Ride Tall, Hang High

by Chet Cunningham

  Part of the splattering lead bullet came off the weapon

  and slanted downward and tore through his right cheek and out the other cheek missing his teeth and tongue. "We got him," a voice called.

  "Not him, I think we ruined his six-gun and probably his hand at the same time. "

  "I’ll look," Eagle said.

  Handshoe wasn’t aware of any sounds of movements before he looked up from where he lay behind the log and found the Comanche staring down at him.

  "His stinger is pulled," Eagle said.

  The others came then. The Mexican stepped up and kicked him in the stomach. Handshoe vomited to one side, then he saw that Juan Romero had a bloody mark on his upper arm.

  "At least I got one of you," Handshoe said. "You going to tie up my shoulders and stop the blood, or let me lay here and bleed to death?"

  Willy Boy stared down at him. "I should put a bullet through your brain, but that would be too fast. You’ve caused us a lot of trouble, Handshoe. "

  "Yeah, but not as much as you caused me. " Gunner came up limping, holding his left leg. "You’re a bad man," Gunner said.

  He let go of his leg, drew his revolver and shot Handshoe in the thigh. Nobody moved to stop Gunner. None of the outlaws said a word.

  "Now you know what it feels like to be shot in the leg," Gunner said. He turned and hobbled back to the fire.

  "Why do you do this, Handshoe?" Willy Boy asked. "Why hunt down men for profit?"

  "I used to be a lawman. I starved and my wife left me. A judge asked me to bring in a man, so I did. He

  paid me the $500 reward. I worked for him for three years. Now I’m on my own. I make over $5,000 a year. " Handshoe screeched in pain and his eyes closed. When they opened he could only whisper. "Finish it for me. Just one round. "

  None of the outlaws offered to kill him.

  "Then give me a gun and let me do it. One round in a gun and get out of sight. Sometimes a man likes a little peace and privacy when he dies. "

  Nobody provided him with a weapon.

  He looked up at Willy Boy. "Damn you all. Damn you to hell!"

  "That’s a sure bet, Handshoe," Johnny Joe said. "You’ll be there to welcome us. Only difference is, you’ll be there today. None of us has any plans on see­ing you for a lot of long years yet. So you just roast in hell by yourself till then. "

  The Willy Boy Gang members drifted back to the fire. Juan had his shoulder bandaged up, then he worked on Gunner’s leg. Soon the only one left beside Handshoe was the Professor.

  "You want to die alone?" the Professor asked. "No, damnit no. "

  "Talk about home, family. I’ve heard that makes it easier. "

  "Why?"

  "Why not. I don’t know much about death and dying. Church people say there’s a life after death. I never really believed that. Where is it? The body is still here rotting in a grave. Doesn’t make much logical sense. I’m afraid that this is it. This is the only life we’ll ever know. ""You a philosopher?" Handshoe asked. "I never would have thought it. " Then he nodded. "Oh, yeah, the Professor, the one who went to college and taught school. "

  "True. How did you find us so fast?"

  "Wrote a letter to Texas. Sheriff down there wants you bad. He sent descriptions, habits, crimes, every­thing they knew about each one of you. "

  "Must have helped. "

  "Did. Then you kept asking about Deeds Conover. That was like a sign post that moved us along. "

  "Won’t make that mistake again. " The Professor took out his six-gun and pushed the rounds out of it. He pocketed all but one and held up the weapon.

  "You still want one round, Handshoe?" the Professor asked.

  "Damned right. I’m hurting too much. "

  "You got it. One revolver, and one loose round. Can you load it. "

  Handshoe nodded. The Professor put the weapon in his hand and gave him the .45 round. Then he walked away from the bounty hunter and stepped behind the solid trunk of a big cottonwood.

  "I gave him one round," the Professor said. "Might find some cover, you guys. He’s loading the round. " The other five men scurried behind cover.

  A moment later the sound of a revolver shot blasted through the quietness of the Kansas plains.

  The Professor hurried up to the log. The muzzle of the gun was still in Handshoe’s mouth. A four-inch wide chunk of his skull had been blasted into the brush.

  Willy Boy looked down at the bounty hunter and nodded. "That’s that," he said and turned away.