Rio Loco

by Robert J Conley

  “We could get a table at the Hooch House.”

  “And have me in there all alone surrounded by your twenty cowhands? Bullshit.”

  “I could leave Oscar here inside with your people,” he said. “You and me could go on down to the Hooch House. No one would bother you. I give you my word on that.”

  I looked at Sly and he shrugged.

  “Okay,” I said, “send Oscar on up here.”

  “Go on, Oscar,” Chugwater said over his shoulder, and the cowhand on the far right stepped forward.

  “Tell him to leave his guns behind,” I said. Chugwater told him, and Oscar shucked his weapons, giving them to another of the hands in the lineup out yonder. Then he come a-walking on up to the front door a’ the jailhouse. I opened the door wide and stepped aside for him to come through. I give him a look as he walked by me. “Boys,” I said, even though two a’ my crew was gals, “look after him real good while I’m out.” I holstered my Merwin Hulbert and walked on outside. I walked right beside a’ Chugwater plumb over to the Hooch House.

  We went inside and I tuck ole Chugwater back to my private table, where I found three a’ his cowhands a-setting. “Tell them bastards to get up from my private table,” I said to Chugwater.

  “Move it, boys,” he said, and they scattered. We set down and Aubrey come a-bringing our drinks. Of a sudden, there was about eight cowboys all a-standing around me with guns pointed at most ever’ part a’ my body and hammers cocked.

  “Hold it,” said Chugwater. “Get back to your drinks. We have a truce called.”

  They put away their weapons and went back to wherever they had come from around the barroom. I tuck a swig a’ my drink. Chugwater tasted his.

  “Barjack,” he said, “this is crazy. It can’t just go on and on like this indefinitely.”

  “No, it can’t,” I said. “What do you got to suggest?”

  “Let Owl Shit go free,” he said. “We’ll call it off. No more shooting. No getting even. It’ll just all be over with and done.”

  “’Cept only you win. Right? You get your way, but what do I get?”

  “You and your people get to stay alive,” he said.

  “I can’t do that, Chugwater,” I tole him. “And you know that. Now here’s my offer. You take all a’ these cowhands back to the ranch, and just forget about Owl Shit. You get to keep your house and your crew. No more shooting. No getting even.”

  “Damn it, Barjack,” he said, “you know I can’t do that. I’d lose my baby brother, and I’d lose the respect of all my crew. They could never believe anything I said again. They’d never trust me.”

  “I coulda tole you how this conversation was going to end up. So that’s all they is to it. They’s nothing left for it but for us to fight it out to the last man. And I can tell you, you ain’t a-going to win this one.”

  “By God, I will,” he said, and he slammed his fist down on the table.

  “We’ll see about that. We’ll see who lives to tell the tale. I reckon it’ll be the stuff a’ Dingle’s next book.”

  “Yeah. Barjack’s last fight,” he said. “The Burying of Barjack.”

  “Just put in Chugwater where you said Barjack,” I told him, “and you’ll likely be right close to the truth. So now if this conversation is over with and did, I’ll be a-getting my ass back to the jailhouse.”

  “I’ll kill you before you leave this room,” he said, a-pulling out his pistol.

  “And who’ll ever be able to believe you again?” I said. “You told these boys that we had us a truce. Is that any way to end a truce?”

  He kept his gun a-pointed at me, but he said, “All right. Get on back down to the jail, then.”

  I stood up and looked down at him. “When I leave,” I said, “I want you to move away from my private table, and I want you to keep your men away from it too.”

  He stood up then and follered me to the door. I went on outside and headed straight for the jailhouse and marshaling office. Chugwater walked along behint me. I seen nervous-looking Chugwater cowhands all along the way, but they seen their boss with a gun at my back, and they never went for theirs. Whenever I was about six steps away from the front door to the jailhouse, Chugwater said, “Hold it right there.” I stopped, and it tuck ever’thing I had in me to keep from showing how scared I was.

  “All right, Barjack,” Chugwater said, “the truce is over right now, and we’re going to start shooting at the count of three.”

