by Jake Logan
He could wait it out behind this tree and continue bleeding until he passed out from the loss of blood, passed out or died. He could step out into the road and shoot until the two up above killed him, which they would surely do under these circumstances. Or he could try crawling into the wilderness to the east. He had no idea what he would find out there. Suddenly, tears started streaming down his face. He knew it was the end. He cranked a shell into the chamber of his rifle and limped out into the road. He fired at the boulders at the top of the rise. He cranked another shell and fired again. He continued firing like that until the rifle was empty.
He flung the rifle aside and drew out his revolver, wondering why there was no return fire. He raised the six-gun to shoot at the same spot above, and just then a man appeared from behind a boulder. Hardy fired his weapon, but the range was too great for a good shot. The man above put a rifle to his shoulder and fired, and Hardy felt a burning pain shoot through his chest. He staggered and fell back, landing hard in the dirt. He drew a last, jerky, gurgling breath, and then he breathed no more.
Up above, Gourd looked down on what he had done. No more shots came from below, even though he was absolutely exposed.
“Charlie,” said Pierce, “get down.”
“Hell,” said Gourd, “no one’s shooting.”
“But there’s another one down there. We know there was two of them.”
“The other one must have got away somehow,” said Gourd, “Let’s mount up and go on down and see.”
They were down the hill in a few minutes, still holding their guns ready in case the other man was still lurking somewhere. Gourd dismounted and nudged Hardy’s corpse with his boot toe. He picked up the rifle and the six-gun and handed them to Pierce. Then he knelt beside the body and went through the pockets. He found a wad of money and pocketed it.
“Should you be doing that?” said Billy.
“Why not?” said Gourd.
“Well, I—”
“It ain’t going to do him no good in hell,” Gourd said.
“No. I guess not. Well, the other one’s gone just like you said.”
“Yeah,” said Gourd, standing up and looking around. He bent down to take hold of the body by one leg and started dragging it out of the road. “One horse run past us. There’s no sign of the other one. He got to it somehow and took off.” He rolled the body off the road a ways. “We’d best get after him.”
“Him and the third one,” said Billy.
“Yeah. There’s still two to go,” said Gourd. “Won’t Slocum be surprised when we go back and tell him we got all of them? Him all laid up and hurt like he is.”
“Yeah. I reckon he will,” Billy said.
Up ahead, Jigs was still worrying about what might happen next. He came to a spot in the road that struck him as the perfect place for an ambush. It was a large outcropping of rock that stuck out almost into the road at the bottom, and rose up high at the top. There was room on the south side to hide a horse, and there the hillside looked easy enough to climb. He made a quick decision. He rode around to the south side of the rock and dismounted. He tied his horse there, not wanting to take another chance on losing it. He took the rifle from the boot and started climbing. It was a more difficult climb than he had anticipated, but at last he made it to the top of the rock.
He settled himself there in such a way as to prevent anyone riding down the road from seeing him, but at the same time allowing him a good view of the road to the north. He knew that someone would be following him before long. One or both of the two mysterious shooters or Hardy. Either way, he would be ready for them. He cranked a shell into the chamber of his rifle and prepared himself for a shot. He wished they would hurry up. He was ready for a kill. Hell, he needed one.
Gourd and Pierce rode south in silence for a space. At last Pierce spoke up. “You think it’s all right to just leave him lay there like that? Food for the coyotes? I know Slocum left that first one like that, but I ain’t sure—”
“Billy,” said Gourd, in an exasperated voice, “if you want to bury the son of a bitch and pray over him, ride on back there and do it. I don’t give a shit.”
“I didn’t say that,” said Pierce. “I don’t know. I just don’t feel right about all this.”
“You don’t even have to ride along,” Gourd said. “Why don’t you just turn around and ride back to North Fork and wait for Slocum along with Old Jan? No one will think less about you for it. You just ain’t got the stomach for this kind of killing is all. There ain’t nothing wrong with that. People is made in different ways. That’s all. Turn around and go on back. Hell, we’re just following one man is all. Anyhow, one at a time.”
