by Jake Logan
Joiner started to laugh. “You’ve done it again,” he said. “You son of a bitch.” He got up and found dry trousers from his roll and pulled them on. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’ll have some coffee.”
While they drank their coffee, the rurales took aim with their weapons, and soon discovered that they were unloaded. Another string of shouted Spanish oaths followed. Then the English speaker among them shouted out alone. “Hey, you gringo bastards,” he called out. “You think you got away, huh? You think you played a good joke on us. Well, we’ll see about that. We’ll see each other again, amigos, and then we’ll see who has the last joke.”
“You were right, Joiner,” Slocum said. “They’re pissed off.”
The two men finished their coffee, put out the fire, and saddled and packed their horses. The four rurales were still shouting and shaking their fists from the other side of the river when Slocum and Joiner mounted up to ride on. Slocum waved at them. “So long, amigos,” Joiner shouted. “It’s been a whole lot of fun.”
In a short while they had ridden over a rise and the Rio Grande was no longer in sight, nor, of course, were the rurales. Now and then Joiner still chuckled. They rode a while longer without talking, and then Joiner broke the silence. “Slocum,” he said, “can I tell you why that bastard back there in the cantina was fixing to backshoot me?”
“If it’s just tormenting you to tell me,” Slocum said, “go on.”
“I had me a spread up here a couple of years back,” Joiner said. “I was doing all right. Then folks started losing cattle, and a man named Harman accused me of the rustling. He brought a band of vigilantes out to my place, and they found some of my neighbors’ cows there. It was the first I knowed about it. Harman put them there, I’m sure. Anyhow, they wouldn’t listen to me. They was ready to string me up. I put up a fight and barely got out of there with my hide. I carried a couple of bullets away with me too.
“Well, I scooted down across the border to nurse my wounds and hide out, but I done more than that. When I was able, I snooped around some, and I found me some proof that Harman was the one been selling stolen cattle in Mexico. I got statements from the men he sold them to, and I mean to go back home and prove it on him and get my ranch back. I think he found out that I had got it and was coming back, and that’s why he sent that gunnie after me.”
“So that’s what you meant back there,” said Slocum. “I thought I heard you calling that one I shot Harman, but what you meant was that he had been sent by Harman.”
“Right,” said Joiner.
“How’d he find out what you know?” Slocum asked.
“Hell,” said Joiner, “he’s still in the business. Some of his trips down this way, someone told him I’d snooping around.”
“Yeah,” said Slocum. “That makes sense. So why’d you want to tell me all this?”
“Well,” Joiner said, “I didn’t want you to think that you’d maybe killed a man who had a good reason to be gunning for me.”
“I told you,” said Slocum.
“I know,” Joiner said. “You don’t like a backshooter. I still wanted you to know. Besides, I’d like for you to go back with me. I want you to help me get Harman put away and help me get my ranch back.”
2
“I ain’t interested,” Slocum said.
“Aw, come on, pard,” Joiner said. “I can’t pay you nothing right now, but when I get my ranch back, I’ll have plenty. I’ll pay you good then. You got my word on it. Come on. What do you say?”
“I said it already,” Slocum responded. “I ain’t interested. I don’t like fighting, even for myself. I sure don’t hanker to get involved in someone else’s fights. Besides, I’m headed west.”
“You got any money?” Joiner asked.
“Nope,” said Slocum. “I left the last of it back in that Mexican cantina.”
“Well, there you go,” Joiner said. “You need a job.”
“What you’re offering don’t sound like much of a job to me, Chuckie boy. You’re as broke as me, and if you get yourself killed somewhere along the way, I won’t ever get paid. Especially if I was to get killed along with you.”
“Slocum,” said Joiner, and then he hesitated. “Say,” he continued, “you got a first name?”
“It’s John.”
“All right, John,” Joiner went on, “listen to me. I know that you and me together can take them. And with these documents I’m carrying, we’ll have the law on our side too.”
“Forget it,” Slocum said. “Hunt yourself another gunhand. They’re a dime a dozen.”
