Rio Loco

by Robert J Conley

  “Howdy, Chugwater,” I said.

  “Barjack. I hear you got my brother locked up in there.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I’ve come to get him out.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  “How come?”

  “He done a killing. Unprovoked.”

  “Well, can I see him?”

  “Sure.”

  Chugwater swung down out of the saddle, and his boys started to do the same.

  “I said you,” I told him, kinda lifting the barrel a’ my shotgun. “I never said nothing about them.”

  The cowhands settled back down in their saddles and looked at Chugwater.

  “Boys,” he said, “go on over to the Hooch House and wait for me there. Have a drink while you’re waiting.”

  They turned their horses and headed for the Hooch House. Chugwater give me a hard look.

  “If there was another saloon in town,” he said, “I’d have sent them there.”

  “That’s why we ain’t got another one,” I said. Then I helt the door for him to walk into my marshaling office ahead of me, and he did.

  Chapter Two

  Whenever we stepped inside the office, ole Chugwater, he stopped just inside the door and turned to look me in the face. I figgered that maybe he was a-trying that ole kid’s game, you know, trying to stare me down, so I just stared right back. “Barjack,” he said, “you know you’ll never get away with this.”

  “I ain’t trying to get away with nothing,” I said. “The law has caught up with your worthless brother. That’s all.”

  “You mean you have,” he said. “You think you’re the law around here.”

  Well, I did kinda think like that, but I weren’t going to let him get away with saying it.

  “Owl Shit done a killing, a unprovoked killing,” I said, “and they was all kinds a’ witnesses around when he done it. Now, did you come in here to argue with me, or did you come in to talk to your shit-ass brother?”

  “I’d like to talk to him,” he said.

  I made a gesture toward the jail cell where Owl Shit was standing up and clutching the bars. “Go right ahead,” I said. He walked on over there and stood in front of Owl Shit.

  “What the hell did you do?” he said.

  “I didn’t do nothing to get throwed in here,” Owl Shit said. “I just shot a feller that we didn’t even know on account a’ he was smarting off at me. That’s all. This crazy stuck-up marshal, he just decided to make it his own business. Now get me out of here.”

  Chugwater turned his head and looked back at me over his shoulder. Then he looked back at Owl Shit. “I’ll get you out. Don’t worry,” he said. “Just be patient. I can’t buy your way out after you done a murder.”

  “Aw. Come on,” Owl Shit said. “You got plenty a’ money.”

  “Money won’t do us no good now,” Chugwater said. “You’re charged with murder.”

  “So what? It ain’t the first time, is it? Get me out.”

  “Listen, Owl Shit,” said Chugwater, lowering his voice, but only it didn’t make no difference, we all could hear his ever’ word anyhow, “you got to learn to behave yourself. Times is changing. The law’s here now. You can’t just ride into town no more and have ever’thing your own way. And you’re causing me problems trying to take care of you.”

  “You promised Mama on her deathbed you would do just that. I was there, and I heared you.”

  “I’ll see you later,” Chugwater said, and he spun around on his heel and headed for the door. He jerked the door open and turned to look at me once more. “You ain’t heard the last of this, Barjack,” he said.

  “I never thought I had,” I told him. He walked on out and slammed the door. Happy come a-walking toward me.

  “Barjack,” he said, “he means business.”

  “I reckon I do too,” I said.

  “You know how many ranch hands he’s got?”

  “Somewhere between twenty and thirty, I reckon.”

  Butcher come up outta his chair. “Twenty or thirty?” he said.

  “That’d be my guess,” I said.

  “Well, what are we gonna do?”

  “We’re going to sit tight right here in my office and jailhouse till the judge gets to town.”

  “When will that be?”

  “I figure he’ll be around in about a week now.”

  “What if Chugwater comes in here with a whole bunch a’ cowboys?”

  “We’ll just have to stand him off.”

  “We could let him have Owl Shit,” said Happy, “and make like he tuck him from us.”

  “And have the both of them coming into town and drinking right in my own damn saloon, lording it over us? No, thanks. I ain’t a-doing that. If either one a’ you fine upstanding depitties wants out, now is the time to get to getting. I damn sure don’t need you if you don’t want to be here.”

  “I never said that, Barjack,” Happy said. “You know I’ve stuck with you through hard times before. I’ll stick this time too.”

  “Me too,” said Butcher, his head hanging low like he didn’t really mean it. “Even if it gets me killed.”

  “All right, then,” I said. “You two stay here and guard the place. If any of Chugwater’s boys tries to get in, shoot Owl Shit. I’m going out to try to round us up some help.”