Just then a rifle shot rang out, and a splotch of blood appeared in the center of Gourd’s chest. His face took on a bewildered look. Then it went blank. The body slouched and then slid slowly from the saddle to land with a dull thud in the hard-packed earth of the road. A small puff of dust rose around it.
7
Billy wanted to dismount and see if he could help Gourd, but Gourd looked dead and the shooter was still out there. Billy turned his horse quickly and headed to the side of the road. He got out his rifle, cranked a shell into the chamber, and dismounted. He tried to get a look down the road. He spotted a high rock up ahead, and he figured the shooter was up there. Billy wasn’t sure, but it looked to him like an ideal place. Then he saw a slight movement, brief, and whatever it was disappeared. He still waited. He heard a horse, and then he saw the man riding south fast. He was out of sight quickly before Billy could even put his rifle to his shoulder. He stepped out into the road and stared ahead for a moment. The killer was gone.
Billy walked over to the body of Gourd and knelt beside it. He was dead all right. Gourd had most likely been killed instantly. Billy put a hand on Gourd’s forehead for an instant. He took the man’s gun belt off and threw it over his shoulder. He fumbled in the pockets and took out the money that Gourd had taken off the body of the last one they had killed. He stuffed the money into his own pocket. Then he loaded the body across the saddle of what had been Gourd’s horse only a few minutes ago. Taking the reins, he mounted his own horse and turned back north. He rode slowly.
Sluice had made it across the border into Nebraska, and he soon came to a small town called Bascomb. He located the one hotel, not a difficult task, tied his horse out front, and went inside to the desk. A sleepy-eyed clerk looked up and asked, “Room?”
“That’s what you go into a hotel for, ain’t it?” said Sluice.
“Sign the book,” the clerk said.
Sluice picked up the pen, dipped it, and wrote, “Callendar.”
The clerk took his money, tossed him a key, and said, “First door down the hall.”
Sluice carried his gear down to the room and stashed it there. Then he walked back to the desk. “Where’s the stable?” he demanded more than asked.
“Far end of the street,” said the clerk.
“Saloon?”
“Two doors down.”
Sluice walked outside again and mounted his horse. He rode to the livery and paid the man there to take care of the horse. He had taken note of the saloon on his way down to the stable, so he walked the short distance back to it and went inside. He walked to the bar and was met by a large bartender with a handlebar mustache.
“What’s your pleasure?” the barkeep said.
“Whiskey,” said Sluice.
The barkeep poured a drink, but as he started to put the bottle away, Sluice stopped him. “Leave it,” he said, and he tossed some money on the bar.
“You’re a stranger here,” the barkeep said.
“I ain’t surprised you noticed,” Sluice said. “You only got a one-horse town here. One hotel. One saloon. One livery.”
“One of each is plenty,” the barkeep said. “Especially when one man owns them all.”
“One man, eh?”
“That’s right,” said the big man.
“Who is he?” Sluice a
sked.
“Meet Tom Grimes,” he said. “Me.”
Sluice shook hands with Grimes and smiled wide.
“Well, sir,” he said, “it’s a real pleasure to meet a genuine enterprising man. The whole damn town, huh?”
“Yeah. That’s right. I just got the last piece of property here. Man that owned the hardware store decided to get out. He sold me the place cheap.”
“My name’s Callendar,” said Sluice, and they shook hands. “I don’t suppose you’d like to unload that hardware store for a little more than what you paid for it?”
“Why? You interested?”
“I might be,” said Sluice. “If the price is right.”
“Well, now, why would I want to sell? I just got hold of the last place of business in this town. I own it all.”
“How you going to run it all just all by your own self? Tell you what,” said Sluice. “You keep the property and sell me the business. I’ll pay you a cut of everything I make.”
“You run a business like that before?” Grimes asked.
