Righteous Kill

by G. Michael Hopf

  Harry’s body went limp.

  Feeling comfortable that he was dead, Joseph pulled the sheet from the bed and rolled Harry’s body onto it, wrapping him up. He walked to the door, opened it and said, “Take him away.”

  Henry and Gus came into the room.

  “What a dumb bastard.” Gus chuckled.

  “I kinda liked him. We had some good conversations,” Henry said.

  “Take him to the pig farm. I have it all arranged. When you’re done, you can find me at the saloon,” Joseph said.

  Gus and Henry hauled away Harry’s body.

  While Harry had been preparing for his bath, Joseph had prepared for his death. He had followed him to the hotel and paid the clerk for information about Harry’s room and where he could find a place to get rid of the body. Using pigs to devour a corpse was always a foolproof method, so he’d made those arrangements, then came back to find Harry at his most vulnerable in the bath. It was a good plan and, like so few, had worked out perfectly. Joseph wasn’t lying to Harry about him being a liability. No one likes loose ends, and Harry had made himself one without consciously knowing he was. The thing was, Harry wasn’t built for this type of work, and in the end, it cost him his life.

  Joseph gathered up Harry’s possessions, stuffed them in his saddlebags, and slung it over his shoulder. Just before he closed the door, he glanced at the tub and said, “A bath does sound good.”

  TWELVE MILES SOUTHWEST OF GREAT FALLS, MONTANA

  Billy tied Al’s horse to a tree and helped him out of the saddle. “Go over there and sit down. Don’t even think about making a run for it.”

  Al gave Billy a glance and did as he said without muttering a muffled word, as the gag was still in his mouth.

  After making their campsite for the night, Billy walked over to Hemsworth and sat down. “Can we talk?”

  Biting into his hardtack, Hemsworth replied, “I’m all ears.”

  “About yesterday, I again overreacted and I’d like to apologize.”

  “There’s nothing to apologize for, my friend. I was the one who stepped out of bounds.”

  “And you are a friend, you’ve been one since the first day we met,” Billy said.

  “That’s a nice thing to say,” Hemsworth said as he chewed.

  “And since you’re my friend, I think I owe you a full explanation.”

  “No need. How about we just sit in silence and listen to the coyotes in the distance serenading us?” Hemsworth quipped.

  Looking off towards the darkening sky, Billy said, “I suppose you must think me odd for not wanting to bed any woman who comes along.”

  “I wouldn’t say you’re odd; you’re just not like many men who think with that thing between their legs. You have a code, a value system that men long for but are unable to keep. You’re a true man of integrity. Though you have a temper now and then, you never truly waver, and I think that makes you an honorable man,” Hemsworth said truthfully.

  “You mean that?”

  “I do, and I sensed that the first time we met, and you’ve only proven it over these past years. I have a lot to learn from you.”

  “Now that can’t be true,” Billy said, almost blushing from all the compliments.

  “It is true. Few men stick to their values like you do. You’re looking for a woman to have a life with, one you can trust to raise your children and instill those same values in them. I appreciate that and won’t ever put you in a situation that challenges that.”

  “I want what my ma had. Their marriage was special, a real love affair, but unfortunately he was taken too early.”

  “When I die, promise me you’ll give the eulogy,” Hemsworth said.

  “Don’t talk like that.”

  “I like to plan, sorry.”

  “You’re not going anywhere anytime soon,” Billy said.

  Looking across the flickering flames of the campfire, Hemsworth said to Al, “It’s day two and we’re still alive. Looks like I win the wager.”

  Al mumbled something unintelligible then looked away.

  “I’m serious, when I die, I want you to say great things about me,” Hemsworth said as he snapped off a piece of the hardtack with his teeth.

  “That’ll be easy to do, so yes, I’ll do it,” Billy said. “And if I die, will you do the same for me?”

  “It would be my honor, friend,” Hemsworth said, adjusting his seating position. “My back is killing me. My body is taking a beating from all these years of riding.”

  “It’s not the rides but the years; you’re an old man,” Billy joked.

  “Ain’t that the truth. Listen, I need to tell you something.”

