The Devils Gunslinger

by Chet Cunningham

  “Twinges now and then but no big pains.”

  “Then you are fit for duty, as we used to say in the army. How is the ranching going?”

  “Working out well. I need to get back out there.”

  Next he went to see the marshal.

  “How is my favorite prisoner?”

  “Old Dan Tracey? He’s doing fine. Think I about have him convinced that Memphis has abandoned him and he might as well give up his fight to get you arrested.”

  “Good. Any plans to let him go?”

  “Been thinking. Says he’s almost broke buying his own food. Wonder if you gave him fifty dollars he would take it and run east as fast as his horse would take him.”

  “My bet is he would. Give it a try.” Sully took out fifty dollars from his wallet and gave it to the marshal. “Go talk to him. Like o know what he says. Don’t tell him the money is from me.”

  “Comes from my emergency fund. Yeah, let me talk to him.”

  Ten minutes later the marshal came back all smiles. “Yep, he is almost out of here. Says he can ransom out his horse, get some trail food, get to Gunsight, and take the stage. He is happy and excited to be free. Don’t think you have anything to worry about from him.”

  Sully thanked the marshal, went across the street and sat where he could see the lawman office. Five minutes later Tracy came out the door and ran to the livery. Two minutes later he rode out on his horse to the General Store. Sully had seen enough. He mounted and headed back to the camp site.

  He arrived at the chuck wagon about eleven o’clock. Charlie brought him a steaming cup of coffee.

  “Curley told me to tell you he was helping on the fence on pen number two.”

  Sully finished the coffee and rode over to the next small valley. They had the thirty foot wide pole and wire gate in place, all but one of the posts in the ground, and were finishing stretching the three stands of wire on the posts.

  Curley came up. “Brought the branding guys over to get this finished before we start branding. Then we can drive them over here to hold.”

  “Good plan, man. Need to talk to you about the future. I’m almost ready to buy about ten sections of land down here in this big valley. Wondered if you want to go in on it or are you getting fiddle footed again and want to move on?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Hey, I could put you in one of them fancy side shows as a mind reader,” Curley said. “Fact is I’ve been getting bored just cooking. Why I dug out this new guy, Old Charley. Yeah I admit that having a few dollars in the bank has sort of nudged me to do some traveling, go places. Always wanted to see New York City and Washington DC.”

  “How much cash you have stashed away?”

  “Not exactly sure. Nine thousand on that last drive and I had seven or eight before. Might be getting up there around twenty thousand.”

  “A man can do a lot of living on that kind of cash. Me, I can’t go. Got myself tied down now with a family.”

  “Yeah and I’m jealous. Makes you a better man than I am. Tell you what. I’ll do some more thinking on it. If we get a thousand head moving that would mean at least fifteen thousand for me. Make me around thirty five thousand. Damn, never thought I’d have that kind of money.”

  “You think on it good. I’m not pushing. Welcome to say with the brand, help me buy some land, and build us a real working cattle ranch. Them strays are going fast.”

  “Sounds good, but…...hell, I don’t know. Gonna give it a good turning over next month or so. Right now it’s get these damn longhorns gathered up and trail them to Dallas.”

  It took them two weeks to bring in the last of the longhorns they could find within ten to twelve miles. Last count showed that they had captured and branded one thousand three hundred and forty five animals.

  “Enough,” Sully said after the last steer was branded. Both pens were full and they had had one breakout of twenty head they had to round up and drive back inside. “We go to town in the morning to restock the chuck wagon and start our drive the next day.” Sully didn’t want to think what the herd might bring from the railroad buyer. Maybe forty to forty five thousand. He shivered. He was going to have one of the best built ranches in Texas whether Curley was with him or not.

  They had problems on the drive, lost a hundred head in a rain swollen river, but sailed into Dallas with a stock yard count of one thousand two hundred and sixty head. Sully took the yard count and got directions to the railroad offices. New, brightly painted, and oozing of money. He found Ed Casemore in a private office and looking as dapper as ever.

  “Heard you were in town with some stock,” Dan said. “You probably want a price and some money.”

  “Sounds good to me. Where do we go to get paid?”

  “We have been getting in a few animals. Now with your thirteen hundred we are going to have a full train we can send north. Our going price is thirty four dollars. Is that satisfactory? The total comes to forty two thousand, eight hundred and forty dollars.”

  Sully chuckled. “If I said no I’d have to drive the whole damn herd somewhere else. Yes, the price is fine. Write me out a voucher and tell me where I collect my money.”

  “Wish I could reach in my pocket and count it out for you right here. As it is I’ll write a bank draft pay order, go to the bank with you, and draw out the money for you. Take a few more minutes but it should be worth it.”

  “Ed, this is my last drive for a while. Might get in two more before winter. Setting up a real ranch with a house and barns. Going to start picking out brood cows I can build a herd with of my own. Also going to buy some of that cheap Texas range land and build me a real ranch. Should have some business for you in maybe two months.

  “Well, that’s good news. I hope the best for you. Now let’s go get your money.”

  He found Curley and they went to the bank with Ed together. Curley shivered when the man counted out his half of the cash: twenty one thousand, four hundred and twenty dollars.

  “Maybe I should put most of this back into the bank,” Curley said. “Got me one account in that little bank in Gunsight.”

  They said good bye to Ed Casemore and said they would see him later on.

  “Good idea on making a deposit here,” Sully said. They both deposited half of the amount in separate accounts, took small bank record books and letters of deposit to prove the money was in the bank.