  “Open up for Barjack,” I shouted, and I run for all I was worth for that damn door. Just as I was about to ram my head into it, it come open, and I went to diving headlong through the doorway and into the office. As I dug my old face into the floor, bullets was a-spanging into the door and the floor all around me. I don’t know how many bastards was out there a-shooting at me, but it sure as hell sounded like as if there was a small goddamn army out there. Whenever my feet cleared the space, someone slammed the door shut, and then they went to shooting back through the winders and whoever it was up on the roof was a-shooting too.

  I pushed someone aside at the winder and stuck my Merwin Hulbert out and tuck me a shot at that damned Chugwater. Either my aim was high or I jerked the trigger too damn much on account a’ I blowed the hat off a’ the top a’ his head. “Shit. Goddamn,” I said. I went to take aim again, but he run acrost the street and hid hisself in a doorway. I sure did wish I had aimed a bit lower.

  Well, now, ever’one was shooting outta some nook or cranny, so I reckoned as how they didn’t need me a-shooting too. I walked back to my desk and around it to set down, and I seen that Oscar a-setting on the floor with his knees all pulled up a-hiding from all the flying lead. I grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him up onto his feet. “Come on, Oscar,” I said. “Chugwater sent me home, so I reckon it’s your time to go on back as well.” I walked him over to the door. I opened it a crack, and I yelled out, “Chugwater. I’m a-coming out after you.” Then I jerked the door full open and shoved Oscar out. He were shot plumb to pieces before any a’ the shooters tuck notice a’ who it was they was a-killing.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chugwater called off his boys right after that, and he called out to see would we let them pick up what was left a’ Oscar. I told them to come on ahead, and I told all a’ my people to not bother them whilst they was a-doing it. I knowed that Oscar would commence to stinking before too much longer, and that he would commence to calling up flies around the front door. I sure didn’t envy them none, the ones what ole Chugwater made to pick up the carcass on account a’ it was sure enough a mess from all a’ them bullets what had hit it.

  “How many of them did we kill?” I ast.

  “Nary a one that I could tell,” said Happy. “Just that one that they theyselfs kilt.”

  “Well, hell,” I said. “They’s still nineteen of them out there. And Chugwater.”

  “That means that there’s still twenty that we got to fight,” said Happy.

  “I’m glad you passed third-grade arithmetic, Happy,” I said.

  “We can still handle them,” said Sly.

  I was glad a’ his confidence. He had fought in many a range war and such, and if he had confidence in our chance, it give me some. Some but not too much. I was thinking about them twenty men out there. But ole Sly, the great widdamaker, he was sure a good one to have on our side. I couldn’t think a’ no one else I would rather have with me in a fight, especial a big one like this here was. I was amazed that we hadn’t had no one hurt or kilt yet, and I was afraid a’ what might be yet to come of it. And then I got to thinking a’ how much it pissed me off to have all a’ them twenty bastards over in my own Hooch House a-drinking my booze, and I betted my own self that they wasn’t even paying for it neither. I was losing a fortune on this deal.

  Well, by God, I would make up for it. Whenever the fight was over and did with, and ole Chugwater was deader’n hell, I would attach all a’ his cattle and move them over onto my own ranch. That thought made me feel some
better, but ’cept he weren’t dead yet, and he still had nineteen cowboys a-backing up his play. I poured myself a glass a’ whiskey and had a long drink. Then I went and offered it around. Happy tuck one and so did Polly and Churkee. My sweet tits Bonnie had one too. But Sly abstained. Dingle never even answered me. He just set in the corner with his pad and pencil a-scribbling. Owl Shit stood at the bars a-drooling, but I just let him drool. I weren’t feeling none too kindly toward none a’ Chugwater’s family just then.

  Happy finished his drink and said it were about time for him to relieve Butcher up on the roof, and so he went out the back door, and in another minute Butcher come in. I give him a drink.

  “Thanks, Barjack,” he said. “Say. I didn’t see any cowboys fall a while ago in that shoot-out. Did we get any of them?”

  “No, we never,” I said. “They got one a’ their own, is all.”

