Slocum and the Bad-News Brothers

by Jake Logan

  He smiled at her and pulled out some money anyway. “You won’t mind then,” he said, “if I just leave you some cash to help out. Just because I want to.”

  He put the money on the table, kissed her one more time, put on his hat and left the room. Bonita walked over to the table and picked up the money. She counted it and saw that it was three times the amount she would have charged.

  “Oh, Carl,” she said. “Carl, I sure do wish you was single.”

  8

  Goofball McGiver stood on the sidewalk watching some men load the body of Harman Beamer to take it down the street to the undertaker. When they had taken it inside, he strolled casually to his horse waiting patiently at the hitch rail. Taking the reins loose from the rail, he moved to its side and mounted up. He turned the horse easily and started riding out of town at a leisurely pace. As soon as he was out of town, he looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching. There was no one. He kicked his horse wickedly in the sides and lashed at it with the long ends of the reins, taking off as fast as he could go. When he reached his destination, the Beamer spread, the wretched animal was lathered up and panting. Goofball practically leaped out of the saddle. Maw Beamer had stepped out onto the porch.

  “Goofball,” she said, “what are you doing here?”

  “I come bringing bad news, Maw,” said Goofball.

  Just then Brace stepped out to stand beside Maw.

  “Well,” said Maw, “what is it?”

  “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you,” said Goofball, “but someone has got to.”

  “You ain’t told me nothing yet.”

  “It’s Harman. He was killed in town.”

  “Harman killed?”

  “Who done it?” said Brace.

  “That Slocum feller.”

  “Goddamn it. I knowed it. We got to kill that son of a bitch, Maw.”

  “Let’s not have no talk of killing just yet,” Maw said. “Someone’s got to go into town and fetch Harman home. After the burying, we’ll talk about killing.”

  “I’ll go,” Brace said.

  “You ain’t showing your face in town,” Maw said. “Not till I say so.”

  “I can go back and fetch Harman out here to you if you want me to,” said Goofball. “You could write me a note. If you want.”

  “Brace, hitch a team up to the wagon. I don’t want my boy coming home slung across some saddle. Come on inside, Goofball. I’ll compose that note for you.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Goofball said.

  “And Brace, gather up what’s left of the family and bring them in the house.”

  “All right, Maw.”

  As Brace headed out to get fresh horses, Maw led Goofball into the house. She found a piece of paper, a pen, and a bottle of ink. Shoving aside some dirty dishes, she put the items down on the table and sat down. Then she stared up at the ceiling for a moment. “You got to word these legal papers just right,” she said. At last she dipped the pen into the ink bottle and started to write.

  To whoever it is whose consarned, she wrote. Let the barrer of this here note take posesion of the remanes of my dear boy Harman to bring him home to me for burying. Sined by Mrs. Bernice Beamer.

  She picked up the paper and waved it in the air to dry the ink. Then she handed it to Goofball. “That’ll do the trick,” she said.

  “I’ll bring him home in a flash,” said Goofball.

  “Don’t you go to running them horses,” Maw said. “Just drive easy. We’ll have aplenty to do here getting ready.”

  “Yes’m.”

  Brace drove the wagon up in front of the house just as Goofball stepped out. Goofball tucked the paper into his shirtfront and mounted the wagon. Brace handed him the reins and jumped down.

  “Mind what I said. Drive easy,” said Maw.

  “Yes’m,” said Goofball. “I will. I’ll go smooth and easy.”

  Goofball drove off and Brace headed away from the house.

  “Where you going?” Maw said.

  “To fetch the rest of the boys like you said.”

  “Well, hurry it up.”

  “Carl,” said Slocum, as the two men rode quietly down the road back toward the ranch, “we’re going to have to change our tactics.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I’ve killed three of those Beamers now,” Slocum said. “They’ve got to be mad as hell. There’s no sheriff now for them to worry about. They could try anything. How many of them are left now?”

  “Well, let’s see. The nearest I can figure, there’s Brace and Hump and Hiram. I think there’s four more brothers, or maybe cousins, I ain’t sure, and then there’s them two others. Hired hands or something.”

