“It was day before yesterday,” Binger said. “’Long about, I’d say, eleven in the morning.”
“Kid,” said Weaver, “you were up here with us. What’s going on?”
“Well,” I said, “I reckon since you know as much as you do, I might just as well go on ahead and tell you the whole story. A while back my ole paw was a-riding with me and Zeb, and we rid into Fosterville after we had been in the mountains for a spell, and ole Chastain, the sheriff, he throwed down on us without no warning. Said we had robbed a stagecoach somewheres up north and kilt a man. We never.”
“He had a description,” Zeb said. “Two old guys and a skinny kid.”
“Sounds like these bank robbers,” Binger said.
“Anyhow,” I told them, “whenever we rid into your camp, we was running from ole Chastain and his posse. See, we broke outa his jail.”
“But now you can prove that you’re innocent,” Weaver said. “If the three that robbed the Fosterville bank are the same three who robbed the stagecoach, we know you were up here during the bank robbery.”
“Only thing is,” I said, “if we was to ride down into Fosterville, even if you was to go along with us, ole Chastain, he mightn’t wait to hear what you got to say. If he was to see me and ole Zeb here, he just might start in to shooting first and asking questions later.”
“What kind of lawman is he anyway?” Weaver asked.
“One what the Kid here left locked up in his own jail cell stark staring nekkid,” Zeb said. “That’s what kind.”
“You done that?” Raspberry said.
I just kinda shrugged. “It slowed him down some coming after us,” I said.
Raspberry shuck his head real slow. “I can’t blame the man if he did shoot first,” he said. “That’s an awful thing to do to a man.”
Well, shit, I knowed that, and I already felt just a little bit guilty about it, but on the other hand, I kinda figgered that ole Chastain sorta deserved it on account a he throwed down on us with that shotgun without even bothering to ask us to tell our side a the story, and then he embarrasssed us by walking us right down the street in broad-ass daylight with our hands a-sticking up in the air, and him s’posed to be a friend a ours. Why, we had fit Piggses and Hookses together.
“I guess it was kinda low-down,” I said.
“Let me think a minute,” Weaver said.
“What?” I said.
“Just a minute,” he said.
I pulled the makings outa my pocket and rolled myself a smoke. Then I leaned over close to the campfire to get a light, and I like to of burnt the end a my nose, but I didn’t let on none. I set back to puff on my cigareet and wait to hear what ole Weaver was a-thinking on.
“You two have a problem,” he final said. “We have a problem. Maybe we can help each other out.”
I come up real suspicious like all of a sudden, and I raised a eyebrow up on one side a my head, and I said, “What are you a-thinking, Willie?”
“You can’t really go back down this southern trail, can you?” he said. “Not without taking a chance on facing that Fosterville posse.”
“Well,” I said, “it’d be kinda chancey all right.”
“You can’t go north on the mountain road. You already tried that and had a run-in with Morgan and his men.”
“That’s the truth,” said Zeb.
“You’re wanted for murder. Both of you.”
“What’re you getting at?” I said. I was starting to get aggravated at ole Willie about then.
“Just this,” he said. “Suppose you two stay up here with us for a while. Suppose you help us keep Morgan and his gang at a distance. Then, once we have what we want out of our claim up here, we all go down and go into Fosterville, and we clear your name with the authorities. Why, by that time, they might even have caught up with the real robbers, and you’ll find that you’ve already been cleared.”
“Of the robberies and killings maybe,” Zeb said, “but not of the jailbreaking and sheriff-exposing what we done.”
“That’s a whole lot better than a hanging offense,” Weaver said. “Well, what do you say?”
I had to admit that his idea was considerable more worthwhile than anything what I had in my own head just then. I didn’t answer him right off though. I give the matter some thought. I figgered that it wouldn’t hardly be safe for me and ole Zeb to try to go after them outlaws just then on account a ole Chastain was likely right on their trail, and if we was to ride in on the deal, he might spot us before spotting them, and that could cause a major disaster for me and Zeb. And the other thing I figgered was that maybe ole Weaver was right. Maybe if we was to hide out in the mountains for a spell, and them outlaws was to keep on a-pulling holdups, why, maybe ole Jim Chastain or some other lawman would just catch up to them. Then they’d find out who they really was, and then it’d be might near safe for us to go back amongst them.
