Fugitive's Trail

by Robert J Conley

“It were your own ole paw,” he said. “He done it.”

  “Paw?” I said. “You sure? You really seed him do it?”

  “I seed him,” he said. “Clear as a trout in a mountain stream. There ain’t no mistake about it.”

  Well, that really set me to thinking. Here I had been a saying that ole Paw had never give me nothing but ten dollars and old Swayback. A course that had never been quite true. He used to give me a dime now and then, and I guess he did give me the food I et, at least some of it. I done my share a hunting too though. But anyhow, now it was different. Now he had maybe kilt a man to keep that man from killing me. ‘Course, there weren’t no way a knowing just who Eddie Hook was a taking a bead on, but it coulda been me. And Paw had kilt him, and him one a the same gang too.

  Now that thought just almost made me teary-eyed, and I went to bed that night a thinking thoughts a my old home back in West Texas with Maw and Paw and Farty. I couldn’t help it. I tried to think about screwing ole Red or Sally or even Sherry Chute, but it never worked. Them thoughts a my childhood home just kept intruding, and whenever I fin’ly went off to sleep, why, damned if I didn’t dream a me being out a hunting squirrel with just one bullet for my rifle gun and ole Farty a running alongside a me with his tongue a hanging out and his tail a wagging.

  In the morning after breakfast, we broke camp and headed north again. The air was a getting cleaner and crisper all the time. It was even getting a little harder to breathe, but the farther we traveled I started in to kinda get used to it. I shot a antelope the second day on the trail, and so we had us some fresh meat, and it sure was good the way ole Zeb fixed it up, and he fixed biscuit and gravy to go with it too. After a couple a days, we come to a small mining town, and we spent a night inside a hotel and et a couple a meals what someone else had cooked. Ole Zeb, he appreciated that, but I thought that his cooking was better than what we got in town.

  We passed on the chance a getting drunk in a saloon, and ole Zeb, he never even got hisself into no poker games. We moved on out, and in another three days we come to Cripple Creek. To get there, though, we had to turn west and go up into the mountains. Cripple Creek was a ways up there too, and it musta had a hundred thousand people crowded into it. Ever’one was a scraping and scratching to get rich. If they wasn’t digging their own claims, they was working for big miners, or else they was trying ever’ whichaway to steal from the ones what was working. We went on through it as fast as we could.

  We rid on out into them mountains on narrer windy roads that sometimes was just trails, and then fin’ly, with the mountains arising up all around us, ole Zeb stopped.

  “There she be,” he said.

  “What?” I said.

  “Right there, Kid,” he said. “Right in front a you a rising up to a fine point. Pike’s Peak.”

  I looked at that mountain or peak or whatever is the proper name for it, and I seed that pointy top on it, and I just set there a staring in wonderment. Pike’s Peak. I forgot all about ole Zeb’s lies. I was setting there a looking at his mountain. The mountain what was named after my pardner. It was the greatest sight I had ever saw in my whole entire life. I felt like as if ole Zeb had tuck me to a real secret place and pulled something outa a corner and unwrapped it and showed it to me, and it was something that he never showed no one else. ’Course, there weren’t no way he could a kept Pike’s Peak a secret like that, but that was the way I felt about it just at that time.

  I couldn’t recollect that Maw nor Paw had ever tuck me into no church, but if they had a I prob’ly woulda felt something like what I felt like a looking at ole Zeb’s mountain. Why, I was so damn struck dumb that I couldn’t think a nothing to say. I know my mouth was a hanging open and my eyes was wide.

  “Well,” Zeb said, a disturbing my trance, “you still a thinking you want to climb up there?”

  “Can it be did?” I said.

  “Why, hell, boy,” he said, “I told you that I done it. I was the first white man to do it. That’s how come it to have my name on it.”

  “Would you take me up there?” I asked him.

  “We’ll make us a camp over yonder way,” he said. “We’ll start up it first thing in the morning.”

