by Lou Bradshaw
“He should. No thanks to you. You damn near broke his Thyroid cartilage.”
“Huh?”
“His Adams apple. It’s made out of gristle and you smashed it good, but it’ll grow back. He’ll have a lump there for life.”
“While you’re sewing him up, you think you can put a few stitches in my hat?”
“Damned fool!” The doctor just didn’t see the beauty of the situation. Slack was hurtin’ and I wasn’t.
While the doc was reshaping the fella’s whatever cartilage, Izzy and I finished the game. She did indeed have that Queen in the hole. I congratulated her, and I told her that she was buyin’ breakfast. I considered myself well ahead with the four hundred I’d won over and above my buy in money. It was time to celebrate.
As we were getting ready to leave, I turned over Slack’s cards. Sure enough, he had an ace high straight flush what some folks are calling a royal flush. No wonder he wanted to stay in the game. That’s the way the cards fall. Sometimes you win, and sometimes you get punched in the throat.
Chapter 3
The sun was well up, when Izzy crawled onto my bed and informed me that breakfast was ready. I rolled over and pulled a pillow over my head, but she wasn’t going to give up that easily, so I got up. Over flapjacks, eggs, and bacon, she gloated over her winnings and told me all her plans for the money. I listened and covertly encouraged her to talk about it. She was a happy lady.
When I got downstairs later on, I walked out into the late morning sun and just reveled in its warmth. In a couple of months, its warmth wouldn’t be something to revel in. It would be something to sweat in. Standing there enjoying the sheer pleasure of being a man with money in his pocket and a loving woman upstairs putting fresh flowers by his bed, I didn’t notice the sound of boots on the boardwalk until they stopped beside me.
“Well, Bell, you sure played hell.” The marshal’s gravelly voice told me. “A little harder and you’d have put that rancher in a box.”
“Now, Marshal, that wasn’t any of my doings. He just naturally had to get drunk and mean. He needed someone to blame because he was such a lousy card player, and he was a lousy card player because he was drunk. He was drunk because he had such a bad attitude. And he had a bad attitude because…. Well you see where this goes round and round…. Ask your deputy, he’ll tell you that boy was tryin’ to cut me up.”
“Oh I know. John Slack is just plain mean. But here’s my problem, boy. Slack lives here, he buys supplies here, his crew spends their pay here, and you don’t. As sure as the sun comes up in the morning, he’ll nurse his aching throat and sip a little broth. But when he’s all better again, he’ll come gunnin’ for you.”
“You let me worry about that, Marshal. I can take care of myself.”
“I reckon you can, but I don’t want it happening in my town. Furthermore, if you were to kill him, then there wouldn’t be any more Slack money coming into town, and I’d have to explain why I let it happen.”
“In other words, I’m getting my walking papers… How much time do I have?”
“Oh there’s no rush… tomorrow by noon will be just fine.”
“You’re a real hard ass, ain’t you, Marshal.”
“Gotta be, boy. I gotta be… my job is to keep the peace in this town, and I can’t do that with a keg of powder walkin’ around, and some fella headin’ your way with a lit fuse.”
I just turned and walked back into the Plugged Nickel. There was no sense arguing with him, but I damned sure didn’t have to be polite about it.
After a shot of rye and some ungentlemanly language, went upstairs to share the good news with Izzy. She took it a lot better than I did saying, “I fully expected that to happen. The marshal really didn’t have a lot of options. Slack takes in a lot of territory around here. And to be honest about it, a lot of folks are scared of him… he’s got a tough bunch working for him, and they tend to throw their weight around… Folks just seem to give ‘em room.”
“You got any plans, Max?”
I thought for a minute and said, “I reckon I’ll wonder on up toward Denver City. If I can hook up with a herd between here and Pueblo, it’ll give me some company on the way… Especially if there’s any Injuns out.”
