Medicine Bundle

by Patrick E. Andrews

  Tommy laughed, holding up an expensive watch inherited from a grandfather who reputedly took it off a wealthy Mexican he had shot in Del Rio.

  “This has been in and out of here so much I’m starting to forget who owns it,” Tommy said. “Me or Joe.”

  “Same with the shaving kit,” Dennis said. He had a fancy case that held a mug, straight razor, brush and mirror. The utensils had pure ivory handles. He won it in a poker game in the ranch bunkhouse one dark winter evening.

  “This’ll be the last time,” Silsby said. “Then it’s off to Mexico.”

  “You bet!” Dennis said.

  Joe Dantry finished with the customers and came into the back room. “What can I do for you boys. The usual?”

  “Yeah,” Dennis said.

  They dropped their pawnables on the counter. Joe quickly produced the money and passed it over before gathering up the items. Silsby stuck his five dollars in his pocket and left his friends to return to Mildred.

  Dennis and Tommy each had enough money for a single evening of diversion. With the routine formed long before, there was no need for discussion as they walked from the store and turned down the street for Pete Baker’s saloon. They always started their fun with a few drinks, then visited the back rooms of the hotel before returning to the bar to finish out the evening getting as drunk as physically possible.

  The saloon was empty except for a couple of quiet drinkers when the two walked in. They bellied up to the bar and ordered a couple of drinks. The last whiskey they had enjoyed was in Ben Shaw’s cabin a few days earlier, and that hadn’t lasted long. Dennis and Tommy were in the mood to end the enforced period of sobriety.

  An hour and a half of happy drinking went by before they decided to visit the hotel’s back rooms. Still under control, though staggering a bit, the pair of ex-cowboys left the saloon and went down the street. A wave at Pete behind the counter marked their entrance as they went through the lobby to the bordello in the back.

  Belle LaTour, wearing a skimpy gown sat on a sofa with two other prostitutes. Another, their old friend Fanny, was by herself in a chair. It was an unwritten rule that they wouldn’t go to a room with Belle even though she was available. She was Charlie’s sweetheart and certain conventions had to be observed no matter what the circumstances.

  Dennis took Fanny while Tommy chose a chubby girl named Wanda. The now deceased Fat Dora had always been his favorite, but with her gone he used Wanda as a replacement. She lacked about thirty pounds of being the dead whore’s equal, but Tommy hoped she would fatten up as time went by. With the move to Mexico in the offing, it looked like that was a dream that would go unfulfilled in Kensaw. He’d have to find a hefty señorita to satisfy his cravings after the move across the border.

  It took less than fifteen minutes to complete the transactions, and the two left the hotel to get back to the evening’s main event. They used the last of their money to buy a couple of bottles, then retired to a corner table to wrap up the evening with some serious drinking.

  “Hey, boys,” a voice greeted them. They looked up to see Arky Bob standing by their table.

  “Hey, Arky Bob,” Dennis said. “What’re you doing in town?”

  “I just sold a couple of hogs so I’m rich,” Arky Bob said. “It seemed like a good enough reason to get drunk.”

  “A feller don’t need much of a reason to get drunk,” Tommy said. “Why don’t you get a bottle and a glass and sit with us? We got an extry chair here.”

  “I’ll do it,” Arky Bob said. “Be right back.”

  In a couple of minutes he had joined them, shoving his bottle in with their two. They started out with a toast to the old town of Kensaw in general and Arky Bob’s former cafe in particular. With that social requisite taken care of, the trio settled down for an evening of conversational drinking. “So what’re you boys up to?” Arky Bob asked.

  Tommy grinned. “We got big doings. You bet your hog-raising ass we do.”

  “Yeah,” Dennis said. “We’re on our way to Mexico.”

  “Mexico?” Arky Bob asked, puzzled. “What’s this all about? Why are y’all going to Mexico?”

  “To start a ranch, by God!” Tommy said. “Me and Dennis and Charlie and Silsby. We’re going to Mexico and start us the biggest damn rancho them greasers has ever seen.”

