Ralph Compton Bullet For a Bad Man

by Ralph Compton

  The news spread. There was talk of a lynching, if only they could find the guilty party. When a man near Boone hollered that hanging was too good for the son of a bitch and they should feed him to the fire, Boone grinned and shouted his agreement. His grin was fleeting, though. By the time a tenth building was afire, he had seen enough.

  Forking leather, Boone departed. The cool breeze was a welcome relief after the blistering heat. He looked back only once from half a mile away. Flames, scores of feet high, leaped from the tops of buildings. All of Ranson was awash in light as bright as day. People scurried about like ants.

  ‘‘Serves them right,’’ Boone said to the palomino. He rode on. He was in no hurry. He had a long ride ahead of him come morning, and he wanted the palomino to be well rested.

  Boone had not seen any sign of Old Man Radler or Skelman or any of the other rustlers. He assumed they were back in Ranson, watching the fire. It was where he would be if he did not have to do what he had to do.

  At length Boone came within sight of their camp. He was puzzled when he did not see a campfire or any sign of life. Bringing the palomino to a trot, he covered the last hundred yards and drew rein next to smoking embers.

  Everyone and everything was gone. The rustlers, their mounts, the stolen horses, all had vanished.

  Bewildered, Boone swung down. ‘‘Sassy?’’ he called, and did not receive an answer. Worry knifed through him and he roved frantically about. ‘‘Sassy? Where are you?’’

  A muffled sound stopped Boone in his tracks. He drew his Colt and advanced in the direction the sound came from. It was repeated, along with a series of thumps. But he could not, for the life of him, guess what was making them. Not until he nearly stumbled over a sprawled form at his feet.

  Boone jumped back, then sprang forward again when he recognized the gagged face that reared up off the ground to gurgle and grunt at him.

  ‘‘Drub!’’

  Boone knelt and pried at the gag. The knots in the bandana were tight and it took some doing to loosen them.

  Drub kept on gurgling and grunting with great urgency.

  Finally Boone got the gag off. ‘‘There you go. Tell me quick. Where is Sassy?’’

  Drub spat and coughed and sat up, offering his bound wrists. ‘‘Cut me loose, pard. My ankles too.’’

  ‘‘Tell me what happened.’’

  ‘‘It was my pa. My own pa turned on me. I never thought he would do that. He can be mean, but this time he went too far.’’

  Boone gripped him by the shoulders. ‘‘Damn it, Drub. Answer me. Where’s Sassy?’’

  ‘‘They took her.’’

  ‘‘They what?’’

  Drub nodded, and a great dry sob escaped him. ‘‘They took her with them and it is all my fault.’’

  ‘‘Took her where?’’

  ‘‘Please don’t be mad.’’

  Nearly losing his temper, Boone shook him. ‘‘Where, Drub? Where did they take her?’’

  Drub bowed his head. ‘‘To your brother.’’

  Threads

  Boone Scott whirled toward his palomino. He took two quick steps, then drew up short.

  ‘‘You’re not fixing to leave me here all tied up, are you, pard?’’ Drub smiled an uncertain smile.

  Boone swore. He spun, took a folding knife from his pocket and quickly cut Drub free. ‘‘Where is your horse?’’ he asked as he helped Drub to rise.

  ‘‘Pa took him.’’

  ‘‘He stranded you afoot in Apache country?’’

  Drub nodded while rubbing his wrists and stomping his feet to restore circulation. ‘‘Pa was awful mad. He said that if I ever got loose, I could walk back to Ranson. And if I made it to Ranson, I better stay away from him until he simmered down enough not to shoot me. He said that would take about five or six months.’’

  ‘‘What did you do to get him so riled?’’

  ‘‘I tried to stop them from taking Sassy.’’

  Boone turned to the palomino, gripped the saddle horn and swung up. He raised the reins and went to jab his spurs.

  ‘‘Ride like the wind, pard. If the Apaches don’t get me, maybe I will see you again someday.’’

  ‘‘Hell.’’ Boone frowned, and lowered the reins. Bending, he offered his arm. ‘‘Climb on behind me.’’

  Eagerly obeying, Drub added his considerable bulk to the palomino’s burden. ‘‘I am sorry to slow you up. I know you want to go after them. But they won’t hurt her. Pa won’t let them. He said she is worth money.’’

