Blood on the Hills

by Matt Chisholm

  He couldn’t see the man below him at first, but after a while, when somebody inside the cabin shouted, the man walked into sight carrying a bucket, heading for the creek. Froud had been right.

  Jody picked up his rifle and watched.

  The man was still half-asleep, walking a meandering path, scratching himself. He wore no shirt and his red-flannel long johns topped his gun-barrel chaps. He didn’t carry a gun. If Froud did it right, this was one man out of the fight.

  The man reached the edge of the crick, paused a moment and disappeared from view.

  Time passed. The man did not reappear. Froud must have clobbered him.

  Jody waited. Patience had dropped on him now and he felt calm. He was surprised just how calm.

  But a man inside the cabin wasn’t patient. He yelled loudly for the water. And when the water failed to arrive, he came out of the cabin and bellowed from there. Jody could just see the top of his head. He was balding slightly toward the back.

  Then Froud’s voice cut in clearly—“You’re covered from all sides. Throw up your hands.”

  The man didn’t stay there for one split second longer than he had to. His reaction was quite remarkable. As he ducked out of sight, Froud fired and Jody heard the cabin door slam. There were some shouts inside the cabin. Jody reckoned Froud had missed the man. Which was a pity. It meant they had a fight on their hands against men who were in good cover and who had a lot of money to defend.

  He heard shooting from the house and Froud fired back. Jody could tell from the way he spaced his shots that he was moving from one spot to another.

  Somebody started cutting away the window covering at the rear and in a moment, a leg was thrown over the sill. A head and shoulders appeared. The man held a short carbine in his right hand.

  Jody jacked a round into the breech and shouted: “You’re covered. Throw down your gun.”

  The man paused a moment, trying to sort the situation out mentally. Then he tried to get back into the cabin again. And Jody shot him. The carbine fell outside the cabin and the man was driven back inside by the force of the heavy slug.

  Jody reckoned that left two to deal with. That made better odds.

  To the right of the cabin was a roughly made thorn-bush pen with four horses in it. They were milling around and generally acting up at the shooting. Jody reckoned that now they knew they couldn’t reach the mineshaft, they’d try for the horses and so make a break for it. The only alternative was for them to stay where they were and fight it out. That could be a bloody business on both sides. Why, Jody wondered, were men such plumb stupid fools?

  Silence fell over the scene. The gun smoke drifted away. The sun came up and Jody thawed out a little.

  He got bored and thought it time he used a little initiative. There was plenty of dry brush around, so he laid down his rifle and started cutting brush with his knife. After a while, a man at the rear window spotted him at it and started shooting, but Jody was in a good position and pretty soon showed the fellow it wasn’t a good idea.

  Then Froud took the attention of the men inside by calling on them to surrender and there was some chitchat back and forth. Jody knew he could be shot at from below, but he exposed himself to view from below and started rolling and throwing the brush down the steep slope toward the cabin and pretty soon he had the whole of the north side of the place literally piled up with brush. The men inside became aware of this and Jody was shot at again. But he poured fire through that window and they gave it up for a while.

  This gave him time to light some cut brush and toss it down onto the brush below. The fire didn’t start well, but it soon caught satisfactorily and Jody was busy throwing down new fuel. Pretty soon the whole side of the cabin had caught.

  He knew it wouldn’t be long now before those fellows down there found their backsides were a mite too warm and they lit out.

  Suddenly a man darted from the front of the cabin, running west toward the corral. Froud knocked him over with one shot. But the second man who followed reached the pen, gained the inside and in a second was astride a saddleless horse.

  Froud had run from cover, shouting for the man to stop.

  The fellow turned the horse to the side of the thorn-fence and the horse took it like a bird and went at a flat run across the table of land. Froud fired and missed. The man on the horse must have fired until his gun was empty in the time it took for the sheriff to jack a fresh round into the breech.

