Confessions of a Gunfighter

by Tell Cotten

  It took us a week to gather all of Mr. Tomlin’s stock. After that we sorted out all the yearlings that Mr. Tomlin wanted to sell, and then we scattered Mr. Tomlin’s cows back over the range.

  We held the herd in a little draw a few miles from headquarters. There was plenty of water there, and as different herds came in we would throw them in with them.

  Mr. Tomlin hired some extra hands to stay out with the herd. Their job was to keep the herd together, and every day they would move the herd so that they could graze.

  The whole time we worked cattle we all kept a sharp look out for trouble. But it never came, and we were glad.

  I was starting to wonder what had happened to Palmer. He had said that he wanted to make me sweat some more, and I reckon I had. But it had been almost a month since I had seen him, and I couldn’t figure out what he was waiting for.

  We all knew that trouble was coming. We could just feel it.

  And then, a few days later, trouble finally arrived.

  Chapter fifty-six

  It was mid-morning.

  I had just finished topping off a bronc when Ross came loping into headquarters, hollering around at everybody.

  “Looks like we’ve got hoss thieves,” Ross announced as everybody rushed up. “I couldn’t find the remuda. So, I rode in a big circle, and that’s when I found the tracks.”

  “Where?” Mr. Tomlin demanded to know.

  “They’re about five miles south of here,” Ross explained. “And they ain’t Injuns, ’cause their hosses are shod.”

  Mr. Tomlin frowned thoughtfully.

  “How old are the tracks?”

  “A day, mebbe two,” Ross replied.

  “How many of ’em do you think there are?”

  Ross gave his own thoughtful frown.

  “I don’t rightly know. It’s hard to tell, ’cause them tracks are spread out all over the place. But I’d say no more than four or five.”

  “All right, we’ll go after ’em,” Mr. Tomlin declared. “Martha, you and Rachel hurry up to the house and pack us enough grub to last a couple of days. Ross, you and Rondo get your gear packed. We leave in ten minutes.”

  “Want me to ride out to the herd and get the extra hands?” Ross asked.

  Mr. Tomlin frowned as he thought on that, and he shook his head.

  “No, they’d just be more targets for those horse thieves to shoot at,” Mr. Tomlin replied. “We’ll take care of this ourselves.”

  I had a bad feeling about this. I was sure that this was Lieutenant Porter retaliating, and I felt sort-a responsible.

  Everybody was rushing off, but I called out to Mr. Tomlin.

  “Mr. Tomlin, how ’bout letting me go out after ’em alone? I might be able to get your horses back.”

  Mr. Tomlin stopped in his tracks. He turned and stared at me, as did Ross.

  “Are you crazy, boy? How could one man stop four or five men?”

  “I’d sure be willing to give it a try,” I replied. “I’d hate to see anybody get hurt.”

  Mr. Tomlin frowned, as if he was disappointed in me.

  “Listen, son: if you think I’m going to just sit here and do nothing about this you’re wrong. I might be a God fearing Christian man, but when somebody steals something that belongs to me I’m going to take up my gun and get my property back. So you’re right; somebody is going to get hurt, but it’s going to be those poor fools that stole my horses. Now we’re wasting time. Get your gear thrown together and let’s git.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said meekly.

  Within minutes we had all our gear thrown together. We saddled our horses, and by then Mrs. Tomlin and Rachel had our grub ready. We stowed the grub in our saddlebags and mounted up.

  “You three be careful,” Mrs. Tomlin said, and her face was filled with worry.

  Rachel looked worried too, but she didn’t say anything as we rode out.

  We rode south, with Ross leading the way. He took us to the place where he had seen the tracks, and I got down and studied them closely, just like Kinrich had taught me.

  After a few minutes, I looked up at Ross and Mr. Tomlin.

  “There’s four of ’em,” I said.

  “How old would you say the tracks are?” Mr. Tomin wanted to know.

  “I’d say they’re no more than a day old,” I replied as I stood. “They probably came through here sometime during the night.”

