The Wild Gun

by Jory Sherman

  “Abbie, I ain’t got the least idea what they say about Cordwainer in town.”

  “They say he’s just a gunslinger. When the law or some shop owner gets in trouble, they say they’ll get the Wild Gun.”

  “Well?”

  “That tells you who he is, Jess.”

  “Well, he’s right handy with a six-shooter, that’s for sure. That don’t make him bad.”

  “No? He who lives by the gun dies by the gun, I say.”

  “He got my horses back, didn’t he?”

  Jesse watched as Cord got closer. He saw the lumps on the two saddled horses and guessed they were the bodies of the horse thieves. Abigail wouldn’t like that much, he thought. He sipped the last of his coffee and walked back to the table, set the cup down.

  “I’m goin’ out to meet up with Cord.”

  Abigail walked to the window and harrumphed when she saw the bodies of the two men tied to their saddles.

  “Looks like he got more than your horses,” she said. “’Less I’m mistaken, he’s done kilt two more men.”

  “In a fair fight, I reckon.”

  “Pshaw, Jess. He probably shot ’em both in the back.”

  “That’s not Cord’s way.”

  “No, he probably likes to see men suffer afore he kills ’em.”

  “You don’t know the man, Abbie.”

  “I know the type of man he is,” she said.

  Jesse walked out the door. He was tired of arguing with his critical wife. She could peck a man to death with that sharp tongue of hers.

  Lelia chased more chickens around the house and disappeared as Jesse walked to the gate. He held up a hand in greeting as Cord rode up. Then he slid a hand into his front trouser pocket and pulled out a wad of folded greenbacks.

  “Howdy, Cord. You got ’em.”

  Cord reined up. He pushed his hat back from his forehead and looked at Jesse.

  “Got your horses and the two who stole ’em, Jess. I leave them all in your good hands.”

  “What am I supposed to do with two dead outlaws?”

  “Your call, Jess. If I were you, I’d send ’em back to the 2Bar2 and let Horace Weatherall read the handwriting on the wall.”

  “I don’t trust that man,” Jesse said.

  “Well, he likes your horses an awful lot.”

  “He’s a thievin’ scoundrel and I wouldn’t put it past him to come after me just to draw my blood.”

  “That’s a possibility, all right,” Cord said. He dismounted as one of the ranch hands, Pat Varnum, walked over from a corral in front of the barn. He was a lanky, short man, bowlegged as a pair of parentheses, with a scruffy moustache, face and hands tanned and weathered by sun. He wore a crumpled hat with a Montana crimp and smoked a quirly that stuck tight to his lower lip.

  “See you got your horses back, Jess,” Pat said. “They look to be in fine shape.”

  Pat looked at Cord, nodded. “Wild,” he said in acknowledgment.

  “Varnum,” Cord said.

  “Got them two horse thieves, too, did ya? How come you brung ’em here?”

  “Evidence,” Cord said.

  “Huh?” Varnum scratched the back of his head.

  “Proof,” Cord said.

  “Hell, you should have just let them two rot out up in the hills,” Varnum said.

  “To each his own,” Cord said and swung down out of the saddle.

  “Take my horses to the stables, Pat,” Barnes said. “Curry and grain ’em. See that they drink some of that springwater.”

  “Yes, sir,” Pat said. He took the lead rope from Cord, blew smoke out of the side of his mouth.

  “And put out that quirly, Pat, less’n you set somethin’ afire when you do your chores.”

  Varnum threw his cigarette down and ground it under his boot heel.

  “What about them?” Pat asked, gesturing toward the two dead men. “And their horses?”

  “I’ll have Ray tote ’em over to the 2Bar2 when I see him,” Jesse said.

  “We could sell them horses and saddles,” Pat said. He started walking toward the livery, pulling on the lead rope.

  “You want to dig graves for those two, Pat?” Jesse said. “They’re gettin’ right ripe.”

  “Naw. You do what you want with ’em.”

  Cord wrapped his reins around the hitch rail and reached into his saddlebag. He pulled out some butcher paper, unwrapped it, and filched a stalk of rhubarb from the stack inside. He stuck the stalk in his mouth and chewed the end of it.

