Drifter 3

by Jake Henry

  On cue, the marshal gave a rattling cough.

  ‘You could be right,’ he managed to get out. ‘But don’t go back there on my account. You’ll only get yourself killed. I’m done. I can feel it.’

  ‘You let me worry about that,’ Savage said to him.

  He bent down to help the marshal up but paused as he heard a low rumble in the distance. Savage stood up again and his hand dropped automatically to the Remington six-gun.

  Steadily the volume of the rumble increased until the earth around them seemed to tremble. Combined with the numerous hoofbeats, came the snorts of horses and shouts of angry men filtering through the trees. Savage held his breath as the riders galloped past their hidden position and eventually the drum of hoofbeats faded into the night.

  ‘Alright, let’s get you back on that horse.’

  It took a major effort with a lot of pain to finally get Fulton back on the pinto. Savage climbed up behind him and turned the horse toward the main trail. They paused at the edge of the tree line and listened.

  When there were no more sounds, he edged the pinto out onto the trail and turned towards Bad Tooth. ‘Hang on, Fulton, we’ll get you some help.’

  Nine

  An urgent banging on Connie’s door startled her at first.

  ‘Who is it?’ she called tentatively, as though afraid of being heard.

  ‘It’s me, Savage,’ came the voice from the other side.

  She hurried to the door and opened it. When she saw the wounded Fulton, she gasped, ‘What happened?’

  ‘He got shot while we were tryin’ to get away,’ Savage told her as he pushed past her. ‘Have you got somewhere I can lay him down?’

  ‘Take him over to my bed,’ Connie told him.

  Connie hadn’t been lying when she told him her place was the little rundown shack. He lay Fulton on her bed and turned to face her.

  ‘There wouldn’t be a doctor in this hole in the ground by any chance would there?’

  In the orange glow of the candlelight, he saw her face fall. There was no need for her to answer.

  ‘God, damn it!’ he cursed loudly.

  ‘Savage?’

  The Drifter turned to face the form on the bed. ‘I’m here.’

  ‘So I heard. I already told you I’m done. Don’t take it personal. You did your best.’

  ‘It weren’t anywhere damn near enough,’ Savage pointed out.

  ‘It was more than a man could expect under the circumstances,’ Fulton said. ‘I always expected to die on the job. I don’t know how I knew, I just did. In my jacket pocket, you’ll find a letter for my sister in Chicago. Can you see that she gets it?’

  ‘I’ll take care of it,’ Savage assured him.

  ‘Thanks,’ Fulton said. ‘If you don’t mind, I’m tired. I kinda need to sleep.’

  ‘What now?’ Connie asked.

  Savage shrugged. ‘I came here to get a man, a killer.’

  ‘You still aim to do that?’

  ‘Yeah, I guess so.’

  ‘Maybe I can help you,’ Connie offered, as she moved towards a rickety table.

  He followed her and sat down in a rough chair she proffered. ‘Why would you do that?’ Then he said, ‘No. I’d rather you stayed out of it. I’ll work it out on my own.’

  ‘If he’s here, you’ll need someone to find out where,’ Connie pointed out. ‘And you can’t walk around Bad Tooth now. Not after you went and shot some of its fine, upstanding citizens.’

  Frowning, Savage asked, ‘How do you know what I did?’

  ‘I watched,’ she told him. ‘You sure do have a cold streak in you. Why?’

  ‘Mind your own damned business,’ he snapped harshly.

  Her own gaze grew stony. ‘Fine. Do you want my help or not?’

  Savage’s face softened. ‘Sorry. Yes, I’d appreciate that.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘But only just to see if the feller I’m lookin’ for is still here.’

  ‘Tell me what he looks like, what his name is.’

  He gave her the description and other things she needed to know, then Connie stood up and headed for the door.

  ‘Where are you goin’?’

  ‘To find Bobby Vandal,’ she said.

  ‘Now?’ he asked, in disbelief.

  ‘If I find him now it’ll be easier for you to get him out of Bad Tooth with all the searchers combing the surrounding mountains for you.’

  It made sense, he thought. ‘OK. Be careful, he’s a cold killer. He won’t hesitate to kill you.’

