“Maybe so,” Mason allowed. “The only thing that’s gonna take a while is fixin’ the windows in my office. Almost all the glass was shot out of the front and back windows, and we’re gonna have to wait for some glass. John Payne had to board ’em up till we get some.”
“That’s one of the first things we need to talk about when enough of the members get here,” Wheeler said. “What are we gonna do about Priest and Garrett? Give ’em a trial of some sort and hang ’em? Do they deserve hanging? We’ve never had to deal with this issue before.”
Reverend Poole walked in at that point, in time to hear the questions. “I don’t know what their intent was when they broke into Floyd Jenkins’s place. Maybe they were just going to give him a whipping or something, or maybe they were breaking in to rob him. And if that was the case, they shouldn’t deserve hanging. Maybe they should just be turned over to the state for imprisonment.”
“Ah, come on, Parson,” Rooster replied. “You know those three were goin’ after Floyd to kill him for stickin’ Curly Williams out there for folks to gawk at.”
“That right there tells me we oughta hold some kinda trial for Eli and Slim,” Dick Hoover said. “Some of us think one way and some of us the other.”
“I thought this was supposed to be a quick meeting,” Horace Brooks said to Henry Lawrence. “Looks like I was wrong about that.”
“That ain’t all bad,” Henry replied, laughing, since he owned the saloon. “We ain’t even started talkin’ about the rest of that pack of coyotes yet.” He nudged Horace when he saw Perley and Possum walk in the door. “I wonder how much longer he’s gonna hang around?”
“From now on, I wish,” Horace said. “I like havin’ a fast gun around who’s on our side.”
“Maybe so,” Henry allowed, “but if word gets spread around about how fast that man is with a gun, in no time at all there’s gonna be one gunslinger after another showin’ up in Bison Gap to try him out.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Horace said. “Hearing him talk about it, I know he’s anxious to get back home to Lamar County, and that’s a helluva long way from Bison Gap.”
The blacksmith was the last member to show up, saying he had a few things to touch up on the outside of the window. “Don’t worry, Sheriff,” John Payne japed, “they were still in there when I left.” Mayor Wheeler called the meeting to order then, and they started out right away on the question of what to do with the prisoners.
While one member, then another, had their say about the issue, Sheriff Mason came over and sat down at the table beside Perley. “I ain’t all that easy about sittin’ in here listenin’ to this discussion when there ain’t anybody watchin’ the jail,” he said to Perley. “I don’t have a vote on what they decide, anyway.”
“You might not have a vote,” Perley told him, talking in a whisper to keep from distracting those giving their opinions. “But you do have an opinion, and I think they’ll wanna hear it. Besides, the jail ain’t but about thirty-five yards from here. We’ll most likely hear anybody tryin’ to break in the jail.”
Mason shrugged. “I reckon you’re right, but I can’t help worryin’ about it. Just because we held ’em off once before, don’t guarantee they ain’t gonna try it again.”
“Now you’ve got me thinkin’ about it,” Perley whispered. “How ’bout if I go watch the jail for ya? I ain’t got a vote, either, and I doubt they wanna hear my opinion. Possum will tell me what you folks decide to do, and I’ll go watch your office for you.”
“Boy, that would sure make me feel a lot more comfortable,” Mason said and offered Perley his keys, but Perley said he wasn’t going to go inside.
“Where you goin’, Perley?” Possum asked as soon as Perley got up and headed for the door.
“Just outside,” Perley whispered, “gonna keep an eye on the jail.” He slipped quickly out the door then before Possum jumped up to go with him, which he was likely to do. He thought it was a good idea if Possum participated in the meeting, since he was a bona fide member of the council. As for himself, Possum could tell him what course of action the town decided to pursue, and he wouldn’t have to sit in a smoky barroom when it was such a nice evening outside. With those thoughts in mind, he started out toward the jail but paused to take in a deep breath of the fresh night air. He could have taken the keys Mason offered him, but knew he didn’t want to sit in the sheriff’s office any more than he wanted to sit in the saloon. Thinking of the nice summer nights when he would sometimes sit out on the porch at the Triple-G to watch the moon come up, he decided he could watch the jail from the outside. So he took the liberty of picking up one of the small, straight-back chairs on the saloon porch and carried it out to the lone tree between the saloon and the jail. Anchoring the chair on its two back legs, he tilted it back against the tree trunk. Settled in comfortably, he thought, now if that gang makes another raid, I can see them before they even get to the jail. He sat there for about half an hour before the first signs of a full moon began to appear through the trees along the east side of the creek. It was the last thing he remembered before he drifted off to sleep.