Suddenly, I had the feeling that I really didn’t want to go anywhere. I was pretty contented where I was. I’m not going to tell you that it wasn’t fair because being fair isn’t a guaranty or a right. It’s just an idea of what’s ideal. I’d found a long time ago that you have to learn to roll with the punches. When there’s no way to make it right, a fella just has to deal with it. So I cussed and stormed around making myself feel like I was doing something about it. Cussing always helps.
Later that evening, after the saloon was closed, Izzy was snuggled up real close, and sleep wasn’t on my agenda. I guess I didn’t want to sleep, so I wouldn’t have to wake up and leave.
“Max. Are you still awake?”
“Uh huh… not really sleepy.”
“Max, you know you’re the only man I’ve ever known who hasn’t asked me about other men I’ve known. Why is that?”
“Don’t really know, I guess I always figured it wasn’t any of my business… Kinda thought if you wanted me to know, sooner or later you’d tell me… I weren’t no virgin when first we me, you know.”
“Oh I knew that… believe me I knew.”
“Most men think I work the line or have worked the line, but I never had to. I was lucky enough to make a living dealing faro or playing poker. So any man who came into my bed came in because I wanted him to and not because I had to let him in.”
“Kinda had it figured that way.” I said.
“I was first married at sixteen, a ranch girl right off the milking stool. I practically still had my hand on the butter churn.”
“I didn’t know that you were married before Carson City.”
“Yep. I was married to Rob Bowler for four years. He was a Texas gambler.”
“I never met him, but I knew some who did … good man, or so they tell me.”
“He was, and I still miss him sometimes.”
“What happened, if you don’t mind my askin’?”
“He was robbed and knifed one night coming back to our room at the hotel in El Paso. I was lost without him, until I realized that he had spent those four years teaching me the trade. And I didn’t even know it. So I just hitched up my garters and took what money we had and went to work. I never had to lay down for any man.”
“I’m proud of you Izzy. That took a lot of nerve.”
“I married that mine owner in Carson City out of spite. I’d just been dumped by someone I was very fond of. But that didn’t last very long. After he fell down that shaft, I was adrift again. So I just grabbed my garters and hitched ‘em again. I sold the mine and here I am.”
“I’m sorry about that, Izzy. I was younger and when you started talking about partnering up, my feet got mighty cold.”
“I’m not.” She said. “When I was talking about partnering, I meant exactly what you thought I meant…. Well I’ve buried two husbands, and I’m sure glad you weren’t number two. I don’t want to bury another…. Especially you.”
“I’m happy you feel that way. Gettin’ buried isn’t something I’m ready to experience.” I told her. “Maybe I can come back this way after things cool off a bit.”
“Maybe I can meet you in Denver.” She said. “I’ve had a couple of good offers on this place, but I didn’t have anything I wanted to do then. That seems to have changed. This place won’t mean as much to me when you leave.”
“Give it some serious thought, Izzy. It’ll take me about five or six weeks to get to Denver if I hook up with a trail herd. I should be in Pueblo in a month… maybe a little more. I’m getting to a point where having a partner sounds like a mighty fine idea.”
We talked for a while longer about this and that, and then out of the blue she asked, “When you punched Slack in the throat, did you know it would have that
kind of effect?”
“Oh yeah… I knew exactly what it would do. I had a little misunderstanding with a Chinaman in Frisco once, and he popped me like that. About a week later when I quit gagging and could swallow and talk, I went to look him up. He turned as white as a sun bleached yellow sheet. He thought I had come to shoot him, but I wanted to learn that little move. When he was sure that I wasn’t gonna put a bunch of holes in him, he showed me how it was done. He would hold an egg in his upright fist with his fingers facing me. When I could hit his fist hard enough to move it back without breaking the egg, I had the right force. His wife held a bucket under his hand to catch the broken eggs. Those Chinese don’t waste much.”
“The truth to tell, I didn’t even think about it. I just did it, and he went down. A little bit harder and he’d have been breathing through that hole in his windpipe for the rest of his miserable life. Or he’d have been dead, and I’d have been on the run.”
I brought my horse around to the hitch rail in front of the Plugged Nickel and was stowing my gear when the marshal walked up. Pulling out my watch, I noted that it was almost eleven o’clock.
