Josh Logan's Revenge

by Chimp Robertson

  Inside the cabin, Tom Burch was lying on the floor, shooting flies off the ceiling, or at least shooting at flies. He hadn’t hit a one and he’d been lying there for the past hour, ever since he’d fallen while trying to pull his boots on.

  Burch was drunk, so drunk he couldn’t get up, even though he’d tried several times. So he just decided to say there and shoot flies. The front door was wide open and had been all night.

  Burch wallowed around on the floor, falling again and again, breaking the table and a lamp in the process. A water bucket had spilled on the floor and the cabin was a mess. Tom Burch, like most people, had a secret pride. His main triumph in life, at least since he’d been elected sheriff, was that he’d never been caught. Even after all the banks and stagecoaches he’d robbed, and all the people he’d shot, and those he’d killed.

  It was a fact that nowhere on record had he ever been involved in anything dishonest. That is, until the residents of Victoria started believing the rumors going around and he’d almost been hung by going back there.

  It was also true that he hardly ever drank any kind of liquor other than a drink or two in the saloon with the boys. However, his recent troubles in Victoria had caused him to go on a couple of binges. He had never been able to handle alcohol and that was the main reason he didn’t like to drink. It just didn’t sit well with him. And now it had completely slipped up on him and here he was, lying on the floor, shooting flies off the ceiling … again.

  Texas Rangers had either, killed, captured, or chased most of the Indians out of south Texas. Rumors had it that roving bands of warriors had been attacking outposts, small ranches, and stagecoach depots with vengeance.

  It was a bright, cool morning, and less than an hour after he had finally managed to get to his feet and go outside to get some fresh air, he heard horses coming through the brush just as a few warriors rode out of the mesquite trees a hundred yards away.

  Two or three squaws followed along behind, driving a small herd of horses they’d stolen from a nearby ranch. In the barn, Pedro’s face suddenly lit up with fear, but Jude Clay knew it wasn’t because of something he said.

  “Indians!” Pedro yelled.

  Wide-eyed, Clay shot a sideways glance at Pedro, who was staring out the door of the barn with a look of complete disbelief on his face. Pedro yelled at Burch to get up and come on. Burch staggered off the porch, and running and stumbling, made it to the safety of the barn barely a moment before the Indians rode into view. They swarmed the cabin, taking everything they could carry, and searching for anyone who might be in there.

  Clay pulled his long-barreled Winchester out of the saddle scabbard and stripped back the hammer. Too scared to just hide and wait for the attack he knew would be coming, he pulled the trigger, barely missing a young brave still sitting on his horse. At the same time, Pedro and Burch began firing wildly, as fast as they could pull the triggers.

  The renegade warriors, not knowing how many were in the barn, and wanting to keep the horses they’d stolen, swung effortlessly up on their anxious ponies and raced away without looking back.

  Jude Clay swallowed a string of chewing tobacco then nodded. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he yelled. “I fought Indians before, and my bet is, they’ll spread out and slip up on us from all sides.”

  Burch saddled his horse, but he was too drunk to get on. Clay and Aguilar raced out of the barn and headed straight toward the safety of the trees bordering the river. Burch led his horse outside and up beside the corral fence, trying to get mounted.

  The faintest smile raised the corners of Josh’s mouth as he watched the Indians through his binoculars until they disappeared out of sight. Keeping an eye on Burch as he tried again and again to get on his horse, he stepped up on Concho and rode slowly forward, trying not to laugh out loud.

  Tom Burch was mad at himself for being so drunk he couldn’t even get his foot in the stirrup. But he was also mad at his horse for jumping around while he tried to get on, so he drew is pistol and aimed it at the wild-eyed animal.

  “Be still, damn you,” he yelled. “Or I’ll blow your head off.”

  Josh came up behind him and grabbed the pistol out of his hand and smacked him on the head with the barrel of his own revolver, opening a gash over the top of his right ear.

  Then something changed in Burch’s look, maybe a sudden conveyance of restrained fury. Though not moving a muscle he seemed more tense, while his ebony eyes remained steady on Josh.