  I climbed back on Desperate, and then I led out. The tracks left by that many horses were real easy to follow, and we made good time.

  The tracks wandered back and forth real slow like, and that puzzled me. Now, Kinrich had always moved as fast as we could with the stolen herd, but these fellers weren’t that a-way at all. They didn’t seem to care if they were being followed, and that made me uneasy.

  We rode until it got so dark that we couldn’t see, and then Mr. Tomlin called out at us to stop.

  The tracks were fresh, so Mr. Tomlin decided that we had better not chance the light of a fire. So, after we unsaddled and picketed our horses, we just sat there in the dark. And, instead of coffee, we had water from our canteens while we ate the grub that Mrs. Tomlin had packed.

  We turned in early, and daylight found us saddled and riding.

  There was a stream up ahead, and that’s where we found them.

  We topped out on a hill, and we could see them below us, still camped and sitting round a fire. Mr. Tomlin’s horses were on the other side of the camp, and they were bunched up beside the stream.

  “Well, there they are,” Mr. Tomlin said. “Hopefully, them horses are tuckered out and won’t scatter much when the shooting starts.”

  “Shouldn’t be too much shooting,” I commented dryly. “We can all shoot, and I’m sure they can too.”

  I looked the horses over, and I found what I was looking for.

  “See that light colored dun? That’s Ryan Palmer’s horse,” I said.

  “They don’t look worried none,” Ross said.

  “No, they don’t,” I said suspiciously as I narrowed my eyes. “Palmer should know better. Unless I’m missing something, they don’t even have anybody keeping watch.”

  I looked the layout over again, and was puzzled.

  “Things just don’t look right down there,” I said as I shook my head. “Here we are, sitting out in the open, and they ain’t even seen us yet. Palmer ain’t that dumb.”

  “What do you think?” Mr. Tomlin glanced at me.

  “I don’t know,” I replied thoughtfully. “But I don’t like it. Feels like a trap.”

  Mr. Tomlin narrowed his eyes.

  “Let’s go find out,” he declared.

  Chapter fifty-seven

  We checked our weapons. We all had Colts, but Mr. Tomlin also had a shotgun, and he pulled it out now.

  “I ain’t never asked, but just how good are you with that six-shooter of yours?” I asked Ross as we walked our horses down the hill.

  “I can hit what I’m aiming at most of the time,” Ross replied, but then added, “I reckon it also depends on how big a target I’m shooting at.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle back.

  “In that case then, when the shooting starts why don’t you take that big feller over to the right.”

  Ross didn’t answer. Instead, he just nodded as he eyed his target.

  They spotted us when we reached the base of the hill.

  My eyes searched all around us, but I didn’t see anything. Still, something didn’t feel right, and I was uneasy.

  There were three men by the fire, and they stood and spread out. Ryan Palmer was one of them, and he had an ugly grin on his face.

  I glanced at the other two, and my heart gave a slight jump with recognition.

  One of them was Roy Shaw!

  The other feller was also one of Lieutenant Porter’s soldiers, but neither were in uniform.

  We were getting close, so I lowered my voice.

  “We trailed four fellers here, but I’m only seeing thr
ee. We need to find that other feller before the shooting starts.”

  Mr. Tomlin and Ross nodded curtly, and then we pulled in front of them.

  “Well now! If it ain’t the Button!” Palmer sneered.

  My face was pointed at Palmer, but my eyes were still searching all around us.

  “You’ve got our horses,” I said bluntly. “And we’re here for ’em.”

  Palmer glared at me.

  “You always thought you were a big shot, didn’t you? Well, I’m sick of hearing ’bout your fast draw and all. Things were going pretty good before you showed up, but then everybody stopped talking about me and started talking about you. Well, after I kill you we’ll see who they talk about now!”

  “Don’t try it,” I replied shortly. “I’ve always been the man that you think you are. I’ll kill you, Palmer, but there ain’t no need for that. All we want are them horses.”

  “You boys ain’t taking nothing,” Palmer declared.

