Joline shook her head exaggeratedly. “I really can’t believe you boys actually went and played a game with Tom Dunn in the first place.”
“What do you mean?” Albert said, suddenly suspicious. “He famous or something?”
Joline didn’t bother to suppress her smile. “Famous for cheating, maybe.” Both men stood and she added, “He couldn’t have gone far.”
Tom stood back and nodded in satisfaction at the changes he had made to the poster. The smile on his face in the poster no longer looked quite so goofy and he had given it a proper mustache. More importantly, he had blackened out some of the letters and it now read, Tom Dunn, of the Red Star Gang. Wanted for Robbery. Bounty $725.00.
“Sad,” said the Kid in amusement.
“I think it’s a definite improvement,” Tom replied.
He tossed the piece of coal back to the child just as the door to the inn burst open. Albert and Denny spilled out, wincing as their eyes adjusted to the sun. Tom quickly turned to head across the street, but it was too late. The two men started towards him.
“Hey!” shouted Albert. “You stop there, Tom Dunn!”
“Yeah, you . . . scoundrel!” echoed Denny. The other people in the street turned to look.
The Kid chuckled. “Gee, I wonder what gave you away?”
Tom sighed. “Joline, I’d bet. She still hasn’t forgiven me for kissing her sister.”
“Well, you gonna fight it out in front of the jail?” the Kid asked, gesturing at Tom’s wanted poster.
“Uh, no,” Tom replied and walked towards the two men, wearing a disarming smile. He met them in front of the general store. “What is it, gentlemen?” He started patting his pockets. “Did I forget something back there?”
“We want our money back, sir!” Denny harrumphed.
Tom blinked innocently. “And why would I do that?”
Albert pointed a stiff finger. “You were cheating!”
“Woah now,” Tom said, feigning shock. “Hey, that’s a slanderous charge. Why’d you think that?”
“We know!” Denny insisted.
“That’s right,” Albert agreed. “Pay up. No one gets three kings five hands in a row.”
The Kid appeared atop a horse tethered in front of the store. He sat atop the horse’s rump cross-legged, and sucked at his teeth. “Sloppy.”
Tom placed his hands on his hips not far from his two pistols, “That was just blind luck, sirs. Do you have any proof of this?”
Albert, eying the guns, drew his own pistol and pointed it at Tom. “The hell with proof, cheater! Give us our money and we’ll be on our way.”
“Put the gun down, Albert,” Tom said. He left his expression unfazed, but he was surprised by this aggressive behavior from the railroad man. “You ain’t gonna shoot. Sheriff Dale’s office is just over there and he is a personal friend.”
“Oh ain’t I?” Albert’s lips pulled back from his teeth and he pulled back the hammer with a click. “I ain’t about to let a thief cheat me and get away with it.”
Denny licked his lips. The salesman had seen enough gunfights in his travels and had no desire to be caught in the middle of one. The other onlookers had similar thoughts and began entering buildings or heading for alleyways where they could watch from safety.
Looking uncomfortable, Denny said, “Just give the winnings over, Dunn. Then we’ll let you go like nothing happened.”
“Well, I protest! I take great offense at being called a cheater,” Tom said. “Still, I suppose I have no choice . . .”
Tom reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the pouch of coins. Albert held out his free hand, but Tom tossed the pouch at the man’s gun. Albert turned and fumbled with the pouch, finally catching it in the crook of his arm. By that time, Tom had already run up to him.
He started with a punch to Albert’s nose, which rocked the man’s head back. Tom then grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted, wrenching the gun from his fingers. He breathed a sigh of relief that it didn’t go off.
Albert punched him in the ribs with his free hand and Tom swung an elbow into the side of the man’s face. This knocked the railroad man back far enough that Tom was able to get his foot up. Tom’s front kick caught the railroad man in the stomach and sent him stumbling backwards.
Tom let the purse fall and cracked the railroad man’s gun open. He shook the bullets onto the ground, then tossed the gun to the side and took a step back. “Now I want you two to stop and think for just a dag-gum moment-!”
