Ride Tall, Hang High

by Chet Cunningham

  Chapter FIFTEEN

  Michael Handshoe came out of the small room off the lobby with his six-gun up and ready. He saw none of the Willy Boy gang and looked at the desk clerk.

  "They’re all gone," the hotel man said with undis­guised disdain. "You’re safe now. "

  "They shotgunned my men, killed three or four upstairs. You better send for the sheriff. I’ve got to get the rest of my men. " He went up the steps fearfully, stepped over the bodies of his dead men and snarled at the empty hallway.

  "You cowards can come out now, the bad man has gone away. "

  Heads poked out of doors and soon he had all six men. They stared at the three corpses still sprawled on the floor. Gingerly they picked their way over and around the bodies on their way to the stairs.

  "Damn, three of them," one of the men said. "No way you can go up against a shotgun with a pistol. " Handshoe pretended not to hear him. Downstairs they

  found the sheriff there waiting. He talked to Handshoe a moment, then took two deputies and hurried up the steps.

  Outside, they looked at their leader. "Let’s get after them. Spread out and find out which way they went. I thought I heard some shooting, so it shouldn’t be hard. Let’s mount up first and be ready to ride. "

  Fifteen minutes later they were on the trail of the six men heading out of town to the west. "Back the way they came?" Handshoe asked the man beside him. "Why would they want to turn back this way?"

  The man knew better than to answer an angry Handshoe. They rode hard. Their tracker, still among the living, led the way. Soon the trail curved and then headed back toward town south of the place and charged straight ahead for the woods along the Arkansas River.

  Handshoe held up his hand and the men stopped. He stared at the brush. "Could be a trap," he said.

  He had stopped 300 yards from the river and now scowled. He knew the men were watching him. They had to either storm into the brush or turn around and ride away from it. One or the other.

  "Goddamn!" he snorted and kicked his mount in the sides and galloped straight ahead. It was a tough 30 seconds for the men. But soon they knew there was no trap hiding in the brush and no sudden eruption of rifle and shotgun fire.

  The tracker took back the lead and found the trail working along the river. After a quarter of a mile down­stream, the tracker, a southerner named A1 Jacoby, stopped and looked at Handshoe.

  "I don’t like it, sir. They’re leading us right where they want us to go. They could have an ambush anywhere

  along here and cut us to pieces. "

  Handshoe came up and glared at the man. "You don’t get paid to think or to like, Jacoby. Get back to tracking. I make the decisions around here. "

  Jacoby stared at him a minute, then rode up closer. "That’s damn fine with me, Handshoe. You make all the decisions you want to. First, you give me my three days pay. I’m riding out of here. "

  Handshoe sputtered a minute, then dug in his pocket for a ten dollar gold piece. "Three dollars a day, like I promised. Now get out of here. "

  The five hired men watched Jacoby go.

  "Any other cowards want to leave a good paying job?" Handshoe asked.

  Nobody moved. He took the lead and followed the easy to read trail another mile along the banks of the river.

  Every step now, Handshoe wondered the same thing the tracker had. Why were the outlaws leading them this way with no real try at breaking out to escape? Were they simply luring them into a trap they knew about? Unlikely. None of the men were from this area.

  Time. Were they stretching out the chase for some reason to gain time?

  At least he captured one of them. He would make back his expenses and a small profit. He wanted more. Handshoe picked up the pace and moved along the plain trail faster.

  Now the brush along the river thinned to a few cotton­woods and some tall hickory. There was very little cover here and the men shifted in their saddles knowing they could be under the sights of five rifles.

  Abruptly the trail angled to the west, away from the river and toward a small rise of ground. It wasn’t more than 50 feet high, but in the flatlands of Kansas it was a mountain. It was rocky and the soil thin, so only a few tufts of grass grew there and no trees or brush at all.

  Handshoe watched the skyline of the little hill as the trail wound that way, then swung around it and he could see where the outlaws’ horses had picked up speed and galloped back toward the woods less than a quarter of a mile away.

  The first rifle shot from the woods took the bounty hunters by surprise when they were only 50 yards from the brushy section of the Arkansas River.