  “Hungry? Want some grub, Cord?” Jesse asked.

  “No, I chawed on jerky and hardtack a while back, Jess. I just wanted to let you know I’m not doin’ this anymore.”

  “Here’s your money, Cord. Twenty a head. They’s eighty dollars in this here wad.” He pressed the money into Cord’s hand.

  “Thanks,” Cord said.

  “What do you mean you ain’t doin’ this no more?”

  “No more man tracking, killing. I’ve had enough of this sort of work.”

  Lelia came around the corner of the fence and ran up close to Cord.

  “Howdy, Lelia,” he said. He took off his hat out of politeness.

  “Why, howdy, Cordwainer,” she said. “You got our horses back.”

  “Yes’m,” he said. He took the rhubarb out of his mouth and stood awkwardly, so close to her he could smell the lilac water on her face, the fragrance of her hair.

  Jesse looked on with the air of a proud father.

  “Did you get hurt?” she asked.

  Cord shook his head. “No’m,” he said.

  “But you got them two horse thieves. I can smell ’em.”

  “Yes’m, they been dead awhile.”

  She looked up at him with frank admiration. Her eyes fluttered and her lashes were coquettish. Deliberately.

  Cord squirmed in his skin.

  “How about some coffee?” she asked. “And you can tell us all about how you hunted them men down and . . .”

  “He don’t want no coffee, Lelia,” Jesse said.

  “I could use a taste,” Cord said in contradiction.

  “Why, I’ll see if we have a fresh pot. Daddy, you comin’?” She flitted away like some prairie nymph through the gate and into the house.

  “Sure you want coffee, Cord?” Jesse asked.

  Cord slid the bills into his trouser pocket. “And to set a spell,” he said.

  “Lelia overstepped her boundary,” Jesse said.

  “She’s the prettiest thing I’ve seen all week,” Cord said.

  “Abbie won’t like it none, you and Lelia battin’ eyes at each other.”

  “Abigail doesn’t like much of anything,” Cord said and then wished he hadn’t.

  “Well, she’s all I got to keep the house in order.”

  “I know. She won’t have to worry about me. I’m not looking for a wife just yet.”

  “No, maybe you ain’t, but Lelia, she’s got eyes for you. Plain as day.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Cord said.

  “I hope you don’t find out, then.”

  “You object to me courtin’ your daughter, Jess?” Cord asked as the two headed for the front door of the ranch house.

  “I ain’t objectin’ so much, but Abbie, she . . .”

  Cord held up a hand to stop him from saying more. “I know, I know,” he said. “Abigail thinks I’m riffraff, a no-good saddle tramp with a trigger-happy disposition.”

  Jesse laughed. “That’s pretty much what she thinks, all right.”

  “I’ll try not to spill coffee on her doilies,” Cord said as they reached the door.

  The two men went silent as they entered the house, both prepared to face the hostility they would find inside. In the form of Abigail.

&nbs
p; But all Cord could think about was Lelia. Women like her didn’t come down the pike that often. She was a beauty, all right, but maybe not for the likes of him.

  Or was she?

  A man could dream, couldn’t he?

  EIGHT

  Lelia whispered something to her mother when Cord walked into the house.

  Abigail frowned but waddled off to the kitchen to fetch the coffeepot. Lelia began to empty the tray in her hands. She set cups at three places as her father commandeered the chair at the head of the table.

  “Set yourself, Cord,” Barnes said, pointing to the chair next to him.

  Lelia sat down as her mother approached with a steaming coffeepot in her hand.

  “Ma’am,” Cord said as he removed his hat and nodded to Abigail.

  “Mr. Wild,” Abbie said. “I see you brought back my husband’s horses.”

  “Yes’m,” Cord said as he sat in his designated chair.

  “And two dead men who stink to high heaven,” Abigail said.

  Barnes shot Cord a sharp look as if to stay his tongue.

  Cord said nothing. He just nodded as Lelia looked on, smiling at Cord.

  Abigail poured coffee into the cups as if she were doling out fare for the poor.

