The Man Without a Gun

by Lauran Paine

  Sundance and Calabasas crawled back beside Jack. They both concurred with Tex Connelly.

  For a while there was silence. The light in the east was widening. Finally Sundance stood up and dusted his britches off. He studied Jack’s face in the shadows. “Come on, Calabasas. Let’s get out of here before sunup catches us.”

  The thin man got to his feet. So did Jack. “Wait,” he said to both gunmen.

  Calabasas smiled understandingly. “Hell of a thing when a feller’s got principles, Jack. You always was like that. It makes life sort of complicated. Now I’m not sayin’ I don’t have ’em, but they don’t include sittin’ in a jail.” Calabasas’s tawny eyes fixed themselves on Jack’s face. “You comin’ with us or goin’ with the deputy?”

  Before Jack could answer, Sundance spoke to him.

  “Listen, old son...if you let them put you in their jail, Logan’ll give you the big six. He’ll get to you through a window or a door, but he’ll get to you. You’d best come with us.”

  Jack nodded. “All right. But I’ve got something I want the sheriff to have.”

  Sundance scratched his cheek, then shrugged. “All right, call your deputy up here. We’ll get around the spire. If he throws down on you, we’ll disarm him.” The Kid tilted his head. “But let’s not waste any more time. It’ll be light directly.”

  Jack called out, facing north. “Will...?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Come on over here by this sandstone needle.”

  The deputy moved forward without another word. When he was close enough to see Jack, he reined up, looked around, then swung down, and led his horse the last hundred feet. His expression was sardonic.

  “Like usin’ a tied chicken to bait up a coyote,” he said.

  Jack had put Sundance’s gun inside his waistband under his coat. Will saw the bulge, stared, but said nothing about it. In fact, he didn’t speak at all until Jack had taken some folded papers from his pocket and was holding them out.

  “What’s that?”

  Jack ignored the question. “I want you to give these to Hoyt Farmer. Don’t show them to another living soul and don’t read them yourself.”

  Spencer’s face lifted. “No? Mind tellin’ me somethin’? Where did you get ’em, Jack?”

  “From Logan’s office in town.”

  The left-handed deputy did not look surprised. He put out a hand, took the papers, and pocketed them. “All right. Hoyt’ll get ’em and I won’t look at ’em...unless Hoyt asks me to.” He buttoned the flap over his pocket. “Now then...you comin’ back to town with me?”

  “Afraid not, Will.”

  “No,” the deputy replied dryly, looking at the sandstone spire. “I didn’t figure you were.” He went up to his horse, mounted, and looked straight down at Jack. “I know about your friends. So does Hoyt and so does Logan. Jack, you haven’t got a legal leg to stand on. You got no right to the kid. You’re a fugitive from the law...an’ I think you’re packin’ a gun. Can I give you a little advice?”

  “Sure, Will.”

  “Ride on. While you’re free...saddle up an’ leave the country.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I told Rob a man didn’t run from trouble, Will. I told him that the night I brought him back from the mountains. He came because he believed in me. How would it look if I ran now?”

  Spencer lifted his reins, nodded in silence, and rode back the way he had come.

  XII

  Five hard-riding horsemen clattered toward the brightening horizon in a tight group. The man beside Jack wore a broad smile.

  “Sure good to see you again,” he was saying. “Takes a feller back a few years to be ridin’ like this.”

  A thick-shouldered man with a fierce longhorn mustache interrupted by throwing up an arm and pointing. “There go Logan’s railroaders.” He smiled wolfishly. “I’ll bet they hit their boss up for more money. Thought they were chasin’ an unarmed man...and run up against us.”

  The man beside Jack chuckled. “When that deputy come up, they run for home like a bunch of kids caught stealin’ from the cookie jar.” He looked down at the bulge under Jack’s coat. “You use that thing, boy?”

  Sundance answered for Jack. “Naw, he didn’t use it. But I got a feelin’ he might. How about it, Jack?”

  “I’ll use it, but not if we keep riding this direction. Logan’s back in Herd.”

  Red Ewart slowed his horse, looped the reins, and went to work on a cigarette. From behind the wicked curl of his big mustache he said: “Jack, what do you know about Logan that’d be a federal offence?”