“Sure,” Sluice lied. “I had me my own business up in Cheyenne. I sold it out a while back on account of business wasn’t very good. There was two other such establishments in town. I always wanted a setup like this one here.”
“All right,” said Grimes. “Let’s talk figures.”
Billy Pierce rode slowly into Jones Mill leading Gourd’s horse, which was bearing Gourd’s body. He stopped in front of the sheriff’s office and dismounted. The sheriff saw him through the window and came out onto the sidewalk.
“What’s happened?” he asked.
“We caught up with them,” said Pierce. “We got one, and the other one ran off. We went after him, but he laid an ambush. He killed Charlie.”
“I thought you were following three men,” the sheriff said.
“Seems like the leader—”
“Sluice?”
“Yeah. Him. Seems like he run out on the other two soon as we caught up with them.”
“Well, let’s take care of your friend.”
The sheriff led the way to the undertaker’s place, where Billy made the arrangements and paid the man. Then they walked back to the sheriff’s office.
“I wish I could help you,” the sheriff said. “But from what you said, they’re out of my jurisdiction. What are your plans?”
“I don’t know,” said Billy. “I guess I’ll ride back to North Fork and find Slocum and Old Jan. Tell them what’s happened out here.”
“Well, about all I can do is send out some wire messages to the towns south of here and let them know to watch for them. Good luck to you.”
Jigs reached the border to Nebraska. There was a sign that said it was three miles to the town of Bascomb. He started to ride on, but he stopped, hesitated. Sluice might have stopped there, thinking that he was safe now in Nebraska. Jigs did not want to come upon Sluice unexpected, unexpected by either one or both of them. That could be very dangerous. He wondered what he could do. He rode on slowly until he was almost to Bascomb. He spotted a grove of trees off to the side of the road, and moved into them. He looked at the sun low in the sky. Soon it would be dark. He decided to stop there until it was full dark. Then he would ride on in slow and easy. If anyone was going to be surprised, he wanted it to be Sluice.
In town, Sluice, as Callendar, was just finishing up a round of drinks with Grimes in the saloon. They had signed a paper together, and Sluice had handed over a batch of money, stolen from the stagecoach, to Grimes. They had shaken hands and then had had several drinks together. Sluice told Grimes that he wanted to go take a look at the hardware store, and Grimes had given him the key to the front door.
“Help yourself,” he said.
Sluice left the saloon, staggering slightly, and headed for the hardware store. He noted that it was dark already. At the edge of town, a lurking Jigs saw Sluice crossing the street. He smiled. Luck was with him this night. He eased himself into town, watching as Sluice unlocked the door to the store and walked in. Jigs tied his horse across the street from the store and dismounted. He stood for a moment watching while Sluice apparently found a lamp and lit it. Then he un-holstered his six-gun, cocked it, and started walking toward the store.
When Sluice got the light lit, he held it up and looked around. He was pleased. He saw just about anything anybody could want. There were bolts of cloth. There were canned goods. There was candy on the counter. There were boxes of bullets of every caliber imaginable. There was a pickle barrel. There were trousers and shirts, belts, dresses, men’s hats, and women’s hats. Sluice wondered how there could be enough people around to buy all this stuff. Then it occurred to him that there might not be. Maybe that was why Grimes had been so easy to deal with. Maybe Grimes had played him for a sucker. Or thought that he had. Sluice had a trick or two up his sleeve yet. He went to the cash register and opened it. The cash drawer was empty except for a few coins. Disgusted, he slammed it shut again.
He turned around to examine the shelves behind the counter, and when he did, he heard the front door open. He turned again to see Jigs standing there with his six-gun in his hand. The pistol was pointed generally at Sluice’s middle. Sluice spread his hands out wide. “Jigs,” he said. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Sure you are, you dirty son of a bitch,” said Jigs.
“What?” said Sluice. “What is this? You mean to kill me?”