Denny surprised him with a flying tackle from behind that took Tom to the ground. Tom’s hat flew off and he ended up with a mouthful of dirt. He twisted, trying to shake the man off.
Tom sputtered, spitting mud. “Damnit, Denny! Get off me!”
The salesman was no brawler, but he held on tight and he was behind Tom in such a position that it was hard for Tom to get any leverage. They tussled for awhile until Tom was finally able to flip over so that he was on top of the man.
Tom pried at the man’s fingers, twisting them until, with a yelp of pain, the salesman finally let go. Tom rolled to his feet and when Denny tried to sit up, Tom lashed out with a right hook. The salesman fell to his back; out cold.
“Stop right there!” said Albert. The railroad man was down on one knee and was clutching his pistol, having used the time of Denny’s distraction to retrieve and load it.
“Great.” Tom grimaced, spitting again. He was now covered in fine dirt that had adhered to his sweat. His hair was sticking up in all directions. “I’m sure I look ridiculous.”
Albert stood. “Now pick that purse back up and this time you walk over and hand it to me.” He cocked the hammer and glared. His split lip and bloodied nose made him look all the more furious. “And don’t you think I won’t shoot.”
What Albert didn’t know was that he was now standing directly behind the horse that Tom’s ghostly companion was perched on. Just as Tom was about to retrieve the purse, the Kid cried out and smacked the horse across the rump.
Tom was the only one who saw what had happened, but the horse definitely felt it. The poor beast felt a sting like twenty horseflies biting at once. It let out a scream and kicked out with both rear hooves, catching Albert right in the lower back.
The kick sent the unfortunate railroad man up on his toes. He let out a shocked cry and his finger convulsed around the trigger. The gun went off, causing the spectators to gasp. Luckily, the force of the kick had knocked Albert’s aim high and the bullet shot harmlessly into the air.
Tom took the opportunity to step forward and deliver an uppercut that knocked the man out. As Albert hit the dirt, Tom dusted himself off and picked up his pouch of winnings.
He looked up at the Kid. “I’m surprised you interfered like that.”
The Kid shrugged. “The horse did it.”
They were interrupted by the sound of the door of the Sheriff’s Office slamming open. “Tomas Jefferson Dun!” shouted Sheriff Jim Dale.
Tom rolled his eyes at the way the sheriff had pronounced his name, putting so much emphasis on the Mexican way of saying it. He turned. “It’s just Tom! You know that, Dale.”
Dale stood in the open doorway of his office with a shotgun in his hands. He was a middle-aged man with a thick mustache and the confident demeanor that came from his years of experience training under the retired Sheriff Paul. He stormed toward Tom, his deputy following closely behind him with a rifle at the ready.
“What the hell’re you doing starting a fight right outside my door?” Dale asked, his voice flabbergasted. “Right in front of your wanted poster, even?”
“I didn’t start no fight,” Tom insisted. He pointed at the fallen forms of Albert and Denny. “I was being robbed! That man drew on me and that man tried to help him.”
Sheriff Dale chuckled. “They were robbing you? Right. What’d you do? Cheat them at cards?”
Tom frowned. “I cheated nobody, Dale. It was just a friendly game.”
“I s
aw it, Uncle Dale, sir!” said the boy that Tom had taken the coal from earlier. “Those men did start the fight.”
Dale glanced at the child, then gazed down the street at all the onlookers that had come out from their cover. He raised his voice. “Anyone see anything different?” There were a few noncommittal head shakes, but no one spoke up. He turned back to face Tom. “I should arrest you right now.”
“What for?” Tom protested. “I didn’t shoot nobody. I didn’t rob nobody. You can’t even get me for being drunk in the streets.” He took a few steps toward the sheriff and opened his mouth. “Here! Smell my breath.”
The sheriff raised a disgusted hand and called out to his deputy. “Ted, go get the Doc. These men need seein’ to.”
Tom feigned offense. “Ain’t you going to ask me if I want you to arrest these men?”
“There’s only two reasons I don’t haul you in right now,” Dale said, raising two fingers. “First, your momma makes the best pie in town and I know she won’t forgive me. Second, your tiny bounty ain’t worth my time.”
