The Wild Gun

by Jory Sherman

  “There was nothing we could have done. Weatherall stole them mares for one purpose. He wanted to kill Jesse.”

  Tears welled up in Ernesto’s eyes.

  “I know,” he said. “There was nothing we could do. You and me, we are lucky to be alive.”

  “You’re damned right, Ernesto. It could’ve been us back there, all shot up, our blood soakin’ into the ground. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Ernesto wept quietly on the ride back to the JB Ranch. He had lost a great friend. And now he would have to face the widow and the fatherless daughter and tell them the sad news.

  The sun did not seem so bright anymore.

  FOURTEEN

  Cord mounted up and watched as Earl climbed into the saddle.

  “Where do we start?” Earl asked.

  “We’ll ride up to the JB Ranch. That will be our base. I want to tell Jesse what happened to our pa and ma and have him bunk us when we’re not out hunting.”

  “Will he help us?” Earl asked.

  “I’m betting on it,” Cord said and touched spurs to Windmill’s flanks.

  The two wound their way down the trail, headed toward Cheyenne.

  Cord rode alongside his brother once they reached the flat. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of rhubarb stalks. He handed one to Earl.

  “Chew?” Cord said.

  “Ugh. I hate rhubarb.”

  “Ruminatin’ rhubarb, Earl.”

  “I know. That’s what Pa always said when he chewed on those things. I hate the taste.”

  Cord retrieved the proffered stalk and put it back in his pocket. His teeth crunched on the one in his mouth.

  “Makes the ride a lot easier,” he said.

  “How long will it take us to get to that ranch?” Earl asked.

  “Two, maybe three hours from Cheyenne.”

  They passed through town with its smells and carts and people barely noticing them. Earl viewed everything with wide eyes and the curiosity of a country boy. He felt more at home on the prairie with the sky a blue canopy above and miles of lonesomeness stretched out ahead.

  They entered the JB Ranch on a winding road under an archway that marked the boundary. The ranch house loomed up after they topped a rise and descended into a swale of grass.

  “There it is,” Cord said as he pointed an arm toward the house.

  When they rode up and halted their horses at the hitch rail, Ernesto opened the front door and came out to greet them.

  “Wild, you come at the right time,” Ernesto said. “A bad time.”

  “What? Where’s Jesse?”

  “He is dead, Cord. It is a long and sad story.”

  Cord and Earl dismounted and wrapped their reins around the crosstie.

  “But you’re going to tell me, Ernesto.”

  “Yes, I will tell you.”

  And he told the entire story about the stolen mares, the tracking, the ambush when Jesse Barnes was murdered.

  Earl listened in rapt fascination. He did not know the man who had been killed, but he drank in the entire story with his full attention.

  “Abigail and Lelia are inside the house,” Ernesto said. “They are weeping. They are grieving. I am happy that you are here, Cord.”

  “Just a little too late, it seems,” Cord said. “Let’s go in. I want to see Abigail and Lelia.”

  “But of course. Follow me.” Ernesto led the way and they all entered the house.

  Abigail looked up when Cord entered, her face wet with tears, her hair tangled from kneading it with frantic fingers. Lelia cowered next to her, her face just as wet, her eyes wide and tear-filled, one arm around her mother.

  Cord took off his hat and stood there. Earl noticed the gesture and quickly removed his own hat.

  “Abigail,” Cord said, “I’m so sorry about Jesse. Words can’t express my sorrow and my sympathy for you.”

  “Oh, Cord,” Lelia exclaimed as she arose from the couch and ran to him. She clasped Cord in an embrace and laid her head against his wide chest. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  He patted the back of her head with gentle taps of reassurance.

  She stepped back and looked up at him.

  “You will get those men, won’t you? And kill them.”

  “Yes,” Abigail hissed from the couch. “Jesse deserves justice, but I know that won’t bring him back to us.”

  “No, it won’t,” Cord said. “I’ll see what we can do.”

