Vigilante Dawn

by Ralph Compton

  “Good Lord,” Rubin said. “What happened?”

  “Rustlers came. They followed my brother onto my property, held his family hostage, and killed a few of my men.”

  Those words struck Rubin and he quickly asked, “Which ones?”

  “Two good fellows named Matt and Pete. I don’t know if you remember them, but—”

  “Yes. I remember.”

  “After they were killed, I was taken hostage and robbed. Sometime during the night,” Jarrett continued, “I was knocked out. When I came around again, my ranch was in flames and the herd was being moved away.”

  “They left you?”

  “I got away. Killed two of them, but the rest were gone.”

  The sheriff opened one of his desk drawers to pull out a bottle that was less than half-full of whiskey. He took two glasses from the same drawer and poured some into each one. “I hear a lot of terrible things in this line of work,” he said while handing over one of the glasses. “But this is one of the worst. Take this. I imagine you need it.”

  Although Jarrett had already heard enough about how much he needed a drink, he took the one that was being offered so he wouldn’t have to hear any more. Tossing back the whiskey, he let out a loud breath as the liquor went down. It had to have been one of the finest, smoothest drinks he’d ever had. It rolled through his insides like a warm glow that went all the way down to his toes. When he set the glass down, the sheriff was finishing his own drink.

  “Mighty fine stuff, ain’t it?” Rubin asked.

  “It is, actually.”

  “Calms the nerves. Now, please, have a seat.”

  Jarrett needed to set himself down onto that chair more than he’d needed the whiskey. The moment his weight was off his feet, he felt the entire day’s exertion soak into his bones. “The herd is moving,” he said. “It’s gotten a head start on us, but it won’t be hard to find.”

  “Do you even know which way it’s headed?”

  “West. Possibly southwest.”

  “That leaves a wide margin of error.”

  “You expecting to have trouble finding an entire herd of cattle, Sheriff?”

  “No. I just want to have a real good idea of where I’m going before heading out of town on a—”

  “Don’t,” Jarrett snapped. “Please, don’t say it’ll be a wild-goose chase.”

  “I wasn’t going to say that, Mr. Pekoe. I was going to call it a manhunt, which is what it will be. Organizing a posse is no small affair, and I want to make sure it’s done right. That’s all.”

  “So you will be pulling men together to hunt these animals down?”

  “First things first,” the lawman said. “In the morning, I’ll take a ride out to your spread. What is it?”

  “The Lazy J.”

  “Right. Me and one of my deputies will ride out to the Lazy J and have a look at what was done.”

  Jarrett’s hands curled into fists. “But I already told you what was done! My family was slaughtered! My home was burned to the damn ground! Good men were killed and you need to go take a look at it all for yourself before you’ll do anything? What’s the purpose of that? To get a close look at some fresh graves?”

  “It’s the law. As a keeper of the peace, I can’t go charging off on a blood hunt just because one man told me to do so. If what you told me is true, and I got no reason to doubt that it is, the punishment will be swift and necks will most likely be stretched. Before that kind of thing takes place, I need to see what happened for myself. I understand that may not set well at the moment, but you’ve got to see the good sense behind it.”

  Reluctantly Jarrett nodded. “I do, Sheriff. Why don’t I take you out there right now so we can at least get this wheel turning as soon as possible?”

  “Because even if we did walk out that door and ride straight to your land, we wouldn’t be able to see much of anything in the dark. You look like hell. I’d suggest you see a doctor to make certain you’re able to take part in any posse. Riding on one isn’t an easy thing, you know.”

  “I didn’t think it would be.”

  Rubin stood up. “These men you told me about sound mighty dangerous. They’re not likely to come along quietly when we find them.”

  “Most likely not.”

  “That means there’s going to be a fight coming.”

  Standing up and meeting the lawman’s eyes, Jarrett said, “I’m not about to back away from any fight with these men.”

  “On the contrary, I’m sure you’re itching for it. Isn’t that all the more reason for you to be patched up and well rested when it happens?”

  Jarrett nodded.

  “And I can assure you it’s favorable to have the law on your side if any more shots are to be fired.”

  “That’s why I came to see you, Sheriff.”

  “And that’s why I need to ride out and have a look for myself at what happened to your spread,” Rubin said. He put the bottles and glasses back in the drawer where he’d found them and walked around his desk. “You have my word, Mr. Pekoe. The men that did this to you and yours will answer for it. It’s just my job to make sure this sort of thing is done properly.”

  “I still want to come along with you.”

  “I’d like you to ride with me when I take that look at your ranch. Show me everything I’ll need to see.”

  “On the posse, I mean,” Jarrett said.

  Sheriff Rubin put a hand on his shoulder. “You have my word. If you’re in good enough condition to ride come morning, and if I see what I’m sure I’ll see at that ranch, you’ll be the first one I ask to join me to see that justice is done.”

  “That’s all I wanted to hear, Sheriff. Thank you.” When Jarrett started to turn toward the office’s front door, he was stopped by a grip that tightened on his shoulder to hold him in place.