  “It’s a dangerous thing, climbing a mountain,” Zeb was saying. We was sipping coffee setting in front of our canvas tent with a campfire a going. The air was cold, and the hot coffee tasted good and warmed our guts. “You get up yonder where it’s snowy and icy, you got to make damn sure of ever’ toehold and fingerhold. One slip and you’ll fall clean down to hell. You got to know just the right way to go up there too. Hell, you could climb for days, and then find out that all you’d did was climb up to a dead end.” “You know the right way up there though,” I said.

  “I sure do,” he said. “I’ll get you up there safe and sound all right. You just foller me and do ever’thing I say. You’ll be all right, and you’ll be right up there on top a looking down at the whole damn world.”

  “I can’t hardly wait, Zeb,” I said. “I tell you. I ain’t never wanted to do something so bad in my whole entire life. I wish it was morning already. Hell, I’m a raring to go.”

  “You’d best get a good night’s sleep, Kid,” he said. “You’ll need all your strength and energy when we get started up that peak.”

  I give a kinda nervous laugh. “I ain’t sleepy,” I said. “I couldn’t sleep if I had to.”

  “Break out a bottle a that whiskey,” he said. “We’ll just drink you to sleep.”

  Well, I done like he said. I dug out a bottle and a couple a tin cups, and I poured us each a drink, and we commenced to getting drunk. For a while I kept my awestruck mood, but pretty soon after a few good drinks, I commenced to getting silly, and ole Zeb, he did too. We sung a few silly songs we knowed, and ole Zeb actual got up and danced around the fire once or twice. We talked about ever’thing we had did together and about ever’one the both of us knowed.

  Then we went to talking about a hunting gold and a getting rich and all like that, and Zeb got to going on again about opry houses and such truck. I didn’t know what that was all about, so I told him that whenever we got rich, I was a going to buy us a whole herd a whores, and that got him to laughing so that he was a rolling on the ground.

  “Look out, Zeb,” I said. “You like to of rolled into the fire.”

  He set up then and caught his breath. “That woulda made a hell of an explosion,” he said, “all the alcohol that’s in me.”

  The both of us laughed pretty hard at that, and then I caught my head a nodding, and ole Zeb, he seed it too.

  “Let’s go to sleep,” he said, and we did, and I dreamed a being on top a that mountain.

  It was two weeks later whenever me and Zeb rid back into Fosterville. We stopped right in front a the sheriff’s office and went in to find ole Jim Chastain. He was sure surprised to see us. He come out from behind his desk a holding out his hand to be shuck. He was limping somewhat and toting a walking stick, but other than that, he seemed just fine. I was glad a that.

  “I didn’t know if I’d ever see you two again,” he said. “Sit down.”

  We all tuck chairs and set, and ole Zeb, he reached under his big coat and come out with a bottle. Chastain got us each a glass, and Zeb poured a round a drinks. Chastain held his glass up and said, “To old friends,” and we all clunk our glasses together.

  “Is ole Rice still around?” I asked.

  “No,” Chastain said. “He gave up on ever finding Clell Hook. He headed back for Texas a couple of days after you two rode out. He took that Sally Goodin along with him, too.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that,” I said, and I really was too. I had been a wondering off and on what would become a her. I kinda ducked my head then, and I said, “You, uh, you ain’t seed my paw around, have you?”

  “I never saw him after the day he got loose from Bill Rice,” Chastain said. “I did have a man who came up from Ash Grove tell me an interesting tale though.”

 
“Oh?” I said. “What was that?”

  “Seems a feller rode into Ash Grove and stopped by the blacksmith shop,” Chastain said. “He was wearing a pair of handcuffs and asked the smithy to cut him loose. Said it was a practical joke some friends had played on him.”

  “The smithy cut him loose?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” he said. “The man rode out of town and hasn’t been seen since.”

  “Well,” said ole Zeb, “I wonder who that mighta been.”

  “What have you two been doing all this time?” Chastain asked us.

  “We went up to Zeb’s mountain,” I said. “We clumb up to the top. All the way.”

  “Zeb’s mountain?” Chastain said.

  “Pike’s Peak,” said Zeb.

  “Oh,” Chastain said. “I get it. Well, what did you do that for?”

