Rio Loco

by Robert J Conley

  I stood up, taking my fresh drink what Aubrey had brung me.

  “Barjack,” Chugwater said, “no matter how many cowboys you kill, I can hire more.”

  “You got a endless supply a’ money, do you?” I said. “We’ll just see how fur it can go.” I walked on outta the Hooch House a-leaving him setting there a-fuming. I headed back to my office, but on the way I got me a idee. I stopped by Peester’s law office. I found the son of a bitch a-setting behind his ostentatious desk. He looked up, surprised.

  “Barjack?” he said. “Have you settled your problem with Chugwater?”

  “Not hardly,” I said.

  “Then what are you doing here? You should be at the jail.”

  “Mr. Mayor,” I said, “can you put a hold on someone’s bank account?”

  “Put a hold? What do you mean?”

  “I mean, being the mayor and all, can you stop a man from being able to get his money outta the bank?”

  “I—I suppose I could, but who and why?”

  “I want you to shut down ole Chugwater’s bank account. He’s got twenty men to be paying, and he says that if I kill all of them, he can hire twenty more. Just like that. We’ll cripple the bastard if we stop him from getting his money.”

  “I see. Well, I don’t know. That’s a serious step to take.”

  “Do you think it’s any more serious than killing more folks in our streets?”

  “Well, no, but I—”

  “Then do it, damn it. That’ll come closer to stopping this trouble than anything else we can do.”

  “I don’t know, Barjack.”

  “Listen, there’ll be a election coming up again here in a few more weeks. If the word was to get around how you went and stopped this wildness in our town, that would go a long way to making sure you’d be reelected, now, wouldn’t it?”

  He set and rubbed his chin some. Then he said, “Yes. I suppose it would.” He stood up right quick and surprised the hell outta me. “Come on,” he said.

  “Where we going?”

  “To the bank.”

  We walked on over there and went inside. Peester told the bank president to put a hold on Chugwater’s money. We had to do some explaining, but final the old shit agreed to do it. Chugwater wouldn’t get a damn dime outta the bank till we released his money. I actual shuck hands with Peester and said, “Thanks, Mr. Mayor. Now we’ll get this thing settled, I’m sure.”

  “I certainly hope so, Barjack,” he said, and I went back to the office.

  Soon as I walked in the door, after hollering out my name to make sure no one tuck a shot at me, ever’one commenced to asking me questions all at the same damn time. I yelled out for them to shut up, and then I said, “One at a time. Go on ahead, Sly.”

  “What did Chugwater want to talk about?” Sly said.

  So I went and tole them all about the conversation I’d had with ole Chugwater, including his claim to all the money in the world and how he could keep on a-hiring gunfighters to kill us all if I kept on refusing to turn a-loose ole Owl Shit. Well, that news give ’em all long faces. Then Butcher said, “I seen you through the window. I seen you go into Peester’s office.”

  “What was that all about, Barjack?” said Happy.

  So then I said, “Well, now, that there’s the good news,” and I went on and tole them what me and the mayor had did.

  “Well, then, that’s the end of it,” said Pistol Polly. “Ain’t it?”

  “Not quite yet,” I said. “It will sure as hell slow him down whenever his boys wants to get paid again, and it’ll damn sure keep him from hiring any new ones, I reckon.”

  “He’ll have some who are loyal,” said Sly. “They’ll stick with him no matter what.”

  “We’ll just have to kill a few more of them off,” I said. “He claims to still have twenty men with him.”

  “As soon as he finds out that you’ve stopped him from getting any more money out of the bank,” Sly said, “he’ll most likely try one more big push.”

  “That’s what I figger,” I said. “So we’ll have to be ready for them. And that reminds me, how come you and Butcher is both inside?” I looked at Happy whenever I said that.

  “Oh, well, we thought that it’s been pretty quiet around here for a few days,” said Happy.

  I said, “Get your ass up on the goddamn roof.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said, and he went for a rifle and then headed out the back door.

  “It was my fault, Marshal,” said Butcher. “I think it was me was supposed to be up there.”