Joiner frowned, and the two rode on a ways in silence. Up ahead a small grove of trees stood beside the road in a tangle of thicket. Suddenly a shot rang out, and Slocum felt a sharp, burning pain in his left shoulder. He yelled in surprise and pain, and in spite of himself, he slipped from the saddle and fell hard onto the road. He heard a pounding of hooves and another shot, then more, and then he saw nothing but a black swirl. He was aware of nothing.
Slocum’s consciousness slowly came back to him, but he saw the room around him in a swirl. He tried to blink his vision back straight, but it was no use. He closed his eyes tight and tried to remember something, anything. Then it came back to him. He’d been riding along the road with Joiner and ... What? There had been the sound of a shot and ... Someone had shot him. He recalled the setting, the trees up ahead. It must have been a rifle shot, and it must have come from the trees. But where the hell was he, and what about Joiner?
He felt a soft touch on his forehead, and he opened his eyes again. He found himself looking up into a vision of loveliness, a young blonde with deep blue eyes and full, luscious lips. She was leaning over him with a look of concern on her face, and the way she was leaning, with the top two buttons of her shirt undone, he had yet another lovely vision, this one of a most inviting cleavage between two marvelous, firm-looking breasts.
“Hello,” he said.
“You’re awake,” she replied. “Oh, good. We were awfully worried about you.”
Her voice was as sweet as the rest of her. Slocum felt a strong desire to reach up and pull her down to him, but he didn’t know her, didn’t know where he was, and she had said “we.”
“You and who else?” he asked her.
“Why, Charlie, of course,” she said. “Who did you think?”
“I had no idea,” he said. “Who are you.”
“I’m Myrtle,” she said. “Myrtle Bingham. You’re in my house. I was Charlie’s neighbor—before he lost his ranch.”
“Where is—Charlie?” Slocum asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “He said he was going out to scout around.”
“Are you and Charlie—”
“Hush now,” Myrtle said. “You’re just full of questions, aren’t you. Right now I’m going to get you something to eat. You’ve been out for quite a spell. You must be hungry, and you need food to help get your strength back.”
He hadn’t noticed with his eyes full of Myrtle, but as soon as she mentioned food, he felt the gnawing in his stomach. He wondered then just how long he had been out. How much blood he had lost. How long it had taken Joiner to get him there. As Myrtle walked out of the room he watched her ass, jeans stretched tight over it, swing itself through the door. Well, if he was going to eat, he’d need to sit up. He raised his head and moved his elbow to help himself up, and a pain shot through his body. He fell back. “Damn,” he said.
He took a deep breath, set his jaw, and tried again. It hurt, but this time he managed to pull himself up to a sitting position and lean back against the headboard of the bed. He leaned his head back and sucked in deep breaths waiting for the pain to subside. He heard the sound of a horse approaching, and in another moment, a door opening and closing again. Then he heard footsteps in the other room. He looked around the room for his gunbelt, but he didn’t see it anywhere. Then he heard a voice. “Myrtle. Where are you?”
He relaxed a little then. It sounded like Joiner, even in its attempt a
t a harsh whisper. Then he heard Myrtle say, “It’s all right, Charlie. He’s awake.”
In another moment the door opened to the room he was in and Joiner stepped through. “Slocum,” he said. “I’m sure glad to see you awake. For a while there, I wasn’t sure you ever would be.” Then Myrtle edged her way past Joiner and walked over to the bed carrying a tray. She put the tray on the bedside table and spooned up some beef stew for Slocum. He slurped it out of the spoon.
“I’m awake, all right,” he said to Joiner. “I can tell by how bad it hurts.”
Myrtle thrust another spoonful at his mouth, and he took it in.
“That’s mighty good, Miss Bingham,” he said.
“Call me Myrtle,” she said, and stuck another spoonful up to his lips.
“Chuckie boy,” Slocum said, “what the hell happened back there?” He opened his mouth for the stew, and Myrtle shoved it in.
“Chuckie boy?” she said.
Joiner ignored her and started to answer Slocum’s question. “We was just riding down the trail,” he said. “We was coming up on a grove of trees. I should have known better, ’specially since that one backshooter came at me in the cantina. I should have expected another ambush like that. Anyhow, one of Harman’s bastards shot you from the trees.”
