Barjack and the Unwelcome Ghost

by Robert J Conley

  “He’s just tormenting us,” Sly said. “Trying to keep us nervous.”

  “Well, he’s succeeding,” said Miller.

  “I’d sure like to get my hands on that son of a bitch,” said Butcher.

  Bonnie and Polly come in just then, and they was a-holding ole Happy up betwixt them. They was moving kinder slow on account a’ Happy, but soon as they come in the door, Bonnie yelled out at me, “Barjack, what’s all that shooting outside?”

  “We don’t know, sugar tits,” I said.

  “It’s Cody,” said Miller. “Keeping us on edge.”

  The gals made it to the table with Happy, and they put Happy down in his chair, and then they set down in their places. Happy’s head was all wrapped up. “Happy,” I said, “you hadn’t oughta be up yet.”

  “Aw,” he answered, “I’m all right.”

  Then they was some more shots, but this time they come right in through the front winder a’ the Hooch House, shattering glass all over the place. This time we all jumped up with a gun in our hands and headed for the front door. “He’s right outside,” Butcher yelled. “We’ll get him this time,” said Bonnie. Me and Bonnie got stuck for a minute trying to get through the door at the same time, but I final broke on through. The only difference between this time and the other times was my broke winder. We all of us wound up standing out in the street looking all around, but we never seed him. Sly, Miller, and Butcher all went on the hunt again, but I headed back for my second abandoned drink. The gals and Dingle and Happy follered me. I was real anxious to see was my drink still there and still untouched. It was, so I set down and tuck me a slug. It were good whiskey, and I hated to think about that slimy bastard a-drinking down a whole tumbler full a’ the fine stuff at my expense.

  I finished my drink and called for another one, and then them three what had run off on that wildgoose chase come back and come on over and set down. Sly said, “Barjack, what’s your horse doing out front?”

  “My horse?” I said. “He’s s’posed to be put up in the stable.”

  “Well, he’s right outside,” Miller said, “saddled and waiting to go.”

  “Goddamn it,” I said, shoving back my chair and standing up. “I’ll get to the bottom a’ this shit right now.”

  I walked outside, and sure enough, my ole horse was just a-standing there, like Miller said, all saddled and just a-waiting for me to come out and climb on. Well, I did just that, and then I rid him down to the stable where he was supposed to be in the first place. I yelled till the stinky stable man come out. Then I got down outta the saddle and handed him the reins. I was about to ask him something, but he beat me to the punch.

  “When the hell did you get him?” he ast me. “The last time I looked, he was in his stall.”

  I went and tole him the whole story and ast him a few questions, but he just stuck to his guns. He hadn’t seed no one come in and hadn’t seed no horse go out. “Well, keep your goddamn eyes open,” I said, and I walked back to the Hooch House. Ever’one there wanted to hear what I had found out, and I said, “Not a damn thing.”

  Butcher had follered me as far as the front door, and he was still a-standing there just a-looking out into the street. “Hey,” he called out. “Ain’t this Happy’s horse a-coming?”

  Happy stood up and walked to join Butcher at the front door, and I heared him say, “Damn. It is. For sure.”

  Miller stood up just then and headed to join them. “What the hell is going on?” he said. Sly and Polly follered along. Final Bonnie couldn’t stand it no longer, and she went over there to take a look for her own self. At last it was just only me and Dingle a-setting at the table, and Dingle was complete wrapped up in his scribbling, so against my better judgment, I got up and joined them. Happy’s ole nag, all saddled up, was just a-walking down the middle a’ the street.

  “Where’s he s’posed to be?” I ast Happy.

  “Down at the stable,” he said.

  “Somebody catch him up and take him back down there, and then remind that worthless old son of a bitch what runs the place that I tole him to keep his damn eyes open,” I said, and as I turned to head back to my table, I seed Miller head out for the horse. I didn’t say nothing for a while, not till Miller got back and set down, and not till he had spoke first. What he said was, “There were a few drops of blood on the saddle.”