“Looks like you’re about ready to ride out.”
“Don’t worry, Marshal. I’ll clear the town limits before the last chime of the clock. Right now I got some unfinished business upstairs.”
When the first bell rang in the church steeple, I came through the swinging doors, nodded to the marshal, looked at Izzy’s tear streaked face in the upstairs window, and hit the leather. I raised my hat to the girl upstairs, let out my version of a rebel yell, and put those California spurs to work. I cleared the last house on the twelfth chime.
Chapter 4
A few hundred yards out of town and I brought my horse to an easy trot. The smartest thing to do would have been to leave at first light, but I didn’t want to give that hard assed marshal that kind of satisfaction, besides the last hour had been spent rather pleasantly.
I had plenty of grub to last me to my next town, and my horse was raring to go after a couple of weeks of relative inactivity. So we just moved along nicely. It was mostly open ground, I had the Sangre de Cristo Mountains on my left, and another range of dry looking mountains on my right. Beyond those low mountains on my right were many hundreds of miles of wide open prairie. I’d been east of the plains, but I remembered very little of it. Most of my growin’ up years were spent along the Pacific Ocean.
I made about twenty miles that first day and made camp in a draw a couple yards back from the trail. The next morning I had coffee some bacon and a few biscuits. It served the purpose, but I’d gotten spoiled by having breakfast cooked by Izzy’s cook and brought up to me. Oh well, it’s just an adjustment I’d have to make. Life is full of adjustments … you just hafta deal with them.
My next stop would be Mora. It was another small town that didn’t have much going except for supplying rancher’s needs. At least I could get a hot meal and a bed there. So me and my horse just kinda jogged along.
Along about noontime, I spotted smoke up ahead and off to the right of the trail. So I just came along slow and easy not knowing what or who I might be meeting. My first order of business was to take the rawhide thong off my Colt. Next, I loosened my Winchester in the scabbard, and then I just jogged around some boulders to find a couple of punchers taking their nooning. “Howdy.” I said. “That coffee smells plenty good.”
They both gave me a howdy in return, and one of them said, “You just git off that hoss and have a cup of it… they’s plenty.”
I swung down from my horse and left him ground hitched. Taking my tin cup from the saddle bag, I carried it to the fire and the pot. “That’s the way I like it… hot and strong.” I told them. “The last good cup I had was back in Las Vegas.”
“You come through Las Vegas, did ya?” The other one asked.
“I was there for a couple of weeks… just left yesterday, kinda at the marshal’s request.”
“Git a little too much of the ol’ panther pee, did ya?” Then he laughed.
“Well it was something like that; I just got myself crosswise of a fella with a knife and had to thump him. Marshal says that boy was more important to the town than I was, so he sent me on my way.”
“Did ya shoot him, did ya?”
“Nah, I just give him a little love tap to the throat, and he got all choked up.”
The first one straightened up and asked, “You the boy that punched John Slack in the neck? Cause if you are, you better take to the hills and off the main trail for a spell. His boys are out lookin for your hide. His place is about ten mile back. I’m surprised you ain’t been stopped… I’d jist go on around Mora. They’s been a lot of hardcases hangin’ about there of late.”
“Yeah, I donno what this country’s comin’ to.” The first one said. “That bunch at Slack’s place is bad enough, but now we got sidewinders on the tuther side of us.”
“Much obliged for the coffee and the information. I’ll be ridin’ on up into those foothills I reckon.”
“Not fore I git a chancet to shake your hand.” the other one said and did.
I moved over to the west and found an old trail that was up in the hills a ways. It wasn’t much of a trail, but it kept me out of sight of the main road. It would slow me down and cause me to miss out on the hotel bed I’d been thinking about, but it was for the best.
If I’d been in a hurry or if it had been important to me to use the road, I’d have gone ahead and done it. But there was no reason to take a chance on getting shot up or shooting someone just to prove how much nerve I had. I knew how much nerve I had, and I was the only one that mattered.