  “That’s eight,” Slocum said.

  “Nine, ain’t it?”

  “Brace, Hump and Hiram. That’s three,” said Slocum. “You said four more? That’d make seven, and then the two extra. Yeah. Nine. There’s nine of them. You’re right.”

  “Nine,” said Tipton. “Yeah.”

  “Well, nine’s enough. They could mount an attack on the ranch.”

  “I’ve got more than nine hands,” Tipton said. “That wouldn’t be too smart of them, would it?”

  “It would if they figured we weren’t ready,” Slocum said. “And if for sure we weren’t ready, it would be a pretty good move. They could do right-smart damage to us that way.”

  “I guess you’re right. So what do we do?”

  “Let’s get all your hands together and tell them what’s what,” Slocum said. “Anyone who wants out, now’s the time. The rest will have to be ready for anything that might happen, and that will include having guards awake and around the house all night long every night.”

  “We can do that. Soon as we get back.”

  Maw Beamer’s boys all gathered at her house, all except Goofball McGiver who was still out on his chore. They sat on everything that was available, a couple of them even sitting on the floor. Maw shouted at them to shut up and pay attention. They got still.

  “Now, listen to me, boys,” she said. “That Slocum has went and killed another one of your brothers.”

  “Who?” said Hump, sitting up straight. “Who’s killed?”

  “Your brother Harman. Against my better judgement, he went into town today by his lonesome, and Slocum shot him down right out on the street. Goofball has took the wagon into town to fetch the body back. When he gets here, we’ll have the burying. We got to do up a proper funeral. I want one of you to go out and kill some chickens and pluck them. One of you slice up a whole mess of beef. And a couple of you get busy and dig a burying hole. I want everything to be ready when Harman gets home.”

  “But, Maw,” said Hump, “what about that Slocum?”

  “Shut up about that till we’re done burying your brother,” Maw snapped. “Now get after it.”

  The boys all scattered. Maw busied herself making bread. Soon the sliced beef was brought in, and she started it cooking. Then came the chickens. She worked the rest of the day, even after Goofball returned. At last, everything was ready. Harman was brought in the house and laid out for all to see. Maw brought out her Bible and read from the Old Testament. Then she led her unholy brood in a couple of choruses of “When the Roll is Called Up Yonder.” Finally, she said, “Brace, Hump, Hiram, Henley, take up the body of your fallen brother and carry it out to its final resting place.”

  The designated brothers took up the body and started out the door. The others followed along slowly. When they reached the newly dug hole, they started to lower the body into it, but they dropped it at the last minute. Maw went over to the edge of the grave and looked down.

  “Jump in there, Henley,” she said, “and straighten up your brothers arms and legs.”

  Henley jumped in, stepping on the body as he did so. At last he got the job done, and he reached up with his right arm. “Give me a hand out of here,” he said. Hump grabbed his hand and helped him scrabble back out of the hole. Then they all took off their hats an
d held them solemnly in front of themselves.

  “Dear Lord,” said Maw, “we’re a giving you back one more of our dear sons what was taken away from us by the same evil hand what took them others. We’ve talked to you about it already. This is just the more reason for us to do the killing we talked on before. Be good to my boy Harman. He never done nothing wrong, and you know it. Amen. Shovel the dirt in, boys.”

  She turned and started walking back to the house. Hump and Hiram picked up shovels. They shoveled for awhile, then handed the shovels to Brace and Henley. Hump stepped back to lean against a fence. With the left sleeve of his shirt, he wiped sweat from his forehead. Hiram stepped over to stand beside him, wiping his face with a rag from his back pocket.

  “Well, Hiram,” Hump said, “Maw mentioned the killing to the Lord, so I reckon it’ll be all right for us to talk about it now.”

  “We’ll have to talk to Maw about it before we go and do anything,” Hiram said.

  “Oh, we’ll talk to her all right,” Hump said. “We’ll see what she has to say. Then we’ll go and do whatever has to be done. Maw ain’t always just right, you know. She’s getting up in years and don’t think quite as clear as what she used to.”