  I said, “I want to tell you all something right up front and right now. Whenever I see that son of a bitch Cody, I mean to kill him. There ain’t gonna be no arrest, no jail time, no trial. I mean to kill him. And if any a’ the rest a’ you takes him alive and puts him into my jail, whenever I see him in there, I’ll kill him then.”

  We was a-dealing with the strangest, most slipperiest, most damned aggravating bastard I had ever come across in my whole entire life, and I didn’t mean to take no chances with him no more than what I had to. And I wanted that plumb understood.

  “Say,” said Happy, “whose blood could that be anyhow? I weren’t even in the saddle whenever I got hurt.”

  “What could it mean?” said Polly.

  “I think it’s a prediction,” Miller said. “It means that there’s coming a time when our horses will all have empty saddles.”

  “We’ll all be dead,” said Sly. “It’s more psychology.”

  “Sike whut?” I said.

  “What he means, Barjack,” said Dingle, looking up from his scribbling for the first time, “is that Cody is working on our minds.”

  “Hell,” I said, “I knowed that.” And I did too. Sort of. I seed a article on the subject in a damned newspaper over to the county seat one time. And I read it too. Well, most of it.

  “It was likely chicken blood,” said Miller.

  “What was?” Butcher ast.

  “The blood on Happy’s saddle,” said Miller.

  “Oh. Yeah.”

  An old boy what was setting close to the front door got up and come a-walking back to my table. “Barjack?” he said.

  “What is it?” I said.

  “The Widder Tanner is outside the door.”

  “Yeah?”

  “She said she wants to see you.”

  “Well, let her come on,” I said. “I’m just a-setting here.”

  “She said she ain’t never been inside a saloon.”

  Bonnie elbowed me real sharp. “Go on out and see what she wants,” she said.

  “Ow,” I said. “All right. You don’t need to kill me.”

  I shoved back my chair and got up. Then I picked up my tumbler and drained it dry and walked out the front door to see what the widder wanted with me.

  “Barjack,” she said, “someboy has stoled three of my chickens.”

  “How do you know that? Has you counted them?”

  “Course I did. I always count them when I feed them. I’m three short.”

  “They coulda wandered off. Has you got them fenced in real good?”

  “Barjack, I been keeping chickens all a’ my life. I ought to know when my chickens has got stoled. Well, what are you going to do about it?”

  “I’ll look into it, Miz Tanner,” I said, “and if I catch the damned rustler, I’ll see that he gets hunged up by his neck for robbing a poor widder woman.”

  “All right,” she said.

  I headed back for my table, and along the way, a thought come into my head. I set back down, and I said, “Folks, that damned Cody, he has for a fact become a chicken rustler, and that blood on Happy’s saddle were for sure chicken blood.”

  “Have you got some news, Barjack?” Sly ast me.

  I tole them then about the widder’s chickens, and a’ course they had all heared what ole Churkee had said about the blood on the saddle.

  “So you think that Miller was right about the blood,” said Sly, “and that Cody got it from stealing Miz Tanner’s chickens?”

  “I do,” I said, feeling like one a’ them new-fangled detectives, “and I’m a-going over to the widder’s place right now to investigate the
scene a’ the crime.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Over at the Widder’s place we met Miz Tanner in front a’ her house, and she went and led the way around the house to her chicken yard, where a dozen or so a’ the nasty birds was a-clucking around.

  The widder tole us that she had just counted them again right before we come, and they was twelve a’ the rascals. I figgered that was already more chickens than anyone in they right mind should ought to want, but the widder went and said that she’d had fifteen a’ the shitty birds just a couple a’ weeks ago.

  I ast her did she hear anything, but she said that they make so damn much noise all the time that if she did, she never noticed. I ast her did she ever see anything, and she said no. We went to leave the chicken yard, and I lurked around till I was the last one in there. I looked around at them damn birds, and I said, “Why don’t you damn dumbass birds learn yourselfs how to fly? Hell, I learnt, and I ain’t even got no wings.”

