Vermijo

  It was cold in the depth of the cave and Frank squatted on his heels by the dead fire and got it going again. He rolled a cigarette and lit it with a small stick from the fire. He set the coffee pot over the flames and sat contentedly smoking his cigarette as he waited on the Arbuckle’s brew to boil.

  He was still waiting when a bullet spanged off a rock nearby.

  Immediately Frank leapt sideways, landed with a grunt and snatched up his Winchester. In the same moment Luke twitched awake and started babbling questions.

  ‘Get dressed, Luke,’ Frank snapped, easing up to a boulder and chancing a look over it.

  ‘Who…?’

  ‘Four of ’em, looks like,’ Frank replied. ‘They’ve split up and taken the high ground either side of the canyon.’

  Even before he finished speaking, a voice came down to them from the high rocks. ‘Come on out, you yeller-belly!’

  Frank’s jaw firmed up. ‘If you got anythin’ you want to tell me?’ he said mildly. ‘Now might be a good time.’

  But before Luke could explain anything, a fusillade of shots burned through the air, powdering the far side of the rocks. Both men ducked back and returned fire blindly. Frank was still good with the Winchester, and laid down an impressive volley. Bullets struck trees, stone and dirt in a crescendo of firepower that went on for almost a full minute. Neither side could draw a bead, but the firing was intense.

  Suddenly the shooting petered out, and into the eerie silence that followed it, Jim Lockhart called out, ‘We know you’re in there, kid. We found your horse about three miles back. You ran that animal right into the ground, didn’t you? Left enough tracks for even a blind man to follow. Now, you come on out peaceable, you hear?’

  Luke drew a breath, reloaded his Colt with trembling fingers. ‘You got it all wrong, Marshal,’ he shouted back. ‘I just acted in self-defense.’

  ‘That won’t wash, you sonofabitch.’

  ‘The hell you say. Your brother drew down on me and I shot him dead, fair and square. I didn’t want to kill him, but that’s the way it went down.’

  Frank had heard enough. Raising his own voice he called, ‘I don’t know what this is all about, Marshal, but it’s my grandson you’re tryin’ to arrest, and right now this kid’s in no fit state to travel anywhere.’

  Up on the canyon rim, Jim Lockhart called, ‘Well, I’m mighty sorry to hear that, whoever you are. But by the sound of him, he’s in damn’ sight better shape than my brother Ace.’

  Frank whispered to Luke, ‘What have you got to say about that?’

  Luke scrubbed a hand over his face. ‘It was a few days ago. A feller picked a fight with me in a saloon in Vermijo. Turns out he was the marshal’s brother and also one of his deputies. I been on the run ever since. Was set afoot when my horse gave out on me.’

  ‘Vermijo, uh? I never did take to that town. You sure that’s the way it was, Luke?’

  ‘Look, I been on the trail a long time, grandpa, and I’ve done my share o’ things I ain’t proud of, but I swear to God, that’s the way it was. He was drunk, and spoilin’ for a fight. I didn’t even know he was law till after I’d shot him.’

  ‘And you say it happened in a saloon?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Any witnesses?’

  ‘Bartender was the only one to see it, and he claimed he didn’t see a thing.’

  ‘Dammit, boy. You’re just like your pa…you don’t do anythin’ by halves.’

  ‘Listen, we ain’t got all day, mister.’ Jim shouted. ‘Send him out, and we’ll see he gets a fair shake.’

  ‘Don’t do it, Grandpa—’

  ‘Shut up and let me think.’ A moment passed, then he said, ‘What’s this marshal’s name?’

  ‘Jim Lockhart. His brother was Ace Lockhart.’

  Frank ran the names through his mind. ‘Don’t remember any badge-packers name of Lockhart from my peace-keepin’ days.’ At last he reached a decision, and bawled, ‘Okay, Lockhart, we’re coming out.’

  ‘One false move and I’ll blow your fool heads off.’

  That was Carl, barely able to restrain himself now that his fighting blood was up.

  Jim poked a finger in Carl’s chest with such force that Carl staggered back a step.

  ‘There’re be no killing. Y’hear?’ snarled Jim. ‘Don’t let’s be havin’ a conversation about this. We’ve already lost one brother and I ain’t fixin’ on losing another. Just keep that temper of yourn under control.’ And to Frank and Luke he called, ‘You’ll be safe enough, you play square with us.’