  “Who’s that with you?” Abigail asked. Lelia looked at Earl as if she had just noticed him.

  “This is my brother, Earl,” he said. “Horace’s brother murdered our pa, stole most of our horses, and our ma died, too.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Abigail said.

  “So we came here to tell Jesse we’re going after the whole bunch at Weatherall’s. It’s way past time that he was called up to answer for his crimes.”

  Abigail arose from the couch. She walked over to Cord and looked up at him. She wiped the tears from her face.

  “I’m glad you’re going after them, Cord. You know Jesse would be pleased if he were still alive.”

  “I know,” he said.

  Lelia hugged Cord and stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his cheek.

  He felt the heat of her, and when he looked down at her face, he could see the passion in her eyes. She was a beautiful young woman and she aroused feelings in him that had lain dormant. This was not the time or place, but she was desirable, and who knew what might lie ahead for the two of them? It was a fleeting thought, but the thought was there. He bowed his head and replaced his hat.

  “We’ll be heading out now,” he told Abigail, “but I might like to stay at the ranch when I’m not out hunting down Weatherall and his men.”

  “Of course,” she said. “You can stay here in the house. With Lelia and me.”

  “The bunkhouse is okay,” he said.

  “Nonsense. I won’t have you out there. You’ll be more comfortable in here. Lelia and I will cook for you and see to your every need.”

  “That’s very kind of you, Abigail,” he said and turned to leave. Ernesto stood next to the door, waiting.

  “Good-bye,” Earl said. “Glad to have met you ladies.”

  He put on his hat and followed his brother and Ernesto out the door.

  Cord and Earl walked to their horses.

  “Are we goin’ after them Weatherall hands right away?” Earl asked.

  “Yep. First, we’ll see about those mares. I know where that little ravine is and they might still be in there.”

  “I will go with you,” Ernesto said.

  “Just to get the mares back, Ernesto. The rest of the way, we’ll go it alone.”

  “I understand,” Ernesto said. “And I need to bring Jesse’s body back. I will get my horse. He is still saddled.”

  “Fine,” Cord said. He mounted his horse.

  He and Earl did not have to wait long for Ernesto. The three rode away from the JB Ranch toward the gully that was on the Weatherall ranch, not far from the JB boundary.

  Jesse’s body was still there. Buzzards had been at it, and were circling in the sky. The birds had picked at Jesse’s eyes and ripped his shirt open where he was the bloodiest. It was a sickening sight and Earl gagged to keep from throwing up his breakfast.

  From deep inside the gully, they heard the whinny of horses.

  “They’re still in there,” Cord said. “Ernesto, you and Earl stand guard while I ride in and see if I can drive them out.”

  Ernesto looked up at the mesa. It was quiet and he saw no one on top. Still, he pulled his rifle from its scabbard and scanned all around. Earl followed his lead and slipped his rifle from its boot.

  “It’s awful quiet,” he said to Ernesto.

  “It was no
t so quiet this morning.”

  Cord rode into the gully. The mares had cleared some of the brush so that he had a path to follow. He heard them crashing around, their hooves striking rock as they pawed to gain purchase on unstable ground.

  A few minutes later, he spotted one of the mares. She was frantic and nickered when she saw Cord and Windmill. He rode up to her and spoke in low tones to calm her.

  “We’ll get you out of here, girl,” he said. “Just hold on.”

  He approached, and the mare stood for him. He slipped his lariat around her neck, then saw the other mare, a dappled gray that was perched on a small ledge beneath the escarpment.

  “Come on, girl,” he said to the dappled gray, and the horse climbed down.

  Cord made another loop at the bitter end of his lariat and secured it around the gray’s neck. Then he held on to the center of his rope and turned Windmill back toward the entrance.

  Ten minutes later, they were out of the gully. Ernesto beamed with pleasure.

  “If you will help me,” he said to Earl, “I will put the body of Jesse on my horse and tie him down.”

