Confessions of a Gunfighter

by Tell Cotten

  Kinrich seemed to be in no hurry, yet with lightening speed he palmed his six-shooter. He fired two shots into each man, and all the while he had a real calm expression on his face.

  The first man Kinrich shot never even cleared leather, and the second man was just bringing his six-shooter up when Kinrich shot him.

  Just like that it was over.

  Kinrich just stood there, and a wild, almost insane look came over his face. But it passed quickly, and Kinrich reloaded his six-shooter and turned to me.

  “Thought I told you to dive behind that log,” he said sternly.

  I tried to speak, but couldn’t. I coughed and tried again.

  “Didn’t have enough time,” I said.

  “Hmm,” Kinrich said as he studied me. “What were you planning on doing with that?”

  Kinrich nodded towards my hand.

  I looked down, and was surprised to find my six-shooter in my hand.

  Chapter seventeen

  “What’d I tell you, Button?”

  Kinrich had climbed into the back of the wagon, and had lit a match. We were staring at hundreds of rifles and countless boxes of ammunition.

  “Lookie here,” Kinrich held up a blue uniform.

  “Yankee soldiers?” I asked.

  “Yep. One Lieutenant, and two privates.”

  “I bet Mr. Jones is the Lieutenant,” I said.

  “Be a good bet,” Kinrich agreed as he tossed the uniform aside.

  Kinrich was happy.

  “You should be proud, Button. We just saved hundreds of Texans’ lives.”

  “I didn’t do much,” I said.

  “No, don’t reckon you did,” Kinrich said as he climbed back out. “But you showed a lot of sand, Button, standing up to ’em like you did. I can see now how you managed to kill Benson.”

  “What are we going to do now?” I wanted to know.

  “We’re going to burn the wagon,” Kinrich declared. “That’s the only way we can be sure that them Injuns don’t get these rifles.”

  “Think I could have a rifle?” I asked.

  “Sure. I could use a couple extra rifles myself. Why don’t you dig us out a few, and also pull out all that ammunition. We’ll pack these two horses down with it.”

  We got to work. I did as I was told, and Kinrich prepared the wagon.

  “All right, Button, lead them horses over there by them cottonwood trees and wait for me,” Kinrich said when we had finished.

  “How ’bout them?” I nodded towards the two dead men.

  “I ain’t burying ’em,” was Kinrich’s reply.

  I nodded, and then I grabbed the lead ropes and took off. I reached the edge of the cottonwoods and waited.

  Nothing happened, and I started to get anxious. But then I saw a flame, and it wasn’t long until the entire wagon was on fire.

  Even in the dark I could see the smoke boiling up, and the flames went up at least forty feet.

  From out of nowhere Kinrich appeared beside me. He took one of the horses and turned away.

  “Come on, let’s be going. That fire will be seen for miles.”

  I stumbled after him, and soon we were back with our horses. We untied them, mounted up, and rode out. Kinrich led one of the pack horses while I led the other.

  Kinrich wanted to put some distance between us and the fire, so we rode on through the night. Come daylight we holed up in a gully, and while I unsaddled the horses Kinrich backtracked a ways to make sure we weren’t being followed.

  Kinrich came back satisfied. Soon after, I stretched out and fell to sleep.

  I slept hard until Kinrich woke me, and I sat up groggily. The sun was directly over us, so I figured it was near noon.

  Kinrich had cooked us something to eat.

  “Best hurry up and eat,” Kinrich told me.

  “What’s the hurry?” I wanted to know.

  “While you was sleeping I took a look around,” Kinrich explained. “I found Mr. Jones’ tracks a little ways to the south. He’s going due west.”

  “How do you know the tracks are his?” I asked curiously.

  “I just do,” Kinrich shrugged.

  “And we’re going after him?”

  “Yep.”

  “Why?” I wanted to know. “He ain’t got no more rifles.”

  “But he can get more,” was Kinrich’s reply.