  Then I got to feeling real drowsy all over, and so I put my feet up on the desk and leaned back to catch a nap. It come over me then that I was getting a little old for this kinda life. It didn’t take too much anymore to make my muscles commence to hurting, and I had to get to sleep earlier in the evening. I couldn’t eat quite as much as I was used to eating. There was only a few things what I could still do that I used to do, and some of them hurt me whenever I done them. It come to me that I could just drop dead any ole time, and I didn’t like that thought. At least not till I had won this fight with Chugwater. I would hate to drop dead and have him get ole Owl Shit outta my jail and gloat about it over my grave. Hell, they would probably even put the word out that they had kilt me instead a’ me just dropping over dead for no real reason. I decided then that I would have to stay alive for a while yet. There just wasn’t no choice in the matter.

  I wondered as I was a-dropping off to sleep if I would be a ghost after I was dead. And I thought that if I was, I would damn sure ha’nt ole Chugwater and his baby brother, Owl Shit. If I knowed for sure that was what would happen, I wouldn’t mind it so much. I dranked up the rest a’ my whiskey outta my glass, and then my head dropped onto my chest, and I brung it back up with a jerk. I was fixing to drop off to sleep no matter what, so I just kinda eased my head down and relaxed.

  After a while I’d had enough, so I just stood up outta my chair. I poured another tumbler full a’ whiskey and dranked it down in two or three big gulps. Damn but it was good. Then I walked over to the jail cell, and I was startled to see the door standing wide open. Owl Shit were gone. I looked around and none a’ my people was in the office. I was all by my own self. “Damn it,” I cussed, and stamped the floor. I tried to figger out what might coulda happened. I couldn’t come up with no way Chugwater and his boys could get into the office and take over from my gang while I was asleep and not wake me up. The only other thing was if one a’ my bunch had made a deal with Chugwater, and they had broke up and let Owl Shit out real quietlike while I was snoozing. But who woulda done me thattaway? Who? Not Sly. I couldn’t imagine him a-doing me like that. Happy? Happy were too stupid to make any decision on his own.

  I decided that I weren’t going to let this happen without a fight. I checked my Merwin Hulbert, and then I went outside and mounted up on my ole horse. I turned him and rid outta town, going toward Chugwater’s ranch. It didn’t seem like it tuck me no time to get there, and whenever I rid up to the house, I noticed that the barn were rebuilt. Damn, I thunk, he done a real fast job a’ that, all right. Then as I got closter to the house, the front door opened and Chugwater come out on the porch. Owl Shit follered him out. They was both armed with six-guns and rifles.

  They both commenced to shooting at me, but they never hit me even once. Their bullets tore my jacket and ripped holes in my hat, but they never hit me. Final they stopped shooting. “I mean to kill you both,” I yelled out, and I pulled out my trusty Merwin Hulbert and went to shooting. They run back in the house. In another minute I seen them both come a-riding around from behint the house on their horses, and they rid fast right by me before I had a chance to react. They was a-whooping and hollering and shooting their six-guns in the air, and they headed right for a low mesa what was back behint me.

  One side a’ the mesa was low and they could ride right up on top if they went thattaway. They did, but whenever they got up on top, I was already there, and I was a-laughing at them. “I said I mean to kill you,” I told them again. Owl Shit throwed up his hands over his head. “No, Barjack,” he screamed. “Don’t shoot me.” But I just cold-blooded aimed at his face, and I shot a bullet right betwixt his eyes. His damn head exploded. Just like as if I’d shot him with a stick a’ dynamite instead of a bullet. It exploded, sending brains and blood out in a shower all over the place. Then I got down off a’ my horse and started walking toward ole Chugwater. “You’re next,” I said.

  “You killed my baby brother,” he said, and he pulled out his Colt what he carried at his side. He fired at me six times, and ever’ one a’ the bullets hit me in the chest, but they just went right straight through me and never hurt me one bit. I glanced down, and there wasn’t no blood on me neither. I kept on a-walking.

  “Damn you, Barjack,” he said.

  I laughed. “Who’s got the last laugh now?” I ast him. The last I seen of him was just his face, real close up, and real terrified. He had turned white, and his mouth was open wide like he was a-wanting to scream, like he was about to, and then the wheels a’ my office chair rolled forward, and I went over backward and landed on the floor with a hard thump what woke me up.