  The posse consisted of Jim, Carl and two deputies, Ed Deville and Ben Hodges. All four watched as Frank and Luke stepped out into the open. Ed and Ben, ignoring Jim’s instruction to stay with the horses, showed themselves on the rocks, weapons pointed at the armed men below. Frank took in the scene with one scan of his eyes. He considered their situation and concluded that they were outnumbered and outgunned. There could be only one outcome by pushing it any further.

  ‘Hope you ain’t throwin’ in with this here sonofabitch,’ Jim said amiably, coming down out of the rocks to meet them. ‘He’s a killer, nothin’ surer.’

  ‘This here sonofabitch as you call him, is my grandson,’ Frank responded testily. ‘And as to whether or not he’s a killer, that’s for the courts to decide. Not you.’

  ‘Well, how long you think it’ll take a jury to decide he killed a man who never even got the chance to fire off a shot of his own?’

  ‘That’s a damn’ lie,’ Luke shouted.

  ‘The hell it is. My brother always carried five shots in his piece, always let the hammer rest on an empty chamber. I checked that weapon after I found him, boy, and all five rounds were still in the wheel.’

  ‘Listen, mister, maybe it’s as you say, maybe it isn’t,’ Frank interrupted. ‘I just want to make sure the boy gets a fair hearin’, is all.’

  Jim laughed. ‘Sure. He’ll get that.’

  ‘Then turn around and go back where you came from. This ain’t your bailiwick.’

  Jim wasn’t fazed that the old man knew who he was or what his judicial powers were meant to be. ‘This here badge lets me decide just what is and isn’t my bailiwick.’

  Frank stared him down, straightening up his body. ‘Now you listen up sharp, mister, ’cause I don’t chew my cabbage twice. You go on back to where you came from, and I’ll take my boy here in to Powderhorn. Marshal there can hold him till you get extradition papers signed by a judge. Then he’ll come to you all nice an’ legal, with an escort we can trust.’

  Jim’s face set in stone. ‘You sayin’ I can’t be trusted?’ he asked softly.

  ‘That’s exactly what I’m sayin’.’

  And with elaborate care, Frank brought the rifle up to line up on Jim’s body, the hammer already eased back.

  ‘Now you just turn tail an’—’

  That was as far as he got.

  Frank’s attention had been directed at Jim. He hadn’t been watching Carl, so he didn’t see Carl ease back the hammer on the Remington Single Action Army. There was barely twenty feet between them, and when it was fired, the powerful .45 slug ripped into Frank with a force that spun him around. Instinctively his finger jerked back on the trigger and sent a shot high, wide and useless.

  For just an instant, Luke was rooted to the spot. Then cold fury clouded his face. ‘Grandpa’,’ he bellowed.

  Jim closed the short distance between them in a couple of strides and quickly pistol-whipped him to his knees, the vicious scalp wound dripping blood into the sand. Luke stared up at the barrel of the Colt aimed between his eyes and spat a globule of blood on the ground, but otherwise remained silent.

  Jim turned to his brother. ‘Throw the irons on him, Carl,’ he ordered. ‘An’ check him over for any hideaway weapons.’

  Carl disappeared for a moment and returned with a set of iron manacles that he jangled tormentingly in front of Luke.

  ‘I’m gonna enjoy this,’ he said, then set about fris
king Luke roughly.

  Luke was in no shape to retaliate. He concern was for his grandpa who hadn’t moved since hitting the ground. A pool of blood had oozed from beneath his body and was quickly sucked into the ground.

  Now Luke was afraid. With his grandpa dead, he had no way of protecting himself against these men and whatever they were going to do to him. All of a sudden the fight went out of him. His whole body slumped in defeat.

  ‘Give me your hands!’

  Luke complied and Carl slapped the manacles on him. He leaned in and glared at his brother’s killer. His expression was hard and completely without mercy. Luke shrunk back.

  Carl spat in his face. ‘You’re gonna pay for killin’ my brother, you sonofabitch.’

  Suddenly and viciously Carl threw a punch into Luke’s stomach. Luke gasped and doubled over but Carl grabbed him by the hair, lifted his head and backhanded him across the mouth.