* * *
Riding a sorrel, since his white horse was too easily seen in the dark, Drew Dawson led the party of four riders up out of the creek and stopped while they drew up beside him. From that point, they could see the jail sitting in solemn darkness, in contrast to the lights and noise coming from the saloon close by. There were two extra horses with them for the two prisoners. Unaware of the sleeping man under the solitary oak tree, Drew said, “Looks just like we expected.”
Stark spoke then, after he took a look, “All right, Junior, you know what you’re gonna do. Ride up to that new window they just put in and drop the pistol through the bars. You remember what you’re gonna tell ’em?” Junior said he did. “Best go do it before that moon gets up outta the trees. Make sure the gun don’t hang up on the windowsill or nothin’. We’ll wait right here for you, and if you run into any trouble, we’ll come a-runnin’.”
Junior nodded and rode out of the trees, headed for the back of the jailhouse. As they expected, no one took notice of the lone rider loping across the dark expanse between the creek and the jail. Pulling his horse up by the repaired window, conveniently absent of a screen, he whispered, “Eli, you in there?”
An answer came back right away. “Hell, yes, we’re in here. Who’s that?”
“It’s me,” Junior answered.
“Me, who?” Eli answered, impatiently, even though he could pretty well guess. “Junior, is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” he answered. “I brought you a gun. I’m gonna drop it in the window. Can you catch it?” Eli said he could. “You’re gonna have to break out yourself. We ain’t in no shape to try to bust you out again. Ned said to tell you we left two horses tied down by the creek. All right, here comes the pistol. You ready?” He dropped the gun and when Eli said he had it, Junior said, “I’ll see you when you get out.” He wheeled his horse away from the back of the jail and raced back to the safety of the creek.
When he pulled up before them, Stark asked, “Did you remember everything?”
“Yep, I told him everythin’ you said, and he got the gun,” Junior reported.
“That’s all we can do for ’em,” Drew said to Stark. “We can just go on back to the ranch and wait to see if they show up.”
Hearing his comment, Junior asked, “Go back to the ranch? Ain’t we gonna wait to see if they get out?”
Stark held up for a moment. “Was there anybody else in there, besides Eli and Slim?” Junior said there was no one else. “Well, you big dummy, they can’t do nothin’ with a gun unless there’s somebody there to point it at. There’s no tellin’ when the sheriff’s gonna check on them tonight. It might not be till mornin’ and they’ll have a pretty good chance of gettin’ away, if all they’ve gotta do is run back to the creek for the horses.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Junior said. “Why d
on’t we wait for the sheriff to come back from that meetin’ and grab him when he opens the door? Then we’ll let Eli and Slim out and shoot the sheriff.”
His suggestion caused them to hesitate, strictly because it came from Junior. “Damn, Junior,” Stark replied in surprise. “That’s not a bad idea, dependin’ on if Mason comes back to the jail by himself.” The big simpleton beamed in response to Stark’s praise.
“It is a good idea,” Drew agreed. “Should have thought of that first, but I don’t think we need all of us to take one man. And I’m not ready to take a chance on them findin’ out I’m one of this gang.”
Pumped up now, since his idea was recognized as a good one, Junior volunteered again. “Shoot, I can jump that sheriff by myself.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Drew said, “but it might be a lot easier if there were two of you, in case he turns out to be more trouble than you expect. And you need to do it without firin’ a shot and havin’ the vigilantes on your neck. That might be too much for one man, even one as big as you.”
“Hell, I’ll go with you,” Sledge volunteered. “I wouldn’t mind gettin’ my hands around his gullet.”