  Connie nodded. ‘I’ll be back.’

  When Bobby Vandal finished, Cindy rolled her eyes and said a silent thank you as the scar-faced killer flopped down beside her on the lumpy mattress. All the way through their coupling he’d grunted like a pig in her ear. She’d fully expected him to squeal like one when he was done.

  Suddenly Bobby sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

  ‘I need a drink,’ he announced.

  ‘You and me both,’ Cindy murmured.

  ‘What?’ Bobby snapped, as he reached for his pants.

  ‘I said, maybe you could buy me one?’

  He snorted. ‘You got all you’re gettin’ out of me.’

  Son of a bitch.

  Once dressed, he left Cindy’s one room shack. Deciding that she might as well try to get another customer for the night, she closed the door behind herself and followed him.

  When they walked into the saloon, it was almost empty. Someone had gone to the trouble of removing the bodies, though the bloodstains and the damaged shelves behind the counter were still evident.

  ‘Where’d everybody go? he asked loudly.

  ‘Gone after the two fellers who lit outta here,’ replied a bearded man who sat at a corner table.

  ‘They must be important to empty the place out,’ Bobby observed.

  ‘You might say that.’

  Bobby waited for him to continue but when nothing more was forthcoming, he shrugged and turned to face the bar.

  ‘Did the barkeep go too?’ he asked.

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Where is he then?’

  ‘Dead.’

  ‘Too bad,’ Bobby grunted and stepped behind the bar to help himself, his boots crunching on broken glass.

  ‘Who killed Jud?’ Cindy asked one of the few working girls that remained.

  ‘Some feller who thought he’d take a hand in some fun that didn’t concern him,’ she pouted as she explained. ‘He just shot Red and Bob down cold. He was some sort of lawman too.’

  The drink in Bobby Vandal’s hand stopped halfway to his lips. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The feller Red and the others brought in here was a marshal,’ the whore answered. ‘They was goin’ to cut him up some before they killed him. But then this other lawman feller bought in. He just killed them where they stood. No warnin’, nothin’. He cut loose with that rifle of his and killed them, he did. No warnin’ at all. Just …’

  ‘No warnin’, I get it,’ Bobby said impatiently. ‘What did he look like?’

  She shrugged. ‘Solid feller, black hair. Wore cavalry pants and a buckskin jacket.’

  ‘Shit,’ Bobby cursed.

  ‘Do you know him?’ Cindy asked.

  ‘Yeah, I know the son of a bitch,’ Bobby nodded. ‘His name’s Savage.’

  ‘Now, why is it that this feller would be here interferin’ in our lives?’ the bearded man asked.

  ‘Because he’s after him is why,’ Connie said, from the doorway.

  Bobby’s head snapped about so fast it almost fell off. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘More to the point, friend,’ the bearded man said, standing up from his seat, ‘why is he after you?’

  Two other men followed suit, dropping their hands to their holstered six-guns. Bobby Vandal swallowed hard. He needed a distraction.

  ‘I’ll pay each of you five hundred dollars for your guns,’ he blurted out.

  They paused. ‘You got that much m
oney?’ the bearded man asked skeptically.

  ‘I got five-hundred on me but I can get the rest when I need it. All you have to do is get me back to Dead Man’s Gulch.’

  ‘How do we know if we can trust you or not? What’s your name?’

  ‘Bobby Vandal.’

  The three men looked at each other before nodding. They’d heard of Craig Vandal.

  ‘Alright, come daybreak we’ll escort you back to Dead Man’s Gulch. But you better not be playin’ us. Or that lawman will be the least of your problems.’

  Bobby turned back to say something to Connie, but she was gone. He frowned.

  ‘I found him,’ Connie said, as she hurried through the door. She pulled up short when she saw the look on Savage’s face. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Fulton died while you were out,’ Savage told her. ‘He just stopped breathin’.’

  Connie’s eyed darted to her bed but it was empty. ‘What …?’

  ‘Out back. I thought maybe you could find someone to bury him tomorrow.’

  She nodded. ‘I can try.’

  Savage nodded too. ‘Now, you said you found Bobby Vandal?’

  ‘Yes, he’s over at the saloon.’