  Boone hesitated. North would take them toward the Circle V. East would take them toward Ranson, or what was left of it. He reined to the east and jabbed his heels. ‘‘Tell me everything from the moment I saw you last.’’

  ‘‘That is a lot. And my head always hurts if I try to remember too much at once.’’

  ‘‘Try anyway. For me.’’

  ‘‘For you I would do anything, pard. For you and Sassy.’’ Drub paused. ‘‘Well, let’s see. You told me to take Sassy to camp. So we got our horses and started back. She was mighty upset, let me tell you. Blistered my ears something awful. And the more she talked, the madder she got. Finally she said she was turning back, and I could go to hell.’’

  ‘‘What did you do?’’

  ‘‘The only thing I could. I grabbed her reins out of her hand and led her horse back here.’’

  ‘‘You did what I asked. For that I thank you.’’

  ‘‘Maybe it would have been better for her if I didn’t.’’

  ‘‘Keep going,’’ Boone coaxed.

  ‘‘Well, I asked her why you had acted the way you did and she told me all about you and your brother. How he killed your ma and your pa. How she was worried you would go after him and kill a lot of people yourself, and maybe get killed.’’

  ‘‘It is him or me. But don’t stop.’’

  ‘‘We made it to camp and sat down to have coffee. But we weren’t hardly there five minutes and Pa and the rest came back. They had someone new with them, a man I never met before.’’

  Boone glanced over his shoulder. ‘‘This man had to have a name.’’

  ‘‘Let’s see. Pa told me what it was.’’ Drub fell quiet, his forehead furrowed. Suddenly he snapped his fingers. ‘‘Now I remember! It was Hanks. Blin Hanks. He works for your brother.’’

  ‘‘Go on.’’

  ‘‘Your brother sent Hanks to talk to my pa about those horses we stole down to Mexico. Pa is to take them somewhere and wait, and your brother will come and pay him.’’

  ‘‘Where, Drub? It is important you remember.’’

  ‘‘It was a funny-sounding place. One I never heard of. Let me think on it awhile and it will come to me. I am slow but I remember things if I think on them long enough.’’

  ‘‘While you are thinking tell me about Sassy.’’

  ‘‘Oh.’’

  ‘‘I am waiting.’’

  ‘‘It was my fault, pard. When Pa mentioned how that man Hanks was sent by your brother to buy our horses, I told Pa what your brother had done to your folks. I figured Pa would want to know how mean your brother is. But then that man, Hanks, he said how your brother will be real interested to learn you are back in his neck of the woods. And how your brother would pay good money for bait he could use to lure you in.’’ Drub smiled proudly. ‘‘I am using his very own words, pard.’’

  ‘‘What was that about bait?’’

  ‘‘He meant Sassy. This Blin Hanks said he couldn’t make any promises but it wouldn’t surprise him if your brother paid my pa five hundred dollars or more to get his hands on her.’’

  ‘‘And your pa agreed?’’

  ‘‘You know how he is about money. Hanks said they should leave before you showed up, so they threw on their saddles and lit a shuck, taking the rustled horses and Sassy with them.’’

  ‘‘You missed the part about them tying you up.’’

  ‘‘Oh. I told Pa it wasn’t right. I told him you are my friend and S
assy is my friend and I wouldn’t let them take her. Pa told me to let it be, that he knew best. But when a couple of them grabbed her, I hit them so hard I knocked them right off their feet.’’

  ‘‘I bet your pa didn’t like that.’’

  ‘‘Not one bit, no. He yelled at me, called me all sorts of names, and while he was yelling my brother snuck up behind me and hit me over the head with a rock. The next I knew, I was tied and gagged and they were about to leave. Vance was standing over me, grinning, and crowed about what he’d done. Then he patted me on the head and said he hoped the Apaches found me and spared him the bother of having to kill me one day.’’ Drub shook his head. ‘‘My own brother said that to me.’’

  Boone rode grimly on.

  ‘‘Why can’t people be nice, pard? Why do they have to be so mean all the time?’’

  ‘‘It is just the way the world is.’’

  ‘‘A stupid way, if you ask me. All I ever wanted was for folks to stop teasing me and calling me dumb.’’

  ‘‘Did they hurt Sassy?’’

