Noose Jumpers: A Mythological Western

by Trevor H. Cooley

  Luke chuckled and walked over. He quickly began tightening her bonds.

  She winced. “Ouch! That’s a bit tighter than necessary, don’t you think?”

  “You’ll want it convincing, won’t you?” Luke replied with a smirk.

  “Just be quick about it,” Sandy said, stepping up to the window and peering outside. “It’s still quiet out there, but I don’t know for how long.”

  Though unseen by the others, Pecos was standing next to him. The grizzled specter gave Sandy a worried look. “I ain’t seen any movement since the guard disappeared, but he’s been gone long enough to stir up trouble.”

  Tom threw the stack of deeds on the floorboards in the center of the room and withdrew a small box of matches from within his jacket pocket. He crouched next to the papers and tried to strike a match, but the first one broke. He fished out another one.

  “Hey. Hey!” said Katie with alarm. “Wh-what are you doing?”

  “Just leaving our friend a little surprise,” Tom replied. “He’s going to find out that he doesn’t own as much of this town as he thinks.”

  The three of them had decided it wasn’t safe to burn the deeds in the vault so close to all that flammable loot. Tom struck the second match and it lit just fine and he carefully started the deeds burning, lighting several places on the loose pile. Then, just to be certain, he tossed a couple more unlit matches on top of the papers before putting the box away.

  “But you can’t just light a fire on that wood floor. Not with us tied here!” Katie retorted.

  “That was your idea, remember?” said Luke, finishing the knot with a grunt. He took a step back and nodded at his handiwork.

  “Don’t worry,” said Tom, blowing gently on the deeds to make sure they all caught fire. “These floors are hardwood. This little fire won’t be hot enough to spread.”

  “And if it does, you can waddle your little chair over there and stomp it out,” added Luke.

  “Enough yap! Let’s go already!” said Sandy, throwing open the door.

  Ignoring Katie’s further cries of complaint, the three men exited the building, shutting the door behind them. The streets of Puerta Muerte remained quiet but for a stiff breeze that blew dust and shreds of newspaper towards them as they rushed to their horses.

  Sandy and Luke threw their saddlebags onto their mounts, glancing down the streets with furrowed brows. Tom let out a whoop.

  “Alright! We’re out in time!” He said enthusiastically.

  The other two didn’t look so sure. Luke said, “Unless they’re just preparing to head us off.”

  “Naw, we’d hear ’em,” said Tom confidently.

  Sandy had just opened his mouth to voice his own concerns when a series of distant shouts echoed up the streets. He let out a curse instead, “You were saying?”

  “They’re still far away,” Tom said, climbing onto his horse in a hurry.

  Luke bounded into his saddle with a hop. He glanced over at Tom. “They sound angry. You reckon your buddy, Jorge, told the outlaws that we only took the Sheriff’s loot?”

  “Let’s not wait and find out,” Sandy said.

  As those words left his mouth, men appeared at the far eastern end of the street, some of them on horseback. Tom, Sandy, and Luke turned their horses around and galloped westward as fast as they could, heading back down the street they had used on their way in.

  For a moment it looked as though they had a clear shot out of town. Then several men ran out into the street ahead of them. Most of these men were Mexican banditos, likely Santos’ men, wearing tall sombreros and carrying rifles. Deputy Tweed was with them. The large man was breathing heavily, his face a mask of anger.

  “Stop right there!” Tweed shouted, bringing up his pistol.

  “Ain’t no way we’re stopping!” Tom replied loudly.

  The banditos raised their guns and the three friends turned their horses down an alleyway. A hail of bullets followed after them, but luckily no one was hit. Tom was just glad Santos himself hadn’t been there with them. That wily outlaw was a crack shot.

  “Why did you say anything?” Luke snapped. “Just run! Don’t announce it first.”

  “Good point!” Tom replied.

  He led them in a right turn at the next street and then entered another alleyway between buildings. This put some cover between them and their pursuers, but had the side effect of slowing their escape. They spurred their horses forward, knowing that the streets behind them were filling with enemies. If the way wasn’t clear, their options were few.