  Arky Bob stopped drinking. “You four, huh? How’re y’all gonna manage all this?”

  “We got big plans all worked out, don’t you worry none about that,” Dennis said.

  “We’ll have the money and then some,” Tommy said.

  Arky Bob topped off their glasses with more whiskey.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Silsby McCracken rode alone into the town of Clarkville, Kansas. His hat was pulled down over his eyes and he looked neither right nor left as he allowed his horse to slowly make its way up the main street.

  It was just a bit past nine o’clock on that late spring morning. It hadn’t rained in more than two weeks and the sun’s heat had dried the earth hard, leaving a thin layer of dust over the packed soil. Each time Silsby’s horse stomped down with a heavy hoof, a fine cloud of the powdery earth bellowed up and slowly settled back in the windless calm.

  A few people could be seen on the street, and most of the businesses were preparing for the day’s activities as doors opened and curtains in store windows were pulled back to display the goods for sale.

  It was a peaceful scene, but Silsby’s belly was tied up in knots and he felt the need to urinate even though he had tended to the function twice since leaving the campsite a half-hour before. He was aware of each individual heartbeat as his nervousness increased. Everything depended on Charlie’s careful planning.

  Dennis Nettles, standing beside his mount at a hitching rack, made no acknowledgement of Silsby as he rode by. Dennis appeared to be waiting for someone. His attempt at nonchalance was marred somewhat by the nervous way he kept tapping the rack with his open hand. Like Silsby, he did not appear to be armed except for a carbine in his saddle scabbard.

  Across the street and up one block, Tommy Chatsworth stood in front of the general store with his arms folded across his chest. His head moved constantly as he cast anxious glances up and down the town’s main thoroughfare. His horse was to his direct front, standing patiently where Tommy had tied him.

  Silsby continued his slow ride until he was a few yards past the Clarkville bank. He halted his horse, dismounted, and looped the reins around a post next to a water trough. He leaned against it and watched the scene around him with a dry mouth and an irritating need to constantly clear his throat.

  They had left Ben Shaw’s cabin down in the Territory three days before. Both Mildred and Belle had endured a rather tedious trip from Kensaw in a rented wagon that Belle had paid for. The women were now installed in the small domicile to wait for the young men’s return with the money for the Mexican adventure. Neither of the women was happy with the arrangement, and only sincere assurances that the circumstances were temporary assuaged their feelings. The accommodations were crude, and Ben’s idea of an outhouse was the trees behind his cabin. Ben had no complaints whatsoever. He was to receive a small cut from the bank robbery, giving him enough cash money to last a year with his minimal purchases. And the boys promised to send for him to be the cook on the rancho just as soon as it was in operation.

  Now Charlie Ainsley made his appearance in Clarkville. He came in the opposite side of town from Silsby’s entrance. The gang wanted to give no hint of any connection among them until the last possible moment. Charlie went a short distance past Silsby to a spot directly in front of the bank before dismounting and securing his horse to a hitching rack. After an impatient glance around to spot his three friends, Charlie walked down the street, passing Tommy. When he drew up even with Dennis, he went around the block and stopped. After waiting a few minutes that dragged by with fearful slowness, he came back to the business district and walked toward the bank.

  Dennis now quickly mou
nted his horse and began riding in the same direction. Tommy waited for Charlie to pass him, then he also swung up in the saddle. Now all three, still separated, drew no special attention from people on the street, but each had a frantic feeling that everyone in town had stopped their activities to stare at them with great interest. The biggest concern was the chance that the justice of the peace who had married Silsby and Mildred might inadvertently recognize them if he caught sight of the gang.

  When Silsby saw them draw closer, he untied his horse, and led it down to stand beside Charlie’s mount. Dennis and Tommy joined him with Dennis dismounting and Tommy remaining in the saddle. As soon as Charlie walked up, they all went to their saddlebags and pulled revolvers from the interiors. Charlie did the same, also dragging out a gunnysack. They eyed each other and Tommy flashed a nervous grin from his horse. He had a pistol in his belt under his shirt.