“I kind of figured that much,” Slocum said. “Go on.”
Myrtle spooned him some more stew, as Joiner continued his tale.
“Well,” he said, “I throwed myself off my horse and rolled over to the side of the road just as he fired again. He must have thought he’d hit me too. I laid there real still-like for—I don’t know how long—but finally he come out of the woods. He come walking toward us real slow, like he wasn’t sure if we was dead or not, and since I was the closest to him, when he got within maybe twenty feet or so, he started to raise up that rifle again. Well, hell, it wasn’t the surest revolver shot you could want, but I didn’t have much choice. I raised up my Colt real quick-like and drilled the bastard. It was a lucky shot, I guess. Anyhow, he fell dead. I loaded you up and got right over here as fast as I could. It’s the only safe place I could think of.”
“I reckon we’re even now,” Slocum said.
“Not exactly,” said Joiner. “You wouldn’t have took that slug if you hadn’t been riding along with me.”
“I still say we’re even,” Slocum said.
“Okay,” said Joiner. “Have it your way. Anyhow, you’ll likely be on your feet in another day or two. Eating Myrtle’s good cooking will get you your strength back in a hurry. Then you can be on your way west. I’m sorry I got you shot up, friend. Good luck in your travels.”
“I ain’t going anywhere real soon,” said Slocum. “We got a ranch to get our hands on.”
“We?” Joiner said.
“You heard me,” said Slocum.
“You said you didn’t want no part of anyone else’s fight,” said Joiner.
“The son of a bitch had me shot, didn’t he?” Slocum said. “That makes it my fight.”
“Damn, Slocum,” Joiner said. “That almost makes me glad you got shot.” Two long steps took him to the bedside. He stuck his right hand out over Myrtle’s shoulder. Slocum reached up and gripped it with his own. “I’m sure glad to have you with me, John,” Joiner said. “Sure glad.”
As Joiner released his grip, Slocum winced. The pain was not from Joiner’s grip. It had come from the movement of Slocum’s arm. He wondered how long it would take to really mend. Myrtle spoon-fed him again, and Joiner paced the room with excitement. “Bastards better watch out now,” Joiner said. “Charlie Joiner and John Slocum are coming.”
“Charlie Joiner and John Slocum better watch out,” Slocum said. “How many men has this Harman got?”
“Oh, well,” Joiner said, “I ain’t for sure. Let’s see. There’s about, I’d say, a dozen cowhands on the ranch.”
“Cowhands or gunfighters?” Slocum asked.
“I’d say they was likely both,” said Joiner. “They’re rustlers. That’s for sure. That means they got to be able to handle cows, but they also got to be ready for trouble.”
“That makes sense,” Slocum said. “About a dozen, huh?”
“And six or eight hardcases in town at the saloon,” Joiner said.
“What saloon?” Slocum said. “What’re you talking about?”
“I went out scouting around while you were out,” Joiner said. “It seems that Harman took the profits from my ranch, and likely from his rustling, and went and bought the Hi De Ho Saloon in Rat’s Nest. He keeps a bunch of bouncers and bodyguards in there with him.”
“That makes around twenty,” Slocum said. “What else have you forgot to tell me about?”
“That’s all, John,” said Joiner.
“It’s not all,” Myrtle said, shoving a spoonful of stew into Slocum’s mouth. “With all his money, everyone in Rat’s Nest depends on Harman’s goodwill, one way or another. If it comes to a showdown, you don’t know which way they’ll turn.”
“What about the law?” Slocum asked.
“We have a county sheriff,” Myrtle said. “He means well, but there doesn’t seem to be anything he can do. He says he’s got no proof of any wrongdoing on Harman’s part.”
“I’ve got it now,” Joiner said.
“Then the trick is to get it to him without being stopped somewhere along the way,” said Slocum. “Has he got deputies?”
“Two of them,” said Myrtle. “Eddie Cobb’s all right. I’m not sure about Joe Short. He could go either way. Like the town folks.”