  “Now I want your word on something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “No matter what decision I make, you’ll abide by it,” the sheriff said. The tone in his voice made it clear that he was giving an order rather than making any sort of request.

  “Aren’t you in the business of enforcing the letter of the law?” Jarrett asked.

  “Yes, sir, I am.”

  “Then we won’t have any trouble.”

  “And make no mistake,” Rubin said. “Your business is wrangling cows. Striking out on your own in this matter isn’t a good idea. I’ll have you know that vigilantes see the same punishment as any other man who takes up a gun for the wrong reason.”

  “When I take up a gun, it’ll be for the right reason.”

  “Good,” Rubin said. “Then we won’t have any problem.”

  Looking down at the hand that still gripped his shoulder, Jarrett asked, “You gonna let me go so I can see the doctor?”

  “There,” Rubin said as he relaxed his hold. “Clean yourself up and get plenty of rest. Speaking of which, do you have a place to stay for the night?”

  “I’ll find one.”

  “Good. If you come up short, come right back here and I’ll set you up with a cot.” When Jarrett glanced toward the short row of three jail cells at the back of the room, Rubin added, “Don’t worry. I won’t lock the door.”

  “Much obliged, Sheriff,” Jarrett said with a tired grin. “But I think I’ll try a hotel first.”

  Chapter 11

  The doctor in Flat Pass was good enough at his job but not much of a night owl. Everyone in town knew to stick to his regular hours unless there was dire need to interrupt his sleep. A retired army field medic, Dr. Nash still rose before the rooster’s call as though he were hearing reveille every morning. Jarrett knew this just like everyone else in Flat Pass, which was why he was none too eager to pound on Nash’s door at this late hour.

  When the summons was answered, Jarrett was given a quick once-over.
“What on earth happened at that ranch of yours?” Nash asked.

  Knowing the doctor wasn’t looking for details, Jarrett only told him the parts that were relevant to his current state of health. As he spoke, his jeans were peeled away so Nash could get a better look at the wound on Jarrett’s thigh.

  “Looks like you caught the worst of it,” Nash mused as he poked and prodded Jarrett’s battered scalp. “Your other three men were in here and they were mostly anxious to get out again. I’ve treated children that weren’t as fidgety.”

  “I won’t keep you any longer than I have to.”

  “Much appreciated,” Nash said while washing off the wound. “Most people around here don’t seem to realize or care how much I value a good night’s sleep.”

  Rather than irritate the doctor any more than he already was, Jarrett simply stayed still and nodded while Nash did his work.

  “You’re lucky,” Nash said. “If the bullet that did this had been a few inches to one side, you would have been in real bad shape. Dead, most likely.”

  “I did my best under the circumstances.”

  “All you need is some stitches and you’ll be right as rain. Try to take it easy, though, and give yourself a chance to heal properly.”

  “I will, Doc,” Jarrett lied.

  After sewing him up with all the tenderness he’d show to a ripped tent, Nash cleaned Jarrett up and sent him on his way. Just to be safe, Jarrett made sure to ask if he’d be all right to ride the next day.

  “You can ride out right now,” Nash replied. “The sooner, the better as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Thanks, Doc,” Jarrett said. “Appreciate the help.”

  He was waved off and shown brusquely to the door.

  From there, Jarrett walked up Prosser Avenue to the part of town that was liveliest after suppertime. Flat Pass wasn’t exactly known for its saloon district, but there was enough liquor being poured to keep the locals happy. Two of those locals, Jarrett soon discovered, were very happy indeed.

  “There he is!” Stan said as soon as he saw Jarrett walk in through the front door of a place called the Buffalo Chip. Walking to meet him halfway between the bar and the door, Stan opened his arms and wrapped them around his employer. “I thought you weren’t gonna show,” he said in a gust of breath that stank of cheap whiskey and even cheaper beer.

  “What can I say?” Jarrett replied. “When you’re right, you’re right. You said I needed a drink and you were right.”

  Stan slapped him on the arm and then roughly dragged him to the bar. “Of course I’m right! I may not know a lot about much, but I know much about . . . uh . . . I mean I know something about much of it and that’s whiskey!”

  “Whatever you say,” Jarrett chuckled.

  The Buffalo Chip was supposedly named for the bison painted on all of the poker chips used at the card tables and faro layout. Since most of the saloon’s regulars were trappers, hunters, or cowboys, the less savory definition of the term wasn’t exactly a secret. The place always seemed to have an unpleasant smell to it, which was why Jarrett rarely patronized it. Whether it was because of the liquor the sheriff had given him or the blood that had dried inside his nose, he wasn’t overly concerned with the odor that night. Edgar and Jack were waiting for him at the bar to hand him a drink as soon as he got there. Jarrett took the glass and immediately poured its contents down his throat.

  “You have a word with the law?” Edgar asked.

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “And,” Jarrett replied, “we’re heading out on a posse in the morning.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was close enough.

  “See?” Edgar beamed. “I told you the sheriff would come through. Hey,” he grunted as the rest of Jarrett’s words made it through the haze filling his brain. “We’re heading out in the morning? As in all of us?”

  “You wouldn’t be interested in riding on the posse to hunt down the murderers that burned the Lazy J?”