  Pistol Polly was a-standing at the winder, and of a sudden, she said, “There goes Chugwater riding out of town.”

  I went and looked, and I seen him ride on out. “All right,” I said, “we best be keeping our eyes open now.”

  I finished off the drink what Aubrey had poured for me, and then I poured me another one outta my office bottle. I set down behint my desk to try to relax a bit while I still had the chance. Bonnie pulled over a chair and set down beside a’ me. She give me a hug that like to’ve upset me and my chair, but it never. It were about two hours later, maybe more, whenever Churkee was at the winder. He said he seen a couple a’ cowboys riding in. I got up and went to look. I seen them. They rid right over to the Hooch House and tied their critters up and went inside. I hoped they would get too drunk to be able to shoot straight. Then two more come riding in. They tied up their horses too, but they just went and stood on the boardwalk and staring down in our direction.

  Another hour went by, and they was twenty cowboys a-lining the street. Well, counting the two inside the Hooch House, they was twenty of ’em. Nobody had saw ole Chugwater, though. I wondered who it was a-giving the orders out there. I ast ole Sly what he thunk about it.

  “Someone has got to be in charge,” he said. “Someone has to maintain some kind of control.”

  “Chugwater coulda done made his plans out at the ranch,” I said. “Give them their orders and sent them on into town.”

  “If there are twenty men in town,” Sly said, “then the ranch is not protected.”

  “You reckon we should ought to hit it?” I said.

  “It would seem to be a good idea and an excellent chance,” he said. “The only thing is, we can’t leave this place unguarded.”

  “You reckon how many we could spare?”

  “I think maybe two of us could do some damage out there and still leave this place well fortified.”

  “Who do you think should ought to ride out?”

  “How about you and me, Barjack?” he said. “It’d be like old times.”

  “By God, I like it. Butcher, go out and relieve Happy. Tell him to get his ass down here.”

  “Yes, sir,” and Butcher was out the back door in no time. In another couple a’ minutes, Happy come back in.

  “Happy,” I said, “me and Sly’s going out to do a little chore. While I’m gone, you’re in charge here. Ever’one hear that? Happy’s in charge.”

  “Barjack,” said Bonnie, her voice kinda pleadinglike, “where are you going?”

  “Never you mind about that, sweet ass,” I said. “Me and Sly is going out to do something. We’ll be just fine. And we’ll be back in a couple or three hours, I reckon. Don’t worry your pretty little butt about it. We can sure as hell take care of ourselves.”

  “Be careful, Barjack,” she said. “Mr. Sly, take care of him for me.”

  “I promise, Miss Boodle,” Sly said.

  Me and Sly went to the gun rack and supplied ourselves with rifles and shotguns in addition to the sidearms what we carried, and we stuffed our jacket pockets with boxes of extry bullets and shotgun shells. Then we went out the back door and slipped on down to the livery stable, where we got our horses and had them saddled up. Sly give me a look.

  “Are you ready, Barjack?” he said.

  “You damn betcha,” I said. “Let’s ride.”

  We mounted up and we rid outta Asininity the back way so’s none a’ the cowboys wou
ld see us. I was a-hoping that the damn cowboys wouldn’t start nothing while we was gone, but if they did, Happy could handle things. I was pretty sure about that. Well, they never started nothing for as long as we was still within hearing a’ the town, on account a’ I never heared no gunshots. None a’tall. Neither did ole Sly. It was coming on nighttime, and the sky was a-getting dark. We rid along easy, not wanting to wear our horses down none.

  “What do you reckon we’ll do whenever we get there?” I ast Sly.

  “I figure we’ll look over the lay of the land and decide then,” he said.

  I couldn’t think a’ no better answer, so I just let it go at that. We went along quietlike for the next several miles. Final we reached the ranch, and we rid up close to the big ranch house. There was a light in one a’ the winders. We didn’t see no cowboys around.

  “What do you think, Barjack?” Sly said.

  “I think ole Chugwater’s home alone.”