  Luke staggered back, stunned by the assault. He was in no shape to defend himself.

  Carl laughed and moved in closer and landed a vicious right cross that finally sent Luke to the ground.

  Now that it felt safe, both Ben and Ed came down from the rocks and stood next to Jim and enjoyed the fun.

  ‘Hurt him bad, Carl.’

  Happy to oblige, Carl drove his fist into Luke’s face. He felt the shock wave run up his arm but ignored it as he heard the satisfying sound of the blow.

  ‘Enough. Don’t want to kill him...’ Jim said and then slowly grinned, ‘…too soon.’

  But Carl wasn’t done. An evil grin spread across his face and he lashed out a foot, his boot connecting with Luke’s stomach, forcing him to double over and clutch his midriff.

  Seeing that Jim was smiling, Ed and Ben thought it was safe enough to join in and slapped each other’s shoulders and laughed.

  Carl was heaving with exertion and stepped back, hands on his hips. He straightened up and spat on the dirt near Luke’s head. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘that oughta take some of the vinegar out of him.’

  Six

  The next couple days followed the same deadening pattern for Luke.

  Half-days at a time jogging behind a horse, hands tied in front of him now, the other end of the rope dallied around the saddlehorn of Carl’s horse. Wrists chafed, every muscle aching, the feet inside low-heeled boots that were never meant for walking screaming as the skin on his toes began to tear and bleed.

  Each camp was a cold camp for Luke. He watched the posse men eat hot food and drink hot coffee, and when he begged them for something, anything, he got a backhanded slap across the mouth from Carl instead. He had to contend with stale biscuits and be thrown cold lumps of gristle like he was no better than a dog.

  But it was the thirst that was the worst part of all. They allowed him just enough water to survive. No more, no less. But the rest of each day passed in an agony of thirst. Thirst, heat, the unrelenting pain of just having to keep up with the walking horses or getting dragged over rough terrain.

  Sleeping rough throughout the desert-cold nights, with Carl using him as target practice whenever he could gather enough bullet-sized pebbles to satisfy the urge. He was given no opportunity to escape from his captors. Lockhart had organized his men to guard him overnight turn and turnabout. Not that he could have gotten away. Shackled by the manacles, his hands were never free. Each stop he was tied to a tree with the rope looping around his ankles and wrists. When it came to securing his prisoner, Jim Lockhart knew his business.

  Luke couldn’t sleep. Somewhere away in the night he heard the screech of a great horned owl. He envied the creature its freedom as it soared through the air. Although he was a half-broken man, Luke wouldn’t surrender. He found a place inside him where he could hide from the pain and shut out the horror. It was the only way he could survive. But in that place he could only think about Frank Tyler.

  As he sat in the darkness cold, hungry and thirsty he couldn’t believe his grandpa was dead. And he couldn’t shuck the idea that it was his fault. He’d led trouble to his grandpa’s door and now... now Frank was gone and Luke had no one in the whole, wide world. No one who would care if he lived or died.

  Realizing that, he was tempted to give up caring himself. After all, what kind of a life had it been, really? When he thought about it, what did he actually know about his parents? From what he had been told he knew that his mother had died when he was barely a month old. His pa didn’t stick around much longer than that and walked out of his son’s life with spurs a-jingle. It was left to Grandpa Frank and Grandma Bella to raise him up, and they thought they had been blessed with a second chance in life. But life was a cruel and fickle beast and it was just after Luke’s fifteenth birthday that a package arrived for him.

  Never before in his life had Luke received any mail, and he could barely tear off the wrapping fast enough. Inside were his father’s spurs and a note. In a few lines it explained that his pa had died in a tavern brawl in Taos and left instructions that the spurs be sent to his only son.

  His grandparents were unimpressed. This was followed by bitter disappointment and grief when Luke left the ranch just weeks later, wearing those same damned spurs, the only things he really had to his name.

  ~*~

  On the fourth day, things got even worse.

  They halted at a crossing where the creek water was low. Carl had been in especially mean spirits all that morning. He hipped around in the saddle and smiled at Luke. Then he gigged his horse into the water, leading it in to where the water reached its belly, then slapped its rump forcing it to break into a trot. Luke stumbled for ten, twelve steps before losing his footing. He fell facedown into the water and was dragged behind Carl’s horse.