  Seeing Hemsworth’s expression changed, Billy asked, “What?”

  “I think this may be my last ride,” Hemsworth confessed.

  “No.”

  “Yes, I am getting old, and to be honest, these jobs are wearing me out. I might have an opportunity at a desk job back in Coeur d’Alene.”

  “No, you can’t go from riding a horse to riding a desk,” Billy said.

  “I didn’t want to say anything until this was over, but I think I may have to hang up the old spurs.”

  Billy hung his head low and thought about the news. He then glanced over at Hemsworth with a supportive smile. “I’m happy for you. I hope it works out and you’re able to get that position.”

  “It’s not done yet, but before we left for Montana, I was given hope that it might happen.”

  “I suppose everything must come to an end at some point.”

  Chuckling, Hemsworth joked, “I haven’t told my wife yet of the possibility. I’m afraid she’ll not like the news.”

  “Just know that you’ll always be welcome to come back anytime you want.”

  Al clapped then pretended to wipe a tear from his cheek.

  “I do believe he’s mocking us,” Hemsworth said.

  “I think you’re right,” Billy said.

  “Remove his gag and give him this. We can at least provide him food and water.”

  Billy took a piece of hardtack and a canteen over to Al. He removed his gag and said, “Don’t run your mouth if you know what’s good for ya.”

  Famished and thirsty, Al grabbed the canteen with his bound hands, pulled the cork out, and put it to his mouth. He guzzled the water, much of it running out from the sides of his mouth. He emptied it, burped, then took the tack and bit off a large chunk. With his mouth full, he said, “This stuff normally tastes like hardened horse dung, but when you’re starvin’, it tastes like the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

  “You owe me for the wager,” Hemsworth taunted.

  “I’ll pay you later, how does that sound?” Al sneered as he bit off another large chunk of the tack.

  “Somehow I don’t think you’re one anyone can trust to pay their debts,” Hemsworth said.

  CHAPTER SIX

  JULY 12, 1895

  SEVEN MILES SOUTHWEST OF GREAT FALLS, MONTANA

  “I still can’t get rid of the image of those hogs just devouring poor Harry,” Henry said.

  “You keep saying poor Harry this, poor Harry that,” Joseph sniped. “If you want to join your poor ole friend, just let me or Gus know and we can arrange it.”

  “I was just sayin’,” Henry said.

  “Well, stop saying it,” Joseph said.

  “Say, where should we set up this ambush?” Gus asked. He was sore, tired, and all he could think about was sleeping, having not slept much the night before.

  “Just up ahead, I recall a nice rock outcropping off the road. There we’ll have a good vantage point.”

  “Ah, this might sound like an odd question, but how will we know if they ride past?” Henry asked.

  “We’ll figure it out. Stop worrying about every little detail; you’re starting to sound like your ole pal Harry,” Joseph groaned.

  The sound of horses and men talking came from just ahead.

  Joseph raised his hand and said, “Shush, I hear something.�
��

  The three came to a stop and listened.

  Joseph cocked his head and listened intently. The sounds of horses and chatter grew louder, meaning whoever it was were closer.

  “Off the road,” Joseph said, pointing to a grove of aspens nearby.

  They turned their horses around, but it was too late. Over a small rise came the source of the sound; it was Hemsworth, Billy and Al.

  Realizing they’d been spotted, Joseph said, “Come back around and head towards them; otherwise it will seem odd.”

  Gus and Henry did as Joseph said without complaint.

  Joseph looked intently at the men and saw that the person in the saddle at the end was Al, the man they had been sent to rescue. “Well, I’ll be damned, it’s him,” Joseph said.

  “You sure? How do you know?” Henry asked.

  “Al is the man riding on the last horse, with the gag in his mouth,” Joseph informed the other two.

  “What do we do?” Gus asked.

  “We stand our ground and have them approach. We have them outgunned. We offer some conversation to lull them into thinking we’re innocent travelers, then blast them. And, fellas, don’t shoot Al.”

  “Which one is Al?” Henry asked.

  “The one in shackles…damn fool,” Joseph said.

  ***

  “Riders ahead,” Billy said.