  “Yes, sir,” they both said almost at the same time. I headed outta the place. When I got outside, I could see Chugwater’s horse and the horses a’ them men what rode in with him all still tied up in front a’ the Hooch House. I walked right past them and over to my ex-wife’s fancy eating palace. I was hoping to find her new hubby in there. I walked in and she seen me. She give me a real cold look, what woulda froze the face of a polar bear.

  “I’m a-looking for the wid—I’m looking for your husband,” I said, taking the hat off a’ my head, on account a’ she was real kinda prissy.

  “Mr. Sly is not here,” she said. “I believe you will find him at our house.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” I said, and I put my hat back on and left. I was thinking how what she called “our house” had used to be my house, but I didn’t let that stop me. I walked on over to the house, and I found Sly a-setting on the porch a-sunning hisself. I waved a howdy to him.

  “Barjack,” he said, “what brings you around?”

  “I need another depitty or two or three, Sly,” I said. “I come to ask you.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “Well, ole Chugwater’s baby brother, that low-down sneaky bastard Owl Shit, come into the Hooch House earlier and shot a man down in cold blood, right in front a’ me and a whole mess a’ other witnesses. I throwed him in jail. Soon as Chugwater got the word, he come in with some a’ his boys and demanded me to turn Owl Shit a-loose. Course, I refused. He said I ain’t seen the end a’ it. I know he’ll be back with a gang and try to shoot Owl Shit outta the jailhouse. I got both Happy and Butcher setting over there right now keeping a eye on things.”

  Sly stood up, and I seen that he weren’t wearing his guns. “Let me go inside and get myself heeled,” he said. He went in, and in a couple a’ minutes he come back out a-wearing two Colt six-guns. Damn, he looked mean. He was far and wide knowed and feared and called the widdamaker on account a’ his skill with them two guns. “Shall I just go on down to the jail?” he asked me.

  “Sure,” I said, “you can put a chair out on the boardwalk if you like.”

  I walked back toward town with him for a spell, and when we got close to the Hooch House, he went on toward the jail and I turned aside. I walked to the bar. Aubrey seemed surprised. Chugwater and his bunch was a-setting at a table together, and they all looked hard at me as I walked by. I motioned Aubrey to lean over close, and I said, “Aubrey, is that Churkee and his woman still up in a room here or has they left town yet?”

  “As far as I know, Barjack,” Aubrey said, “they’re still here.”

  “Which room is they in?”

&nb
sp; “Number seven.”

  I headed for the stairs and run up as fast as ever I could. I walked down the hall to room number 7 and pounded on the door. My legs was a-hurting me from the fast trip up the stairs. Mose Miller, the Churkee, opened the door right away. “Barjack?” he said. “What brings you around?”

  I told him what Owl Shit had did in the bar earlier and how I had Happy and Butcher and Sly all over to the jailhouse. I also told him that Chugwater and some a’ his boys was just downstairs and what I figgered their intentions was.

  “What do you want me to do, Barjack?” he said.

  “Buckle on your shooter and get over to the jail,” I said. “We need all the help we can get.”

  His pretty little gal jumped up from off a’ the bed and reached for her own shooting iron. “I’ll go too,” she said. I never argued on account a’ I had saw her shoot before, and she could beat most men. That made six of us, and I thought the odds had improved considerable. We was all of us pretty damn good hands with weapons, and three of us, Miller, his woman, and Sly, was goddamn good. Hell, I figgered we could stand off a whole shitting army.

  I tuck note a’ the fact that Miller had buckled on his own Merwin Hulbert self-extracting revolver, what was just the same as what I carried. He had it because I had recommended it to him, and he had went and bought the last one in the gun shop in Asininity. That there kinda puffed me up a little bit. Well, them two headed for my marshaling office, and I went back downstairs kinda slow and relaxed. I figgered the five a’ them could handle any situation what might develop right away.

  Chugwater and his little gang was still a-setting down there. As I made my way to my table, Chugwater stood up and walked over. “You’re not watching the jail, Marshal,” he said.

  “What do I need to watch it for?” I said back at him.

  He looked back at his little gang and nodded, and they all got up and went outside. “Oh, you just never know what might happen,” he said, and he turned and walked to the front door and on outside.

  Well, that was all the hint I needed to figger out that he was up to something. Aubrey come bringing me a tumbler full a’ whiskey, but I waved him off. “Hold it for me,” I said, and I got up and headed for the door. Before I had reached it, I heard some gunshots. When I got out on the boardwalk, I seen two empty horses down in front a’ the jail and two bodies on the ground out in the street. I didn’t see Sly nowhere. I did see Chugwater at a safe distance away a-watching. The three cowhands what weren’t yet kilt were still a-setting on their horses and shooting into the jailhouse.