“We’ll give her a try,” I said.
Well, the next day we rid on back into Weaver’s gold camp, and the first thing I done was to beg myself a bath on account a I was filthy dirty from all that rock moving and sweating and sleeping on the ground, and so Willie and ole Myrtle, they come up with a tent for me and Zeb to live in. It was a fair size, not one a them little bitty ones, and they got me a tub a hot water in there, so I soaked my ass real good and scrubbed up with soap too. I felt better after that, but my muscles and bones was still sore from the whole entire ordeal. Anyhow, it was still daylight when I come outa the tent dressed in clean clothes and my Colt strapped on. I walked over to the big tent for some grub and coffee.
It was the end a the work day by then, and so most ever’ one in the whole camp was in there, and Willie Weaver made a big announcement and interduced me and ole Zeb to the whole crowd. He told them that our job was to keep the Morgan gang offa their backs while they done their work. All of a sudden, I felt like a for-real hired gunslinger, and that was something that I had been denying I was all along. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I said so to ole Zeb.
“Well, Kid,” he said, “look at it thisaway. S’pose now that this here gold camp was a regular town. It’s kinda like one, ain’t it? Got women and kids and all.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I reckon it is kinda like a town.”
“Well, look at it thataway,” he said. “It’s a town, and over that next rise north a here, there’s a element a troublemakers—outlaws, you might say.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Now what would a town do about a situation like that?”
“I reckon they’d hire them a lawman,” I said.
“Well?” he said.
I tuck his point all right, but then I couldn’t figger out what was worse, being a hired gunslinger or being a lawman. I just went on over to our tent a-fixing to go to bed but only I never made it. I heared someone a-hollering like hell.
“Stop him. Stop, thief.”
I run back outside real fast and looked around for what it was that was wrong, and I seed a figger a-running like the dickens towards the north side a the camp. Someone come up aside a me and pointed right smack at that running figger.
“Stop him,” he said.
I didn’t ask no questions ’cause there didn’t seem to be no time for it. I just whipped out my Colt and fired a shot right in front a the feller what was a-running. He stopped all right. He looked around. There was a saddled horse at one a the shacks not far from where he was at, and he turned and run and jumped on its back and headed south.
“Stop him,” this feller said to me. But I didn’t know what the man had did, and so I hated to just shoot him dead like that.
“What the hell did he do?” I said.
“He’s got our claim papers,” the man said.
’Bout then, ole Weaver had come a-running up on account a he’d heared the commotion.
“You say he got our papers?” Weaver said.
“I saw him come out of the shack over there,” the man said. “I yelled, and he r
an. I went into the shack and saw that our papers’re missing. He’s got to be one of Morgan’s men.”
“What can he do with your papers?” I asked.
“The only thing he could do,” said Weaver, “is take them down to Fosterville, forge some signatures and refile.”
“Get me a horse,” I said. “I’ll stop the son of a bitch.”
In another minute I was riding after the bastard, but I wasn’t riding too hard and fast ’cause the sun was done down and it was dark. That mountain road was dangerous even in daylight, so it sure weren’t no place to get in a hurry on after dark. But I knowed I had to stay after him. See, he mighta been damn fool enough to ride down that there trail at night. He mighta been desperate enough, ’cause what he had meant to do was to steal them papers and sneak back over to his own camp in the dark, but he had been saw, and he had been forced to run the other direction. I figgered that meant he would ride all night, unless, a course, he was to fall off the edge and land way down in China. Well, that meant I would ride all night too, but only it wouldn’t be no fast riding, I can tell you that.
That there turned out to be the longest and most scariest ride I had ever tuck in my whole entire lifetime. That ole horse they had give me slipped and skittered a time or two, and I had me some awful visions a falling through the black night for hours and hours before I come back to earth and got all smashed up into little bitty pieces. Once I even got off and walked up front, a-pulling that horse along by his reins.