  ‘Great,’ Savage’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

  ‘It’s not as bad as you think,’ Connie explained, ‘Most of the men rode out of Bad Tooth looking for you. There are still a few there, but not many.’

  ‘Three.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘There is one slight problem though,’ she said hesitantly.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Bobby offered them five-hundred dollars each to help him get back to Dead Man’s Gulch,’ she said.

  ‘When?’ Savage asked.

  ‘Tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Then I’d best do somethin’ about it,’ Savage said.

  Suddenly the door burst open, and a tall, angry looking Negro walked in. His large fist held a cocked six-gun. He lined it up on Savage’s chest and snarled, ‘I’m goin’ to kill you, you son of a bitch.’

  Ten

  ‘Malavai, wait!’ Connie exclaimed and inserted herself between the two men. ‘It’s OK.’

  ‘Get outta my way, Connie, I’m goin’ to shoot this sumbitch.’

  ‘It’s OK, Mal, he’s a friend.’

  ‘Yeah, Mal, I’m a friend, now point that damned six-gun somewhere else before I take it from you and ram it down your throat,’ Savage said icily.

  ‘How about I put a bullet in your head for botherin’ my sister,’ Malavai suggested.

  ‘Enough!’ Connie shouted. Then in a calmer voice, she said, ‘He’s just hiding out here for a while.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m goin’,’ Savage said. ‘I got a date with a killer that ain’t goin’ to wait.’

  He shouldered past a surprised Malavai and walked out the door.

  Malavai gave his sister a perplexed look. ‘Who the hell was that?’

  ‘His name is Savage,’ she told him. ‘And he needs your help.’

  ‘Why should I help him?’

  Connie went on to explain what had happened while he’d been gone and when she’d finished, the expression on her brother’s face was one of uncertainty.

  ‘I still don’t see why I should help him,’ Malavai stated.

  ‘Because I asked you to,’ Connie said.

  Malavai thought about it briefly before saying firmly, ‘No!’

  Then came the sound of distant gunfire.

  As far as saloons went, this one sure was a bloody place, Savage observed of the scene before him. Two men and one of the saloon girls were dead on the filthy floor. Bobby Vandal carried lead in his right shoulder, and the third bodyguard he’d hired, was gasping for breath as his lungs filled with blood. Savage shook his head as a wave of weariness swept over him. He’d been involved in way too much killing of late.

  No sooner had he walked through the door when the shooting started. Bobby Vandal took one look at Savage and clawed at his six-gun. He took a slug from the Yellow Boy before he could even clear leather. With him out of action, that left the three men he’d hired as guards.

  Taken completely by surprise, the first man took a .44 slug to his chest that incapacitated him straight away. The second man had recovered from his shock and was bringing his sidearm to bear when Savage jacked another round into the breech then fired from the hip.

  The bullet flew high of its mark, missing the man’s chest but blew through his teeth, splintering them and deflected up into his brain. As the bullet struck home, the man reflexively squeezed the trigger of his six-gun and the shot flew wild. It punched a round hole between Cindy’s large pale breasts.

  Shock registered upon her face as she looked down at the hole which had begun to leak a stream of crimson. Then her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed to the floor.

  The third man’s gun roared before Savage could get another round into the breech. The slug hit the wall behind Savage with a loud thwack. The thin plank walls proved no obstacle to the bullet which passed through with ease.

  The Yellow Boy fired again and the last man was punched back against the wall. Savage let him have a second slug that struck him very close to the first. With a low moan the man slid down the wall, leaving a large blood streak in his wake.

  Savage stood there and observed the results of the violent shootout.

  ‘You son of a bitch,’ Bobby Vandal grated. ‘I’m goin’ to damn well kill you. Friggin’ shot me.’

  ‘Shut up,’ Savage snapped. ‘You’re lucky to still be alive.’

  The man with the chest wound, the first one he’d shot, coughed a wet gurgling cough. Savage walked across and stood over him. It was the bearded man. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth, staining his whiskery growth.

  ‘I knew I shoulda minded my own business,’ he managed, then died.