  Earl slid his rifle back into its leather sheath and dismounted.

  “Take the feet,” Ernesto said.

  Earl lifted Jesse’s boots while Ernesto tugged at the dead man’s shoulders and lifted him from the bloody ground. They draped Jesse’s body on the rump of Ernesto’s horse, just behind the cantle. Ernesto ran a rope underneath his horse and wrapped it around Jesse’s hands and stiffened ankles, tied it tight.

  “I will take the horses back and we will bury Jesse,” Ernesto said.

  “Thanks, Ernesto,” Cord said. “You ride careful.”

  “I will. Vaya con Dios, amigo,” he said in Spanish. “Go with God.”

  Cord watched Ernesto ride back toward the JB Ranch.

  “Where do we go now, Cord?” Earl asked.

  Cord raised an arm and pointed.

  “Weatherall’s ranch lies yonder. We’ll make a wide circle and scout it from a distance.”

  “Do you expect to . . . ?”

  “I expect to spill some blood before the sun sets,” Cord said.

  Earl smiled. “That’s what I wanted to hear, Cord.”

  “You mind what I say to you, Earl. The dangerous part is not far away.”

  Earl nodded as Cord rode off in the direction of Horace’s ranch.

  The sun was just past noon and Cord knew that Weatherall’s hands would be on full alert. They had started something by murdering Jesse and they knew that somebody would come looking for retribution.

  Cord meant to see that the killers paid in full.

  FIFTEEN

  James Rowan rode in a wide circle beyond the corrals and nearby horse pastures. Horace had told him to make sure he could see anyone approaching from any direction.

  Will Corwin was also on horseback, and he had a pair of binoculars up to his eyes. He was staked out on a line with the gully, watching to see if any of Barnes’s hands came from that direction. He was very tense and nervous. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Rowan, but it gave him little comfort.

  The other hands were tending to the horses, but were also looking in all directions for any intruder.

  Beyond the sight of Horace’s men, Cord and Earl had stopped their horses in a low spot among small hillocks and ground-tied their horses.

  “I don’t see nothin’,” Earl said.

  “See those trees yonder?” Cord said.

  “Just the tops of them.”

  “Well, they grow all the way to the ground and that’s one of the concealments we’ll use in our stalk. And most of what we do from now on is crawl.”

  “Crawl?”

  “Yes, and I’ve got an important thing to tell you before we start.”

  Cord slid his rifle from its scabbard and nodded to Earl, who did the same.

  “When you’re stalking a man, Earl,” Cord said, “the first thing you’ve got to think of is a way to back out from wherever you’re going. It’s not enough to come up on a man who may or may not be alone. You’ve got to figure that somebody is going to chase after you.”

  “That makes sense,” Earl said.

  “So, I put the horses here, where they’re out of sight, and we’ll take another course toward the ranch. Whoever we see will chase us from where we shot. They’ll think we’ll head back to our horses in a straight line.”

  “But we won’t?”

  “No. It will look like that until we cut back this way, behind all these little rolling hills. We’ll be hunched over and close to the ground so they won’t have a clear shot.”

  “Do you expect we’ll find anyone beyond them trees?”

  “Those are only some of the trees we’ll use for cover. And yes, I expect Horace will have men on guard somewhere near the ranch house.”

  “You’re pretty smart, Cord.”

  “We’ll see how smart, little brother.” Cord smiled and then hunched over. “Just follow my lead,” he told Earl.

  Earl crouched and followed his brother toward the tops of the trees in the distance.

  They reached the first tree, an oak tree with a thick trunk. There were two other small trees just beyond.

  Cord hugged the tree and lowered himself. Earl followed suit.

  “See anything?” Earl whispered.

  “Way off in the distance, I see someone on a horse. He’s not moving.”

  “Are we goin’ after him?”

  “Not yet,” Cord said. “He can’t be the only one out there. He’s holding something up to his head. I think it’s a pair of binoculars.”