  Two things happened at once. He pulled a belly gun out of his belt and fired two quick shots. One of the bullets passed through the flesh in Josh’s arm just above his left wrist. Josh fired two shots of his own as he fell backward, both missing Burch, although one grazed the side of his head and knocked him over on his back, the belly gun flying off to the side.

  Josh stood up and grabbed Burch by the front of his shirt. “Get up!” he yelled, jerking him to his feet. “Either you come peacefully or I’ll tie you up and drag you back.”

  “Back where?” Burch yelled.

  “Back to Victoria,” Josh said.

  “Why don’t you just shoot me and be done with it?” Burch said.

  “I ain’t gonna shoot you,” Josh said. “I’ll let the citizens of Victoria do that.”

  “I got a whole wagon load of loot. You can have all of it if you’ll let me ride out of here,” Burch said.

  A cold chill coursed down Josh’s back. “That wagon load of loot just might be enough to keep the citizens of Victoria from hangin’ you,” he said. “Tell me where it’s at and I might vouch for you.”

  “You might vouch for me! To hell with you, and to hell with the citizens of Victoria,” Burch said. He was still drunk, and was addled by the bullet that creased the side of his head. “You’ll never find it in there,” he yelled, glancing back toward the cabin without even realizing what he was saying. “Hell,” he added, “I robbed stagecoaches and banks, and kidnapped and killed people all over south Texas, and no one even knew who was doin’ it.”

  “Suit yourself,” Josh said, as he tied Burch to the fence and headed to the cabin.

  Burch looked out across the prairie and shook his head. “Don’t tie me up,” he said. “Them damn Indians might come back and kill us both.”

  “Yeah, they might,” Josh said, as he started toward the cabin.

  He knew the Indians weren’t coming back because he’d watched them through his binoculars disappear over the horizon. That, plus the fact he figured someone was probably already hot on their trail. He’d fought Indians before and knew they’d rather keep the horses they stole than take a chance of losing a warrior or two.

  In less than an hour he’d located the loot hidden in the floor under the kitchen table, but there was too much to carry so he put the boards back in place and left it where it was.

  “The Indians are comin’,” he yelled, as he hurried back outside. He knew Burch was afraid of getting scalped or burned at the stake, so he acted real scared. “They’ll kill us for sure if we don’t get the hell out of here.”

  They mounted up and headed for open country at top speed. As soon as they cleared the trees, Burch tried to outrun him. But old Juan had been right in saying Concho was fast. When Josh touched him with his spurs he ran right up beside Burch’s horse.

  “Give me them damn reins,” Josh said, as he pulled the horses to a stop. He leaned over and cut off a saddle string and tied Burch’s hands to the saddle horn. “You try that again and I’ll take you back and trade you to the Indians for one of them pretty, little squaws drivin’ them horses they stole.”

  “Like I said earlier,” Burch said. “To hell with you, and to hell with the citizens of Victoria.”

  Josh rode along for an hour or so without speaking, when all of a sudden he turned in his saddle and nodded.

  “You probably don’t know this because it happened before you came to Victoria,” he said. “But the girl my dad took away from you more than twenty years ago is my mother.
”

  Burch stared hard at him.

  “You may not believe it, but it’s true.’ Josh said.

  Burch frowned. “Well, how is she? Is she happy?”

  “She’s dead,” Josh said. “Dad and mom were both killed by outlaws and I was left on my own. That’s why I was livin’ out on dad’s old place north of Victoria. You arrested me and had me sent to prison for killin’ the same outlaws that killed them.”

  “I didn’t know the outlaws you killed was them,” Burch said.

  “Would it have made a difference?” Josh said.

  “Not really,” Burch said. “It’d been so long ago, but I still had it in for you for bein’ his son.”

  “And you sent me to prison for somethin’ I did legally,” Josh said.

  “Yeah, well, that ain’t no concern of mine now,” Burch said.

  “I know it ain’t,” Josh said. “But when you came to Victoria and got to be Sheriff Jarnigan’s deputy and we both started likin’ Ana, that’s when the problems between you and me started. So you killed the sheriff and blamed it on me because of the hate you had in your heart for my dad.”