  When Carl reached dry land he rode on a few yards more before bringing his mount to a stop and looked behind him. Luke was out of the water, up on all fours, coughing and spluttering. Carl slapped his thigh and laughed.

  He stepped down out of the saddle and said, ‘Get up, damn you!’

  Luke continued to heave but didn’t look up. In between coughs he said, ‘You go to hell.’

  Carl took up the slack in the lasso and wrapped it around his saddlehorn.

  ‘Now you get up, or you get dragged, killer!’

  Carl had taken to call Luke by the name of Killer. He knew it riled the man, and when he retaliated, Carl liked it even more.

  Jim rode up next to his brother. ‘You really gonna drag him?’

  ‘Sure am.’ Carl smiled. ‘Gonna drag the skin off his goddam hide.’

  Jim shook his head and looked about him. ‘Ground here’s too flat. Yonder is better.’

  Carl looked to where Jim was pointing. There was a hillside covered in cholla and organ pipe cactus. His smile got wider as he imagined the damage the thorns would do to Luke’s body.

  The very thought of being dragged across that vicious-looking landscape was enough for Luke to summon all his strength and climb back onto his feet. He stood swaying and faced his captors.

  ‘I’m up,’ he rasped. ‘Dammit, I’m up.’

  Carl looked into Luke’s face and saw the burning hatred in his eyes. It flustered the deputy for a moment. When Luke saw that, he gave a wry smile.

  Carl reacted the way he always reacted when he didn’t like something. His surprise was replaced by violence. He grabbed Luke’s manacled hands and dragged him back to the creek. Luke was thrown off balance and fell back into the water.

  On the bank Jim and the others watched in amusement. Carl looked up to his older brother for approval. Jim smiled back and nodded.

  Carl was upon Luke in an instant. He seized the back of his head and pushed him facedown into the creek. Water filled his mouth and nostrils, and choking, he began to panic as the water met over his head. Luke struggled against Carl, his body jerking spasmodically under Carl’s relentless hold.

  Carl pulled Luke out of the water just long enough so he could splutter and take a gasp of air. Luke bucked wildly and managed to twist himself around.
He fought back as much as he could, trying to get his own grip on his tormenter. For one instant he grabbed at Carl, but the deputy had the advantage and easily evaded the desperate, clawing hands. Carl pushed him deeper into the water, slamming his head down on the stony creek bed, and held him there.

  Luke knew he was drowning and struggled madly to save himself. His lungs felt ready to explode as he teetered on the brink of unconsciousness.

  ‘Carl!’

  Carl ignored his brother.

  ‘Carl!’ Jim repeated and seeing that he wasn’t about to stop, told Ed to break it up.

  Luke frantically clawed at Carl’s hands. But they were unyielding. He felt himself grow weaker with each passing second. Suddenly he burst clear of the water, gulped frenziedly for air and attempted to strike at Carl. But he was out of reach. Then he felt his strength going and went under again. There was a terrible blinding pressure behind his eyes. He was about to pass out. But someone grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him up to the surface.

  Luke felt barely alive. He struggled to breathe properly and had a fit of coughing and spitting. He spewed water from his mouth and nostrils.

  Grabbing Luke by his shirt collar, Ed dragged the man behind him to dry ground and dumped him down. Carl was on the bank, exhausted and bent at the waist with his mouth opening and closing as he captured his breath.

  Carl looked over at Luke and said, ‘Not so damned spunky now, are you, Killer?’

  Luke and rolled over on his side and curled up into a ball.

  Carl stood and looked at the spurs on Luke’s boots.

  Jim saw the look of envy on his brother’s face. How many times have I seen that look? he thought.

  ‘Got a problem?’ he called.

  Carl hooked his chin at the spurs. ‘Them hooks are too good for the likes of him.’

  Jim said, ‘Then take ’em.’ He smiled coldly. ‘We always do.’

  Carl didn’t need to be told twice and he removed the spurs and fitted them on his own boots. He strutted up and down making the jingle-bobs play their music. His grin was as wide as the Grand Canyon and he nodded a thank you to his brother.