  I didn’t waste any more time talking. I gulped down some food, and then we saddled up and rode out.

  At first Kinrich pushed hard, but after a while the two pack horses started slowing us down. Kinrich got frustrated, but there was just nothing we could about it.

  We trailed Mr. Jones for three days, and we lost him the fourth day. Mr. Jones’ tracks went into a deep creek, but Kinrich couldn’t find where he’d come out. We spent all day riding up and down the bank, and as it was getting dark Kinrich finally gave up.

  Kinrich was in a foul mood, and it was a somber camp.

  Kinrich just sat there beside the fire rolling cigarettes and drinking coffee. He ignored me completely, and I sat there not knowing what to do.

  But the next morning Kinrich was all smiles. We ate breakfast, and as we were saddling our horses Kinrich looked at me.

  “Well, Button, we did our best. Reckon we’ll go to my valley now.”

  We mounted up and rode back east, and I was sure glad.

  Chapter eighteen

  “Your education is starting now, Button,” Kinrich said as we rode along. “Remember everything I say, ’cause I ain’t going to repeat it. See that cactus over there?”

  I looked to where he was pointing, and nodded.

  “That there is a desert cactus. It’s got some right mean thorns, but if you’re real careful and cut out the top you can squeeze the inside pulp and get water. It don’t taste the best, but it can sure save your life if you run out of water holes.”

  Kinrich rode on, and I followed.

  All throughout the day Kinrich would suddenly stop and point out things, and I began to realize if a feller really knew the country he was in that he could live off it with ease. In one way or another the land offered food, water, and even medicine if you only knew what to look for.

  ***

  That night I made a big mistake.

  We had made camp, and the two of us were sitting round the fire eating supper when I looked up at Kinrich.

  “Say, what happened to your scalp?” I asked.

  All of a sudden, Kinrich’s face got hard and dark. There was a deep, hateful look that shone in his eyes, and he looked so frightful that I was afraid of him.

  I thought he’d gone mad, but when he spoke his voice was calm and collected.

  “I don’t care to talk ’bout it much, but I’ll tell you this once:

  “When I was a youngster me and my folks lived out on the Texas frontier. One night a Comanche war party attacked our homestead. Right off I got hit real hard in the head, and it knocked me unconscious. I reckon them Injuns thought I was dead, ’cause they scalped me while I was laying there.

  “I woke up later and found all my folks dead, and every one of ’em had been scalped. A few days later a cattle drive came by and picked me up.”

  Kinrich paused, and his face was twisted in hate.

  “And ever since then I’ve killed me as many Comanches as I could.”

  I now knew the real reason why we had gone after the Jones’ wagon.

  After that Kinrich ignored me. He just sat there looking blankly out into the darkness. It was if he had pulled himself back into some sort of shell, and he didn’t say a word for the rest of the night.

  I was worried that I had ruined things, but the next morning he woke up laughing and smiling that boyish smile of his as if nothing had happened. I was sure relieved, and I made a mental note to never bring up the subject of his scalp again.

  While we traveled, we lived off the land. Kinrich showed me how to rig snares and traps, and what bait to use. He also showed me how to start fires, and what plants
and roots I could eat. He also pointed out the poisonous plants to stay away from.

  It took us a week to get to Kinrich’s valley.

  The country was rough, and there was a passage of rock you had to ride through to enter into Kinrich’s valley. It was well-hidden and hard to find, for you could ride a few feet away from the opening and not even see it.

  I followed Kinrich down the rock passage, and then I pulled up in amazement.

  Before me was a vast opening of two hundred acres or so with steep walls of rock all around. And there, way at the back, was the shack that Kinrich had told me about. There was also a real nice set of pole corrals beside the shack.

  Kinrich was watching me, and when I looked at him he smiled that easy like smile of his.

  “Nice, ain’t it?”

  “Sure is,” I agreed.

  “You and me are the only ones that know about this place, Button,” Kinrich told me. “And, I aim to keep it that a-way.”