  Barnes sat there like a lord, with his wide shoulders and heavy frame, his brushy moustache and thick gray-streaked eyebrows on ledges over his hazel eyes. He hailed from Tennessee, where he had cultivated a love of horses since early boyhood. He had met Abigail in church and she immediately set her hooks out for him. Before he knew it, she had wormed her way into his father’s household, taken charge when Jesse’s mother had died. She kept him away from other eligible girls until his father forced him to marry the woman who doted on him. Abigail had been slim when they married, but ten years of indulgent eating had put pounds on her small frame. Abigail had gained what she wanted—Jesse—and no longer cared about her personal appearance. She possessed him, and Lelia had sealed the marriage contract, until Jesse felt as if he was Abigail’s prisoner in a loveless marriage.

  His thick arms braced his muscular torso on the table as he glowered at his wife, who filled his cup at the very last. She sat down after placing the coffeepot on a round piece of earthenware in the center of the table.

  “Well, here we all are,” Lelia said with a joyous lilt to her voice. She lifted her cup and batted her eyelashes at Cord.

  “You should not speak unless spoken to, Lelia,” Abigail said to her daughter.

  “We don’t get company that often, Ma,” Lelia said.

  “It’s good to be with real people again,” Cord said. He smiled at Lelia.

  “What do you mean by that, Mr. Wild?” Abbie said.

  “I come out of the mountains with only horses for company,” Cord said.

  “And two corpses,” Abbie said. “Men you shot dead.”

  “Abbie . . . ,” Barnes warned.

  “You’re right, ma’am,” Cord said. “Two horse thieves who should have been hanged. According to the law, that is.”

  “What do you know about the law, Mr. Wild?”

  “I know the punishment for horse thieves, ma’am,” Cord said.

  “Now, now,” Barnes interrupted, “let’s not talk about dead men and the law. Abbie, show some politeness to our guest. He’s not on trial here.”

  Cord drank from his cup as if to escape the tirade he was sure Abigail was ready to unleash on her husband.

  “He’s your guest, Jess, not mine,” Abbie said.

  “Ma . . .” Lelia put a hand on her mother’s as if to shut her up before they were all embarrassed. At the same time, she slipped her foot out of her sandal and stretched her leg. She touched Cord’s leg with her toes and wriggled them.

  Cord looked across the table at Lelia as he felt something on his leg. She wore a look of innocence. But her toes wiggled and she began to stroke his leg up and down with those same soft toes.

  Then she smiled coquettishly at Cord.

  His face was a mask as he continued to stare at Lelia.

  “Is something wrong, Mr. Wild?” Abigail asked as she noticed a trickle of sweat crawl from under his scalp and stream down to his cheek. “Is it too warm in here for you?”

  “No, I’m fine, ma’am,” Cord said. He wiped his cheek. “It must be the hot coffee.”

  Just then, there was a knock on the door.

  “Come in,” Jesse called.

  The door opened and a man walked into the front room. He removed his hat when he saw the assemblage at the table.

  “I see you got your horses back, Jess,” the man said.

  “Pull up a chair, Ray,” Barnes said. He pointed to a chair pushed against the wall, next to another, set there for extra company.

  “Ray Dobbs, meet Cordwainer Wild,” Jesse said as Ray lifted the chair and brought it to the table.

  “Heard of you,” Ray said, extending one hand to shake Cord’s.

  “Likewise,” Cord said. “You’re Jess’s foreman.”

  “Yep.” Ray sat down in the chair, dropped his hat to the floor.

  “Coffee, Ray?” Abbie said with an exaggerated sweetness to her tone. This was an indication to Cord that Ray was welcome at her table while Cord was not.

  “No’m. I’m plumb full of java. I just wanted to know what Jesse wanted to do about them two corpses out there. They’re right ripe already and the sunrise ain’t goin’ to make it any better.”

  “Cord thinks you ought to ride them thieves back to the 2Bar2 and let them bury the carcasses,” Jesse said.

  Ray looked at Cord.