  “Nothing, Red. Not a blessed thing.”

  Connelly, still grinning, joined the conversation. “Leave him handle it his way, Red. He knows what he’s doing.”

  “Sure,” Ewart replied, lighting up. “But I’m a lawman, too, remember. I hadn’t ought to be a party to a killing unless it’s legal-like.”

  Calabasas laughed. “We’ll make it legal-like, won’t we, Sundance?”

  “Sure, legal as all get out. Listen, you hop toads, I got an idea. That Herd lawman knows two of us. We came here on the Yuma stage with him. But there’s one of us he doesn’t know.”

  “Me,” the deputy marshal said. “I know what you’re thinking, Sundance. You’re figuring I could go into Herd.”

  Sundance nodded. “That’s right. The law knows me, it knows Tex and Calabasas an’ Jack. It doesn’t know you...at least not your face.”

  “All right. What about it?”

  “You get Logan to take a ride with you...and bring him to us.”

  “He couldn’t do it,” Jack interposed. “You tried it and failed. By now Logan’ll be suspicious of all strangers.”

  Sundance was undaunted. “All right then, he can still hang around town and watch for Logan. When he rides out, Red can trail him...signal his direction...and we can intercept him. That’d work just as well.”

  They rode a short distance, turning this over in their minds. Meanwhile, the sun popped up over a distant black snag of mountain and poured yellow light down on the desert. Jack halted and looked over the desert to get his bearings. They were several miles northeast of Logan’s railroad camp, farther out on the desert than he’d ever been before. Nearby was a clump of ragged cottonwoods. At their base was the only greenery in sight. He dismounted and walked toward the trees, leading his horse. The others followed his example. When they were all in the shade, horses grazing, Red Ewart sprawled under a tree, pushed his hat back, and looked at the others.

  “It might work,” he said. “The worst that could happen would be that Sheriff Farmer’d catch me...and I’ve got a bigger badge than his. He couldn’t hold me.”

  Jack was torn between his desire to meet Logan, and his fear that Ewart might be walking into more trouble than Jack had any right to ask him to risk. He sank down on the grass, thinking.

  It was Sundance, supported by the Calabasas Kid, who argued heatedly in favor of the plan. Finally Tex Connelly sided with Sundance and Calabasas. Because Ewart was willing, this left Jack alone in his opposition. Red got up, tugged his hat forward, and started for his horse.

  “I’ll signal with a pocket mirror,” he said over his shoulder. “One flash...Logan’s bound for the railroad camp. Two flashes...he’s heading for Herd from the camp. Three flashes...he’s riding south on the stage road. You got that?”

  Jack nodded, watching the deputy marshal swing across his mount. “One more signal, Red. If Logan’s alone...one long flash. If he’s got his crew with him...two long ones.”

  Ewart nodded, cast a look at the others, then bobbed his head, spun his horse, and loped southwest across the burning land. Jack watched him go; he had misgivings. Sundance, watching him from beneath a tugged-down hat brim, said: “You worry too much, boy. Red’s been around a long time. Not
hing’ll happen to him.”

  Jack lay back, saying nothing. The shade, the cool green earth under him, and the rhythmic grinding of jaws where the horses grazed worked a subtle magic. He was dozing off when, as though from a great distance, he heard Tex Connelly say: “Damn. I’m hungry enough to eat the stripes off a skunk.”

  It was close to sundown when a long shadow fell over him and a bony hand shook him by the shoulder. Jack opened his eyes with an effort. The Calabasas Kid grinned into his face.

  “Hey, boy, you goin’ to sleep till Doomsday? Tex’s got three sage hens cookin’ an’ we got the signal from Red.”

  Jack got up stiffly. His back ached and his joints felt stiff. From over where a small fire glowed and the fragrance of roasting meat came, Sundance looked up with a dry smile.

  “Didn’t used to take you that long to come up out of dreamland,” he said laconically.

  Tex Connelly laughed and held out a twig with sizzling meat on it. “Here, drape your fangs around this, boy. It’ll make you feel like culling wildcats while you’re waitin’ to tangle with Logan.”