  “It was just something I wanted to do,” I told him, “and ole Zeb, he showed me the way up there. It was the most wonderfullest thing I’ve ever saw, I can tell you that. It was covered with snow, and it was cold. And something happened while we was up there that you might like to hear about.”

  Chastain turned his glass up and emptied it. He held it out toward Zeb, and Zeb filled it back up. Then he poured his own and mine full again.

  “I’m listening,” Chastain said.

  “Well,” I went on, “we clumb clean up to the top a that peak. It was a hard climb too. At first it was just like walking up a real steep hill, but then it got steeper and steeper, and pretty soon we was on all fours, a grabbing with our hands and pulling ourselfs up, and then we got to snow and ice, and we had to really be keerful then. Ole Zeb, he tied a rope around his own waist and then he tied the other end around me, and he clumb first. That was in case I was to fall, but it worried me lest I fall and pull him after me, but I never.

  “I slipped once and slid a ways, but Zeb stopped me with the rope. I looked back behind me and seed where I woulda slud to if I had a kept going. If ole Zeb hadn’t a caught me like he done, I’d a gone clean down to China. Anyhow, we made it up there, and I stood right up there on top. It ain’t really quite pointy up there. It just looks thataway from down below.

  “Well, we started back down, and it was even tougher than going up, but we made it most nearly back to the bottom. We was on a kinda ledge, and it was all covered up with snow, and then all of a sudden, I seed him down there a looking up at us, and he had a rifle gun in his hands.”

  “Who’d you see?” said Chastain.

  I tuck a drink a whiskey.

  “It was ole Clell,” I said.

  “Clell Hook?” Chastain said.

  “The same ole snake shit,” said ole Zeb. “It were him all right. He musta follered us up there. And he were a waiting for us to come back down.”

  “Well,” I said, “I went for my gun. I knowed what I had promised ole Rice, but Rice weren’t there, and I was, and Clell, he was a raising that rifle to his shoulder to kill either me or Zeb or both of us, so I figgered that my promise didn’t hardly count under them circumstances.”

  “I wouldn’t think so,” Chastain said.

  “But ole Zeb, he stopped me,” I said. “He told me not to shoot, and then he made me back way up outa Clell’s line a sight, back against a kinda wall there at the far back side a that ledge we was on. Well just as I started back, Clell tuck a shot at me. Me and Zeb, we just barely got back in time, ‘cause it seemed like as if that whole damn ledge just went and collapsed. It was all just snow, and it just dropped off the side a the mountain. God a’mighty, it roared when it went down, and underneath that roar, I thought I heard ole Clell a screaming real hideous like too.

  “Anyhow, we waited it all out, and whenever it fin’ly stopped falling and roaring and such, ole Zeb said we could move on. It was tougher going though, and Zeb, he led me on down real slow and keerful, and we made it back to our camp all right. I asked him where was Clell at, and he said that he was buried under so much snow that no one would see nothing a him again till maybe next spring, if then. And that’s the all of it. We headed back down here to tell about it—what happened to Clell.”

  “I’ll be damned,” Chastain said.

  My throat was all dry from so much talking, and I tuck me another drink.

  “I’ll write up a report and send it around to all the law-enforcement agencies that have dodgers on Clell Hook,” Chastain said, “including Bill Rice.”

  “Tell ole Rice,” I said, “that I kept my word. I never shot Clell. Will you tell him that for me?”

  “I’ll tell him,” Chastain said.

  Well, we set around and visited some more with ole Chastain, and then we tuck out. We went over to that saloon where ole Red was a working, and she was sure glad to see us. She grabbed a friend for ole Zeb, and the four of us went upstairs for a party, and we sure damn had us a good one. We didn’t get us much sleep that night, I can tell you that. The next morning, me and Zeb packed to head on out again. I had it in mind to go out and find us some more a that “pocket money,” and ole Zeb was dead set on locating his bonanza. We said our so-longs to ole Red and the other gal and stopped by to tell Chastain we’d be a seeing him someday. Then we headed out back toward them mountains a gold.