  The Professor held his mount’s muzzle as the bounty hunters moved by cautiously through the brush less than 30 yards away. He had turned off the trail the others had left and hidden in the thick cover less than a quarter of a mile downstream after they first gained the river.

  When the posse was well past, the Professor mounted and walked his horse back toward town. When he was sure the searchers were well hidden in the brush, he galloped for a quarter of a mile, then let his big bay lope along into town.

  The Professor found where they had left Gunner’s horse and moved him down toward the hotel and tied him beside his own. Then he adjusted his black hat, wiped some of the dust off his face from the ride, and walked up the steps into the hotel.

  There was no sign of the sheriff. The lawman had probably taken the bodies away and left.

  The Professor walked into the front door and up to the room clerk drawing his six-gun smoothly and pushing the muzzle under the man’s chin. "Where did the bounty

  hunter leave Gunner?" the Professor demanded quietly.

  "Don’t shoot!" the room clerk said. Sweat beaded his forehead. His eyes were wild. For a moment, the Professor thought he might faint.

  "Over here, right over here in the conference room," he said. "Mr. Handshoe said I should leave him there. But I’ll be glad to open the door for you. "

  No one else was in the small lobby right then. The Professor pulled down the gun but kept it touching the man’s side as they walked to the door where Gunner had been left. The clerk unlocked the panel and opened it.

  He tried to step back, but the Professor pushed him inside and closed the door. The window shade was drawn.

  "Lift the shade," the Professor said. "Get some light in here. "

  With the light they could see Gunner laying on the floor tied hand and foot.

  "Cut him loose," the Professor ordered.

  The small clerk took out a pen knife from his pocket and sawed the rawhide strips in half. The Professor untied the cloth that served as a gag, and saw that Gunner was conscious.

  "Hey, big man, how do you feel?"

  "Stupid for getting captured. There was only five of them. "

  "Forget it, we’ve got them on the run. " The Professor saw the bloody scrape on Gunner’s head. "Looks like you got pounded on the head. "

  "Yeah, hurts, but I can ride. We out of town?""Sure are, and so is Handshoe, the bounty hunter. " The clerk stood against the wall watching. The Professor took Gunner’s arm and helped him stand. He

  was dizzy at first but that passed. Then they walked around the room half a dozen times, until Gunner was steady on his feet.

  The Professor looked at Gunner. "Where’s your hat?"

  "Left it in my room. "

  The Professor looked at the clerk. "We’re going into the lobby. You get a hat for Gunner. One somebody left here or your own, I don’t care. Make it a hat and damn fast, otherwise you’ll be dead before dinner. "

  "Yes . . . yes sir. Mine’s under the front desk. "

  They went out. The clerk handed his brown low crowned hat to Gunner who put it on. It was slightly small but fill well enough. They walked outside and directly to their horses.

  For a minute, the Professor thought Gunner was going to need help to mount. That would attract attention. He made two tries and then swung his leg over and hit leather.

  T
hey rode out of town to the east slowly, then when they came to the last house lifted the pace into a lope and covered the ground to the river side.

  "Everyone else all right?" Gunner asked.

  "All healthy," the Professor said. "We heard the woman scream downstairs evidently when they had the fight with you. Eagle had been out for a walk and he saw it through the window and came up the back stairs and warned us.

  "We all went out our windows into the alley and got ready to ride. Willy Boy waited for them with his sawed off shotgun and cut down three of them before they all ran and hid. Then he went out the window and here we are. "

  "Thanks for coming back for me," Gunner said. "We

  riding or going to fight them?"

  "Willy Boy is tired of running. We’ll try to discourage the bounty hunter anyway that we can. "

  Gunner was watching the trail along the river.

  "Lots of hoof prints along here. "

  The Professor grinned. "Indeed there are, young man. Five of our people, and seven or eight of that bounty hunter after us. When we catch up to them, or maybe before, Willy Boy is going to hit them with the rifles. If we’re close enough we’ll get them in a cross fire from the rear.