  “Well, I’m going to have to think real hard and remind myself of Ike and Billy,” said Hiram. “I never was too fond of ole Harman.”

  “You oughten speak bad about the dead,” Hump said.

  “I don’t see no sense in lying about it just because he’s gone.”

  “He was our brother.”

  “He was still a worthless shit.”

  Hump swung a roundhouse right that caught Hiram on the side of the head and knocked him sideways into the fresh dirt that Brace and Henley were shoveling into the grave. “Ow,” shouted Hiram.

  “What the hell?” said Brace.

  “Son of a bitch,” Hiram said.

  “What was that for?” asked Oscar, another brother.

  “He was talking ill of our deceased brother,” said Hump.

  “Is that all?” said Brace. “Hell, that ain’t no call to go to hitting your own brother at a funeral.”

  “You mind your business,” Hump said. “This here is between me and Hiram.”

  “Oh yeah?” said Brace, and he swung at Hump, connecting a glancing blow to Hump’s chin. Hump staggered back just as Hiram got up to his feet, ducked low, and ran at him, tackling him and crashing right through the fence. A hog squealed and ran, and chickens scattered clucking and flapping their useless wings. Hump landed on his back in the nasty mud with Hiram on top of him. Quickly, Hump rolled over mashing Hiram down into the soft muck. Hiram flailed with both arms, slapping his brother on the back and doing no damage.

  Brace ran to the rescue of Hiram, kicking out at Hump’s ribs. His foot found its mark, but the force of the kick caused Brace’s other foot to slip in the ooze, and he fell over backward and landed with a loud splash. Goofball and the other man not a member of the family stepped off to one side not wanting to become involved. Jefferson Davis Beamer and Butcher Beamer started laughing. Oscar and Henley were still shoveling dirt into the grave. Brace got up out of the mud and stepped behind Hump, reaching around his neck with both arms and choking him, trying to pull him off of Hiram.

  Jefferson Davis looked at Butcher. “Hump’s fighting two at once,” he said.

  “That ain’t fair, is it?” said Butcher.

  “Not hardly,” said Jefferson Davis.

  “You going to do anything about it?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, hell,” said Butcher. He walked over to the graveside and reached out toward Oscar. “Give me that shovel,” he said, taking the tool away from Oscar. Oscar gave it up easily, and Butcher walked toward the melee. Stepping up behind Brace he suddenly rared back with the shovel and took a swing slamming the flat of the shovel blade hard into Brace’s back just between the shoulder blades.

  “Yowee!” shouted Brace.

  He let loose of his grip on Hump’s neck and turned on his new attacker. Butcher prepared the shovel for another swing. At the same time, Hiram managed to throw Hump back off of him, and Hump fell sideways into the slime. Brace ducked low and moved toward Butcher, but he slipped in the muck and fell on his face. Butcher lowered the shovel and started to laugh. Back at the graveside, Henley had stopped shoveling and was watching the affray. He jabbed the business end of the shovel into the soft dirt, said, “Oh, hell,” and started walking toward the fight. Just as he got close, Butcher turned and swung, knocking Henley back into the half-filled grave. Oscar started to laugh at that, and Butcher got up and slugged him in the jaw.

  Goofball McGiver looked at his partner, Skinny Clark. “Who the hell started this fight anyhow?” he asked.

  “I think Hump started it,” said Skinny.

  Goofball slugged Skinny. Skinny staggered back, resumed his balance and struck up a fighting stance, and the two of them began pummeling at one another, still a safe distance away from the main fight. Suddenly there was a loud blast. Everyone stopped and looked. Maw was standing there with a smoking shotgun in her hands.

  “Shame, shame on all of you,” she said.

  “Maw,” said Butcher, “we didn’t—”

  “Shut up!” she roared. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to know who started it, and I don’t want to know how come. Just straighten your young asses up and finish filling up that grave.”

  No one moved for a moment, and Maw fired the second barrel of the shotgun into the air. The boys all jumped to their feet.