“Two reasons?” Tom said. “I’m impressed, Sheriff. I didn’t know you could count that high.” At Dale’s enraged scowl, he raised his hands and added, “Just a joke. I wasn’t gonna ask you to haul them in. I think they’ve learned their lesson.”
Dale spat. “Get out of my sight, Tom. Next time you make a ruckus in my town I will arrest you. And that’s a promise.”
“Understood,” Tom replied. He walked over and picked up his new hat. He smacked the dust off of it, frowning at the way it clung to the felt.
“And that goes for your friends too,” Dale added. “You tell ’em I said it!”
Tom raised a hand in acknowledgement and headed across the street and into Hank’s Saloon.
6: A Red Star Palaver
An excerpt from The Tale of the Red Star Gang
“There’s somethin’ about us Luna Gorda boys. We can’t sit quiet. Stick a few of us in a room together long enough, we’ll go find us a wolf to chase,” - Bobby Estrella.
Tom burst through the saloon doors and was surprised to find that the place was so empty. He looked to the bar, relieved to see Luke alone at the counter, Hank filling his glass. Tom wasn’t able to see the Stranger, who was standing next to Luke, snort and down a wormy shot.
“Tom!” said old Hank enthusiastically. “I was hoping you would come in when you were done beating those men down.”
Luke didn’t bother to turn and look at Tom. He merely took a drink and said, “Oh? Was it him that was causing that ruckus outside?”
Tom frowned. “You knew it was me, Luke. You had to have heard ’em shouting my name.”
“I heard the Sheriff dressing you down,” Luke said. “He ain’t coming in here after you is he? Don’t make me shoot Dale. I don’t want to shoot Dale.”
“He’s fine now. It was just a misunderstanding,” Tom replied. He walked over to the bar and leaned up against the counter. “What do you got for me, Hank?”
Luke turned to look at him and a laugh burst from his mouth. “Hell’s bells, Tom! You sure those weren’t pigs you were fighting out there?”
Tom glanced at the mirror behind the bar and sighed. He was still quite a sight. Dust clung to him from his roll in the street. It was caked to the side of his face. “Hank?”
“Start with this,” the barman said. He dipped a clean rag into a washbasin and tossed it to him.
“Look, the second guy jumped me from behind,” Tom said as he wiped his face. He shot a glare at Luke. “Hey, if you heard the fight from in here, why didn’t you come out and help me?”
Luke snorted again. “I can’t come running any time you have a ‘misunderstanding’.”
“Why not?” Tom asked. “We’re a gang, ain’t we?”
Luke shook his head and turned back to his drink. “We ain’t been a gang for months. You know that.”
“Told you, Tommy.” The Kid appeared in the room, laying on top of one of the empty tables, his arms folded behind his head. His sombrero was gone, replaced by a Union Army cap and he wore a gray Confederate Soldier jacket with the front unbuttoned, exposing a sweat-stained white undershirt. “Can’t rely on those two. Maybe it’s time you put a new gang together.”
Tom ignored the specter, keeping his focus on Luke. “So you and Sandy had a fight. Happens all the time. You two always get over it.”
“He’s the one that has the problem,” Luke replied. “Not me.”
“Then he’ll get over it,” Tom assured him. “No reason to break up the gang. Besides, you never had a problem with me, did you?
Luke shared a bemused look with the Stranger, then turned his attention back to Tom. “The only reason I came here is because that letter you sent me promised we had a job.”
The Stranger grunted. “I told you before. He’s a nobody. Why do you even bother?”
“And I got one,” said Tom, unable to hear the Stranger’s belittling of his character. His mouth spread in a grin. “A big one. A job you’re gonna love.”
Luke raised a dubious eyebrow. “So you said in the letter. What is it then?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute,” Tom said teasingly. “First, I’m parched. What do you got, Hank? Nothing too hard. I just wanna wash the taste of this dirt out of my mouth.”
“Beer,” the barman replied with a shrug, gesturing to the wooden barrel on the stand behind the counter. “It’s mostly flat, though. Leftover from last night. Mel’s bringing a fresh batch in later.”