  Jack took the meat, and the joshing, in silence. After he had eaten a little, he looked over where Calabasas was sprawling. “Well,” he said. “What’d the signal say?”

  Calabasas didn’t answer; Sundance did. “It said Logan’s headin’ for town...with two long flashes.”

  “His crew,” Jack mused.

  Sundance wiped his fingers on the grass and flexed them. “Nothin’ to worry about there, Jack. When the day comes us fellers can’t handle a posse of railroaders, we ought to hire out as sheepherders.”

  “How long ago did Red signal?” Jack asked.

  “Just before Calabasas woke you.” Sundance looked at Connelly and Calabasas. “Well, you fellers goin’ to keep fillin’ your faces all night...or shall we hit the trail?”

  Tex groaned and cast aside a glistening bone. “This is damnedest country I was ever in for goin’ hungry. If I was home, now....”

  “Yeah,” Calabasas said, getting to his feet. “If you was home that wife of your’n would have you dungin’ out a hen roost or somethin’.” He yawned and stretched. Then an idea came and his face brightened. “Tex, I know what’s wrong with you...you got worms. Belly worms.” He beamed at Jack and Sundance. “If you fellers’ll hold him down, I’ll make some worm medicine like we de-worm cattle with, and pour it down him.”

  Sundance got up with a laugh. Even Jack looked amused. Tex threw Calabasas a withering look and stood up. “One thing wrong with you,” he said to the tall, thin gunman. “You got two brains in one head.”

  Calabasas sniffed suspiciously. “Two? Well, what’s wrong with that? Two’re better’n one.”

  “Depends,” Connelly replied, heading for the horses. “Depends on their damned size. With you, now, one’s the size of a pea an’ the other’s a little bit of a thing.”

  Calabasas swore and Sundance guffawed. They both followed Jack to the horses and swung up. Tex gestured with his right arm.

  “Go on, Jack, this is your party. Lead the way.”

  Jack led out. Day was fast fading. Overhead, wind-shaped clouds cast ribbon-like shadows over a steely sky. Ahead, miles of flat country lay across their vision, broken only by spiny vegetation, until Jack saw the oak knoll. He swung south, passed the road leading to Herd from rail’s end, and pushed steadily through the dying day until a series of square blocks showed against the horizon.

  As Herd drew closer, Sundance spoke. His eyes were squinted nearly closed and his face was set in stone. “Jack, this here Logan’s got quite a mob if he’s got ’em all with him. I figure maybe you an’ Tex an’ me had best stick close together.”

  “How about me?” Calabasas demanded.

  “You watch that damned sheriff an’ his deputy.”

  “If they’re together, I will,” Calabasas retorted. “If they ain’t, I’ll watch the deputy. I figure he’s the aggressive type.”

  “Left-handed lawman,” Tex snorted. “Never saw one in my life amounted to a damn.”

  “I think,” Jack said, “Red’ll be watchin’ the law. If he is, Calabasas, you hunt the rest of us up.”

  Sundance urged his mount ahead, then reined up to study the town. When the others came up, he said: “Looks all right to me. Not too quiet...not too noisy.”

  Jack noted mentally that the town sounded about as it always sounded. Still, he had a queasy sensation in the pit of his stomach. When they were close enough to see people moving along the plank walks, Jack unbuttoned his coat. Sundance’s second gun glinted evilly. When the others crowded up close, Jack said: “Now listen. This is my fight. I want Logan.”

  “Hell, he’s yours,” Tex Connelly chirped cheerfully. “All I want is something decent to eat.” He shook out his reins.

  “Couple things I’d like to know before we get into this thing,” Sundance asked Jack. “First off...what becomes of the kid if you kill his uncle?”

  “He’ll be an orphan,” Jack answered. “And I’ll adopt him.”

  Three heads turned simultaneously. It was Calabasas who overcame his astonishment first. “You...adopt a kid?”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Jack demanded quickly.

  “Nothin’. Nothin’ at all...’cept...well....”

  “Oh, hell,” Tex growled at Calabasas. “We all grow up sometime. Can’t spend your whole life ridin’ around wavin’ a gun off a fast horse...you simpleton.”