  ‘‘No. Oh, they roughed her up some because she fought like a wildcat. But they got her on her horse and settled her down. Pa said if she didn’t behave, he would whip me with his rope.’’

  ‘‘God,’’ Boone said.

  ‘‘What?’’

  ‘‘Nothing. Don’t stop.’’

  ‘‘There isn’t much more. She told them she would do what they wanted, but they tied her on her horse anyway so she couldn’t scratch or kick. Otherwise, she was fine.’’

  ‘‘Damn them to hell.’’

  ‘‘I don’t think Skelman liked what they were doing. He didn’t help, and Pa mentioned as how he never thought he would live to see the day that Skelman got soft on someone. What did Pa mean?’’

  Boone admitted he didn’t know.

  Drub lapsed into silence until the eastern horizon lit with an artificial sun.

  ‘‘Look yonder, pard! Ranson is on fire!’’

  They were over a mile away, yet it looked as if most of the town was burning. Thick columns of coiling smoke, pierced by tongues of red and orange, rose to the benighted sky.

  ‘‘How could that happen?’’ Drub wondered. ‘‘When Sassy and I left, it was fine.’’

  The remark prompted Boone to draw rein. ‘‘Climb down. We are close enough that you can make it on foot without having to worry too much about Apaches.

  Get a horse and head north for the Circle V Ranch. That is where you will find me if I am still alive.’’

  ‘‘Why wouldn’t you be?’’ Drub asked, and when Boone did not answer, he said, ‘‘Your brother will try to kill you again, won’t he?’’

  ‘‘This time he will have cause. I will be out to kill him.’’

  ‘‘Will you kill my pa too?’’

  ‘‘Not if I don’t have to. He has treated me decent. But now he has taken the woman I care for, and if anything happens to her, there will be a reckoning.’’ Boone wheeled the palomino and applied his spurs.

  ‘‘Sorry about my pa taking Sassy!’’ Drub shouted after him. ‘‘Good luck, pard!’’

  Boone concentrated on riding. At night it was always a tricky proposition except on the open prairie, and even there, prairie dog burrows and any other hole or rain-worn rut might bring a horse down. Most people tended to forget that stepping into the stirrups was not the same as stepping onto a wagon. The perils on horseback were greater than on a buckboard.

  After a while Boone slowed to a walk. He was letting his worry get the better of him. It would not do to ride the palomino into the ground.

  The night was exceptionally still. Not so much as a coyote broke the quiet. Boone told himself it was normal, but it didn’t help his frayed nerves any. He couldn’t stop thinking about Sassy, couldn’t stop worrying about her. He reminded himself it would take the rustlers days to reach the Circle V. By then he was bound to catch up.

  ‘‘They are as good as caught,’’ he told the palomino.

  Epp Scott was sitting down to supper when the maid informed him that a rider was at the front door and anxious to see him.

  ‘‘He has ridden far and is covered with dust, senor. I told him you are about to eat and he should come back later, but he insists he must see you right this minute.’’

  Epp sat back and placed his fork on his plate. ‘‘I would have Hanks take care of it, but I sent him on an errand. Very well. Show this rider in.’’

  The stout man she admitted had a balding pate and wore store-bought clothes with drink stains. He wrung a bowler in his hands. ‘‘Remember me, Mr. Scott? I worked for you. I was a bartender at the Acey-Deucey. Jackson is my name.’’

  ‘‘Of course I remember. But I do not recollect firing you, or hearing that you quit.’’

  ‘‘Then you haven’t heard? It is good I came straight here. I figured you would want to know.’’

  ‘‘Don’t keep me in suspense, Jackson. I am a busy man. What brought you all the way from Ranson?’’

  ‘‘There isn’t one anymore.’’

  ‘‘Isn’t what?’’

  ‘‘A Ranson. The town burned to the ground.’’

  Epp shot out of his chair and came around the table. ‘‘You must mean a building or two. The whole damn town can’t have burned.’’

  ‘‘Most of it. There is one house and the stable left, but they are half black from the flames.’’

  ‘‘The Acey-Deucey is gone? Tell me you are drunk and making this up.’’

  ‘‘I wish I could. But the Acey-Deucey is where the fire started. I reckon he broke a few lamps to get it going. That is all it would have taken, as dry as everything was.’’

  ‘‘You are getting ahead of yourself. Who is this ‘he’? And why would he burn down my saloon?’’