  “I won’t tell nobody,” I replied quickly. “But what happens if you get trapped in here?”

  “That’s good thinking, Button,” Kinrich said. “I already thought of that when I first found this place. See those pole corrals over there?”

  I nodded.

  “Behind ’em is another trail that leads out the back. It’s rough, real rough, but you can make it out if you walk and lead your horse behind you.”

  Kinrich kicked up his horse.

  “Well, come on. Let’s get settled.”

  I looked around some more as I followed Kinrich down into the valley.

  For the next few months, this was going to be home.

  Chapter nineteen

  It didn’t take long to get settled in. The shack was small but comfortable, and there was just enough room.

  The next morning after breakfast Kinrich took me out and gave me a shooting lesson. He showed me how to tie my holster to my leg and also to hang it low, so I could draw faster.

  “All right, Button; let’s see you shoot,” Kinrich said as he stepped back. “See if you can hit that pine cone over there.”

  He was pointing at a pine cone some fifty yards away. I drew my Colt and took a deep breath, and then I took a long, careful aim like I always did.

  I let out my breath and squeezed the trigger. The pistol bucked in my hand, and the pine cone exploded.

  “Not bad, not bad,” Kinrich walked up beside me. “You can shoot, that’s for sure. But what you’ve got to learn is to be smooth, like this.”

  Soon as he said it his hand flashed, and his first shot sent a pine cone flying upwards into the air. It landed, and a split second later Kinrich shot again. This time he blew the pine cone to bits.

  I was very impressed.

  “That’s the best shooting I’ve ever seen!” I exclaimed.

  Kinrich grinned that boyish smile of his.

  “Yeah, I know. But, it’s just my normal.”

  I could only shake my head in wonder.

  Kinrich continued.

  “You see, Button; what you’ve got to learn is to look at what you’re shooting at instead of the gun. Like pointing your finger, you have to be able to aim and shoot from the hip. In most gunfights you won’t have the time to aim with your eye going down the barrel.”

  All day I practiced.

  I was used to aiming all slow like, and at first I was clumsy as I tried to shoot from the hip. My shots were a might wild, and Kinrich stayed well behind me.

  But I kept on practicing, and even Kinrich was impressed with how quickly I took to the idea.

  “You keep improving like that over the next few months and you’ll be as fast as anybody,” Kinrich told me. “Your Pa was right. You’ve a way with guns, that’s for sure.”

  “Think I’ll get as fast as you?” I asked.

  “You mean if you keep on practicing every day?” Kinrich smiled.

  I nodded.

  Kinrich frowned as he thought on that.

  “No, probably not,” Kinrich finally said. “Course, being fast is only part of it. There’s a lot of fellers out there that can draw fast when they’re shooting at pine cones. It’s a lot different when you’re shooting at a man.”

  “Tom Benson wasn’t a pine cone,” I replied.

  Kinrich looked surprised.

  “No, he wasn’t,” Kinrich said, and he had a funny look on his face.

  Another thing I was good at was following and reading sign. Kinrich took me out often for tracking lessons, and during those four months I became an expert tracker.

  At first me and Kinrich tracked things down together. But then Kinrich started riding out an hour or so ahead of me, and he would make me track him down.

  At first he left easy trails to follow, but as I improved he made it more difficult. Many a time I would lose him, but at the end I got to where I could even trail him over rock surfaces.

  Kinrich also taught me how to tell the difference between shod horses and Injun ponies, and also how to tell if those horses were being ridden by a man or a woman, or even a child.

  Kinrich told me often that I was learning fast.

  “You’re getting real good with that six-shooter, Button,” he told me one day. “One other thing you might do is to always try and keep your gun hand free. Learn to do everyday things with your other hand, that way your gun hand is always ready if you need it.”

  That made sense, and I started right then trying to do just that. At first it was awkward, but as time went on I finally got used to it. And then, before I knew it, whenever possible my gun hand hovered real naturally above my gun handle, always ready.