  The sheriff took a sharp turn, dropped his rifle and crumpled. Horse and rider disappeared over the ledge and Jody heard the hoofbeats die away into the timber below. He stood up and thought: This does it. Slowly, he clambered down to the flat below. The cabin was well ablaze by now, but the front of the place was untouched. He thought of the man he had shot trying to escape through the window. Maybe Froud was his first responsibility, but the thought of the man frying in there was too much for him. He rushed into the smoke and flames and found the man curled up in the center of the cabin, still alive. Jody took him by the wrist, dragged him outside and left him lying clear of the fire. He walked over to the man who had tried for the horse-pen and found that he had been shot through the head. Froud could sure shoot. Then he walked over to Froud and found him sitting up, his face drawn with shock.

  “Christ,” said the sheriff, “don’t I matter a-tall? Them two fellers comfortable? Me – I only have two slugs in me.”

  “Where?”

  “One in the leg, other along my ribs. I ain’t goin’ to die if that’s what you’re hopin’.”

  “Do all men get as stupid as you when they get to your age?” Jody said. “A kid’d know not to run out that way.”

  “I had to try an’ take one of ‘em alive, didn’t I?”

  “What about the first man out?”

  “I had to kill him.”

  Jody thought: My God, this lawman don’t think no more of killin’ than spittin’.

  He said: “There’s one alive back yonder. He don’t look too good, but maybe he’ll live.”

  “That feller on the horse,” said Froud, “didn’t get away with nothin’. He wasn’t carryin’ a thing. The only thing on that horse was hisself.”

  Jody picked the man up and headed for the creek. It was like carrying a load of rocks.

  “You sheriffs sittin’ on your butts in an office all the time,” he said, “sure do put on weight.”

  He laid the sheriff in the shade of some willows at the edge of the water and took a look at his wounds. The man was bleeding badly both from the bullet that had penetrated his right thigh from the front and the slug that had been deflected along his ribs. This last wound was superficial, but it was about six inches long and was bleeding profusely. Jody used the sheriff’s bandanna to make a temporary tourniquet for the leg and stopped the blood almost immediately. The rib wound gave him a little more trouble and he made a pad from the tail of his own shirt and told the sheriff to hold it against the wound tight.

  “Any of that whiskey of yourn left?” he asked.

  “A little.”

  “I’ll go get it.”

  “You check that wounded man first. I want somebody who’ll talk.”

  “All right.”

  Jody walked back to the wounded man. The fellow was sitting up and holding his bent knees tight with his arms. He was about thirty-five years of age and he had the face of a man born to be hanged.

  “Where you hit?” Jody asked.

  “Belly. I’m holdin’ the wound closed.”

  “Best thing. Lead inside?”

  “Reckon not. Your slug caught me at an angle. I think it cut my guts open and went off my hipbone. I’m bleedin’ like a goddam pig. You don’t do somethin’ quick I’m like to die.”

  “That’d be a cryin’ shame,” Jody said.

  He went into the pen and managed to catch up one of the horses. On this he rode bareback down to his and Froud’s animals and rode back to the shelf. He told Froud about the wounded thief.

  “Pa
tch him up first, boy,” Froud said. “We need him.”

  “You’re crazy,” Jody told him.

  “So I’m crazy, but you do like I tell you.”

  Jody walked back to the man lying in front of the now thoroughly blazing cabin. The heat snatched away his breath. The wounded man was shaking violently and his teeth were chattering. The fellow twisted his head and looked at Jody in a kind of pitiful way.

  “I can’t stop shakin’,” he said. “Christ, I’m shakin’ all the time. Is there somethin’ you can do for me, boy?”

  “Sure,” said Jody, “I’ll do somethin’.” He bent to pick the man up and added: “You hold them guts of yourn in tight now.” He hefted the man and carried him toward the creek. He was gritting his teeth and groaning with pain and shock until Jody laid him down near Froud. He then did what he could to staunch the bleeding and Froud talked to the man as if the circumstances were quite normal.