  Ray was a short, lean man, wiry as a willow sapling, wearing a dusty shirt, a bandanna around his neck, and a silver and turquoise band on his left wrist. He had short sandy hair that sprouted in all directions, with a gleam of sweat where his hatband had left an impression on his hatchet forehead. He had pale blue eyes that looked almost white at certain angles.

  “You can take their rifles and gun belts, boots, saddles, bridles, anything else you want, and tote ’em over to the 2Bar2 bareback,” Cord said.

  “You don’t want none of their stuff?” Ray asked.

  Cord shook his head.

  “Well, we can always use an extry saddle or two, and the guns might come in handy down the road,” Ray said. He grinned a gap-toothed smile.

  Lelia withdrew her foot and slipped it back into her sandal.

  Cord let out a sigh of relief.

  “I’ll lug them dead boys over to the 2Bar2,” Ray said, “but Weatherall will throw a prime fit when he sees them boys dead.”

  “They’re his responsibility,” Jesse said. “Horace hired ’em, he can damn sure bury ’em. Take as many men as you need, Ray, and just run them horses through Weatherall’s gate and then hightail it back to the JB.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll take Ned Parsons and Boyd Cummins along in case we run into any nervous hands on the 2Bar2.”

  “Good idea,” Jesse said.

  Ray rose from his chair and grabbed the wooden back to return it to the wall. “I’ll get right on it, boss,” he said. “Pleased to have met you, Wild.”

  “Call me Cord.”

  “Okay, Cord.”

  Ray set the chair against the wall, then walked back, picked up his hat from the floor.

  “Mrs. Abbie, Miss Lelia, thanks for your hospitality,” Ray said. He walked toward the front door.

  “Anytime, Ray,” Abigail said. “You’re always welcome in my home. Unlike some people.” She shot Cord a look of scorn.

  Ray walked outside and eased the door shut behind him.

  “Cord’s a guest here, too,” Jesse said to his wife.

  “Your guest. Not mine.”

  “I tell you, woman, sometimes you raise my gall to an intolerable level.”

  Abigail got up without finishi
ng her coffee. “You’re known by the company you keep, Jesse,” she said, and strode off toward the kitchen under the glare of Jesse’s eyes.

  “Sorry, Cord. The woman has a mind of her own.”

  “I can see I’ve worn out what little welcome I had. I’m going to Cheyenne for a shave and a warm bath.”

  Cord started to rise up from his chair.

  “Cord, I may need you again,” Jesse said. “If Weatherall comes gunnin’ for me.”

  “I told you, I’m going to hang up my gun except for hunting and snakes,” Cord said.

  “Must you leave so soon, Cord?” Lelia asked, a pleading tone to her voice.

  “Yes’m,” he said. “I’m plumb weary and about as ripe as those dead men out there.”

  “But you’ll be back?” she said.

  He looked at her, and something inside him melted. Quivered. He stood up, hat in hand.

  “I might come to call sometime, if it’s okay with your folks,” he said. His tone was soft and full of an unspoken promise.

  “It’s sure all right with me,” Jesse said, a smile on his face.

  There was a loud “Harrumph” from the kitchen, followed by the slam of a cupboard door.

  “Well, that’s one of you,” Cord said to Barnes. “I’ll be seein’ you, then. Lelia, Jesse.”

  Lelia watched Cord walk to the door, open it, and go out. Her face fell and she looked as if she might cry.

  Jesse reached over and patted the back of her hand with his.

  “Don’t you worry none, honey,” he said. “Cord’ll be back. One of these days.”

  “I hope so, Pa,” she said.

  Then she rose from her chair and skipped to the window. She watched Cord mount up and ride away. His departure left her with a feeling of sadness that surprised her. There was something about the man that touched her deeply. He seemed so strong in contrast to the other men she knew from town and on the ranch.

  Then there was her mother. Cold of heart and stern of mind.

  “Good-bye, Cord,” she murmured to herself. “Please come back.”

  Jesse finished his coffee as he stared at his daughter. Unless he was mistaken, she had her sights set on Cordwainer Wild. If so, she might wind up with a broken heart.

  For, he knew, Cord was not only a man not easily tamed, but one who might not live long. He knew Cord would not hang up his guns for long.