by Jake Logan
Slocum sat by the window in his hotel room, where he had a good view of the jail across the street. He cleaned and oiled his Colt and reloaded it. Then he did the same to his Winchester. He knew that trouble was coming, and it was coming soon, and he meant to be ready for it. The day so far, though, was very calm. There were few people on the street. No one seemed to be doing any business. Slocum figured that the citizens of Shit Creek must have been aware of the coming brouhaha. They were staying well hidden for their own safety. Slocum thought that if he had any sense, he would be far away from Shit Creek, for his safety.
He holstered the Colt, picked up the Winchester, put on his hat, and left the room. He went downstairs, outside, and down the street to Church’s office. He found the mayor inside.
“Hello, Slocum,” Church said.
“Mayor,” said Slocum. “You all ready for court in the morning?”
“I’m as ready as I’ll be,” said Church.
“You know there’ll be problems,” said Slocum. “Before or after, there’ll be problems.”
“Yeah. I know that.”
“I’ve got Tommy in the jailhouse with his shotgun,” Slocum said, “and I’m keeping pretty close and keeping an eye out.”
“So you’re ready?”
“I didn’t say that. Likely we’ll be outnumbered when it happens. Be outnumbered pretty bad.”
“Who do you think it will be?” Church asked.
Slocum shook his head. “It could be either one of them,” he said. “Oates wants to save Hyde. Bartlet wants to see him pay.”
“Bartlet should be content to let the trial go on,” Church said.
“He would be if he didn’t think that Oates will try to bust Hyde out.”
“Yeah.”
“If I were you,” Slocum said, “I’d stay off the street.”
“I will. Thanks for the warning.”
Slocum walked out and headed for the eatery to see Terri Sue. He wanted to give her the same advice he had given Church. He did not want any stray shots catching her.
Out on the Bartlet ranch, Red and Melvin rounded up four other hands. They did not feel quite confident, just the two of them, trying to pull off this job. They got the boys together and sat around the bunkhouse. The rest of the crew was all out chasing cows. Red rolled himself a cigarette, while everyone else waited. He struck a match and lit the smoke.
“Boys,” he said, “me and Melvin are going into town to get our pards out of jail.” He stopped and looked over the other four men. They sat silent. “It could be a pretty big job for just the two of us.”
One of the other four men spoke up. “You want we should go in with you?” he said.
“That’d be good if you would,” Red answered.
The cowhand looked at his three compadres. “That sound all right to you fellows?” he said.
They all nodded and agreed. “Yeah,” one said.
“Sure.”
“You can count on us.”
“That’s good,” said Red. “That’ll make us six. When we get the others out, we’ll be ten.”
“We get them boys out and get them their guns,” said one of the four, “we’ll be pretty strong if we should have to shoot our way out of town.”
“That’s right.”
“Say,” said another one. “What about that fucking Sam Hyde?”
Red looked serious. He took a drag off his cigarette, then looked up and into each of the faces of those seated around him.
“We’ll get him, too,” he said. “What do you think? Should we just shoot him in his cell, or should we take him out and hang him?”
“Red?” said one of the four.
“What is it, Frenchie?”
“We don’t know what’s going to happen when we get in there, do we?”
“How could we?”
“Well, I say let’s just keep our minds open for whatever is happening. If it looks like we’re going to have to shoot our way out of town, let’s just shoot the bastard. If things goes smooth for us, let’s bring him out and string him up.”
“Sounds good, Frenchie. But I do got one more thing to tell you all. Tommy Howard’s with us. He said he’d be looking the other way.”
“Then all we got to worry about is that Slocum,” Frenchie said.
That Slocum was at that minute sitting in the eatery with Terri Sue. Each had a cup of coffee. He had already warned her to keep off the streets for a while as much as possible. He told her that time was getting short, that the trial was at ten o’clock in the morning, unless someone did something to stop it before then. He and Tommy were going to do everything they could to see that the trial went on as scheduled, but there were no guarantees, of course. Anything could happen.
“Slocum,” she said, “you don’t owe anyone in this town anything. Why don’t you just ride out? Get out while the getting’s good. There are only two of you, and there are two whole cattle crews out there who will be coming in, each trying to get its own way. You won’t stand a chance.”
“It does look that way,” Slocum said.
“Then you’ll leave?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It may be stupid,” Slocum said, “but I don’t run.”
“Why not?” she said. “You said all along that you wouldn’t stay here.”
“I won’t,” said Slocum, “but I’ll leave when the trouble’s over. Not before.”
Terri Sue looked at the table for a moment. She picked up her cup, but before sipping any coffee, she said, “In that case, you might stay here forever—in Boot Hill.”
“Don’t count me out yet,” said Slocum.
He made some excuse and left. He was walking toward the jailhouse when he saw the children playing in the street. He hurried over to them and shouted.
“Get off the street, you kids. Hurry up. Go on. Go home and stay there.”
The children scattered, and Slocum walked on. Visions of the boy who was killed swam in his head. He did not want to see anything like that happen again.