  “Hate to hear that,” I replied. “’Cause you’re wrong. We’re taking back everything that belongs to Mr. Tomlin.”

  “You just don’t understand,” Palmer scoffed. “I don’t care ’bout the horses none. That’s Shaw’s business. The only reason I came along was for the chance to get you.”

  Palmer laughed scornfully.

  “To tell you the truth, I didn’t figure you would fall for it this easy.”

  It was then that, to my far left, I saw the gleam of a rifle barrel. The distance was about seventy-five yards, and the feller was hiding in some rocks.

  I narrowed my eyes thoughtfully. That feller was in behind us, and that meant I needed to get him first.

  I looked back at Palmer. His eyes were hard and flat, and suddenly I saw them blink.

  In a flash my hand slapped leather, and in the same movement I desperately threw myself out of the saddle.

  As I fell I twisted in mid-air and fired three times in rapid fashion at the feller in the rocks. As I hit the ground I heard the loud thump of a bullet hitting flesh, and in the corner of my eye I saw a rifle falling to the ground.

  Palmer meanwhile, had drawn his gun. He fired right as I lunged out of the saddle.

  I heard the sharp whip of a bullet as it flew by my head, and then I hit the ground rolling.

  Palmer fired again, and this time his bullet hit only inches from my face. It made a loud howling sound as it ricocheted into the rocks, and it sent little chips of rock and dirt flying into my face. That made my eyes sting, and I couldn’t see a thing.

  I remembered there being a log a few feet behind me. So, I rolled up onto my feet and fired desperately in Palmer’s direction as I dove behind the log.

  Around me, all chaos broke loose. Soon as Palmer went for his gun everybody else did too, and bullets were flying around all over the place.

  I heard Mr. Tomlin’s shotgun blasting away, and it sounded like Ross was putting up a fight too.

  I blinked and rubbed my eyes. Then I looked up.

  Palmer was in front of me, and he was looking at me with a triumphant look on his face. He had his gun on me, and was just about to pull the trigger.

  But suddenly a bullet from Ross’s direction came flying in, and it struck Palmer in the shoulder right as he fired. Palmer was violently spun around, and his bullet missed me.

  I stood and aimed my six-shooter at Palmer, but then I glimpsed a movement to my left.

  It was Roy Shaw.

  Ross had shot Shaw, but he wasn’t finished yet. He had raised himself up off the ground, and was aiming his six-shooter at Ross.

  I emptied my six-shooter in Shaw’s direction. Shaw’s body jerked wildly as he was thrown backwards, and he hit the ground dead.

  I turned back to Palmer. He had gotten up, and was running desperately over to his horse. I tried to fire my six-shooter, but then I realized it was empty.

  Ross fired a couple shots at him, but they were off target as Palmer jumped on his horse and rode out in a dead run.

  All this happened in a matter of a few seconds.

  I looked over at Mr. Tomlin.

  He was off his horse, and was stretched out on the ground.

  Chapter fifty-eight

  Me and Ross rushed over to Mr. Tomlin.

  We rolled him over, and were relieved to find him still alive. He had been shot in the shoulder, but a quick look told us that the bullet had gone clean through.

  “Don’t worry about me, boys; I’m fine,” Mr. Tomlin grimaced. “How about them?”

  We leaned Mr. Tomlin up against a log and got him comfortable, and then I went and checked on the rest.

  Roy Shaw had three bullets in him, and the man Mr. Tomlin had shot was missing most of his face on account of Mr. Tomlin’s shotgun. As for the man in the rocks; I had put two bullets into his chest.

  “Three of ’em are dead, Mr. Tomlin,” I reported as I walked back over to him. “But Ryan Palmer got away.”

  “That’s too bad,” Mr. Tomlin said as he grimaced in pain. “But that was good work, you two.”

  “What do you want us to do now?” Ross asked as we both squatted by him. “We’ve got to get you back to the ranch.”

  “No, I’m not going back without my horses,” Mr. Tomlin declared. “We’ll stay here until tomorrow, and by then I should be able to ride a bit. In the meantime, you two had better make sure that the horses didn’t scatter off too far, and then you’d better break out the shovels. We should give those men a decent burial.”

