The Man with the Iron Badge

by J. R. Roberts

  “Not until they have guns and horses,” Clint said. “How many ranches and homesteads are between here and Yuma?”

  “Quite a few,” Dockery said.

  “We’ll have to warn them along the way,” Clint said.

  “I agree with Clint,” Dockery said. “They’ll stay together until they have horses and guns.”

  “And what about the guard?” Starkweather asked. “Maybe he’ll slow them down.”

  Dockery and Clint exchanged a glance.

  “Okay, that was stupid,” Starkweather said. “The guard is dead, right?”

  “Right,” Clint said.

  “Okay,” Starkweather said.

  “We’re comin’ up on the Simmons ranch,” Dockery said. “We better stop and warn them.”

  “Why did you have to kill the guard?” Nick Masters asked.

  “He lied to us about the horses,” Jessup said. “And we paid him. I wasn’t about to let him get away with that.”

  Jerry Foley said, “But now they’ll be after us forever. We killed a guard.”

  “He killed the guard,” Masters said.

  “It don’t matter who pulled the trigger,” Willy Castillo said. “They will be searching for all of us.”

  “Damn it!” Foley said. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

  Jessup turned to face the other three. They were all on foot, and Jessup had the gun.

  “All we have to do is come to a ranch and outfit ourselves,” Jessup said. “Then, if you want, you can go back to prison.”

  “Not me,” Castillo said. “I will go where you go.”

  “And where is that, by the way?” Masters asked.

  “To a town called Fenton City,” Jessup said. “I got an appointment with the sheriff there.”

  “Why do you have an appointment with a sheriff?” Foley asked.

  “Because when he was a marshal he put me in Yuma,” Jessup said.

  “And you’re gonna kill him?” Masters asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Great,” Foley said, “he wants to kill another lawman. They’ll never stop looking for us.”

  “A guard is not a lawman,” Jessup said.

  “Look,” Foley said, “I think I want to go my own way now.”

  “Me, too,” Masters said.

  “Well,” Jessup said, “I think I’m the one with the gun, and you two are not goin’ anywhere until I say so. You wanna argue? Wait until we get some more guns. I don’t mind standin’ up to both of you.”

  “Look, Jessup,” Masters said, “we’re with ya. Don’t lose your temper.”

  Masters and Foley had seen on the inside what Jessup could do when he lost his temper.

  “Yeah, Jessup,” Foley said. “We’re with ya.”

  Jessup stared at both of them, then looked away. Castillo had walked up ahead a ways and was now coming back.

  “Whatawe got?” Jessup asked.

  Masters and Foley knew they were going to have to be careful around Castillo and Jessup. Castillo towered over them at six-three, and Jessup was bigger than he was. Either one of them could have torn them to pieces with their bare hands. That Jessup had the guard’s gun only meant he might kill them quicker.

  “There’s a house up ahead,” Castillo said. “A corral with some horses. A fallin’ down barn. We ain’t gonna get much except for maybe a coupla guns and run-down horses.”

  “And some food,” Jessup said. “We don’t have a choice. We already passed up the places that had too many hands, too many guns. We’re gonna have to hit it.”

  “There is a family livin’ there,” Castillo said. “With children.”

  “Too bad,” Jessup said. “Let’s go.”

  He started walking. Castillo went to follow but Masters grabbed his arm.

  “We gotta kill kids?” he asked.

  Castillo fixed him with a cold stare.

  “We have to do whatever Jessup says,” the Mexican said.

  “Yeah, but killin’ kids,” Foley said. “Man, I wasn’t even inside for murder, just some robberies. I was gonna get out in two years.”

  Castillo poked him in the chest with a thick forefinger.

  “You should have thought of that before you hitched your wagon to Jessup.”

  “I—I just got excited, ya know?” Foley said. “Caught up in the idea of gettin’ out.”

  Castillo shrugged and started following in Jessup’s footsteps.

  Foley looked at Masters.

  “I know what you mean,” Masters said. “I was gonna get out in three.”

  “What do we do?” Foley asked. “If we kill kids, we’ll hang when they catch us.”

  “I guess we gotta make sure we don’t get caught,” Masters said.

  “We could walk the other way, Masters,” Foley said.

  “Yeah, then we got the law and Jessup lookin’ for us,” Masters said. “I’d rather just have the law.”

  “He might kill us.”

  “He got us out.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Look, Foley,” Masters said, “you wanna go, go. I’m stickin’ with Jessup.”

  Masters started walking, and after a few deep breaths, Foley followed.

  TWENTY-NINE

  “Shit!” Dockery said.

  He, Clint, and Starkweather got to the top of a hill and looked down at the Simmons place.

  “You said it was a ranch,” Clint said.

  “It was, once,” Dockery said. “I didn’t know it got this bad.”

  “That barn’s about to fall down,” Starkweather said.

  “That might be the least of their problems,” Clint said.

  “Whataya mean?” Dockery asked.

  “Look at the doorway.”

  Dockery and Starkweather tried to see what Clint was seeing—and then they did. A pair of legs sticking out the open doorway.

  “And that corral,” Clint said.

  “It’s empty,” Dockery said.