  Cord strained to make out what the man on horseback was doing. He saw the man turn his head and scan the trees. Then the man slowly twisted his head and seemed to scan the surrounding prairie.

  Binoculars, no doubt about it.

  That made it tricky for him and Earl, Cord thought. Those lenses could pick up the least movement, the smallest silhouette.

  He hunkered down, deep in thought.

  “What?” Earl whispered as he crouched down on his haunches as well.

  “Take off your hat, Earl. Put a rock on it so it won’t blow away.”

  Cord removed his hat and placed a stone on the brim.

  “Cover your face with dirt,” Cord said. “You may have to spit on it for it to stick.”

  Earl watched as his brother scooped up a handful of dirt and started rubbing it on his face. He did the same. And he did have to spit on the dirt to make it cling to his face.

  “Follow me and do whatever I do,” Cord told his brother. “It’ll be slow going to get within range of that lookout.”

  “I know,” Earl said.

  Cord lay out flat and cradled his rifle. He began to crawl away from the trees, sliding on an angle that would bring him closer to the lookout.

  As the two inched along, closing the gap between them and the man with the binoculars, a herd of pronghorn antelope appeared off to their left. The antelope grazed, but one was on sentry duty and as Cord froze, he saw that the lone antelope was staring in his direction.

  “Uh-oh,” he whispered.

  Earl saw the antelope, then hugged the ground in imitation of his brother. They were a strange sight to him since he had never seen a pronghorn before.

  They were graceful animals and their tawny and white coats glowed in the sunlight. He saw the sentry and wondered if the animal could see him.

  Cord slowly raised his left hand and waggled it.

  The lone antelope on guard snorted and wheeled, warning the rest of the small flock with his grunts and raised tail. The antelope galloped away and Cord breathed a sigh of relief.

  He glanced toward the man with the binoculars and saw that he was gazing in the direction of the galloping antelope. But not anywhere near where
Cord and his brother lay still.

  Cord let out another breath of relief.

  And the two crawled on, in an ever-shrinking arc.

  Cord crawled to within two hundred yards of James Rowan, who was still peering through his binoculars, gazing in every direction.

  Cord knew that the man was looking for riders on horseback. That was in Cord’s favor. He could get closer. And as long as the man sat his horse, he would be a target at a closer range.

  The two Wild brothers crawled ever closer.

  When Cord figured they were within a hundred yards of the lookout, he stopped and slid his rifle from his cradling arms. He slipped it up and braced himself with his elbows. He placed the butt of his rifle against his shoulder and sighted down the barrel of the Winchester. He aligned the rear buckhorn to the blade front sight and leveled it on Rowan’s chest.

  Earl crawled up alongside and unlimbered his own rifle.

  “Wait,” Cord whispered.

  He saw something else out of the corner of his eye.

  Another rider.

  The man appeared as a small speck on the horizon, but he rode toward the man with the binoculars. He, too, was looking all around, and he carried a rifle that rested on the pommel of his saddle.

  Another lookout. A guard. Another one of Weatherall’s hands, surely.

  Cord turned his head slowly toward his brother.

  “You sight on the man with the binoculars, Earl. I’ll try and take down the other one when he comes closer.”

  “Okay,” Earl whispered, and brought his rifle to bear on the first rider.

  Earl took aim. But he had only the side of his target, so he had to steady his rifle. He wished it were Jessup in his sights. He did not know if Jessup was with Horace Weatherall, but he thought it was a strong possibility. And that was really the man he wanted to kill.

  Cord leaned over close to Earl so that he could whisper into his ear.

  “Remember,” he said, “anyone watching will see our smoke and the flame from our muzzles. So after we shoot, we have to skedaddle.”

  Earl nodded. He lined up his sights again.

  Cord leveled his barrel on the rider who had just arrived. Cord had a frontal view, but the man’s horse was tossing its head, blocking a clear shot to the chest.