  “I see them,” Hemsworth acknowledged.

  “Should we ride around them?”

  “No, keep going, but we should identify ourselves as marshals.”

  “You sure about this? Something doesn’t feel right,” Billy said.

  “Is your gut telling you this, or do you see something not right?”

  “My gut.”

  Hemsworth pulled back on the reins of his horse and came to a stop. Billy did the same. Holding up his hand, he hollered, “United States Marshals.”

  Joseph, Gus and Henry slowly rode up, stopping ten or so feet from Hemsworth.

  “United States Marshals? How do I know you are who you say you are?” Joseph asked, leaning forward in his saddle, his right hand drawn back and casually sitting on his thigh.

  Hemsworth pulled his overcoat to the side to show his badge.

  Feigning that he couldn’t see, Joseph squinted and said, “I see a badge that looks like a five-pointed star. Is that what marshals wear?”

  “Let us pass. We have important business,” Hemsworth said.

  As Hemsworth talked, Billy eyed the three, paying close attention to where their hands were.

  Joseph looked up to the late morning sky and said, “It’s gonna be a hot one, I fear, scorching heat.”

  “Pull aside and let us pass,” Hemsworth said.

  “Marshal, the road is wide enough for both of us, can’t you see?” Joseph said.

  Hemsworth didn’t reply. Like Billy, he sized the men up and could see they weren’t normal travelers. By the way they were dressed along with how their gun belts were set up, these men just looked like trouble. “You’re right, the road is wide enough. We’ll be on our way.”

  “What did your prisoner do?” Joseph asked.

  “He’s a murderer, liar and cheat,” Billy snapped.

  “Sounds like he’s a very bad man,” Joseph said.

  “He is,” Hemsworth said.

  “Where you taking him?” Joseph asked.

  “You have a lot of questions for a passerby,” Hemsworth said.

  Henry was growing increasingly nervous. He knew that soon a fight would break out. He wasn’t as skilled as Joseph or Gus, so to make sure he had somewhat of an edge, he slowly pulled his hand back near the grip of his pistol.

  Spotting Henry’s subtle movement, Billy barked, “You touch the grip of your pistol and I’ll drop you.”

  Henry froze.

  Joseph grinned and said, “Marshal, there’s no need to threaten my man. He’s just nervous is all.”

  “Why would he be nervous?” Hemsworth asked.

  “Oh, he’s not used to being around lawmen like yourself,” Joseph replied.

  “Or is it because he’s a wanted man?” Billy asked.

  A swift breeze swept over them and kicked up a dirt devil that whizzed around for a moment before dying out as quickly as it had formed.

  The tension was building between the two groups, with neither wanting to initiate what they all knew was coming.

  Hemsworth knew the advantage of winning any gunfight went to the man who drew first. So if there was to be a fight, he might as well draw first. The only issue was his right hand was on the horn of his saddle, a good foot and a half away from his Colt, which sat nestled in its holster.

  Sweat beaded on Henry’s brow and his hands began to tremble.

  Billy kept his gaze upon Henry and his anxious behavior while also giving heed to the other two. Like Hemsworth, Billy knew whoever drew first was normally the winner in a gunfight.

  Of them all, Gus sat silent in his saddle, his hand close to drawing his pistol.

  Al could also sense that a fight was close to occurring, and if he had any chance of escaping, it would be now. With Billy and Hemsworth focused on the three, he decided he needed to create a distraction. He kicked his horse hard in the ribs; the jolt sent the horse rearing up enough to throw him.

  Billy and Hemsworth both glanced back to see the commotion.

  With Al’s diversion, Joseph saw his opportunity. He drew, cocked his pistol and fired. His first round missed Hemsworth by less than an inch.

  Hemsworth not only heard the round crack but swore he also heard it whiz by his head. He and his horse spun around. He reached for his pistol, but before he could break leather, Gus had managed to get a shot off. This time the round hit Hemsworth in the left shoulder. He flinched from the blast but was able to rip his pistol from the holster. He cocked it, aimed and squeezed the trigger, his round striking Gus in the stomach.