  Soft sobs interrupted Savage’s thoughts and he turned his head and saw a whore with black hair kneeling beside Cindy’s body, tears falling on the dead girl’s face. She looked up at Savage, her tear-streaked face screwed up with anger.

  ‘Why?’ she asked bitterly.

  ‘Maybe she forgot to duck,’ he said icily.

  ‘Asshole.’

  Movement in the doorway brought Savage around and the yellow boy came up into firing position. His finger was stayed, however, by the sight of Connie and her brother Malavai standing there.

  ‘If you’ve come to help, you’re a bit late,’ Savage snapped.

  ‘I’ll help you get him back to Dead Man’s Gulch,’ Malavai said.

  Savage stared at him for a moment then said, ‘I’d appreciate it. But I ain’t goin’ to Dead Man’s Gulch. I’m takin’ him to Albuquerque.’

  Malavai nodded. ‘I ain’t doin’ it for free. You’ll pay me. I want a hundred dollars for the help.’

  Nodding, Savage said, ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘When do you want to leave?’ Malavai asked.

  Savage looked at the wounded Bobby Vandal. ‘We go now.’

  ‘Hey, what about seein’ to my wound?’ Bobby protested.

  ‘Shut up. Let’s go.’

  Dawn’s first light found the three riding steadily along a rocky trail lined with tall pines. The rough path wound its way down a slope strewn with large boulders and at one point it became clear enough for them to be able to see the narrow valley below.

  An hour later they arrived at a small creek with a rocky bottom of smooth, round pebbles. They stopped for a short break and allowed the horses to drink.

  ‘Why are you helping me, Malavai?’ Savage asked the Negro.

  He studied the Drifter for a moment before answering. ‘Because Connie asked me to.’

  Savage nodded. ‘You know, I can do it myself.’

  ‘If I turned back now she wouldn’t let me hear the end of it,’ he told Savage.

  ‘Yeah, I guess. Tell me somethin’. Why Bad Tooth?’

  ‘It’s a rough place, but people generally leave us alone.�
�

  ‘From what I’ve seen, I’m not surprised.’

  Malavai gave him a puzzled look so Savage related what he’d seen.

  ‘She sure can look after herself,’ Savage said once he’d finished.

  ‘It’s good she killed him,’ Malavai said. ‘If she hadn’t, I would’ve.’

  ‘If you two have finished gabbin’, how about one of you takes a look at my wound,’ Bobby bleated.

  Savage and Malavai looked at each other before the latter said, ‘I’ll do it.’

  A few minutes later, crouched beside the creek to clean the wound, Bobby said, ‘I’ll give you two thousand dollars to get me outta this.’

  Malavai paused, seeming to think hard about the very generous offer he’d been made, then continued to wipe the blood away.

  ‘That’s it,’ Bobby said, ‘think about it.’

  Once Malavai was finished, Bobby looked him in the eye and asked, ‘Well? Whadda you say?’

  Malavai smiled thinly then bunched his fist. He let loose with his massive paw and punched Bobby in his wounded shoulder. The killer doubled over in pain, gasping.’

  ‘Is everythin’ OK?’ Savage asked.

  ‘Just fine,’ Malavai answered. ‘We was just gettin’ to be friends.’

  ‘Alright. Get him on a horse. We’re burnin’ daylight.’

  A few minutes later, an unhappy Bobby Vandal was back in the saddle, complaining bitterly that his wound hurt. Savage was starting to wish that he’d just killed him in the first place.

  Rawhide Allen rode into Bad Tooth around noon the same day. Once again, he was feeling mean. This time his simmering rage was caused by the festering bullet wound in his hide.

  He let his horse pick its way along the rutted street until he reached the saloon. Initially, he wasn’t quite sure if he smelled it. Maybe his mind was playing tricks. Another gust of wind confirmed it for him. The all-pervading stench of death was carried on the breeze and he could almost taste it as he breathed it deep into his lungs.

  Allen couldn’t help but smile as he climbed painfully from his horse. He strode towards the saloon door where the smell seemed to get stronger. Once clear of the threshold and inside properly, he could take it all in and he decided that this was as close to heaven that he would ever get. The smell of death was almost overpowering in the enclosed space. The bodies lay where they had fallen, still.