“Tell me something else,” Slocum said. “Has Harman got a legal claim to your ranch?”
“I don’t know,” Joiner said. “I had to get out of here fast, like I told you before. The next thing I heard, he’d moved out there and taken over.”
“He’s got it,” said Myrtle. “Charlie’s right. When he left, Harman just took posession. No one seemed to care. Then when the taxes came due, the place was put on the sheriff’s auction, and Harman bought it—for next to nothing. No one dared to bid against him.”
“So even if we prove him a rustler,” said Slocum, “He’ll still own your ranch.”
“It won’t do him any good in prison,” Joiner said, “or dead.”
“Can you get your evidence to Sheriff—what’s his name?” Slocum said.
“Bud Coleman,” Myrtle said.
“Can you get to Coleman with that evidence without anyone seeing you along the way?” Slocum asked Joiner.
“I don’t know,” Joiner said. “I think so. I could go to his house after dark.”
“Well, don’t try it just yet,” Slocum said. “I don’t know what the hell I’d do laid up here like this if you went and got yourself killed.”
Myrtle spooned the rest of the stew into Slocum’s mouth and put the spoon and bowl back onto the tray. “That’s enough talking for the day,” she said. “Let’s get out of here and let him rest.”
“Hold on,” Slocum said. “I been asleep ever since I took that bullet. Right now I could really use a cup of coffee.”
“All right,” Myrtle said. “I’ll get it.” She took the tray and left the room.
“That’s quite a woman you got there, Chuckie,” said Slocum.
“What?” said Joiner. “Oh. You mean Myrtle? Me and Myrtle? No. You got it wrong, pard. Oh, she’s a good friend. Has been for years now, but that’s all. There ain’t nothing more than that between us. Just good friends.”
“Oh, yeah?” Slocum said. He tried not to show too much delight in that good news. “How could you be good friends with someone like that and not—well, you know?”
“I got a girl in town,” Joiner said. “Her and Myrtle is good friends. I couldn’t take you there ’cause someone would have seen us go into town. In fact, I ain’t seen her yet since we been back up here, and I’m dying to.”
“You try going into town,” said Slocum, “you might be just plain dying.”
“I know that,” said Joiner, �
��but I sure am craving to see her. Her name’s Julia. Julia Foster. When we get my ranch back, I aim to marry up with her.”
“Well, Chuckie,” said Slocum, “I hope it won’t be long. I just wish I wasn’t laid up like this.”
“Ah, you won’t be for much longer, John,” said Joiner. “You’ll be as good as new in a few days. Then we’ll go after them.”
“Chuckie,” Slocum said, the tone of his voice indicating a change of subject, “how well do you know this Coleman?”
“The sheriff?” said Joiner. “I’ve known him for a few years. We never was drinking buddies or nothing like that. But I trust him. He’s honest. I’m sure of it.”
“You’d better be sure of it,” said Slocum. “If you take that evidence of yours to him, and he chooses not to do anything with it or to give it up to Harman, then you’re back where you started. And this time you can’t go running back to Mexico. Those four rurales will be waiting for you.”
“I trust him,” said Joiner.
“All right,” Slocum said, “but let’s wait a day or so. Let’s wait till I can get up and around. Then I’ll go see Coleman.”
“You?” Joiner said. “Why you?”
“’Cause only one of Harman’s men has seen me,” Slocum said, “and you killed him. No one’ll know me, and I won’t have any problems getting into town. That’s why. I won’t carry your papers with me. I’ll just talk to Coleman and find out what he’ll do if we present the papers to him. We’ll figure out our next move after that. In the meantime, I think you ought to stay close around here. They know you’re back by now. Harman’s sent two men out to get you, and neither one of them got back to him. He’ll have men looking for you all over the place.”
“I ought to be doing something,” Joiner said.
“Yeah,” Slocum said. “So should I, but that gunshot I took is going to slow us both up for a while. Live with it.”
Myrtle came back in the room with three cups of coffee on her tray. Joiner stepped aside so she could get to the bedside table. She put the tray down and took a cup off it, holding it out to Slocum. “Can you handle it?” she asked.