  Henry had his pistol out, cocked, and was aiming, but never managed to get a round off, as Billy had also drawn but fired his before. The .45-caliber round deeply grazed his head, ripping a piece of his scalp off, and sent him toppling off the horse, unconscious.

  Joseph now had his pistol cocked again. He took aim on Hemsworth and fired. This time he didn’t miss.

  Hemsworth felt the bullet travel through him and exit. It was an odd sensation; he felt the searing pain followed by the gush of warmth as his blood poured from the wound. He looked down and saw the bloody hole in his vest and the blood beginning to soak through.

  Seeing he’d hit Hemsworth with a potentially fatal shot, Joseph put his attention on Billy, only to see the muzzle of Billy’s pistol trained on him. He ducked instinctually and in time to avoid being hit by Billy’s second shot, which flew by and hit Gus.

  Gus coughed and began to spit up blood. He clenched the wound in his neck, but seconds later he lost consciousness from blood loss and fell out of the saddle and onto the ground.

  Al watched in horror as Gus fell. The fight was now between Joseph and Billy, as Hemsworth seemed unresponsive, slumped over in the saddle. Al ran towards Billy and kicked his horse.

  Billy’s horse reared, almost throwing him off.

  This gave Joseph the time he needed. He cocked his pistol, took careful aim, and fired.

  Billy groaned as the .45-caliber round slammed into his side. It traveled through the fleshy part of his lower abdomen and exited.

  Al again went to kick Billy’s horse, but this time Billy saw him coming. He cocked his pistol, and although he bent over in pain, he managed to get a shot off, striking Al in the gut.

  Al dropped to his knees and fell over, reeling in pain.

  Joseph cocked his pistol, aimed and fired, but once more missed. He cocked the pistol and fired again; this shot hit Billy in the upper part of his left shoulder.

  Billy grunted in pain, swung around with his pistol, and went to shoot, but when he pulled the trigger, he found the chamber empty. Fear gripped him. He didn’t have a second pistol, reloading would take too
long, and going for his rifle in the scabbard wasn’t practical with Joseph feet from him and his thumb pulling back his hammer again. He needed to flee and now. “Ya!” Billy shouted as he kicked the sides of his horse hard. The horse responded and took off.

  Joseph aimed and pulled the trigger. But when the smoke cleared, he didn’t see Billy fall. “How the hell did I miss again?” He watched Billy disappear over the rise.

  When the dust settled, Joseph took a deep breath. He was amazed to have survived the ordeal without a scratch. Around him was carnage. He looked back and saw Gus and Henry down and not moving. He presumed them dead, but Al wasn’t. He squirmed on the ground, crying in pain. Joseph dismounted and went to Al. “How bad is it?”

  Al moaned, “It stings.”

  Joseph attempted to shift Al to get a better look but couldn’t. “Would you stop moving? I’m trying to see how bad it is.”

  “It hurts real bad,” Al whined.

  Finally getting his shirt pulled up, Joseph could see the entry wound in his lower abdomen. He rolled Al onto his side and examined his back. “Clean through. Lucky bastard.”

  “You came for me.”

  Sweat beaded on Joseph’s brow. “Of course I did.”

  Al and Joseph were friends from childhood but hadn’t seen each other in over a decade. They both had come to the States and become outlaws, with Al getting into fraud and gambling and Joseph becoming known as a hired killer, hence his nickname. Upon hearing through similar contacts that Al was on the run in Montana and needed some help, Joseph made himself available.

  “Am I going to die?” Al asked.

  “We need to get you mended up, but first we gotta get off this road,” Joseph said, taking Al by the hand and helping him to his feet.

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know, but we can’t stay here.”

  “Wait, the fellas who were with you, are they dead?” Al asked.

  “Everyone is dead, and if we don’t get moving, we’ll be dead too,” Joseph said. “Can you ride?”

  “Yeah,” Al said. “But can you take these off?” he asked, showing Joseph his hands.

  Joseph pulled the pin and removed the shackles. “Damn barbarians,” he scoffed. He tossed the shackles onto the dusty ground.

  Once both men were in the saddle, Joseph looked in both directions and said, “I recall seeing a cabin just up a ways. We’ll go there.”