  “And the door’s wide open,” Starkweather said.

  “Damn it,” Dockery said. “We’re too late.”

  “We better get down there and see the extent of the damage.”

  They rode down.

  It took five minutes to see that John Simmons was dead, as were his two children, all shot.

  “The girl must’ve been eight,” Dockery said. “The boy was a teenager, I think.”

  “What about a wife?” Starkweather asked. “Was there a wife?”

  “There was,” Dockery said.

  “Jessup and the others must have taken her,” Clint said, “and whatever horses were in the corral.”

  “How close are we to Yuma?” Starkweather asked.

  “This is pretty much halfway,” Dockery said.

  “Why would they pick this place, if there were others between here and Yuma?” Clint asked.

  “They probably bypassed the ones that had too many people, too many guns,” Dockery said. “This one was ripe for the pickings. They probably got a couple of horses, some food, and some guns.”

  “And a woman,” Starkweather said.

  “After being in Yuma,” Clint said, “they wouldn’t have been able to pass up a woman.”

  “We have to bury these people,” Dockery said. “I’ll find a shovel.”

  “I’m going to take a look at the corral,” Clint said. “I might be able to tell how many animals they got.”

  “Kid, come with me,” Dockery said. “Maybe we can find two shovels.”

  “While we bury them, the escapees are getting further away,” Starkweather said.

  “First,” Dockery said, “these people deserve a burial. Second, I doubt they got prime stock out of that corral. We’ll be able to ride them down. And third, your old man’s not goin’ anywhere. I doubt he’s gonna leave the country. You’ll catch up to him, eventually.”

  “You’re right,” Starkweather said. “I’m sorry.”

  They went looking for shovels while Clint went to the corral.

  As soon as Je
ssup and the escapees got away from the house, Castillo dismounted and took the woman behind some trees. She’d been riding with him, sitting in front, and all the way she could feel his hardness through his pants. He’d wanted to rape her at the house, but Jessup had stopped him.

  “Once we get away from here,” he’d said, “she’s all yours—and I got seconds.”

  Castillo pulled the woman down off the horse and carried her into the trees. He found a clearing and put her down. She was wearing a simple, homemade dress that easily came apart in his hands. Her naked flesh excited him even more. He took her all in. She wasn’t young, and had a soft belly, but she had full breasts and a bushy patch between her legs. And he hadn’t had a woman in five years.

  “You want to scream?” he asked.

  “I want to die,” she said.

  “What is your name?”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “If you do not tell me, I’ll hurt you.”

  “You’re going to hurt me, anyway,” she said. “You killed my husband, and my children. Do you think I care what you do to me? Come on.” She spread her legs for him, so he could see the pink there. “Let’s see what a big man you are.”

  He stared down at her and smiled. He undid his gun belt, dropped it, and his trousers to the ground.

  “There,” he said, touching himself. “You see how big I am.”

  She looked at his penis and laughed. “You are not half the man my husband was.”

  “Your husband?” Castillo asked. “The man who begged for his life?”

  “He did not beg for his life,” she said. “He begged for mine, and for the lives of my children.”

  Castillo advanced on her, sat on her legs, and grabbed her breasts. His penis was rigid, and huge. He knew she was trying to insult him so he’d kill her quickly.

  “I have been waiting five years for this,” he said, “and you will not cheat me out of it.”

  He got to his knees, spread her legs, and drove himself into her.

  Janet Simmons was determined not to scream . . .

  Jessup, Foley, and Masters drank some of the water and ate some of the food they’d taken from the house.

  “Take it easy,” Jessup said. “This food and water has to last.”

  “Until we come to another house,” Foley said.

  Jessup looked at the three horses they’d taken from the corral. Only one was a saddle horse, and he’d taken that one for himself. Castillo had taken the best of the other two. That meant Foley and Masters were riding double on the weakest animal.

  “These horses ain’t gonna last long,” Masters said.

  “Why did we change direction?” Foley asked. “We shoulda came to another house.”

  “I didn’t want to keep going to Fenton City,” Jessup said.

  “I thought there was a lawman you had to kill,” Masters said.

  “And I will,” Jessup said, “as soon as I’m properly outfitted.”

  The only weapon they’d gotten from the house was a Winchester. Jessup was holding on to that and the guard’s gun.

  “You boys can go your own way now,” he said. “You’ve got a horse, and some food and water.”

  “This horse? It ain’t gonna get us far ridin’ double,” Masters said.

  “If you head for Fenton City, you might find something better.”

  “What are you sayin’?” Foley asked.

  Jessup pointed the rifle at them and said, “I’m tellin’ you to go—unless you want a turn at the woman first.”

  THIRTY

  The trail wasn’t difficult to follow. Eventually Clint, Dockery, and Starkweather came upon the woman and the two men.

  They dismounted, checked the bodies.

  “She was raped first,” Clint said, looking at the naked woman. “Probably more than once.”

  “That’s Janet Simmons,” Dockery said. “So now the whole family is accounted for.”

  They walked over to the two dead men. Starkweather was standing there, staring down at them.

  “Still wearing their prison clothes,” he said.