  We knew that there was no use trying to talk Mr. Tomlin out of it. So, we stood and got busy.

  The horses hadn’t gone far, and it didn’t take us long to get them all gathered back up. Then, we got busy digging the graves.

  “By the way; that was sure some shot you made when you dove off your hoss,” Ross told me while we worked. “For a second there I didn’t even know what you were shooting at.”

  I smiled.

  “It was just my normal,” I said, quoting Kinrich.

  Ross grinned.

  “Well, you saved us, that’s for sure. That feller could have killed us off one by one.”

  I nodded, and then it fell silent as we worked on.

  ***

  Mr. Tomlin slept most of the day. Near evening time he woke up feeling better, but hungry. We had a fire going, and it didn’t take us long to make some coffee and cook some grub.

  “Lieutenant Porter ain’t going to be happy when he finds out that we’ve killed three of his men,” Ross speculated while we ate.

  “No, don’t reckon he will,” Mr. Tomlin agreed.

  “What do you think we should do now?” Ross asked.

  Mr. Tomlin frowned thoughtfully.

  “We aren’t going to do a thing. I’m sure this little incident will cause the whole thing to blow up. We’ll just stay at the ranch and see what develops.”

  “I wish this cattle drive wasn’t coming up,” I said. “Lieutenant Porter might wait to do something until after we’ve left.”

  “Mebbe one of us should stay here,” Ross suggested.

  “No, this cattle drive is too important to too many folks,” Mr. Tomlin said. “I want both of you to go. Me and Buster can handle things just fine.”

  Ross and I weren’t so sure, but we didn’t say anything.

  Instead, Ross turned to me.

  “It’s too bad Palmer got away.”

  I nodded grimly.

  “Yes, it is. That feller’s got nine lives, that’s for sure.”

  “Well, mebbe he learned his lesson and will clear out for good this time,” Ross said hopefully.

  “I doubt it,” I grunted.

  We bedded down after that, and as I lay there I thought some more about Palmer.

  Palmer had failed again, and I was sure his hatred for me was even stronger now. And, if I knew Palmer, he wasn’t going to stop trying to kill me until one of us was dead.

  Chapter fifty-nine

  The next morning we took out slow, and it took us most of the day to ge
t back to the ranch.

  By then Mr. Tomlin was in bad shape. But he was a tough old man and never said a word.

  Mrs. Tomlin put him right to bed. Soon afterwards she gave me and Ross a severe tongue thrashing, saying that we should have hurried back home.

  Mr. Tomlin stayed in bed for a week.

  After that he was able to move about some, and he hobbled around headquarters as he supervised our preparations for the cattle drive.

  It didn’t take long for word to get out, and there were lots of cow-punchers that wanted in on the cattle drive. They showed up in bunches, and Mr. Tomlin hired just about everybody right on the spot.

  It was a busy time.

  Already, different ranchers were showing up with their herds. We threw them in with our herd, and all the new hands stayed out with the herd.

  During that time we all kept a watchful eye out for Lieutenant Porter. But he never showed up, and we were glad.

  Ryan Palmer had also disappeared. Ross figured we had seen the last of him, but I knew better.

  We were supposed to leave on the cattle drive in one week.

  By now, me and Buster had Mr. Tomlin’s colts green broke. Except for one buckskin, they had all turned out to be decent horses, and we planned on putting them in the remuda for extra horses.

  I was still determined to break that buckskin before we left. So, one evening after supper I decided to go work with him for a while.

  I spotted a cow-puncher riding in as I walked down to the barn. Lately that was nothing new, so I didn’t give it much thought as I went about my business.

  The cowboy rode on up to the main house, and while he and Mr. Tomlin talked I carried my saddle over to the round pen.

  I took my time as I saddled the buckskin. He knew I was fixing to get on him, and he was all humped up and not liking it.

  I led him around a bit to warm him up. After that I got a-hold of him and stepped up on him.