  They stopped in the gentlemen’s wash room at the bank and stowed the rest of the cash in their money belts. Just outside, Curley touched Sully’s shoulder.

  “Hey good friend. I decided. I’m breaking up our partnership and heading for Chicago. Know some folks there. Then on to New York City. Got all my clothes and gear in the chuck wagon. You going to have to run this operation by yourself now.”

  They said goodbye the next morning at a store where Old Charley was laying out what food stuffs he wanted for the return trip to the camp.

  “You take care and write to us where you are and what you’re doing. Almost four years we’ve been knocking heads.”

  Curley nodded. “Long time for me. I was just a kid then. Thanks for the coaching and for the wad of money I have now. It’s been a good run but now I’m off to see the whole damn world.”

  Sully got the fifteen riders together that morning and told them the news.

  “This is our last drive for two or three months. You want to sign on as a ranch hand, the pay is back to twenty five dollars and found. Anybody interested?”

  Five of the fifteen said they would stay with the ranch. The rest drifted off. There were four of his original crew and one new comer signed on for the ranch. He was pleased. Should work.

  The trip back to the big valley camp was almost routine now. They made it in fourteen days without really pushing hard.

  The morning after they arrived Sully sent his five riders out to do a gather.

  “Looking for good brood cows. Don’t bother with steers, but we will take calves. We’re going to start building our own
herd. Yes, look for a good sounding bull we might use later on. If you can find fifteen or twenty good cows that will be a good start. We’ll gather some steers later on.”

  He went with Old Charley into town to restock the chuck wagon. He got in the General Store door first and swept Annie off her feet for a good kiss.

  “Back, the bad penny has returned.”

  “Oh good. I hope you stay a while.”

  He grinned and kissed her again. “With that kind of invitation it’s a sure thing. And I have so much work to do that all I can squeeze out is a week-long trip by that buggy to Gunsight for our honeymoon. Can the girls stay with their friends for a week?”

  Annie squealed in delight, grabbed him in a big hug.

  “I’m ready to go right now. Yes the girls will be delighted and so will the others. When are we leaving?”

  “Figured tomorrow morning if I can rent that buggy and you can fix us some trail food. Let you know how it is living out in the open.”

  “But it’s only about twenty miles.”

  “Never can tell how far a buggy might make in a day. Now I have some clothes to buy and some men to talk to. While we are in Gunsight we are going to buy that land in the big valley, get our marriage license, and talk to the man who can send us a frame house on a wagon.”

  Annie smiled. “You must have got a good price for the cows.”

  “Thirty four dollars a head. A total of forty two thousand, eight hundred and forty dollars. Half of that is ours. That’s twenty one thousand four hundred and twenty dollars.”

  Annie faked a fall into the chair behind the counter and pushed one hand over her eyes.

  “I must be having a fainting spell. Did you say you, we, earned over twenty one thousand dollars for your two months of work?”

  “Exactly right, madam.”

  “Going to take some getting used to.”

  “Yes, and we have the rest of our lives to do that. Right now I’m heading for a good long, hot bath, some new clothes, and then go see about that buggy. Who did you say owned it?”

  He started for the door. Old Charley came in with his list.

  “Annie, this is Old Charley, our cook. Curley hired him for the run to Dallas. Another thing, Curley is gone. He is going to see Chicago and New York and then the world, he told me.”

  “I’m glad that he is doing what he wants to do.”

  Sully headed out the front door angling for the hotel. A few things he had to do yet but it was falling into place. He had named Harry Young as his foreman. Young would run the camp for the next week and Old Charley knew to feed the men good. Now all he had to do was take a barren ten square miles of Texas grasslands and turn it into a paying ranch. He would start in Gunsight by buying that ten section chunk of land and ordering a house from Chicago. Yes, he was on his way. He had a wonderful wife, two ready-made girls and a great life ahead. He snorted. He was no longer the Devil’s Gunslinger. The moniker had been pinned on him after a particular nasty fight in the big war along Punkin Ridge in Tennessee. Those days were over, gone, and done with.

  He grinned stepped round horse droppings in the street as he walked across it to get to the man who owned the buggy. He could only imagine what the week long honeymoon would be like. It would be good. He would see to that. He hummed a little tune he hadn’t thought of in years and banged into the hardware and tin smith store to rent the man’s buggy.

  THE END

  About the Author

  Chet Cunningham, who makes his home in San Diego, California, is a prolific writer of both novels and nonfiction books. He comes from a newspaper background so is geared to producing writing every day and not "when the muse moves me." He said he doesn't believe in writer's block.

  In 1950, he was drafted in the Army. After nine months in Japan Cunningham went to the front lines of the war in Korea. He participated in two battles and numerous line-crossing and prisoner patrols. Assigned to a heavy weapons company he served as an 81 mm mortar gunner, squad leader, and section leader. His service earned him the Combat Infantryman's Badge. After two years of service he was discharged in the rank of sergeant.

  Cunningham was born in Nebraska, grew up in Oregon, worked in Michigan, and went to college in New York City. Now he lives in California. He works in an expanded den in his home and says he never gets to work late due to fog, rain or traffic jams. "Walk down the hall, turn left and I'm at work."

  He graduated from Pacific University in Forest Grove, Oregon with a BA in journalism, and after his hitch in the Army he received his MS degree from the Columbia University Graduated School in Journalism in New York City in 1954.