  We never found no evidence a’ no kind around the widder’s place. No footprints nor nothing that would help us. Dingle were a-scribbling like crazy, though, and I sidled up to him and I ast him, “Dingle, what is you writing down there? Is you writing down ever’thing what we finds out here?”

  “Yes, sir, Barjack,” he said, “I sure for certain am doing just exactly that.”

  “Well,” I said out loud so’s ever’one could hear me, “I done ast all a’ the questions what I had in my mind, and I done looked around at ever’thing I wanted to look at, so I’m a-heading back for the Hooch House, but if any a’ the rest a’ you wants to stick around here and look some more or ast the widder some more questions, feel free. She won’t mind one little bit.”

  So without saying nothing else, I turned to leave. Sly fell kinda in step with me, but the rest a’ the gang stayed at the widder’s place. “Did you see anything, Barjack?” Sly said.

  “Hell, Sly, I couldn’t even tell if anyone had actual stold a chicken.”

  “Well, I believe Mrs. Tanner,” Sly said. “Someone has stolen three of her fine chickens, and I believe that someone to be Mr. Cody who is trying to torment you to death.”

  We had just stepped into the street headed back toward the Hooch House whenever a saddled horse come running toward us. Then a couple more. That made all the horses what me and my official posse and my unofficial one had been a-riding. Me and Sly stopped this little bunch, and right off we seed that there was drops a’ blood on each saddle. Being down at the widder’s place, we was also close to ole doc’s office, and so I said, “Sly, let’s just lead these here animals over yonder by the doc’s.” He never said nothing, but he follered along. I went inside and come back out in a minute with ole Doc.

  “Looky here,” I said, pointing at the blood on one saddle, “and here, and here,” I said, pointing at two more. Doc looked and murmured, “Hum, hum.”

  “Doc,” I said, “I wants you to check that there blood and tell me just what is it.”

  “I can’t guarantee nothing, Barjack,” Doc said. “I ain’t got all the best lab equipment for that kinda work.”

  “Well, you’re all we got, Doc,” I said, “so just do your best.”

  Me and Sly was headed back to the Hooch House whenever Sly just stopped and stood still in the street. He was rubbing his chin and just staring down at the street. “Barjack,” he said, “let’s go back down to the stable for another look.”

  I never ast him what for, I just turned around and walked beside of him back to the stable. Whenever we got there, ole stinky seed us and he just got his ass outta the way, and Sly, he went right straight to a ladder leading up to the loft. He clumb up there and disappeared, and I stood down below a-wondering whether I was curious enough about Sly’s doings to climb that there ladder after him. So as to keep myself from looking idle or stupid or something like that, I went to kinder poking my head into various a’ the stalls up and down the side wall. The old man come out and showed hisself, and I called out to him.

  “What do you want with me, Barjack?” he ast me.

  “Listen here, Stinker,” I said, “three more horses has been saddled and turned a-loose from in here just today, not ten minutes ago. What do you know about it?”

  “Not a damn thing,” he said. “I been working, not a-watching.”

  “Someone could come along here and steal my horse right the hell outta your stable,” I said. “Or anyone else’s damn horse.”

  “I allus said that if a man is dead set on stealing something, he’ll get it,” the nasty old fart said. I was just about ready to kick his skinny little ass, whenever Sly distracted my attention.

  “Barjack,” he yelled out. “Come up here and take a look.”

  I went to the ladder and clumb on up there. It were kindly dark, so I just stood there squinnying my eyeballs. “Over here,” said Sly, and I looked to my left, which was toward the front a’ the building. I kinda saw him up there. It was like he was down on his knees or something, but he was just only a black outline, a, you know, a silly wet or whatever they calls them. Anyhow, I started in to making my way slow to him. “What you got?” I said.