“Good luck, boys,” Drew said. “No use in Ned and me waitin’ around here for Mason to show up. We’ll see you back at the house.”
“We’ll get ’em,” Junior boasted. After they left, however, he turned to Sledge, who already had his eyes glued to the saloon. “What if Mason ain’t alone? What if that Perley Gates feller is with him? You reckon we oughta jump both of ’em?”
Sledge didn’t have to give that much thought. “You might wanna jump both of ’em but damned if I do— not as fast as that man must be. So I say, if Mason ain’t by hisself, let’s just let Eli use that gun you took him and get out like we first planned.”
As it turned out, there was no need to worry about it. In less than an hour, the council meeting broke up, and as luck would have it, Sheriff Mason came out of the saloon, still talking with a couple of the members. After a few minutes of conversation, the sheriff said good night and started walking back to the jail alone. “Here he comes!” Junior suddenly blurted when he saw Mason striding across the empty space between the saloon and the jail.
“Let’s go!” Sledge responded, and the two of them galloped out of the trees, each man leading a spare horse, intent upon getting to the sheriff before he reached the door of his office.
Sound asleep, until suddenly awakened by the sound of thundering hooves around him, Perley jumped up out of his chair in time to see the two riders as they passed on both sides of the oak tree. With no time to think, he ran after them, only then seeing their target, as Mason turned to see who was charging toward him. The sheriff drew his weapon when he realized their intent, but he was too late. Junior came off his horse like a great cannonball, knocking Mason to the ground, his six-gun flying out of his hand. Sledge dismounted to join his partner, who was now sitting on Mason’s chest, grinning at the sheriff. “Howdy, Sheriff Mason,” Sledge gloated, his. 44 aimed at Mason’s face. “Didn’t expect to see us again, did ya?”
“I expect you’d better drop that pistol.” The warning came from behind them, startling both outlaws, causing both of them to freeze. Junior just sat there on Mason’s chest, not sure what to do. Sledge, after a moment more, slowly turned his head. “Best not think about it,” Perley warned. Seeing Perley standing behind him, his weapon in hand, Sledge panicked, suddenly whipping his .44 around to fire. Perley’s bullet struck him in the chest, and he dropped to the ground, never pulling the trigger. “Get off him,” Perley ordered Junior, but the confused man-child continued to sit there until Perley, confronted with a task that looked too big to take on, put a shot through the toe of his boot. With a howl of pain, Junior rolled off Mason, who promptly rolled in the opposite direction and came up on all fours. In another few seconds, the sheriff was on his feet and had his pistol covering the moaning giant, who was rocking back and forth holding his injured foot. Perley quickly reached down and pulled Junior’s gun from the holster. He then checked to be sure Sledge offered no further threats. “He didn’t give me no choice,” he said in apology.
“That big hog liked to crushed the life outta me,” Mason complained. He shook his head as he stared down at Sledge. “Man, I sure am glad to see you,” he said to Perley.
“I shoulda got here a little bit sooner,” Perley said. He had no intention of confessing that he had been sound asleep while he was supposed to be on guard. They were joined then by half a dozen men, led by Possum and Rooster, responding to the sound of the shots.
“What happened?” Possum exclaimed.
“Perley just saved my bacon,” Mason answered. “These two jumped me. It was another attempted jailbreak, I reckon, since they brought a couple extra horses with ’em.”
“That one’s name is Junior,” Rooster announced, pointing to the big man sitting on the ground holding his foot. “The dead one’s Jack Sledge.” He took another look at Junior and said, “Looks like you might need Floyd to take a look at his foot, but you might need the blacksmith to get his boot off. I reckon you’re gonna need two or three of us to help you get him in a cell.”
“You got any more orders for us?” Possum japed.
“Matter of fact,” Rooster answered and nodded toward Horace Brooks. “Horace, here, might need some help roundin’ up these horses. I reckon that’s what you wanna do with ’em, Sheriff, put ’em in the stable?”
