butcher, one of which had to stay up on the roof at all times. I didn’t want none of ole Chugwater’s boys a-sneaking up on us, so I made ’em do that all night. It musta been somewheres around midnight when I and ever’one else was awoke rudely by a loud and raspy voice a-calling out, “Hey, in there. Don’t shoot. Let me in. It’s Bonnie.” Well, I set up right quick and I seen Pistol Polly a-walking to the door to open it up. Bonnie come flouncing in, and Polly shut the door behint her and latched it again. I was on a cot in the extra cell, and I set up straight as a supporting pole for the roof overhang.

  “Bonnie,” I said, “what the hell are you a-doing here?”

  She come a-running into the cell and grabbed me around with both a’ her arms and squished me real damn good. “Barjack,” she said, “I was worried about you and missing you something fierce.”

  “Hell,” I said, “I’m okay over here. There weren’t no need for you to come all the way down here like that.”

  “I want to stay here with you,” she said, “just in case something was to happen.”

  “There ain’t no need for that.”

  “Just in case some a’ Chugwater’s boys was to show up,” she said. “I want to be with you.”

  I seen then that she was a-wearing, hanging over her shoulder, the gun belt I had give her with her thirty-two-caliber Merwin Hulbert in the holster. She meant to be ready for anything what might come up. I mean, that woman weren’t a-skeered a’ nothing a’tall. I couldn’ta done myself no better than have that there woman. She woulda tuck on a grizzler bear for me, I know it. She of a sudden pulled my face right toward her own and give me a big, sloppy smack on the lips. “I love you, Barjack,” she said.

  I kinda looked around to see that ever’one else had done dropped back off to sleep before I give her a answer, and then I said, “I love you too, sweet swaying hips.” Then she laid me back down and undid my britches. “Bonnie,” I said, “there’s a mess a’ folks in here.”