  “The feller that lit out, he didn’t have the money with him. Where is it?”

  Through chattering teeth, the man said: “It was in the cabin. It’s cinder now. You won’t never get your hands on that money, sheriff. All you’ll get outa this is dead men.”

  Froud said: “All you’ll get outa this is a rope around your neck.”

  “I never fired a shot in town.”

  “You know there was a man and a boy killed? You know that? You know how folks feel about a kid bein’ killed? Sure, he was an ornery mean little bastard when he was alive, but now he’s dead just ‘bout ev’body turned him into a goddam angel. You’ll swing, feller. Sure as God made little apples.”

  “I never fired a shot,” the man asserted again. “I ain’t that kind.”

  “I know the kind you are,” the sheriff pushed at him. “You’re the weak feller who follers the other kinda feller. I don’t have too much time for your sort an’ I’m a-goin’ to give you a pretty tough time before I’m through with you. Now tell me where that money’s at. A lotta folks depend on that money.”

  “I told you—it’s all burned up.”

  “You ain’t only weak as gnat’s piss,” the sheriff said. “You’re a goddam liar an’ a poor one at that. Just one look at you an’ I know that money’s around here someplace. I have an instinct for these things, you know that?”

  The man looked around desperately at Jody—“It’s all burned up. I swear it. You believe that, don’t you, boy?”

  Jody didn’t know what to believe. He didn’t care much. There’d been a fight in which he could have been killed and he was still alive. He had two wounded men on his hands and one of them was a prisoner. That was enough to be going on with for a while.

  “Jody,” the sheriff said, “you go on over to that mine-shaft an’ you see if the money’s hid in there.”

  Jody said: “Why the Hell should they put it in there?”

  “You do like I say an’ don’t give me no argument now. Go ahead.”

  Jody climbed up from the creek and walked around the burning cabin. The roof had fallen in and the blaze had started to die down. The ammunition which the outlaws had left inside exploded every now and then. He reached the tunnel and found a lamp near the entrance with some coal oil in it. He lit it and entered the shaft.

  The first dozen or so paces and he found the place dry and dusty, but after that he found himself surrounded by dripping water. There were all kinds of odds and ends scattered around and it was plain that the place hadn’t been worked in years. He searched every nook and cranny but he didn’t find any bundle that could contain money. After a while, down the far end of the shaft with the water now coming up to his ankles, he knew that his search was fruitless. There was no money here. He turned to go back.

  A voice said: “You lookin’ for this, sonny?”

  Chapter Four

  Jody nearly took leave of his skin and his heart tried to jump up into his mouth. Then he felt a little sick.

  He couldn’t see the man who was beyond the circle of light, but he heard the gun come to full cock and that was enough for him. If he made a wrong move now, he was dead.

  As calmly as he was able, he said: “I reckon it has to be.”

  The man said: “Walk past me. Take it easy and don’t make no sudden move.”

  Jody walked.

  The man came into the lamplight and showed a lean unshaven face. The stubble was golden-red. The eyes above were utterly at peace. There was no tension in the man at all. Jody didn’t have to be told that this was the man who ran the outfit. He would run any outfit he was in. As he went past, the man lifted his gun from its holster, leaving Jody feeling naked and defenseless.

  When they reached daylight, Jody blew the lamp out and put it on the ground.

  “I need a horse with a saddle on it,” the man said. “Go ahead, take me to it.”

  It has to be my horse he rides out on, Jody thought. That’s my kind of luck.

  They walked slowly across the shelf and when they reached Froud and the prisoner, the sheriff didn’t show the slightest surprise. He looked at the man who held the gun on Jody and said: “So it was you, Shawn. I had my suspicions.”

  “They ain’t much use to you now, are they, Froud?” Shawn said.

  “I see I was right,” Froud said. “It was in the shaft. You came back for it. Just like I knew you would.”