  “I think you’re right,” he said. “Let’s burn his barn for starts.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Well, we studied on the lay a’ the land for a little longer, and we never seen no one hanging around. They was a few horses in the corral but not too many. We figgered old Chugwater had all a’ his boys either in town a-watching the jailhouse or else out on the roads watching to keep ever’one in town and no one else from coming in. It sure as hell looked to us like as if he was at home alone. So we decided to move on out. We hauled out our sidearms just in case and we sneaked our ass down close to the barn. We opened up the door just a little bit so we could sneak ourselves in and look around. We wanted to make sure there weren’t no horses or other critters inside on account a’ we didn’t want to hurt no animals. There wasn’t nothing alive in there ’cept maybe some rats or such.

  So we moved over to where there was a big stack a’ hay, and we struck a couple a’ matches and lit it on fire. Then we stood there and watched for a spell to make sure it was a-going good, and then we went back out the way we had come in. Looking around real careful in case someone should show up and spot us out there, we went a-hurrying back to our hidey place in that batch a’ trees. We hung around there and watched till we seen the flames a-licking at one a’ the walls a’ the barn. Then ole Sly, he give me a look.

  “Do you suppose we’ve done enough damage here tonight?” he ast me.

  I had me a thought of a sudden, and I reached into my inside coat pocket and hauled out one a’ them sticks a’ dynamite I had been toting around on me. I helt it out for Sly to get a good look at.

  “What do you reckon we could do with this?” I said.

  He grinned. “We could sure shake him up a bit,” he said. “Do you have a cigar in your pocket?”

  “I sure do.”

  “Light it up,” he said.

  I tuck one out and poked it in my mouth. Then I dug around for another match and lit up. I puffed awhile and got it going real good. “Now what?” I said.

  “Come with me.” He led the way outta the trees and we walked a few feet closter up to the house. The barn was a-burning pretty damn good by then, but no one had poked his head outta the house yet. “How’s your throwing arm?” he ast me.

  “Well, it ain’t what it used to be,” I said.

  “Let me have that stick,” he said, and I give it to him. He helt it up with the fuse a-poking straight up, and he said, “Light it.” I stuck the burning end a’ my cigar to the end a’ that fuse till of a sudden it went to fizzing and sparking. Sly tuck a couple a’ steps toward the house and give a hell of a swing. It looked like a Fourth a’ July celebration with that sparking fuse a-trailing through the air in a great big arc, and when it come down it lit right close to the front porch a’ the main ranch house, where we figgered ole Chugwater was holed up all by his lonesome.

  Then it blowed. The noise was deafening. It had been so damn quiet out there till that, that it damn near scared me half to death. It roared like a hundred thousand lions all at once. And the ground shook underneath our feet. A monstrous huge cloud a’ dirt and rocks went up from where the stick had blowed, and a bunch of it come showering down on our heads. We couldn’t even see the house no more for the dense cloud a’ smoke and dust and other debris. Then there was the stench. It smelled like what a battlefield musta smelt like. All that burning black powder and such a-filling the air and our nostrils. It burnt my nose to just breathe.

  The air cleared some, and I had pulled out my Merwin Hulbert, just in case. I noticed that ole Sly, standing to my left, had his Colt out too. Then we seen the front door a’ the house come open and ole Chugwater stepped out onto his porch. He was a-holding a Winchester rifle in his hands and looking all around real wildlike.

  “Who is it? Who’s out there?” he called out.

  We never answered him. Instead, ole Sly, he said to me, “Let’s clear out.” And we went to running back to where we had left our mounts. They was stamping around kinda nervouslike, I figgered from the noise a’ the explosion. Sly was in his saddle first, and I was still a-struggling to get my foot in the stirrup. Sly rode up close beside a’ me and reached down with his right hand, grabbing a handful a’ my coat in the back and hauling me up. I swung my leg over and set in the saddle. “Come on,” I said, and we lit outta there lickety-split as fast as ever we could make them nags move.