“Fine,” Tom replied. He looked at the rag he had wiped his face and neck with and winced at the small greenish bits in the dirt. Reminded that the dust in the street was partially made up of horse dung, he spat. “Anything.”
Hank brought a mug over to the barrel and Tom noticed that the Kid was now perched cross-legged on top of it. A mischievous look crossed the specter’s face as the barman opened the tap. The Kid gestured and beer sprayed from the tap in a hiss, splattering the barman and filling the glass with foam.
Hank sputtered, but was unfazed by the surprise attack. “Not as flat as I thought.” He dumped the foam into a bucket and wiped his face on his sleeve, then filled the glass again. Carefully this time. He brought the beer to Tom. “So, you been to see your momma yet?”
Tom turned cautious eyes on the Kid as he took a drink. Luckily, the specter’s little prank didn’t seem to affect the taste. Tom swirled the liquid around in his mouth before swallowing.
“So,” said the barman and repeated his question, “You been to see your momma?”
“Not yet,” Tom replied.
“Both of you should be ashamed,” Hank replied with a shake of his head.
Luke rolled his eyes. “We’re grown men, Hank. Our first thoughts on coming to town aren’t going to be on visiting our mothers.”
The saloon doors swung open again and Sandy Tucker stepped inside. He was dusty from the road and did not look pleased to see the two of them together at the bar. His mother was on his arm, a parasol held in one hand.
“Tom! Luke!” she exclaimed. She closed her parasol and let go of Sandy to hurry over to them.
Elizabeth-Ann Tucker, the town busybody and event organizer, was still a beautiful woman even in her middle years. She was dressed in lace and frills, much nicer than necessary for a walk about town. Her dark brown hair, slightly speckled with gray, was pulled up stylishly.
She patted Tom’s cheek with affection, then wrapped him up in a big embrace. Reluctantly, Luke moved away from the bar far enough for her to hug him too. She kissed his cheek, wrinkling her nose briefly at the smell of the mezcal on his breath, before stepping back and clapping her hands together in front of her.
“Oh my, but you two boys are so grown up! Your mothers must be so pleased that you are in town,” she said.
“Yes, Miss Tucker,” they mumbled.
She narrowed her eyes at them, sensing deception. “Hmm, well I plan to stop in and see your mothers this evening for a bit of gossip. I
would suggest, if you haven’t done so yet that you bring them a gift, because I am definitely going to show off the new comb that Sandy brought me.” She bent slightly and pointed out the new silver and jade hair comb that was holding her hair up so nicely. “Yes, those are real pearls so don’t act coy. I know you three have been doing well for yourselves.”
Tom and Luke glanced at each other. Elizabeth was very good at ignoring the fact that the three boys had turned outlaw.
“Uh, yes, Miss Tucker,” Tom said.
Hank cleared his throat. “Elizabeth, ma’am, I hate to point this out, but you know women ain’t supposed to be in here.”
She pursed her lips at him. “I am quite aware of proprieties, Hank. But one day soon that will change. Women and men will be able to mingle in drinking establishments equally.” She sniffed. “And when that time comes, I expect that you will keep the place cleaner.”
“Yeah, well until then,” Hank gestured her towards the door.
She gave him a curt nod and walked back to her son. “Sandy, dear, will I see you at home tonight? Your father would so like to see you before you have to leave again.”
“I’ll try, mother,” Sandy replied, his voice polite despite the angry gaze that was focused on Tom. “I’ll get a note to him if I can’t make it.”
“As you should,” Elizabeth replied. She waived one more time at Tom and Luke. “It was so good to see you boys.” With that, she opened her parasol and walked back out into the sunlight.
“Blast it,” Luke grumbled. “Now I got no choice but to go and see my mom.”
Sandy stepped further into the saloon and folded his arms. “I knew you were a liar, Tom.”
“Me?” said Tom, pointing to himself innocently.
“And yet I came anyway,” Sandy said. He sighed. “Why do I always do that?”
A gust of wind stirred through the bar as Pecos appeared, standing behind him. “You do it because they’re your friends.”
Noose Jumpers: A Mythological Western Page 6