“Damn kids,” he muttered as he walked on. He was trying to get the visions out of his head. They were the reasons he was still in this damned Shit Creek. The visions. He had seen plenty of men killed. Some deserved what they got and some did not. But the kid—he did not deserve it. He was just a kid. He hadn’t done anything to anybody.
He began to get pissed off at both big ranches. Suddenly he wished that they would go on and start their damned range war and wipe each other out. Start it, but start it out of town, out where there were no kids to get in the way of their bullets.
Then it came to him. That was the thing to do. Get the war started but get it started out on the range. He tried to think how he would go about it. The nearest of the two ranches was the Bartlet place. He would go out there and agitate, start something, get Bartlet all riled up and ready to go to war. He hurried to the livery stable and saddled his Appaloosa. He rode past the jailhouse and shouted at Tommy. Tommy opened the door and looked out into the street.
“Hold things down, Tommy,” Slocum said. “I’ll be out of town for a spell.”
He rode as fast as he could go to the Bartlet ranch and jumped off his horse and ran into the house without any invitation. Bartlet, seated behind his big desk working on his books, jumped to his feet and reached for a six-gun. Then he realized who had burst in on him. He put the gun down on the desk.
“Bartlet,” said Slocum.
“What’s the meaning of this?” said Bartlet.
“I came to warn you,” said Slocum. “Oates and his men are planning to attack you.”
“What?”
“The range war is on. He could be here any time now. You got to get your men together and get ready for him.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“Of course I’m sure. Call your men together and get ready.”
Bartlet picked up the gun again. He ran to the front porch and began yelling for cowboys. Soon they were gathering
around him. Slocum went back to his horse. Bartlet saw him and stopped him with a yell.
“Slocum,” he said, “you ain’t sticking around?”
“I’m the town marshal,” Slocum said. “I shouldn’t even have come out here to warn you, but I couldn’t let Oates pull a sneak attack on you like that.”
He turned his horse and hurried away. Reaching the road, he headed for the Simple Simon Ranch. He reached its main gate in half an hour. A couple more minutes found him at Oates’s porch. Oates was sitting out in a chair, puffing a cigar, with a scowl on his face. Slocum dismounted and climbed the stairs to the porch.
“What the hell do you want here, Slocum?” said Oates. “You got no jurisdiction out here.”
“I know that, Mr. Oates,” Slocum said. “I ain’t here on official business. In fact, if the town council ever finds out about this, I could be fired.”
“What then?” said Oates. “What is it?”
“I just got word that Bartlet is getting his whole crew together and planning an attack on your ranch.”
“What? Hell, I don’t believe that.”
“Believe it or not,” said Slocum. “It’s nothing to me. But if you ain’t ready for him, he’ll blow you off of this porch without giving it another thought. And then him and his men will burn the place to the ground.”
“How’d you find out about this?” Oates demanded.
“I overheard a couple of Bartlet’s cowhands talking about it in the Fat Back saloon. They were a little bit drunk and never even noticed me. Anyhow, I know it’s out of my jurisdiction, but I can’t stand to see anyone pull a dirty trick like that. I thought you deserved a warning at the least.”
Oates’s face took on a concerned look. He stood up, looked over his shoulder, and called out for some hands. Then he looked back at Slocum.
“Thanks,” he said. “For a time I thought you were siding with Bartlet.”
“I was just siding with the law,” said Slocum.
“Yeah. I can see that now. Thanks for the warning.”
“I got to get back to town now,” Slocum said. “I shouldn’t even be out here.”
“Don’t worry, Slocum. We’ll be ready for the son of a bitch when he gets here.”
18
Councilman Mike Fall walked into the office of Mayor Church and found him pacing the floor. Church stopped and turned to face Fall. He noticed that Fall was wearing a six-gun and carrying a Henry rifle in his right hand.
“Mike,” he said, “what the hell are you up to? Slocum said we should stay off the street.”
“Yeah, Will,” Fall said. “You told me that already, but it doesn’t seem right to leave two men to face all that trouble alone. You going to join me?”
“I don’t know, Mike,” Church said. “This is what we hired Slocum for, isn’t it?”
“I guess so, Will. We hired Slocum and then Tommy to do our fighting for us. It seemed like the thing to do at the time. I agreed with you, remember?”
“Yes, you did.”
“I didn’t know it was going to come to this. I couldn’t live with myself, Will. Not if I let this happen—just let it happen. I’ve got to help. Got to help some way.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Go over to the jail, I guess. I don’t know what else to do.”
Church opened a desk drawer and pulled out a six-gun, which he began strapping around his waist.
“I may have a better idea,” he said. “Tommy’s at the jail with his shotgun. He can probably handle any trouble that might come there. Slocum will likely be with him.”
“So?”
“So the real danger is if one or both of those big ranchers heads into town. We could ride out a few miles and hide on the side of the road—just in case. We could stop anyone who comes along that looks like they might be trouble.”
“All right,” Fall said. “You ready?”
“Let’s go,” said Church.
On the way out of the office, Church picked up a Winchester that stood in a corner of the room. They made their way quickly down to the livery stable, and along the way they picked up three other men willing to take a chance to defend their town. The five men moved out on the road that led to both big ranches.