  Charlie glanced up and down the street, then took a deep breath. “Now!”

  Silsby, Charlie, and Dennis pulled their bandannas up over their faces and walked inside the bank while Tommy remained on lookout in front. Only two customers were conducting business at the tellers’ cages, and nobody looked up at the entrance.

  “This is a stick up!” Charlie exclaimed loudly. His voice had a noticeable squeak in it. “Ever’body’s hands ups. Godamn it! Do what I say! I’ll blow daylight through anybody that don’t do what I say! You hear me? Hands up!”

  The customers, wide-eyed and startled, turned around and complied as the tellers stood for one dumbfounded moment looking at the three masked men pointing pistols their way. Charlie threw the sack over the counter. “Hurry! Fill it up or I’ll shoot ever’ godamned one of you! Hurry! Did you hear what I said? Hurry!”

  “Sure, mister,” a teller said.

  The bank robbers failed to note the man who peered out of a back office. He quickly emerged with a pistol in his hand. He fired, sending a frantically aimed bullet smashing through the large plate glass window at the front of the building. The bullet ricocheted skyward as shards of glass splattered onto the boardwalk.

  The trio of bank robbers stared at the unexpected sight of armed resistance. The customers and tellers dropped to the floor. The fellow with the pistol fired again, sending three bullets into the opposite wall. The shooter yelled, “Sheriff! Sheriff!”

  “Come on!” Silsby said, heading for the door. There was no hesitation as Charlie and Dennis joined him. They all ran outside and jumped on their horses. A quick look around showed numerous people, some armed, running toward the bank.

  “This way!” Charlie yelled.

  The frightened quartet galloped toward the north end of town, kicking their horses’ flanks in a frantic effort to speed them up. Now several shots could be heard and bullets zinged around them.

  “Oh!” Tommy called out.

  They turned to see him slip from his horse and hit the ground so hard that he bounced and rolled. His friends had no choice but to continue their flight.

  Charlie stayed in the lead, taking them out of town. He hoped to turn west and then south but some local people had quickly shown up in that direction. He veered to the east and north forced into the exact opposite direction he wanted to go. The escape run took them across some fields before they came to a country road. The fugitives picked up speed to take advantage of the easier going. Nervous glances to the rear showed a serious pursuit mounted against them.

  When they topped a slight rise, they took another look and could see the impromptu posse was strung out, showing it was not an organized effort. The townspeople had acted independently as they jumped aboard horses and took off after the fleeing hold-up men. The citizens had no idea they were chasing an inept gang. At that moment in time, they all thought the bank had actually been robbed.

  Charlie decided to stop looking rearward and concentrate on picking out a good escape route. Fear had cleared his mind enough to know that if the road offered a faster run for him and his partners, it also meant easier going for those after them. He strained his eyes toward the front, looking for an opportunity that would allow them at least a few moments out of sight. But the flat Kansas countryside was like a tabletop.

  After another five minutes, the ground dipped a bit but offered nothing in the way of aiding the escape. Up ahead the terrain rolled noticeably upward for a few hundred yards. That meant a greater effort required of their horses as their speed slowed a bit. When they came to the top and started down, Charlie sighted some long wooded gullies that stretched for several miles to the southeast. He turned toward them, urging his horse to pick up the murderous pace. Silsby and Dennis pounded along close behind, following their leader with a blind faith in his ability to get them to freedom.

  When they reached the cover offered by the topography and flora, Charlie made a sharp change in their route. He took a cut back to the west that dangerously shortened the angle between themselves and the posse. But at least they were out of sight. Eventually they emerged from the concealment and were once more in the open. But they had greatly increased the distance between themselves and their hunters who had gone off in the wrong direction past the wooded area. The townsmen had to turn to resume the chase.

  Charlie’s ploy had worked beautifully. The distance gained was enough to give them a decided advantage. Now the number of pursuers began to dwindle. After another half-hour only a few were visible as the chase continued. They were but small dots in the distance. Another ten minutes passed and they disappeared from view.