  Gunner grinned. "I like that. They hurt me. "

  Gunner and the Professor rode for another five minutes before they heard gunfire ahead of them. Then they galloped.

  They came through the brush and saw the bounty hunter men diving off their horses and looking for cover. Three of the mounted men tried to ride out, but their horses were shot out from under them.

  Two of the grounded men lifted their hands in surrender and stood. One of them was shot in the back and driven forward. The other one dropped to the ground quickly.

  "Which one is the leader?" the Professor asked Gunner.

  They had pulled up in brush along the river and could see the fighting.

  "The one with the white horse. Big guy. "

  The Professor had pulled his rifle and sat on his sturdy horse. He took careful aim. His first shot missed, but he levered in a second round and knocked the man off the white horse.

  Two of the bounty hunters lifted up and ran back the way they had come toward a shallow ditch that put them out of sight.

  Two more stood with hands over their heads and the firing from the heavy brush stopped.

  "Get the hell out of here and never work for a bounty hunter again!" Willy Boy’s surprisingly strong voice boomed at them.

  Another man stood slowly from behind a horse and holding his right arm, hurried back toward the ditch.

  The Professor grinned. "Let’s go see how the boys did," he said and they rode downstream toward the other fighters.

  Willy Boy laughed and hugged the big man when Gunner jumped down from his horse.

  "Gunner, you old reprobate! Damn glad to see you. Knew they couldn’t keep a good man like you down. Welcome back!"

  Gunner blinked back moisture in his eyes, then shook hands with the rest of the gang and sat down suddenly. "I thought I was dead back there. They tied me up. They hit me hard with their gun butts. It really hurts. "

  "You’re back with us now, Gunner. We take care of our own. And we just cut up that Handshoe bunch so he won’t ever bother us again. "

  "I got Handshoe," the Professor said. "Gunner told me which one he was and I blasted him right out of his saddle. "

  "Good, without a leader that should end it," Willy Boy said. "Now, let’s get downstream aways and set up camp and cook some beans. Damn but I’m hungry for some good camp cooked baked beans. "

  They rode. At three that afternoon they found a spot to camp and built a fire and set things up. This time they let the beans boil over the continuous fire. They lay back on their blankets and watched the birds in the trees.

  "What’s next?" the Professor asked. "Where do we go from here?"

  "Been thinking on that," Willy Boy said. "Hell, we’re free men. We’re not under any threat of a hangman’s noose or a long jail stretch. That’s fine, but not enough. We now need a mission, something to keep busy at. I’m still looking for Deeds Conover. But he’s hurt and won’t surface for a time. I was thinking about heading up to Idaho, or down to Mexico. Gunner, anything that you want to do right now?"

  "No, just stay with you. Help you, Willy Boy. That’s all. "

  "Professor? How about you?"

  "There’s this little blonde lady down in Memphis that is really something to see. I’d just as soon head that way if we’re taking a vote. But now, if you’re talking business, there is something else. I nearly got killed up in Colorado at a little town that has a damn rich bank and good protection. I’d give half a year’s pay to go up there with some stalwart companions and dismantle every safeguard they put on their little bank, and rob them right out of existence!"

  "Yeah, now that does sound like a possible target, and one we all could benefit from. Let’s see what else we have on the auction block. Johnny Joe? Where were you headed before you got kicked into the calaboose?""Big poker game out in San Francisco. I played in it once, and the man who beat me cheated and I never could figure out how. Now I know. I learned every way possible to cheat in poker so I can catch the damn cheaters. Now I’d give a whole lot to be in San Francisco

  and tangle with Francis X. Delany. The old bastard must be in his sixties by now. "

  "Interesting, but hell, we don’t need to decide right now," Willy Boy said. "We got some time. We still have enough money. All we have to do is relax for a week or so, slip into some town and live the good life until we run out of funds. Then we’ll look to our banker and good friend, the Professor, to help us resupply our pocketbooks. "

  Everyone laughed.

  Willy Boy looked over at Juan who was stirring the beans and adding water. "Juan, when the hell those beans going to be ready?"