  “Barjack,” shouted Bonnie. “Are you hurt?”

  I was, but I never let on. “No, hell,” I said, “I’m all right.”

  I admit to being a little embarrassed at falling over in my own office chair like that, but I never admitted it neither, and I never said nothing about my weird dream a’ being a ghost and going after Chugwater and his escaped brother. I did look over at the cell to make sure Owl Shit was still locked up, and he was. Ever’one else who was supposed to be there was there. Happy was up on the roof.

  Well, I poured myself another glass a’ whiskey to try to shake that damn dream outta my head, and I dranked it down pretty damn fast too. I guess it worked on account a’ I quit having them goddamn images come up in front a’ my eyes. I got to admit, though, that it were great fun getting shot through like I done and not even being hurt. I kinda liked being a ghost. I got to wondering if that was the way it was really going to be whenever I did get my ass croaked. I sure as hell did hope so. In fact, I still do. I got to recalling something ole Dingle had said a while back whenever we thought we was dealing with a ghost before.

  What he said was that a ghost could come down and make love to a woman right in her own bed, and he called a ghost what done that a incubus. I remembered that there word too, and I determined that if I was to become a ghost I would be that kind. I would be a damned incubus, and I’d visit my sweet-ass Bonnie regular-like. I wondered if I should ought to tell Bonnie about that so that she could be looking forward to it, the same as I was.

  I was pouring myself another glass a’ booze whenever ole Sly come over and perched his ass on the edge a’ my desk. He looked right down at me like as if he had something on his mind.

  “What is it, Sly?” I ast him.

  “Oh, nothing much,” he said. “I was just wondering what Chugwater might be thinking right about now. He’s got to be scheming up something.”

  “I reckon we’ve pissed him off right royal,” I said.

  “I expect you’re right about that. I’m trying to think what I would be thinking if I were in his position.”

  “Were it me,” I said, “I’d be a-thinking about letting my little brother hang. That’s where my head would be at.”

  “I don’t believe he’s thinking that way,” said Sly. “He’s too loyal to his family. Made a promise to his mother, and he’s always kept it. Even without that, I think he’s gone way too far to back down now. It’s a matter of pride with him now. He’s got to win, or die tryin
g.”

  “I vote for that there last option,” I said. I was kinda proud a’ that word. I was getting me quite a vocabalary from ole Dingle. I liked to use them words any chance I got to just kinda show off how smart I was.

  “I agree with you,” Sly said, “but I haven’t figured out just how to accomplish it. I suppose one of us could call him out and suggest settling the issue one on one.”

  “We could try it,” I said.

  “You don’t think he’d go for it?”

  “No, sir, I don’t. Why should he risk his own worthless hide when he’s got nineteen cowhands to throw out in front to get kilt first?”

  “You got a point there. I’d still like to know what he’s thinking.”

  Polly hollered out just then, “Come another step and you’re a dead man!”

  “Who is it?” I said.

  “I don’t know the son of a bitch,” she said, “but he tied his horse out front and he’s walking right up to the door.”

  I walked over to stand beside her at the winder and look out, and by God, I seed ole Custer, the county sheriff.

  “Don’t shoot, Polly,” I said, “that there’s the sheriff.” Then I yelled out the winder, “Dick, you ole son of a bitch, what the hell brings you around?” I went and opened the front door to let him in. He come in and he looked around real curious at all the folks in my office and all the guns. “Come on over here and set,” I said, and I pulled a chair over to my desk for him. Then I went back around to my own chair and set my ass down in it. I poured whiskey in my glass and pulled out another glass and offered ole Custer a drink, what he accepted.

  “I ain’t heard nothing from you for a while,” he said. “Thought I’d come over and see how things’re going.”

  “Well, hell,” I said, “you can see how it is. We got us a armed camp here on account a’ ole Chugwater. He’s got a army a’ cowhands out in the streets a-laying siege to the jailhouse a-trying to make me turn his little brother a-loose.”

  “Have you had anyone hurt?”