  “Get to it,” Maw said.

  She stood there while they finished the work on the grave. That included setting a wooden cross with Harman Beamer’s name on it in place. When at last the job was properly finished, she said, “Now get yourselves cleaned up. You look like a bunch of fucking dirt farmers.”

  She turned and headed back to the house. Hump threw his arm around Hiram’s shoulder. They looked at each other and smiled.

  “What’re we going to do, Hump?” Hiram asked.

  “We’ll do like Maw said,” Hump answered. “We’ll all get cleaned up proper, and then we’ll ride out tonight and hit the Tipton ranch.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Take torches and burn the ranch house down. Whenever Tipton and Slocum and anyone else comes running out, we’ll gun them down.”

  “What about all them ranch hands?”

  “We’ll have a couple of boys watching the bunkhouse to shoot anyone who comes out of there.”

  “There’s two women over there,” said Brace, having stepped into the discussion.

  “We won’t shoot them,” said Hump. “Not for a little while at least.”

  9

  Arnie Tipton sat at his table alone in his run-down ranch house studying a pile of papers there in front of him. They were mostly letters written to him years before by his brother Carl. After some studying, Arnie laid out a fresh piece of paper. He took up a pen and dipped it into an ink bottle and began to write. He wrote out “Carl Tipton.” He wrote slowly and carefully looking at Carl’s signature as he wrote. When he had done, he studied his work. Then he tried again. Before he was finished, he had covered the sheet of paper in fake Carl Tipton signatures. The last few on the sheet looked pretty good. He was proud of himself, but he would have to practice some more before he would be ready. He leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily. Then he picked up a whiskey bottle that was sitting nearby and poured himself a drink. He downed it quickly and poured another. Then he went back to work.

  Carl Tipton gathered all of his ranch hands together in front of his big house. He and Slocum were up on the porch facing the crowd. Myrtle and Jamie came out of the house to stand to one side on the porch and listen to what was going to be said. When Carl was satisfied that all were present, he called for quiet.

  “Boys,” he said, “I’ve got some things to tell you. First off, you all know that Lige was killed. It’s a sad thing, and the way it was done it was a dirty, mean trick. I�
��ve got to name a new foreman, and I’ve decided to name Randy Self if he’s willing to take the job. What do you say, Randy?”

  Randy took the hat off his head and shuffled his feet, looking down at the dirt. “Aw, gee, Mr. Tipton, I don’t hardly know what to say. It’s a mighty big job filling ole Lige’s boots.”

  “You can do it, Randy, or I wouldn’t have asked you. Think about it for a bit. I’ve got some other things to say.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You all know, I think,” Tipton went on, “that the goddamned Beamers have went and declared war on me. They’re a mean bunch. The first thing was when Brace tried to gun me in town again. Then Ike and Billy stopped me on the road with the same intentions. The last one was Harman, in town again. Slocum stopped them all. I owe him a whole lot. He’s working for me as a gun hand, so if you see that you’re working and he ain’t, I don’t want no jealousy around here about that.

  “Well, our sheriff has been shot real bad, and Lige was murdered. There were no witnesses to either of them shootings, but we all know who done them, don’t we?”

  “The Beamers,” several cowhands hollered.

  Tipton held up his hands for quiet. “The Beamers done them both for sure. And now that there ain’t no law around here, they’re going to feel that much freer to do whatever the hell comes into their damned heads. The other thing is that Slocum has killed three of them. So it looks to me, and to Slocum as well, that the war is on for sure. So what I called all of you together here for is this. You all hired on to be cowhands. If you don’t want no part in this coming war, I won’t blame you if you decide to quit. I’ll pay you off, and I’ll give you a little bonus. You can ride out of here with no hard feelings. So if you want out, now’s the time to say so.”

  He turned his back and walked to the door, standing there in silence for a time. There was some muttering among the hands. Slocum lit a cigar and noticed that the ladies were talking low to one another. Finally, Tipton turned back around and stepped out to the front of the porch.

  “Well?” he bellowed.