“You damn right,” said Jigs. “You run out on us. Hardy went and got hisself killed.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Sluice. “Hell, I figured you two could handle them all right. I kept looking over my shoulder expecting to see the both of you riding up behind me to say you’d killed them all. What went wrong?”
Jigs’s face developed a puzzled expression. Here was an unexpected wrinkle.
“I scouted ahead to make sure there weren’t no surprises waiting for us up that way while you two took care of that little problem behind us,” said Sluice. “I been expecting you, well, both of you, for quite some time now.”
Jigs wrinkled his brow. “You, uh, you telling me the truth?” he asked. “You ain’t lying to me?”
“Why the hell would I lie to you, Jigs?” said Sluice. “Why, hell, we’re pardners, ain’t we? Didn’t you and Hardy break me out of jail? Didn’t you save my ass from a hanging? Why, Jigs, I owe you for just about everything.”
“Ham helped us break you out of jail,” said Jigs. “I remember how you run out on him.”
“Ham was hurt and so was his horse. There was men on our trail. If we had stopped to help Ham, they’d have got us all. It was that simple, Jigs. I hated doing it, but there just wasn’t no choice. Can you see that?”
“Well, yeah,” said Jigs, lowering his pistol a bit. “I reckon I can see it.”
“Come on in here,” said Sluice, “and look over my new setup.”
“Your—”
“This whole store is mine now,” Sluice said. “And you can come in on it with me.”
“Me? And you?”
“That’s right, pard. It’s all ours.”
“But, hell, Sluice, we ain’t storekeepers. What do we want with a store?”
“Listen to me. There’s a man name of Grimes what owns this whole damn town. I made a deal with him for this place. It’ll give us a cover for hanging around till we can take over from him. You see?”
“Well, yeah, I think so. We going to take over the whole fucking town? The saloon?”
“That’s right.”
“It got gals?”
“Plenty of them. Good-looking ones, too.”
“Jailhouse?”
“Hell, Jigs, you can be the sheriff if you want to.”
“I can wear a badge?”
“You damn right.”
“Hey, Sluice, I had you all wrong. I’m sorry, pard.”
“Forget it, Jigs,” said Sluice. “Come on with me now over to the saloon and we’ll have a few drinks. You can meet Grimes, too, but don’
t let on that anything’s wrong. Okay?”
“I won’t let on nothing,” said Jigs. “You can count on me for that.”
Billy Pierce rode into North Fork and found Old Jan in the saloon. He had one drink with his old partner, and then Old Jan took him to the doctor’s office to see Slocum. Slocum was sitting up in bed when they walked in. “He’s coming along pretty well,” said Doc. “He’ll be getting up in another few days, I imagine.”
“Slocum,” said Billy, “I’m glad to see you coming along so good.”
“Where’s Gourd?” Slocum asked.
“He’s buried over in Jones Mill,” said Billy. “They got him on the road. Ambush. Not before we got one of them, though.”
“Which one?” said Slocum, his voice anxious.
“Not Sluice,” said Billy. “Sluice and one other one are still out there somewhere.”
“What do you intend to do now, Billy boy?” said Old Jan.
Billy shrugged. “Hang around here with you two, I guess,” he said.
“Jan,” said Slocum.
“Yeah?”
“Why don’t you leave Billy here, like he said, and you go on ahead. Have those two ever laid eyes on you?”
“I don’t believe they have,” said Old Jan.
“Well, you ride on ahead. See if you can locate them. Hang back and keep your eyes on them. That way, when I come along, me and Billy, you can show us where they’re at.”
“Well,” said Old Jan, “I guess I could do that.”
“Here,” said Billy, “you might need some of this.”
He pulled a wad of bills out of his pocket and handed them to Old Jan.
“Where the hell did you get all that?” said Old Jan.
“Charlie got it off the man we killed. I got it off Charlie.”
Old Jan stuffed the money into his pocket. “I’ll move out first thing in the morning, Slocum.”