I was sure relieved when we come to the turnoff what run on down the mountain. It was still dark as hell, and it would still be easy as pie to take a tumble, but on that going-down trail, a feller would tend to slide a while ruther than just get pitched right through midair. All the time I was trying to look through the dark and listen real hard, too, in case I was to come up on the bastard I was follering. I never seed nor heared nothing. I knowed I was on his trail though, ’cause that was the way he had run outa the gold camp, and there weren’t no other place for him to be but ’cept on that trail. He was out there in front a me all right.
Way before daylight hit, I was hungry and tired and sleepy, but I just kept on a-going ’cause there wasn’t nothing else for it. By the time the ole sun managed to creep out and peek over the edge a the eastern horizon and give a little light to the sky, I was almost to the end a the trail and down offa the mountain. I could see on down there too, and I didn’t see no sign a the paper thief. I sudden come a little nervous thinking about ole Chastain and his posses too. I rid on down and out onto the flat road. There was mountains to my left and flat prairie off to my right. I sure felt like as if I was in a real touchy position there.
The road I was a-riding on tuck a curve a-follering the line a the foothills just up ahead a me, and in a few miles after that, it would run right on into Fosterville. I figgered that I had to catch up with the bastard and stop him well before we come to that point. When I rid around that curve, I seed him. I had been pretty close behind him all right. He musta been at least as skeered a that high mountain road as what I was. I kicked that ole horse in the sides to move up on the crook a little faster.
I covered about half the distance between me and him before he heared me a-coming, and then he tuck a look back over his shoulder. He kicked his horse, ruther, the one he had stoled, and I hurried on after him.
“Hold up there,” I yelled out, but he didn’t pay me no mind. I pulled out my Colt and fired a shot up over his head a-purpose. I didn’t want to shoot him in the back, but I wanted to make him stop if I could. He heared the shot, and he looked back, but he kept on a-keeping on. Then he went around another curve, and I lost sight of him for a minute. Whenever I rounded that curve, I seed the horse he had stoled kinda ambling around confused like. There wasn’t no rider on his back. I hauled back on the reins a my borried horse real quick like, and it’s a good thing I did too, ’cause a shot come at me from somewheres just then. I yelped like a coyote at night, tuck me a headlong dive outa the saddle towards my left, and when I hit the ground, I rolled on over towards the rocks at the base a them foothills. When I come up behind a big ole boulder, I had my Colt in my hand.
The reason I had yelped the way I done was on account a I didn’t have no idea where the bastard was hiding at, and I figgered that if I yelped and left the saddle that he might just get convinced that he had shot me. Then if I was to stay still long enough, he just might come outa hiding to hunt for me or for my corpus, whichever it turned out to be. ’Course, I didn’t intend to be no corpus when he come around. I stayed low, and I waited.
It sure enough seemed like a hell of a long wait as hungry and tired and sleepy and cold as I had got making that all-night ride down that mountain. Once or twice I damn near fell for my own trap what was to come outa hiding and go look for the feller, but I never. I reminded myself that in a situation like what we two was in, the one what lost his patience first was the one most likely to end up dead. I stayed hunkered down behind that rock.
Both horses was milling around out there in the open. They even kinda come together. They knowed each other, both of them being from Weaver’s camp like they was, and I figgered that they tuck some comfort in that fact after what they both just been through. I also knowed that two saddled horses without no riders out like that a loose would sure as hell stir up some interest if anyone was to come riding along, and I was thinking that if anyone done that, I sure did hope that it wouldn’t be no Jim Chastain posse.
Then of a sudden I had to piss so bad it was a-hurting me to hold it back, and pretty soon, why, it weren’t no matter a hurting no more. It become a matter a not being able to hold it back no longer. I was fixing to piss my pants if I didn’t make a proper decision right then. I thought about getting myself kilt, and I thought about showing up wherever I would show up with pissy pants, and I stood up and hauled it out and let go. Oh, but that was a whale of a physical relief, I can tell you, but at the same time it was real nervous making.