  “Jessup killed them, that’s for sure,” Dockery said. “According to the telegram I got, these would be Masters and Foley.”

  “And who else?” Clint asked.

  “Fella named Castillo.”

  “You know him?”

  Dockery shook his head. “Don’t know nothin’ about him, except he’s probably either friends with Jessup or is of value to him.”

  “So they killed these two,” Starkweather said.

  Dockery nodded. “Rather than share the food, horses, clothes—probably the woman—with them.”

  “If Jessup wants you dead,” Starkweather asked, “why did he change direction?”

  “He’s not ready,” Dockery said. “It’s that pure and simple. Once he’s outfitted, he’ll come for me.”

  “So why don’t you just go back home and wait?” Starkweather asked.

  Dockery looked at him.

  “I’m not trying to be smart,” Starkweather said, “I’m just asking.”

  “Because by the time he got around to me, he might have killed a lot more people—like the Simmons family, and these two.”

  “That makes sense,” Starkweather said.

  “We’ve got to bury these people,” Clint said.

  “Good thing I brought one of the shovels.”

  They buried the two men in the same grave, the woman separately.

  “If we had the time, I’d take her back and bury her with her family,” Dockery said.

  “Doesn’t much matter,” Starkweather said.

  “Might matter to her.”

  “Not anymore.” Starkweather turned and walked away.

  “That boy got any family other than Nate Starkweather?” Dockery asked.

  “Not that I know of.”

  “That might explain a lot.”

  They walked away from the graves. This time Dockery left the shovel behind. Clint guessed that if they managed to kill Jessup, Dockery had no intention of burying him.

  They mounted their horses.

  “If we move fast, we can ride them down,” Dockery said. “Even if they have Simmons’s saddle horse, they’re only gonna be able to move as fast as their slowest animal.”

  “Clint could probably ride them down faster than we could,” Starkweather said.

  “That’s probably true,” Dockery said, “but he’d be outnumbered two-to-one.”

  “He could take them.”

  “Jessup’s good,” Dockery said. “With and without a gun. You’re probably right, and I’d probably bet on Clint, but I’d rather we stay together.”

  “You’re the boss,” Starkweather said.

  “Thanks, kid.”

  They followed the trail. Clint was not the most accomplished tracker at this point. Dockery was.

  “They’re ridin’ shit horses,” he said. “You can see where they’ve stumbled from time to time.”

  “You can see that by their tracks?” Starkweather asked.

  “You wanna learn something?” Dockery asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Clint remained mounted while Starkweather stepped down to take a lesson from Dockery. Clint wasn’t looking, but from what he could hear it had to do with the horse stumbling, or leaving scuff marks instead of clear imprints.

  Clint kept watch, just in case Jessup and Castillo were lying in wait for them.

  “See anything?” Dockery asked Clint.

  “Not a thing,” Clint said.

  “Okay,” Dockery said. “Let’s get mounted and keep going. We’re gettin’ closer.”

  “We are?” Starkweather asked.

  Dockery settled into his saddle and said, “We are.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  Jessup and Castillo could not wear the clothes they had found in the Simmons house. The dead man had only been five-foot-ten. None of his clothes, or boots, would fit.

  After Jessup had killed Foley and Masters, he had releas
ed the third horse. He was riding the rancher’s horse, using his saddle. Castillo was on the other horse, riding bareback. His was the animal that was beginning to stumble and would probably soon collapse.

  “I’ll walk,” Castillo told Jessup. “If the horse goes down while I am on it, it might fall on me.”

  “That’s fine,” Jessup said. “But that’s gonna slow us down.”

  “I can ride double with you.”

  “That’ll still slow us down.”

  “Then you go on ahead,” Castillo said.

  “I think we should stay together, amigo.”

  Castillo stared up at Jessup. On more than one occasion one had kept the other alive in Yuma Prison. That kind of thing tended to forge a bond between even the most vicious of men.

  “Here,” Jessup said, handing Castillo the rifle. It was a show of trust that surprised the Mexican. “There must be a posse looking for us by now. We have to find better horses, and more guns. I’ll scout on ahead, and when I find something, I’ll come back for you.”

  “Agreed,” Castillo said. “I will keep walking.”

  Jessup nodded, and started his horse forward. Castillo left the other horse where it was—standing, exhausted, with its head down—and started walking. He had taken about three steps when he heard the animal fall.

  “We’re close,” Dockery said.

  “How can you tell?” Starkweather asked.

  “The tracks are fresher,” Dockery said, “and deep, which means the horses are tired . . . and it also helps that I can see one of their horses lying over there.”

  He pointed. Starkweather saw a barebacked horse lying on the ground, it’s sides heaving with its labored breathing.

  “Deeper tracks . . . ,” he muttered as they rode over to the fallen animal.

  Clint dismounted to check the animal.

  “He’s done in,” Clint said. “Won’t last much longer.”

  “If you shoot it, the shot will warn them that we’re comin’,” Dockery said.

  “You don’t think they already know that somebody’s coming after them?” Clint asked.

  “You’re right,” Dockery said. “Go ahead and do it. It’ll give them somethin’ to think about.”