  ‘‘It was that loco bastard who killed Mr. Condit and Jarrott. I was working when he came in. He asked me if you owned the Acey-Deucey and I wouldn’t answer him.’’

  Epp went as rigid as a board. ‘‘Wait. It was Boone?’’

  ‘‘He didn’t say his name. But he did claim he was your brother.’’

  ‘‘And he wanted to know if the Acey-Deucey was mine?’’

  ‘‘Yes, sir. And then he asked if Ranson had a fire brigade. I didn’t know what to make of him. He went into the back, and the next thing, smoke and flames were everywhere. I was lucky to make it out alive.’’

  Epp put a hand to his forehead. ‘‘The whole damn town, you say?’’

  ‘‘We couldn’t put the fire out, Mr. Scott. We tried but there just wasn’t enough water. The best we could do was save a few things and skedaddle before we were burned with the buildings. I never saw the like.’’

  ‘‘Boone,’’ Epp said. ‘‘But if he did that, then he must—’’ Epp put a hand on the table and bowed his head.

  ‘‘Are you all right, Mr. Scott?’’

  ‘‘I’m fine.’’ With a visible effort Epp regained control and forced a grateful smile. ‘‘You did right in coming to me as fast as you did. I might not have heard about the fire for another week and by then he will be here.’’ He reached into an inner jacket pocket and produced a roll of bills. ‘‘I won’t forget what you’ve done. After I rebuild Ranson—and I will rebuild it—I’ll need someone to run the new Acey-Deucey. You are now at the top of the list.’’

  Jackson nearly split his face grinning. ‘‘I only did what I thought you would want me to do.’’

  Epp peeled off bills without counting them and held them out. ‘‘Here. Since it is almost sundown, you might as well stay the night. Have the maid turn down the bed in the guest bedroom.’’

  Jackson could not take his eyes off the money. ‘‘I don’t want to put you to any bother.’’

  ‘‘The maid, Theresa, does the work. Not me.’’ Epp ushered him out, closed the door and took his seat at the head of the table. But he didn’t eat. He stared at his steak and potatoes. He stared and stared. Then there came another knock. ‘‘Who is it?’’

&n
bsp; ‘‘Theresa, senor. It is Mr. Hanks.’’

  ‘‘What are you waiting for? Show him in.’’

  Blin Hanks had the same tired, dirty look as Jackson. ‘‘You might want to sit down. I have news and some of it is not good.’’

  ‘‘Would that be the part about Ranson burning to the ground?’’

  ‘‘You know already? But you still might want to sit. I have news you haven’t heard.’’

  ‘‘That my brother is back?’’

  ‘‘Damn. You plumb amaze me.’’ Hanks grinned. ‘‘But they say the third time is the charm. Did you also know your brother is fond of a certain girl?’’

  ‘‘You don’t say.’’

  ‘‘Her name is Sassy Drecker. How would you like to meet her?’’

  ‘‘She’s here?’’ Epp glanced at the doorway. ‘‘Why didn’t you bring her in?’’

  ‘‘Sassy is with Old Man Radler. He wants to sell her and the horses, both. Him and his rustlers should reach the barrens in two days.’’

  Epp rubbed his palms together in wolfish anticipation. ‘‘I can hardly wait. This Sassy is just what I need to lure my brother into an early grave.’’

  Arrows and Lead

  A speck moved in the vast emptiness. It was the only sign of life in the heat-blistered terrain. Northward, the speck traveled, the relentless sun overhead, the dry ground under his mount’s heavy hooves.

  Boone and the palomino were weary to their marrow. Both drooped with fatigue, but they forged gamely on, the palomino in response to Boone’s urging, Boone refusing to stop for fear that it would cost him the precious life he held more dear than his own.

  Boone knew he had to stop soon whether he wanted to or not. A horse could take only so much, and he had already pushed the palomino harder than he had ever pushed any mount. Guilt pricked him, but lost the inner tug of war to love. He could not stop thinking about Sassy; about her hair, about her eyes, about her lips, about her laugh.

  ‘‘I am coming for you,’’ Boone croaked, and was startled by the rattle that passed for his voice.

  The sun burned him as it burned the land. An Arizona summer was hell on earth. Hot, hot, always hot, with scant relief in the shade, when there was shade.