  As I come close to him, Sly struck a match and helt it up, and then I seed just what he had come across. They was chicken bones and chicken feet and heads and feathers. They was a pool a’ chicken blood. They was a spare couple a’ long-tailed black coats laying there. There was even a tin platter what had been used to hole a fire in it. And then they was bits a’ the crust from around a slice a’ bread where it had been et right up to the crust and then tossed aside. They was even a coffeepot and a cup. I stood up and walked over to the edge a’ the loft. My eyes was used to the darkness by then. And I yelled out to ole Stinky, “Hey, you old fart, run out and find one a’ my depitties and tell him to fetch Dingle the Scribbler and bring him along to right here, and make it quick.”

  We went on back down the ladder and waited around just a little whilst I lit up a smoke. Then here come Happy and Dingle and even Butcher. I tole them what I had found, and then I tole them to go up there and not to disturb nothing but for Dingle to first write it all down the way we found it. Them three went up that ladder and me and ole Sly, we went back to the Hooch House and set down at my table. Aubrey didn’t need to be yelled at or waved at or nothing, he brung us each just what the hell we was wanting. I tuck a good long drink a’ my good brown whiskey.

  “Sly,” I said, “just what made you go back to the stable anyhow?”

  “Those last three horses he saddled up and ran down the street,” he said. “It would be very nearly impossible for anyone to saddle up and then run out on the street as many horses as he did without being caught unless he had a good nearby hiding place.”

  “Humph. Yeah. I reckon.” I downed the rest a’ my drink and Aubrey come a-running with more. “Well, maybe we flushed him out some. Whenever he finds out that we has discovered his hideyhole, he’ll have to go somewhere else. Maybe we’ll catch him then.”

  “Maybe so,” said Sly.

  “So we know who he is and we know where he’s been a-hiding,” I said. “Now all we need is to just catch up with the slimy shit.”

  “That’s all,” Sly said. He was sipping coffee.

  “It looked to me like he was a-cooking up there,” I said. “Was he a-cooking up there? Do you think he was?”

  “I’d say, pretty definitely, he was cooking up there,” Sly said.

  “Damn,” I said. “We’re all damn lucky that he never caught the damn stable on fire. The whole damn town coulda gone up.”

  “Yes,” said Sly, “we’ve been lucky about that, but we still haven’t caught the culprit.”

  Happy and Butcher and Dingle come in then, and they all come back to my table, and Aubrey brung them all drinks.

  “You boys find anything more interesting up there?” I ast.

  “We seen matches and something what was used for a firepot,” said Butcher.

  “Chicken bones and heads and feet and feathers,” sai
d Happy.

  “Guts off to one side,” said Dingle. “And three black coats.”

  “Humph,” I snorted. “We never seed the guts.”

  “No, we didn’t,” said Sly. “There could be something else up there yet that we missed.”

  “Butcher,” I said, “go back down there and make sure that no one gets up into that loft. I don’t want nothing up there to get disturbed before I get another chance to detectivate around in the loft.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said. He downed the rest of his drink and hurried out.

  “Barjack?” said Happy.

  “Whut?” I said.

  “Do you want me to go and help Butcher?”

  “Happy,” I said, “if I had wanted you to go and help him, I would have told you to do it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Happy, has you ever knowed me to hesitate to let you know when I wanted you to do something for me?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Happy?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Wait about two hours and then go down yonder and relieve ole Butcher.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said. “I’ll do ‘er.”

  Miller come in and come on over and set.

  “Churkee,” I said, “we found out where the invisible man has been hiding out and taking his meals.”

  “You did? Where?”

  I tole him all about the stable and what we had seed up in the loft.

  “That’s interesting,” he said, “but does that get us any closer to Cody?”

  “It might force him out in the open some,” I said. “It might could help.”

  The old sawbones come in then, and he looked the place over till he spied us, and then he come awalking toward us. Whenever he come over close to my table, he said, “Barjack, it’s chicken blood.”

  “All of it?” I ast.

  “All of it,” he said.

  Whenever he left, Miller wanted to know what we had been talking about, and I tole him about the latest horses with blood on their saddles.

  “So he was just trying to scare us,” said Miller. “Chicken blood on the saddles.”