I camped that night a few miles north of Mora. I really didn’t need the comfort of a bed under a roof; I did well enough with a bedroll under God’s roof. There were a few Mexican villages along the way, so I’d be able to pick up a hot meal and any supplies I might need. Figuring that Slack’s boys stayed mostly to the south of Mora, I moved on back to the main trail. I wasn’t looking for trouble, but I was tired of riding around it. I had a hunch that I was in the clear, but you just never take some things for granted.
I spent that night in a little Mexican village along the trail. The little cantina served up some mighty fine and spicy victuals. The beer wasn’t the best I’d ever had, but it wasn’t the worst either. The proprietor had a few jacals in the rear for discriminating travelers like me. I put my horse in his stable, and forked some hay to him. He seemed pleased at the arrangement. Using my saddle as a pillow, I crawled into my blankets. Since I was strange to this territory, and I had no close friends nearby, I kept my pistol close at hand. It was one of the new Colts that they were calling the Peacemaker. It had the balance and accuracy of a Smith and Wesson, but it carried a lot more punch with a .45 slug. I’d miss not being able to use the same ammunition for both sixgun and rifle, but I liked that Peacemaker.
By the time the sun was fully up, I’d eaten my breakfast and started up the trail. Along about mid morning I stopped at the top of a knoll to give my horse a breather. Looking down into the little valley ahead I saw what looked like a collections of adobes and jacals. It was another little village where a fella might find a cup of coffee, and I could do with one. So after my horse felt like going another mile, I tightened the cinch and we ambled on down the hill.
A couple of loops around the hitch rail and I went inside the little combined trading post and cantina. Ducking under the low door, I stood for a couple of seconds to let my eyes get used to the dim light, and then I walked to the counter and asked for a cup of coffee. The coffee was good so I had another cup. Then I had a bowl of chili to go with it. The chili was every bit as good as the coffee.
The door opened and a young fella came through without ducking. He was another gringo… a word I had no problems with, it didn’t mean anything bad, it just meant anyone who didn’t speak Spanish as a native tongue. This boy was a true gringo because he didn’t speak Spanish at all. He ordered a beer and lo
oked me over.
“I’ll bet you’re headin’ down to Slack’s place.” He said.
“Well sir, you’d lose that bet. I’ve seen all of John Slack as I care to see.” I told him.
“I heard that Slack’s offerin’ a hunnerd dollars to anyone who can bring Max Bell in dead or alive. You look like a man who knows what to do with a gun, so I figured you was goin’ there… That’s where I’m headin’.”
“Well good luck to you, friend, but you won’t find Bell in those parts… you’d just be wastin’ your time and wearin’ out your horse.”
“How can you be so sure he ain’t there.”
I set my cup down and moved my bowl back, then I turned and faced him. “You ever shoot a man?” I asked. “Ever faced a man who was planning to shoot you?”
“No I ain’t, but that don’t mean I’m scared of anybody, and I’m damned quick with this here iron.”
“Oh, I know you’re not scared of anyone, otherwise you wouldn’t be lookin’ for a man like Max Bell… He’ll give you every chance in the world to save your life and your pride. He don’t want to kill anybody. But if you persist you’ll wind up just a number to follow those seven or eight other tough hombres strung out between here and Frisco who wouldn’t take the chance he was givin’ them… you’ll be dead at the end of the day.”
“How come you know so much about this here Bell?”
“Because I am Max Bell…. Now do you still want to shoot me? I’ll give you the opportunity not to… I’ll even buy you another beer.”
He stood there for a long quarter minute before his face was split by a big wide grin and said, “Hell no, I don’t want to shoot you… I’m wantin that other beer you’re offering.”
I ordered him another and we settled into a polite conversation. “No sense in me goin’ down to Slack’s place.” He said, “Don’t look like there’s any money to be made there. I sure could have used a hunnerd dollars right now.”
“I’m on my way to Cimarron. You’re welcome to ride along. I got plenty of bacon, beans and coffee…. Can you cook?”