  They came upon the last street at the edge of town. It was Station Street, the Sheriff’s biggest gamble and his biggest folly. He had built a large station and several warehouses and hotels, hoping to lure the railroad through his town, but Puerta de la Muerte’s reputation was too well known. Despite the convenience of the town’s aquifer, the railroad company had passed, choosing Luna Gorda for its next stop instead. This had left the Sheriff with a street full of brand new, but mostly unused buildings.

  The Red Star Gang rode down this empty street of town with a glimmer of hope in their chests. Then the Sheriff and Deputy Willis stepped out into the street ahead of them. The Sheriff faced them and his voice echoed down the street, fueled by rage.

  “Rob my bank? You boys’ll hang for this!” he shouted.

  Jeb Wickee had changed a great deal in the years since he had turned in Bobby Estrella for the reward. Years of wealth and respect had straightened his back and strengthened his resolve. Now as the Sheriff of Puerta Muerte he stood tall and proud, a grim imposing figure in a broad hat and a long dark coat pinned with a silver star. He carried a shotgun in one hand and a pistol rested in his hip holster.

  “Stay right there!” he cried and his voice carried a staggering tone of command. For some reason the young men didn’t understand, their horses slowed to a stop.

  Tom was angered by the jolt of fear that ran through his belly. Why fear? In the past, the man’s presence had only filled him with hatred. He forced the emotion away and urged his horse forward. It refused to move. He pulled his pistols from their holsters at his waist. “We’ll gun you down, Jeb!”

  Deputy Willis ran to the side of the street, and dove behind a rain barrel. The sheriff didn’t budge from his position in the middle of the street.

  “I don’t think so,” Jeb said. Confidence radiated from him as he raised the shotgun towards them. A smile appeared above his smooth shaven jaw, though the angry gleam never left his eyes.

  “Something ain’t right about him!” said the Kid suddenly, appearing on a rooftop nearby. “Get out of there, Tom!”

  The sheriff’s finger tightened around the trigger. The shotgun bucked in his hands. Tom’s horse jerked under him as it caught the full load in its chest.

  The dying creature slumped to the ground soundlessly and Tom was forced to throw himself out of the saddle to avoid being crushed. He hit the dirt hard and rolled to his knees, expecting another shot, this time aimed at him, but Jeb merely smiled and rested his shotgun on his shoulder. He didn’t seem concerned about the gun that had appeared in Luke’s hand. The revolver was trained on the sheriff’s heart, but for some reason Luke didn’t pull the trigger.

  Sandy shook himself free from a frozen daze and pulled his rifle from its sheath on his saddle. He was just as confused by his reaction to the man’s presence as Tom had been. He aimed down the barrel but couldn’t find the will to shoot. Luke wasn’t firing either. What was this odd power that held them?

  The strange silence was broken by the crack of Deputy Willis’ gun. Still hiding behind the barrel, the man held a pistol in his uninjured left hand. The deputy kept behind cover as well as he could and unloaded his gun at Sandy, firing wildly, each of his shots barely missing.

  The last bullet clipped the edge of Sandy’s hat, causing it to jerk on his head, and Sandy’s senses returned to him with a jolt. He turned his rifle on the deputy and focused down the sights at the only visible flesh he could
see. He fired. Sandy’s shot struck right between the first and second knuckles of the deputy’s uninjured hand, separating bones and flesh. Deputy Willis cried out. His gun fell to the dirt and he collapsed behind the barrel clutching his ruined hand to his chest.

  The strange paralysis lifted from the other two Red Stars as well. Tom staggered to his feet and he and Luke both began unloading their pistols at the sheriff. The sheriff didn’t move, his smile broadening as he let the bullets fly past him.

  “The . . . hell?” Luke cried numbly as he reached for his spare gun.

  Sandy turned his rifle on the sheriff. He had never shot to kill before, but something told him that he had little choice. He focused in on the man’s heart. His senses tightened and he felt the familiar calm certainty that came when he had a perfect shot.

  He fired. He missed.

  Sandy’s eyes widened. It made no sense at all, but he swore that he had seen the bullet slow and swerve around the sheriff’s chest.