  There was one other thing that Kinrich taught me, and that was playing cards. Kinrich had a real love for the game of poker, and every night we would sit around and play.

  At first he taught me how to play honest, but after I learned the basics Kinrich really taught me how to play. Kinrich showed me every trick he knew, such as stacking a deck and how to deal cards off the bottom.

  I learned fast, and it wasn’t long until I became a very good poker player.

  Looking back now, I can see just how much I changed during those four months.

  When I first ran into Kinrich I was only a boy, alone and scared in a man's world. But Kinrich taught me a whole lot, and I grew up quick. I no longer felt alone, and I finally felt at ease with myself.

  But deep down I was wary of Ben Kinrich. He was the moodiest man I had ever met, and I learned real quick to leave him alone when he was in one of his darker frame of minds.

  There was one other thing about Kinrich that I found to be a bit frightening.

  More nights than not, he would have the most awful nightmares you had ever heard. He would scream in anguish and holler out loud, and I would lay there and listen to him.

  I almost woke him up the first time I heard him. But then I remembered how he had reacted when I had asked about his scalp, so I decided against it.

  I had been with Kinrich a little over three months when I decided to have a look at that back trail. I figured I should be familiar with it in case I needed to leave real fast one of these days.

  I took my time and gave that trail a good going over, and I had to agree with Kinrich that it was a very rough trail.

  As I was coming back, having just reached the backside of the pole corrals, I suddenly stopped short.

  There, at the main entrance, was a man sitting a-horseback. He was looking the valley over very carefully.

  Chapter twenty

  He was a salty looking character.

  I could just tell that he was up to no good. I also noticed that his right hand rested on the butt of his Henry repeating rifle.

  I hunkered behind the pole corrals. My eyes searched for Kinrich, but I didn’t see him.

  The man sat still on his horse for a long time, and I didn’t dare move.

  He finally seemed satisfied, and he made his way down into the valley and rode towards the shack.

  Where is Kinrich? I wondered.


  And then I saw him. He had his back to me, and there was no way I could get his attention without me being seen.

  Kinrich was sitting in the shade beside the shack, cleaning his guns. That was bad, because that meant his guns were probably unloaded.

  The man on the horse saw Kinrich too, and he rode straight towards him.

  Kinrich was looking down at his guns and didn’t bother to look up.

  “Where have you been, Button?” Kinrich called out while he worked. “I was starting to wonder what had happened to you.”

  The stranger didn’t answer. Instead, he dismounted and faced up to him.

  “Cat got your tongue?” Kinrich called out again. “You sure are being quiet, Button.”

  The stranger’s voice was hard and calloused.

  “I ain’t no ‘Button', Kinrich.”

  Kinrich looked up sharply, and the shock in his face was obvious.

  “Harris! What are you doing here? We ain’t supposed to meet up yet for another three weeks!”

  Harris smiled a mean, wicked smile.

  “I know, Ben. But, only one of us is going to make it to that meeting.”

  “How do you figure?” Kinrich spoke calmly, and he stood and faced him.

  “I’m taking over things,” Harris declared boldly.

  “Is that right?” Kinrich asked softly.

  “We’ve been playing it too safe under you, Kinrich,” Harris explained. “You always pass up on the simple and better paying jobs. Instead, you always go after them Yankees, and sometimes it’s not even worth the trouble.”

  Kinrich didn’t like what he was hearing, and he frowned irritably.

  “The South has had enough troubles for a while. I figure we’ve been settling a few scores,” Kinrich said.

  “We ain’t fighting a war no more, Kinrich,” Harris fired back. “There ain’t nothing noble or righteous in what we do. All we’re doing this for is for the money, ’cept for you, and that’s why I’m taking over. There’s real money out there to be had, and I aim to see that we get in on some of it.”

  “I ain’t never lost a man neither, Harris. That’s something to think about,” Kinrich said.