  “Because of your dad I lost my sweetheart, so I figured you might as well lose yours, too.”

  “Yeah, and because of you I spent eight years of my life that I’ll never get back, in the damn Huntsville prison.”

  Burch laughed out loud. “So, how was prison life, anyway,” he said.

  “Other than the small cells, bad or little food, the beatings, and other tortures, I made out alright,” Josh said.

  “Well, I guess prison toughened you up, made a man out of you. Maybe you should thank me for that.”

  “I ain’t thankin’ you for nothin’ after what I went through,” Josh said.

  “You deserved it as far as I’m concerned,” Burch said. “Takin’ Ana away from me like you did.”

  “I didn’t take Ana away from you,” Josh said. “She made that choice herself.”

  Burch laughed again. “It don’t matter now, does it?”

  “Not to me it don’t,” Josh said.

  “Why, hell,” Burch said, after a while. “You might have even met a few of my old friends while you was down there in the Huntsville prison.”

  “None that I know of,” Josh said. “But I did meet one famous outlaw in there … John Wesley Hardin. And you think you’re tough? Hell, you couldn’t hold a candle to John Wesley Hardin. They say he might have killed as many as forty, and like you, even shot a sheriff.”

  “I wonder,” Burch said. “But as I said earlier, it don’t matter now, does it?”

  “Nope,” Josh said, as they rode the rest of the night without speaking.

  They arrived in Victoria shortly after daylight. A large crowd gathered and began yelling and following them when they saw Burch, with dried blood caked on the side of his head, and his hands tied to the saddle horn, being led up the dusty street. Sheriff Roscoe Riley stepped out on the sidewalk and looked toward the noise.

  Josh rode Concho up to Sheriff Riley’s office and pulled him to a stop. “Here you go, Sheriff. This is Tom Burch, the man who killed Sheriff Jarnigan,” he said, handing Riley the reins to Burch’s horse. “He needs a doctor, but right now you better get him inside before this mob takes him away from you. That is,” he added, “if you aim to hold him ‘till a Judge gets here. The way they’re actin’, they’ll string him up for sure.”

  “Looks like you need a doctor, too,” Riley said.

  “I’ll find one later,” Josh said.

  At that moment the crowd turned into a mob as the men of the town rushed forward, grabbing at Burch, trying to drag him out of the saddle. Josh fired his revolver in the air and drove them back.

  Sheriff Riley sent a man to fetch the doctor while he locked Burch in a cell. “Where’d you find him, anyway?” he said, turning to Josh.

  “I followed one of his men out to their hideout,” Josh said. “And if you’ll get me a team and wagon and a couple of armed guards, I’ll take you out there. I found their loot, and it’ll sure enough take a wagon to haul in all them stagecoach strong boxes and jewelry they took off the passengers, and also the saddle bags full of cash stolen from banks.”

  “I can get others to help if you think we’d need ‘em,” Riley said.

  “There’s a pen of horses down there,” Josh said. “Probably the ones they rode when they did all the robbin’ and killin’ so yeah, we’ll need a few more men to bring the horses in.”

  The sun was setting in the west by the time they got to the outlaw’s hideout and loaded all the gold and jewelry and cash in the wagon. Sheriff Riley climbed up on the seat with two helpers and clicked to the team. When he got back to Victoria he parked behind the bank and unloaded the loot and carried it in. Josh and three others drove the horses on past Victoria to Sheriff Riley’s place, and penned them in the horse pasture.

  “From what I’ve learned,” Sheriff Riley said, when Josh got back. “There’s a five thousand dollar reward for the recovery of this loot.”

  “I don’t know about all that,” Josh said. “But if there is, just put it in the bank here in Victoria and I’ll come after it later. Right now, though, I need a bath and a hot meal.”

  “Looks like you could use a little sleep, too,” Sheriff Riley said.

  “No doubt about it,” Josh said, as he headed for the livery stable to take care of Concho. After getting supper and a hot bath, he walked across the street to the doctor’s office.

  The old doctor looked at his wounds and nodded. “That hot, soapy bath did as much for them wounds as anything I’d recommend,” he said, with a grin, applying ointment and fresh bandages to the various holes and cuts.