  Sheriff Wickee laughed and spread his arms wide. “Ain’t you heard? Bullets can’t hit me, boys!”

  A gust of wind kicked up a small cloud of dust as Pecos appeared, standing next to Sandy’s horse. “He’s right. You gotta turn around and go some other way.”

  Luke let out a defiant roar and impotently emptied the five shots in his spare gun. The bullets curved wide. The Stranger, who had been on horseback next to him the entire time growled. “Listen, boy! Go! Leave ’em behind.”

  Sandy reached out towards Tom and shouted, “Come on!”

  Tom was still standing in the street, stunned that he missed. The Kid disappeared from the roof and reappeared next to him. The youthful specter delivered a stinging kick to his rear. “Move it!”

  Tom swore and rushed to Sandy’s side, rubbing the seat of his pants. “What the hell are we up against?”

  “Just get up here.” Sandy pulled Tom up onto the horse behind him.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” said Sheriff Wickee confidently. He kept his shotgun resting on his shoulder, the butt of it pointed at the Red Stars. “I have men at the ends of every street exit and they’ll just shoot you down.”

  As if in response, a few banditos spilled out from the street behind the three boys. The banditos were breathing heavily, but lifted their guns. Luke, his eyes crazed, finished his reload and turned. He fired at them in quick succession. Two of them fell flat. The other two stumbled towards cover.

  “Screw him! Let’s move!” Luke shouted.

  “No, Jeb’s right,” said Sandy. “There’s only one way out of here.” He raised his rifle again and pointed it at the sheriff.

  Sheriff Wickee snorted. “I told you. Bullets won’t hit me.”

  “Yeah?” Sandy replied. “Well I don’t miss.”

  This time Sandy moved the sights to something he knew he could hit. He aimed to the left of the sheriff’s face and fired. His bullet struck the wooden stock of the shotgun, shattering it and sending splinters right into the sheriff’s face.

  Jeb cried out in pain and surprise and stumbled backward. Sandy and Luke spurred their horses forward. The sheriff saw them barreling towards him at the last moment and was forced to dive out of the way.

  The three men rode past him, galloping towards the edge of town. Jeb climbed back to his feet and drew his pistol. Blinking madly because of the tiny splinters in his eye, he fired after them.

  The Red Star Gang burst free from Puerta Muerte and headed for the hills just beyond town, followed by gunfire. There was no time for celebration. They split up, knowing that they would be hotly pursued, taking the two horses along preplanned escape routes.

  Sandy and Tom rode quietly, each of them troubled by their near capture and the bizarre power surrounding the man they had left behind. The specters that rode behind them were just as silent.

  The Red Star Gang’s hideout was located about four miles outside of Luna Gorda, close to a piece of land that Sandy’s father owned. It was one of Bobby Estrella’s old hideouts. The boys had discovered it a few months after his death while hunting rabbits.

  It was a hidden spot, nestled deep in a ravine between two rocky hills. No commonly used trails came near it and it wasn’t easy to get horses to climb up to the spot. But once inside, it was ideal. The interior of the ravine was flat and the high sides of the surrounding cliffs kept firelight hidden. In addition, there were several small caves in the walls just the right size for them to hide supplies and loot in. Over the years, they had cleared the ground of rocks and built a crude shack and a corral for horses. It had become a fine spot to rest while waiting out pursuit.

  Tom and Sandy rode into the hideout two days after the robbery to find out that Luke had got there several hours before them. He had already hauled water up from the stream, lit a fire and had a pot of water boiling. He laughed out loud when they arrived.

  “Ha! I knew you would make it!” he said with a grin.

  Tom smiled back weakly at him, wincing as he slid down from his place behind Sandy’s saddle. “Would’ve been here quicker if I hadn’t lost my horse.” He sighed. “I loved that horse.”

  “So you’ve said a hundred times,” grumbled Sandy, climbing down after him.

  “Hard pursuit?” Luke asked.

  Tom stretched, groaning as his back popped audibly. “Oh, they chased after us for a while.”

  “Nearly caught us,” Sandy corrected. “Would have if not for some freak rock slide that slowed them down.”