Red and Melvin were riding into town alone. They had made their way off the ranch before Bartlet had called everyone together. As they moved along the road, they heard the sound of horses coming toward them. Red slowed his horse and made a gesture to Melvin, who followed him off the road into a thicket. They sat still while Church and the other four men rode past them. Then they moved out again.
Slocum was making his way back toward town on the same road at the same time. He was thinking about the big fight that should be taking place behind him at just about any time. It was the first time in his life he had deliberately provoked a big fight, a fight that would take a good many lives. He thought about that as he rode along, but he also thought about the kids who lived and played in Shit Creek, the kids whose lives would be jeopardized if he let the fight move into town. He had no regrets. He had just rounded a curve in the road when he heard someone call out.
“Stop right there,” the voice said.
He halted the big Appaloosa and raised his hands.
“What is this?” he said.
“Oh, it’s you, Marshal,” said Will Church, stepping out of his hiding place to reveal himself to Slocum. Slocum lowered his hands.
“What’s going on here, Church?” he said.
“There are five of us here,” said Church. “We intend to make sure that no gang of riders gets into town—Bartlet or Oates or anyone else.”
“That’s a good idea, Mayor,” Slocum said. “Hold the line. I think I’d better get back to the jail, though.”
“We’ll turn back anyone who tries to pass by here, Slocum,” Fall said. “Don’t worry about it.”
Slocum rode on, but he rode easily. He was in no hurry, knowing that the road was guarded. If the Bartlet and Oates crews did not fail to engage one another on the road, and one of them tried to get through to town, the Mayor and his bunch would stop them. He had no reason to hurry—no reason that he knew of, anyway.
In town Tommy was nervous. He was up and pacing the floor. Every now and then he would go to the front window and look out. Then he would pace some more. The four Bartlet cowhands and Sammy Hyde in the other cell took note of it. Finally Sammy could stand it no longer.
“Goddamn it, Tommy,” he said, “can’t you set down?”
“Shut up,” Tommy said. “Mind your own business.”
“What you so nervous about?” Sammy said. “You thinking about Mr. Oates and the boys coming in for me again? I’d be nervous, too. They’re going to kill you, you know.”
“Shut your fucking mouth, you shithead bastard,” Tommy said. “If you don’t shut your goddamn mouth, I’ll shut it for you, and I mean permanent. You understand that?”
Tommy waved the shotgun toward Sammy, and that was apparently all that was needed to shut Sammy’s yap. But it made the Bartlet hands nervous, too.
“Hey, Tommy,” one of them said, “if you pull that damned trigger, some of that shot will scatter over here.”
“It might,” Tommy said, snarling. He paced back to the window to look out onto the street again, and then he saw Red and Melvin riding in. His heart pounded in anticipation, but the two cowboys rode straight to the Fancy Pants saloon, dismounted, tied their horses in front, and went inside. What the hell? Tommy thought. What are those two dumb bastards doing? They’re supposed to be over here. They said they would be, and I told them that I’d look the other direction. Goddamn it. Then he saw Slocum riding in. He went back behind the big desk and sat down.
Out on the road, Bartlet and most of his crew were just about to round the curve when a shot rang out. Bartlet hauled back on his reins and so did his men. About then, a voice called, “Hold it right where you are.”
“Who’s that?” Bartlet said.
“It’
s Will Church. I’ve got more men with me. No one’s riding into town today. Town’s closed off. Turn around and head back to your ranch.”
“Listen, Mayor,” said Bartlet, “I got word that Oates is going in with his whole crew and—”
“Well, he hasn’t gone by here, and you’re not going by, either,” Church said.
Bartlet looked around. He could not see Church, nor could he see anyone else who was hidden along the road. “You out here all by yourself, Mayor?” Bartlet asked.
“No, he ain’t,” said another of the mayor’s men, his voice coming from a different location from that of Church.
“Far from it,” said Fall, from yet another spot.
“There’s more of us,” said yet another voice.
“Bartlet,” said Church, “you aren’t planning to fight your way through us, are you?”
“No,” said Bartlet. “No. I wouldn’t do that. Turn around, boys. Let’s head back.”
They all turned their horses, and Bartlet rode through the crowd to be once again riding at the head. Then he led the men back the way they had come. They had gone about three miles when they saw the Oates crew heading straight for them. The Oates riders saw the Bartlets at about the same time. Both crews stopped and sat in the road, staring ahead at each other. Bartlet quickly calculated that he was outnumbered, but not by enough to make him back down.
“You’re blocking my way, Bartlet,” said Oates.
“Oh yeah? Just where the hell do you think you’re going with that bunch?”
“We’re on our way to town for a drink,” Oates said. “Now, clear the road.”
“Suppose you try to clear it,” said Bartlet.
“You heard him, boys,” said Oates. “Clear the goddamned road.”
As he spoke, he raised his rifle and took aim. The Bartlet hands all started moving. Oates’s shot missed any target. His cowhands had all their guns out, though, and were firing at anything they could see. Most of the Bartlet hands had jerked out their six-guns or rifles and were shooting back. In no time, just about everyone was hidden behind timber or brush. The shooting was sporadic.