  We was out a couple a days whenever we heared some gunshots up ahead of us, and we decided to go investigate We come on a scene up there where there was a couple a guys a shooting at one guy. The two was up high in the rocks, and the one was kinda down in a low spot across the road from them. It looked to me like as if them two had tried to ambush the one feller, but he had managed to duck behind some fell logs and was a shooting back.

  Now I never did like no ambushers and I never did like no two against one. I told ole Zeb, “I’m a going to help that feller out.”

  “Go to it,” he said.

  Well, none a the shooters on either side had saw me yet, so I clumb down offa ole horse, and I started making my way through them rocks. I managed to get myself close enough, and I had a clear shot at one a the ambushers.

  “Hey,” I called out. “Throw out your guns.”

  The feller turned and tuck a wild shot at me, and I dropped him dead with one shot from my Colt. I run on down there and ducked behind another boulder, and the other shooter come a running out then to see who had shot his pard. I seed him and tuck a shot, but I shot too quick. He ducked back behind a rock.

  “Throw out your gun and come on out,” I said. “I won’t kill you.”

  “Who the hell are you?” he said.

  “They call me Kid Parmlee,” I said.

  “They say you’re a regular Billy the Kid,” the man said, “but you don’t scare me. Come and get me if you want me.”

  I scooted backwards and went up around another clump a rocks and worked my way back down towards him, but I come up on his back side. He was a peeking around the corner a that rock he was hiding behind a looking over where he thought I was at. There wasn’t nothing between the two of us. I stood there with my Colt a hanging down to my side in my right hand.

  “Here I am,” I said.

  He spun around real fast and snapped off a shot at me, but it went wide. I raised my Colt up and give him a slug right in his chest, dead center. He coughed and fell back against the rock. Then he just kinda slid down till he was a setting up on the ground and leaning back against the rock. He was dead. I moved over to one a the rocks what they had been shooting over, and I kinda peeked up over the edge. The feller down there tuck a shot at me, and it chipped rock not far from me. I felt some of it sting my cheek.

  “Hey, you down there,” I yelled. “Don’t shoot.”

  I waited a minute, and then he called back.

  “Who’re you?” he said.

  “I ain’t one a them what was a shooting at you,” I said. “I done kilt them.”

  “Come on out,” he said.

  I did, but I kept my Colt in my hand just in case. I started walking toward that feller. I had got about halfway to him when he stood up. I didn’t recognize him at
first, but then all of a sudden he yelled out like it was time for a big celebration.

  “By God,” he said, “that makes fifteen.”

  “Paw?” I said.

  Zeb come a riding on down then, and he brung ole horse and all our other animals along with him. Paw got out his horse. He looked at me, and he looked at Zeb.

  “Do you keer if I was to ride along a spell with you?” he said.

  I looked up at ole Zeb a setting there on his horse. He give a kinda shrug.

  “It don’t make me no nevermind,” he said.

  I looked back at Paw. I thought about all the times he’d whupped me when I was a kid. I recalled all the times he’d left me and Maw to do for ourselfs when he was off doing whatever it was he done, robbing banks maybe. I thought about the dimes he give me now and then for candy, and I thought ’special about the ten dollars and ole Swayback and then how he had shot that Eddie Hook.

  “Ah, hell,” I said, “mount up and come on along.”

  Praise For Robert Conley and FUGITIVE’S TRAIL

  “Cherokee writer Robert Conley is one of the most inventive writers America has ever had. In Kid Parmlee he has created a second-hand Billy the Kid who will charm your damned ears off and send you down a trail of fun, frivolity and adventure. Go buy it right now, read it and enjoy it.”

  —Max Evans, author of The Rounders, The Hi Lo

  Country and Bluefeather Fellini

  “Robert Conley is possibly one of the most underrated and overlooked writers of our time, as well as the most skilled. Versatile: poetry, humor, historical, Western, mystery, even horror. Now, Kid Parmlee. Neither a traditional general Western character, a super-hero or anti-hero caricature, he is simply Kid Parmlee, a human being. In his pathetic way, Kid Parmlee is not a very good person, but also only as bad as survival requires. Simple yet clever, good and bad, sad and funny, failure and success … ‘The Kid’ holds up a mirror to the human condition.”