  “Yeah, lucky for us,” said Tom, scratching his head and thanking the Kid silently. He cleared his throat. “How about you, Luke?”

  “It got a little hairy. Had a whole contingent of Black Spots on my tail for a while taking pot shots at me.” The redheaded gunslinger shrugged. “Still, that’s over. I made it.” He rubbed his hands together. “What I want to do is divide up that loot.”

  Tom smiled back at him. “Now you’re talking.”

  The two of them pulled the saddlebags off of the horses and began dividing up the loot, separating it into three equal piles of gold, coin, and cash. Sandy stood by, trying to force a smile as he watched them. He found it hard to drum up much enthusiasm.

  He was still trying to grasp hold of what exactly had happened with the sheriff. It had been weighing on him ever since they had evaded their pursuers. He had really been wanting to ask Pecos about it, but there hadn’t been a way to talk to his mentor with Tom clinging to his back.

  Luke noticed his quiet demeanor. He finished dividing the last of the cash and walked over to Sandy, smacking him on the shoulder. “What are you looking so sour for? You see this haul? There’s nearly five thousand in cash each!”

  “And at least that much in gold, far as I can tell.” Tom added, still sorting coins and nuggets. He sighed. “Too bad we had to leave so much of that loot behind. There had to have been at least sixty thousand easy.”

  “We ended up with plenty. More than we need right now,” said Sandy irritably. “Tell you the truth, I’m worried about the loot Luke took from that strongbox.”

  Luke’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Why? It was part of the plan. Besides, that was nothing compared to the rest.”

  “Because we don’t know who it belonged to,” Sandy snapped, his frustration with the whole situation bubbling over. “The point of the robbery was just to take the Sheriff’s money. We didn’t want to stir everyone else up.”

  “It couldn’t have been all that important,” Luke retorted. “Hell, the clerk practically begged me to take it.”

  “Was that just before you shot him in the head?” Sandy asked.

  Luke winced.

  “Whoa now,” said Tom.

  “I told you he grabbed a gun!”

  “Yeah, I saw it in his hands,” Sandy admitted. “Just don’t know if I believe you had no choice. That man was no gunfighter.”

  “I said whoa!” exclaimed Tom. “There’s no sense arguing about it now. That’s past.” He pointed at the piles of money. “Look at that! Lo
ok at it. That’s our take, split evenly. Let your imaginations dwell on that for a moment.” He laughed. “Come on! Dream a little! What do you two want to do with your shares? I think I might roll around in mine for awhile.”

  Luke pulled his eyes away from Sandy’s and allowed his smile to reappear. “Good question.” He walked over to his pile and started shoving his stacks of cash back into his saddlebags. “I’m gonna think on that. There’s so many places I could spend this cash! Not sure what to do with all that gold just yet, though. I’ll tell you what, Tom. You can hide it away for me for now.” He pointed a stern finger at Tom. “Just don’t invest it in none of your schemes.”

  “Fine,” said Tom with a roll of his eyes. “Sandy?”

  Sandy, still frowning, stood in front of his pile. “I won’t be spending it anywhere close to home. You know Jeb will be watching Luna Gorda.” Chewing his lip, he added, “In fact, we all need to be going far from here.”

  “That’s a good point,” said Tom. “I was going to say the same thing. What do you two say to heading north in a week or so? There’s a big scheme I’ve been thinking about that we’ve got more than enough money to try.”

  “Good luck with that.” Sandy started loading his portion of the loot into his own saddlebags. “I’ll be taking my leave now.”

  “What?” said Luke. “What do you mean, now?”

  Tom blinked at him. “Yeah. Don’t get stupid, Sandy. We need to lay low for a few days. Wait until the heat drops before we go running around.”

  “Jeb ain’t dropping the heat. You two lay low here. I’ll take my chances,” Sandy decided. He lifted the saddlebags and walked them over to his horse.

  Luke stormed after him. “Is this about that clerk I killed? Or the outlaws in town that were chasing after us? I told you I had no choice. Sometimes there has to be killing.”

  “He’s right, Sandy,” Tom said. “We won’t become famous outlaws without having to shoot folks from time to time.”