  Jody said: “You mean you knew I’d walk into this?”

  Froud nodded, not without satisfaction.

  “I sure hired on with a real nice feller,” Jody said.

  “You hired on with the meanest bastard west of Pecos,” Shawn said, “an’ that sure is sayin’ somethin’.”

  He walked over to Froud, picked up his revolver and rifle and threw them into the creek. He tossed Jody’s weapons after them. Then he walked toward the horse Froud had ridden and stepped up into the saddle. All the while, he managed to keep his gun on them all.

  The wounded prisoner asked: “What about me?”

  “What about you?” Shawn said coolly.

  “You don’t mean you’re goin’ to leave me here?”

  “Sure. How far do you think I’d get with a man all shot-up the way you are?”

  “You think you’ll ever live down a thing like this?” the wounded man demanded.

  “I’ll buy you the best defense money can buy,” Shawn said. “I can’t say fairer than that.”

  Froud chuckled.

  “Who said somethin’ about me bein’ a mean bastard?” he asked.

  Shawn grinned charmingly.

  “See you,” he said and started to neck-rein his horse around.

  Jody launched himself forward almost before he knew what he was doing. The horse, startled, jerked up its head. Jody’s shoulder drove into the animal’s chest and the creature reared high. Shawn’s gun went off probably by accident. When the horse dropped its forefeet to the ground, Shawn was screwed sideways in the saddle, his mind half on his horse and half on Jody who dodged first around the left of the horse then, as Shawn swung his gun in that direction, dove back under the horse’s neck the opposite way. His shoulder came up under the animal’s chin. Again the animal started back. Jody got his hands on Shawn’s rein-arm and threw himself back with all his weight, heaving the man out of the saddle as if there were no substance to him.

  Shawn hit dirt hard on one side and fired as Froud hurled a rock that struck him in the face. He cried out and fired at the sheriff. The bullet kicked up creek-water. Jody reared to his feet and kicked the man in the chest. As Shawn fell backward, Jody dropped both knees into his belly, hard. Shawn had dropped his gun and he now made a feeble attempt to regain it. Jody flung himself at full stretch, got his hand on the gun and rolled clear of the other man. When he came up on one knee and pointed the gun at the outlaw the man became still.

  He shrugged and rose to his feet. Walking across to Froud, he said: “Looks like you found yourself a kid with some sand, Froud.” He seemed not at all put out. Jody marveled at his calm. He wished he could be like that.

&nbs
p; Froud said: “Pick up the money, boy, an’ put it here right beside me. It don’t leave me ‘til we get back to town.” Jody obeyed him, dropping the sack of money at the man’s side. “Now give me that gun and tie these two sonsabitches up.”

  Froud had his own ideas how prisoners should be secured. The wounded man had his hands tied around his bent legs so he could hold his belly wound together. His feet were lashed to Shawn’s feet, then Shawn was stretched out flat on his back and his hands lashed together above his head. Three or four yards of rope attached him by the wrists to the nearest willow tree. There wasn’t much he could do about anything.

  All he said was: “I’m goin’ to pay you for this, Froud.”

  Froud smiled.

  “The payin’s goin’ to be all on your side, Shawn. I’m goin’ to tote you back to town, see you tried an’ found guilty. Then I’m goin’ to spring the trap personal myself.”

  Shawn said: “You’re all shot to Hell. Maybe you won’t even live to see town. You have two prisoners an’ this raw kid to guard “em. You reckon you can hold me over a two-day trip?”

  Froud said: “Raw kid, huh? He took you, didn’t he?”

  That was the nearest Froud got to praising Jody that trip. He lay back, his face drawn with pain and saw that his orders were carried out. First Jody had to fish around in the creek till he found the weapons Shawn had thrown there. Then he had to clean and oil them. Then he had to rustle up some grub and there was precious little of that to go around between four men. Froud counted the money and found it was all there.