  “No,” Calabasas said quickly, seeing the hard looks. “No, of course not. I...it just come on me sudden-like is all. No harm in it at all. In fact, I think....”

  “That’s just it,” Connelly grunted. “You don’t think.”

  “The other question,” Sundance queried. “What else you got against Logan, besides the way he’s been treatin’ the kid?”

  Jack looked long at them. Each weathered face had hard lines; each pair of eyes had a depth of deceptive calm; each mouth was a straight line. He had lived with these men; he had drunk and fought and shared secrets with them.

  “I’ll tell you what else I’ve got against Logan....”

  He told them. They listened. When he was through talking, they looked toward the town and back to one another’s faces again. It was Sundance who said: “Wouldn’t be right for the kid to ever learn about that, would it?”

  Everyone agreed that it would not.

  Jack lifted his reins. “Come on, the more we talk the less I like sitting here.”

  They followed him as far as the east alleyway, which led down behind the saddle shop. But Jack didn’t go that far south. He stopped at the hitch rack of the General Store, swung down, and tied up. Sundance, Connelly, and the Calabasas Kid followed his example. They moved away from the horses when Jack did. He went toward a dogtrot between two buildings and faded into its darkness, heading for the main thoroughfare beyond.

  At the dogtrot’s exit Jack stepped out onto the plank walk. South of him several doors was the railroad superintendent’s office. A bright orange square of lamplight shone out into the roadway. Across the road were shuttered stores and the long run of the roadway. Buck’s barn had both carriage lamps lit. Not far from the stable’s entrance Sheriff Farmer was in deep conversation with a man whose back was to Jack. Nearer, but also across the way, several men in flat-heeled boots were lounging under an overhang in a little group. There were four of them. Jack nudged Tex Connelly who was beside him.

  “See those clod heads yonder by the barbershop, the ones with flat heels?”

  “Yeah. They railroaders?”

  Jack nodded. “Probably the same ones that tried to bushwhack me earlier.”

  “There were more than four, that time,” Calabasas said, eyeing the lounging men. “Want me to sashay over there and...?”

  “Not yet,” Jack said quickly, seeing Calabasas begin to edge toward the roadway. �
��Let’s spot the others.”

  A livery rig whirled past, heading for Buck’s barn. Behind it, jogging easily, rode two ranch hands. The man Sheriff Farmer had been talking to turned suddenly and walked swiftly across the roadway, heading for the hotel. The way he slammed his feet down indicated anger. Jack watched him, saw the broadcloth suit and the bowler hat—and wondered.

  “There’s three more,” Sundance said suddenly. “Yonder, this side of the sheriff’s office.”

  Jack looked. It was not hard to identify Logan’s men. Their dress separated them from both cowmen and townsmen. Also, they stayed to themselves, did not offer to mingle with other people.

  “That makes seven,” Tex said. “Can’t be a whole lot more...can there?”

  Instead of answering, Jack simply shook his head. He was watching a fiercely mustached man who was smoking a cheroot in front of Cardoza’s Saloon, half hidden by darkness. Beside him, also smoking a cigar and lounging comfortably, stood Deputy Will Spencer. Tex also recognized the mustached man.

  “Hah, lookee yonder, boys. Red’s runnin’ with the herd. He’s went an’ bought the deputy a stogie.” Connelly’s chortle infected them all.

  When Calabasas spoke next, he sounded pleased: “That leaves the sheriff all to me. I want to see the look on his puddin’ face when he feels my single six in his kidneys.” Calabasas shuffled his feet impatiently. “What say, Jack...all set?”

  When Jack continued to study the pedestrians on both sides of the roadway without answering, Sundance spoke up.

  “Come on, Jack, there’s seven railroaders in sight. Calabasas can get the sheriff. Me ’n’ Tex’ll herd the railroaders together...an’ that’ll leave you an open field with Logan in his office.”

  The peculiar sensation Jack had felt beyond town returned. He felt unsure, apprehensive, but actually within his sight there was less to be concerned about than he’d seen under similar circumstances in years gone by. In those days he’d felt only the dark run of hot blood. Now, although he could not explain it even to himself, he felt uneasy.