  “Alright, thanks, Doc,” Josh said, as he walked out the door and headed for the hotel. It’d been so long since he’d slept in a bed he couldn’t even remember.

  The mid-day sun shinning through the window stirred Josh out of a deep, much-needed sleep. Shaking his head to wake himself up, he pulled on his boots. Looking out the window he saw Tom Burch dangling from a rope, tied to a telegraph pole, and what looked like several hundred people standing around gawking at him.

  Emery Reeves and Lem Olsen stood in the shadow of a building farther down the street, taking it all in.

  “That damn Tom Burch sold us out,” Reeves said. “He gave up our names and descriptions to try and save his own hide.”

  “Yeah, but they hung him before he could tell ‘em where the loot was buried,” Olsen said, without knowing that Josh had already found it. “We better get the hell out of here and go find the rest of the boys and tell ‘em to meet back at the hideout.”

  They ran back behind the building, mounted their horses and headed for Cestohowa, where the rest of the gang was scouring the hills looking for Josh.”

  “How the hell did that happen?” Josh said, as he stepped in the sheriff’s office.

  “A mob stormed the jail last night and hauled Burch out and strung him up,” Sheriff Riley said. “I didn’t know where you went after you left here, so I didn’t know how to find you.”

  “Did they just drag him out there and hang him?”

  “I didn’t see it happen,” Riley said. “But from what I gathered, Burch pleaded for his life, and cried like a baby while doin’ it. He wasn’t aware we’d already found his stash of stolen loot so he promised the crowd he’d tell ‘em where it was buried. He also give ‘em the name and description of all his gang members, hopin’ they wouldn’t hang him.”

  “So, they got his gang members names, then hung him anyway?” Josh said.

  “They didn’t hang him,” Sheriff Riley said. “Crazy Chester hung him.”

  “Crazy Chester?”

  “He damn sure did,” Sheriff Riley said. “They got Burch’s information about his gang members, and just as someone reached up to take the noose from around his neck, Crazy Chester threw a rock and hit the horse he was sittin’ on and that old pony jumped right out from under him. So now,” he adde
d, “the strangle hold Tom Burch and his men has held over the citizens of Victoria is over.”

  “And he won’t be tormentin’ Crazy Chester again, either,” Josh added.

  Sheriff Riley had the newspaper office print up a batch of wanted posters, giving the names and descriptions of all of Tom Burch’s remaining gang members and handed a copy of each one to Josh.

  Josh went down to the livery stable, saddled Concho, and rode out of town without looking back, heading for the Circle N Ranch west of town. He wanted to get Macho and start out after the rest of the gang. Riding along, he had time to think of the Burch lynching. While he would have liked to see justice done in a courtroom, he knew the outcome would have been the same. He had to be satisfied with that.

  “Mr. Newsome,” he called out as he rode up to the corrals where Newsome and some of his cowboys were working cattle. “I’ve come for my horse.”

  “I was wonderin’ if you’d come back,” Newsome said.

  “I said I would,” Josh said. “But I’d like to leave the palomino here a little longer, if you’d allow me that. I ain’t finished with them outlaws, but I ain’t worried now about ‘em seein’ me ride my black horse. In fact,” he added, “I hope they do.”

  “That’s fine,” Newsome said. “You wanna leave the brown horse here, too?”

  “Yes, sir, I do,” Josh said. “But the difference is, I want you to have him for keepin’ my horses. My friend Juan Ramos loaned him to me, but them outlaws killed him. He didn’t have a family that I could give him back to, so I want you to have him. His name is Concho and he’s one of the best I’ve ever ridden. He’ll make you a good ranch horse.”

  “I’d rather you keep him,” Newsome said. “I have plenty of good ranch horses, so you can just leave him here with the palomino.”

  Two days later he rode in through the front doors of the Panna Maria livery stable and stepped down. When he unsaddled Macho, caretaker Merlin Simpson put him in a clean stall with feed and water.

  “Thanks, Merlin,” Josh said. “I sure need to take care of him. I’ve a lot more hard ridin’ to do if I intend to catch up with the rest of the Wolf Gang.”