  “I . . . don’t suppose I gave it any thought. To be perfectly honest, I was just happy to be able to kick my heels up for one more night.”

  “What he’s tryin’ to say,” Stan said as he ambled up next to Edgar, “is that he’s too damn old to ride on a posse.”

  Edgar didn’t much care to admit it, but he wasn’t about to refute the statement either. He merely winced and gave half a shrug.

  “What about you?” Jarrett asked.

  “You want me on a posse?” Stan replied. “After all I did was get myself knocked out and tied up the last time we crossed paths with them rustlers?”

  “That’s right.”

  Stan grinned widely. “Why, that would be just dandy. And I ain’t sayin’ that because I’m drunk. If there’s a bunch of men riding out to bring a fight to them bastards, you can count me in.” Turning to look over his shoulder, he said, “What about you, Jack? Care to ride on a posse come mornin’?”

  The ranch hand leaning against the bar might have been short on words, but he was never short on action. He answered Stan’s question by raising his beer mug and nodding.

  “There you go,” Stan said. “Two out of three ain’t bad.”

  “No,” Jarrett replied. “Not bad at all.”

  The four of them spent a good portion of that night at the Chip, whittling away at the line of credit Jarrett had there. When thoughts of what had transpired at his ranch crept in too far, he bought another drink and downed it as quickly as he could. It didn’t take much whiskey for him to figure out that the only way to block out so much pain altogether would be to drink himself into oblivion.

  There was no way Jarrett was about to do that.

  Not yet anyway.

  He had too much to do in the morning.

  Chapter 12

  Rooms at the Chip were small and cheap. Mostly they were only used as closet space to store men who were too drunk to walk out of the place on their own steam. Thanks to the last bit of credit on his account, Jarrett was able to provide a cot and four walls for himself and each of his men. When he opened his eyes after a few hours of nightmare-filled sleep, Jarrett was raring to go. He went to each of the other rooms he’d paid for, gave the cots a few swift kicks, and dragged two of the three men downstairs.

  “I’m comin’, I’m comin’,” Stan groaned. “Does it have to be so damn early?”

  “We’re riding out to the ranch first and then the sheriff will pull together the posse.”

  “You mean he still has to go to the ranch first? He’ll just have to come back here afterward, you know.”

  “So?”

  “So that means we can get some more sleep. Come get us when the posse’s ready to ride.”

  As much as Jarrett wanted to drag both of them to their horses, he knew that would just take longer and be more effort than just taking the ride out on his own. He went to the sheriff’s office, where Rubin and one of his deputies were already saddling up their horses.

  “I was just about to come and collect you,” the lawman said. “I hear you and your men had a wild night with some of the girls at the Buffalo Chip.”

  “Did you? Must’ve been one of the others, because I don’t recall anything like that,” Jarrett said.

  “No matter. You ready to go?”

  “I’ll lead the way.”

  The ride from town to the Lazy J was so familiar to Jarrett that he could have made it with his eyes closed. It wasn’t a long way under normal circumstances and seemed even shorter this time with Jarrett leading the other two at full speed. Smoke still hung above his property in a thin black cloud. The stench from the fire filled Jarrett’s nostrils, and bits of ash drifted through the air to sting his eyes. All the whiskey or beer in the world wouldn’t have been enough to wash that taste from Jarrett’s mouth, and when he breathed it in again, the horror of it all came rushing back.

&
nbsp; “I can already tell there was a fire,” Sheriff Rubin said.

  “Ain’t no herd about either,” the deputy added. “On any spread with a herd on it, you can usually hear them by now.”

  Jarrett didn’t know the younger man’s name and didn’t much care. Right now his only concern was that the lawmen stop wasting time and get on with hunting down the men who’d put that smoke into the air in the first place.

  “I’ll take your word for it,” the sheriff said. “Your ears were always better than mine.”

  “House is this way,” Jarrett said as he rode through the gate and down the road that cut straight across his property. “What’s left of it anyway.”

  The three of them took their look-about and saw the scorched remnants of Jarrett’s home. They spotted the freshly dug graves and then circled back around to head back into town. Jarrett didn’t say a word until they approached the sheriff’s office again. He was barely able to draw a full breath until the ranch was well behind him.

  “So,” Jarrett said as he climbed down from Twitch’s back, “you see enough?”

  Rubin and his deputy dismounted as well. Hitching his horse to the post near his office’s front door, the sheriff said, “That sure does verify your story. At least about the fire.”

  Jarrett’s eyes narrowed. “What about the killings? Did you need me to dig up the bodies to convince you?”

  “No need for all that. I’m convinced. I’ll put the word out right now and as soon as I get enough men we’ll head out after the animals that burned your place to the ground.”

  “Good. When do you think we’ll ride out?”

  “Shouldn’t be more than a few days,” Rubin said.

  “A few days?”

  “Depends on how long it takes me to collect enough men for the job. Remember, there’s your herd to think about, so we’ll need men who know how to do a job like that.”

  “I’ve already got men for that,” Jarrett said. “My men. We’ve handled plenty of herds.”