  I reckon ole Chugwater heared the hoofs a-pounding on account a’ he fired off a few rounds in our general direction. They was just wasted shots, though. I knowed that he couldn’t see us where we was at. We was back on the road into Asininity in a hurry, but we knowed that Chugwater’s boys was a-watching that road, so whenever we got close in, we swung around wide and rid through the prairie to come into town the back way. We come in behint the jailhouse and tied our horses there. Then we walked up to the back door and I pounded on it. “It’s Barjack and Sly,” I hollered. “Let us in.”

  My Bonnie ripped open the door and we went on in. Bonnie shut the door and bolted it back. When we went into the main room, ever’one kinda gathered up around us. I seen them all ’cept for ole Butcher. “Is Butcher on the roof?” I ast.

  “Yes, sir, Barjack,” said Happy.

  “What’s been going on in here?” I said.

  “Nothing, Barjack,” said Happy.

  “You mean as long as we been gone, them Chugwaters ain’t done nothing?”

  Happy scratched his head a little. “No, sir,” he said. “They ain’t done a damn thing the whole time you been gone.”

  I scratched my head. “We was gone for quite a spell,” I said.

  “Yes, sir, I know you was,” said Happy. “But they ain’t done nothing but take turns a-looking at us.”

  “There was a time I thought they was going to make a move,” said Polly, “but it didn’t turn out to be nothing.”

  “Well, what did they do?” I ast.

  “I was watching out the front winder,” she said, “and four of them come out with rifles in their hands. They walked a few steps thissaway, and then they stopped and just looked. Pretty soon, they turned around and walked back.”

  “And that was it?”

  “That was it.”

  “They were just trying to make us nervous,” said Sly, “which is basically what we were doing out at Chugwater’s ranch.”

  “But ’cept we done it a little more daring than what they done,” I added.

  “What did you do, Barjack?” said Bonnie, and she were just a-frothing at the mouth.

  “We just burned his barn down,” I said. “That’s all.”

  “Burned the whole damn barn down?” said Happy.

  “The whole damn thing,” I said.

  “That wasn’t quite all,” said Sly. “We tossed a stick of dynamite at his house.”

  “When that thing blowed,” I said, “Chugwater come a-running out his front door with his eyes as big as bulls’ balls and rolling all around in his head, looking this way and that, and yelling for all he was worth.”

  “Well,” said
Churkee, who had been quiet up till then, “I’d say of the two exchanges, you got the better of him.”

  “Barjack?” said Happy.

  “What is it?” I said.

  “Why don’t some of us go back out there and do some more damage? Like maybe burn his house down?”

  “If we was to burn down ever’thing he’s got out there and even kill all a’ his cattle, he’d still have twenty drunk cowhands in town to wipe us out. I think we done all the damage we can do out there. Or at least, all we need to do.”

  “Well, what are we going to do now?”

  “Wait for him to make the next move,” I said, looking at Sly, and he nodded. “We just now pissed him off a whole damn bunch. He’ll do something.”

  Nothing more happened that night, but it were right early the next morning when I heared someone a-hollering outside. I got my ass up and went to my desk to pour me out a glass a’ hooch. Then I strapped on my Merwin Hulbert and went to the front winder to look out. There in the middle a’ the damn street was ole Chugwater hisself on his big horse. He had six cowhands standing behind him in the street, each one holding a rifle. “Barjack, goddamn you,” he was a-yelling. I opened the door a crack and peeked out.

  “What the hell do you want, Chugwater?” I said.

  “You sorry son of a bitch,” he said, “you burned my barn last night.”

  “So what if I did? You been a-bringing this fight all here to my office. I just figgered I’d bring it back out to you for a change.”

  “But my barn. Did you have to burn my barn?”

  “I reckon we coulda come a little closter to your house with that there dynamite,” I said.

  “Goddamn you.”

  “Did you come all the way into town just to set in the street and cuss me?” I ast him.

  “No,” he said. He were a little quieter by this time. “I thought we could have us a little talk. See if there ain’t some way we could end all this before anyone else gets hurt—or killed maybe.”

  “What you got in mind, Chugwater?” I said.

  “This ain’t no way to talk, Barjack,” he said. “Yelling back and forth across the street.”

  “You got another idee?”