I was standing behind that rock I had been hid behind, and I was pissing all over it on account a the fact that I sure didn’t want to turn my back in case that bastard should come a-looking for me the way I intended for him to do in the first place. But the problem was that it just wouldn’t quit. I musta been plumb full a piss, as skinny as I was. It just kept a-coming. I was using my left hand to aim my stream and still holding my Colt in my right hand, and if that feller had come a-walking up, well, he woulda been able to see me from about my belly up standing behind that rock. And that’s just what happened.
He come a-walking out in full view, and he was moving slow and looking around, hoping to find me a corpus, but then he seed me, and I was a-standing on my own two feet, not dead atall. He was a-holding his six-gun in his hand. I seed him just a instant before he seed me, and I hollered right out at him, a-hoping that he wouldn’t be able to tell what it was I was a-doing.
“Just throw that shooter down,” I said, “and I won’t kill you.”
Well, he never, the dumb son of a bitch. Instead he raised it up and swung it around and snapped off a shot what skidded on that boulder I was a-pissing on, but I raised my Colt up and blasted his ass. My shot tuck him right in the chest. He kinda jerked and staggered, and then he went limp all over and crumpled up there on the ground. I watched him real keerful, and he never moved after that. I final finished up my business and put ever’thing away. Then I walked out around that little wet boulder and headed for my latest victim. I thought about ole Paw. He woulda wanted to keep count, but I had give that up.
I moved out slow on account a I was pretty sure that he was dead, but you just never know. Sometimes a shot man will hang on long enough to surprise you and shoot you before he goes on to croak, so I watched him real close. I walked on up to where I could reach out with the toe a my boot and kick his shooter away. Then I holstered my own and rolled him over on his back. He was dead all right.
I squatted down and rummaged through his pockets, and sure enough, there wa
s them papers what they had said he had stoled. I tucked them into my own pocket, and then I tuck hold a him and dragged him over behind the boulder what I had wetted down and left him there. Then I went and rounded up the two horses. I started to head back for the up the mountain trail, but something held me back. I wasn’t quite ready to go back up there and hide out. I had a urge to do something different, and I didn’t have no Zeb nor no one else with me to fuss about it and talk me out of it.
I mounted up the same horse what I had been riding, and I led the other’n along behind me. I headed them north, but only I didn’t stay on the road. In just a little while, I turned kinda northeast like as if I meant to swing wide around Fosterville. I rid on like that for a spell till I could see the damn town up ahead. There wasn’t no one riding outa town and coming in my direction, so I got to feeling a little more puffed up and confident in my plan, what really, a course, hadn’t been give too much thought. Well, off over yonder to the east there was a grove a trees. It looked to be nice and quiet and cool and dark. I figgered it’d hide me out all right, and I headed over there with my two horses.
I rid my ass on over into them trees and got down outa the saddle. I tied them two horses where they could get to some good grass, and then I set down on the ground and stared over at Fosterville. I dreamed about ole Red and all a her many female charms, and I sure did want to get my ass tangled on up in them. I meant to wait out the whole entire day till dark set in, and then I was a-going on into town.
I can tell you, it aggravated me something fierce to think on how them three outlaws had just damn near ruint my young life, not to mention a couple a older ones as well, and then on top a that, how ole Chastain, what I had called my friend and had gone a-looking for a-purpose to have a drink or two with, had turned on me so easy like, a-believing that me and Zeb and Paw coulda been them cold-blooded bastards. That just really chapped me for good and all.
Chapter 7
Well, I musta set there a hour or so when I seed what looked for all hell like a posse a-riding outa town headed south, and I couldn’t be real actual sure for certain, but it looked powerful like ole Chastain a-riding out front. The only thing what I could figger was that he had done looked ever’ where he could think of a-going north, so he was fixing to search the other direction some. I was hoping that he wouldn’t take that trail up the mountain again and this time find it open and clear and go on up there and come onto ole Weaver’s camp the way me and ole Zeb had did, but only if Chastain done it he’d find ole Zeb up there a-hiding out without me.
A Cold Hard Trail Page 6