Mason looked at Possum and grinned. “That’s right, Rooster, that’s what I want, but I’d like to get this critter in a cell first of all.” So several of them got Junior on his feet and he hobbled into the sheriff’s office, where Mason relieved him of his gun belt before taking him into the cell room. “I’m gonna need to put these two in one cell and put Junior, here, in one by himself, since he’s gonna need some doctorin’.”
The profound look of disappointment was painted on both the faces of Eli and Slim when the cell room door swung open and Junior was helped into the room. “Hello, fellers,” Junior managed sheepishly. “We was tryin’ to get you outta here.”
“Who’s with you?” Eli asked.
“Sledge,” Junior answered. “They shot him dead. He was hidin’ out, waitin’ for us.”
“You fellers are runnin’ outta men, ain’tcha?” Rooster crowed. “How many more you gonna have to lose before you figure out Bison Gap ain’t a good place for your health?”
Once Junior was in a cell by himself and Eli and Slim were in the other one, the men who had come to help thinned out to return to the Buffalo Hump for another round of drinks before calling it a night. Perley, Possum, and Rooster were the only ones to remain, and Rooster was in between on his decision to go home, or to room with Possum that night. Perley volunteered to go get Floyd Jenkins. Rooster reminded him to tell Floyd to bring his handcart to take Sledge back with him.
While Mason watched, his revolver out and ready, Possum and Rooster struggled to get Junior’s boot off. Eli and Slim were huddled together in the farthest corner of the other cell. “Whaddaya reckon we oughta do?” Slim whispered, referring to the pistol hidden under Eli’s bunk.
“We can’t do nothin’ right now,” Eli answered, “with all them in here and all of ’em with guns. We’ll have to wait till there ain’t nobody here but the sheriff.”
“Maybe we oughta wait till Junior gets his foot doctored,” Slim said, “so he can go with us.”
“I don’t know about that. We get outta here, we’re gonna have to run for it. We ain’t got no horses, so we gotta run. I don’t see him doin’ much runnin’. We’ll just wait till we see our chance, then we’ll bust outta here.”
“I reckon you’re right,” Slim said. “I’m gonna miss the meals, though. I wish we could get outta here before Perley Gates gets back. Junior shoulda brought guns for both of us.” He would have continued rattling on with every thought he had, but Eli told him to be quiet.
When Perley returned with Floyd, he helped Floyd carry in
a large pan that he used to heat water. That was filled and put on the stove in the office. Then he opened his medical bag of medicines and various tools, some of which he would use on Sledge’s body later on. He removed Junior’s bloody sock and took a look at the wound just below the arch in his foot. “That ain’t so bad,” Floyd said. “There’s an entrance wound and an exit wound. The bullet went all the way through. Did you look in his boot? There oughta be a slug in there somewhere.”
As soon as he said it, Rooster picked up the boot to see. “Sure is,” he said, feeling around in the boot. “There it is, halfway through the sole.” He worked at it a while with his fingers until he pried it loose and held it up for them to see. Then he tossed it to Junior. “There’s you a good-luck charm. It’ll come in handy when you’re in prison.”
Junior caught it and examined it closely. “They wouldn’t throw me in prison for just tryin’ to get somebody outta jail, would they, Sheriff?”
The sheriff didn’t answer, but Eli did. “You ain’t got to worry about prison, Junior. ’Cause they’re gonna hang you right alongside of me and Slim. Ain’t that right, Sheriff?” Mason didn’t bother to answer Eli, either.
When the water was hot, Floyd washed Junior’s foot with some lye soap, which he said would keep it from getting infected, if he changed the bandage once in a while. Before wrapping a bandage around it, he sprinkled a white powder on both wounds. Watching the treatment, Perley was struck with the thought that it was the same powder he had seen in Floyd’s barbershop. Must be good for everything, he thought.
With his new prisoner bandaged up, Sheriff Mason locked Junior’s cell and told his three guests they might as well settle down for the night and he’d see that they got breakfast in the morning. Then he went into the office to talk to Perley, Possum, and Rooster. Perley left to help Floyd push Jack Sledge’s body back across the creek. Possum and Rooster stayed a little while longer before deciding to go to the hotel and go to bed, Rooster having decided he’d just go back home in the morning after breakfast.
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