  Charlie was confident enough now to slow down and give the horses a break. They continued south, pressing on until they knew they were back in the Oklahoma Territory. Only then did Charlie raise his hand to signal them to stop. They came in close together, their mounts bumping against each other.

  “The son of a bitches shot Tommy,” Dennis said.

  “I know,” Charlie said.

  “I seen him fall,” Silsby added. “Do you reckon he’s dead. I couldn’t tell.”

  “Who had time to take a good look?” Charlie remarked. He dismounted, and the others also swung from their saddles. They all took deep breaths as the fatigue from the wild ride swept over them.

  “We didn’t get shit,” Dennis said.

  Charlie glared at him. “Y’know, I wish you’d learn when to keep your godamned mouth shut.”

  “What did I say?”

  “Shut up I told you!” Charlie snarled. He sighed loudly. “Well, we’re gonna have to do something.”

  “At least they don’t know who we are,” Dennis pointed out.

  “Tommy will tell them,” Charlie said. “They’ll beat the hell out of him ‘til he talks.”

  “Maybe he’s dead,” Silsby said. He had a momentary, horrible wish for Tommy to have died so that he couldn’t identify them to the law. Then he thought of Mildred waiting back at Ben Shaw’s place. All of a sudden he wanted to be with her more than any other place in the world. “This whole mess is nothing but shit!”

  “It wouldn’t make no differ’nce whether Tommy is alive or not,” Charlie said. “Somebody is gonna come along who can tell ’em who he is. The four of us is knowed to be pals. The Fed’ral marshals are gonna be in on this, not just the Clarkville sheriff.”

  “What the hell are we gonna do?” Dennis wondered.

  “We’re gonna have to pull some other kind of job,” Charlie said. “We need to get some money and get back to Ben’s place.”

  “I don’t want to go back there,” Dennis said. “They ain’t no woman waiting for me.”

  “What do you want to do then?” Charlie asked. “Split up? Do you want to go your own merry way?”

  “No,” Dennis said. “I’ll stick with you fellers. You know that.”

  “Then let’s mount up and go east,” Charlie said, turning back to his horse.

  Silsby said, “But Ben’s cabin is west.”

  “That’s why we’re going east,” Charlie said. “We got to put some distance between us and our reg’lar hangouts fo
r a while.”

  Silsby argued, “But Ben’s cabin ain’t one of our reg’lar hangouts.”

  “After Tommy gets beat up bad enough, he’ll not only tell ’em who we are, but he’ll sure as hell end up talking about Ben’s place too.”

  “He might be dead,” Dennis said in a quaking voice. The horror of the situation slowly dawned on him. He sobbed softly and wiped his nose.

  “He ain’t dead,” Charlie said. “Something like that ain’t never gonna happen to us.”

  “That’s right,” Silsby agreed. He patted Dennis on the shoulder. “Things’ll turn out all right in the bye and bye.”

  “Sure!” Charlie said. “We just gotta be careful, that’s all.”

  “I reckon you fellers is right,” Dennis said, still snuffing.

  “We’d best start moving again,” Charlie urged them.

  ~*~

  Tommy Chatsworth’s corpse had been taken to the town undertaker’s office. He was laid out on an embalming table, and a few idle loafers had come in to stare at him. Then the local photographer showed up with his camera and tripod over one shoulder. “I want to take some shots of this here desperado.”

  One of the loafers said. “Take our pitchers too, Ed.”

  “Sure,” Ed the photographer said. “But it’s too dark in here, so we’re gonna have to haul him out into the sunlight.”

  The table was hastily arranged for carrying, and Tommy was lashed to it by ropes. They carried him outside and propped the body up against the side of the building. A chattering excited crowd quickly gathered around the scene as soon as the activity was noticed.

  Tommy had a fatuous expression on his face in death. His mouth was drawn up into a shape that was between a sneer and a grin. His eyes were half-closed, looking to the side. All in all, he appeared to be a rather ridiculous drunkard or the town idiot.