  Then I seen a hand with a six-gun in it poke itself out a winder and fire, and another one of Chugwater’s men dropped outta his saddle and plopped in the dirt. They was only just two left, and they turned their horses and commenced to riding away. I stepped out in the street and hauled out my own Merwin Hulbert and tuck careful aim and squeezed the trigger. It were a pretty long shot, but by God, one a’ the fleeing bastards throwed his arms up high and tumbled back’ards off his horse. He done a kinda flip and landed on his face, and he didn’t move no more. Chugwater caught up with the last one, and the two a’ them rode off towards his ranch together.

  I walked on down to the jailhouse and went inside. “Anyone hurt?” I said.

  “None of us are hit,” said Butcher.

  “Good,” I said. “We kilt four a’ them.”

  “I saw you get that one from down the street,” said Sly. “That was a good shot.”

  “Well,” I said, “I couldn’t let you all have all the fun, could I?”

  “Where was Chugwater?” said Happy.

  “He had rode on ahead and was watching from a safe distance,” I told them. “Long as he’s got cowboys to get shot, he ain’t going to put his own self in no danger. Not even for his baby brother.”

  I said that last loud enough for Owl Shit to hear it too. “Chugwater ain’t a-skeered a’ you,” Owl Shit yelled. “He’ll come in here and get you yet.”

  “Happy,” I said, “fetch me a bucket a water outta the back room.”

  Happy went through the door to the back room. He come back in a minute or so later with a bucket a’ water and I looked at it, but I never made to take it off a’ him. Instead, I said, “Now throw it on Owl Shit.” Happy walked to the cell and slung the bucket, sloshing water all over Owl Shit.

  “Goddamn it,” Owl Shit said. “You can’t treat a prisoner like that. That ain’t right. I might catch a goddamn cold in here all wet like this.”

  “That was just to get your attention,” I said. “Now, I don’t want to hear no more noise out a’ you. The next time you piss me off, it’ll be worse. You ain’t been fed yet, have you?”

  He shuck his head no.

  “Well, if you piss me off again, you won’t be fed. I’ll let you starve in there.”

  I walked over to my desk and took out the bottle and some glasses, and I poured drinks all around. Sly even took a short one. He never liked to drink in case he was to need use a’ his guns. That never bothered me none, though, nor did it bother Happy or Butcher. Even Miller, the Churkee, weren’t above having a snort or two just about any time. I think he liked it even more than the rest of us on account a’ you wasn’t supposed to let a Indian have a drink.

  “Well,” said Butcher, “I guess we whipped them, all right.”

  “They’ll be back,” said Happy.

  “How soon, do you think?” Butcher asked.

  “I don’t believe it will be today,” I said. “Sly, why don’t you and Churkee and Pistol”—I called Churkee’s gal Pistol—“hang around here? Me and these other two will be back after a while.”

  “All right,” Sly said.

  I motioned to Happy and Butcher to follow me, and we all went outside. I commenced to leading the way over to the Hooch House.

  “Where we going?” said Butcher.

  “We’re going to the Hooch House to get us a drink,” I said.

  Chapter Three

  The Hooch House was plenty busy. I even had to chase someone away from my own private table, and my Bonnie was a-helping ole Aubrey out behint the bar pouring drinks. She seen me come in, and she come a-bouncing over to the table. “Barjack,” she said, setting down beside a’ me and hugging me most near to death, “I didn’t chase them people away from your own private table on account a’ me and Aubrey was so busy back yonder, but I was fixing to just as soon as I got me a chance.”

  “That’s all right, sweet ass,” I said. “I tuck keer of it just fine. You want to get us some drinks here?”

  She never got up. She just only raised up her arm and waved it around, and ole Aubrey forgot everything what he was a-doing and hurried over with four drinks. He set them around on the table and hurried back to the bar to whatever it was he was a-doing before I so rudely interrupted his ass. I picked mine up and tuck me a good long drink a’ that wonderful stuff.

  “How come you three to be over here anyhow?” Bonnie said. “I thought you was a-going to stay in the office as long as you was a-holding Owl Shit in there.”

  “Churkee and his woman and Sly is all over there,” I said. “I think they can handle it all right. We’re just taking us a break, is all, from all that there hard work we been a-doing.”

  “Oh,” she said. “I see.”

  But I got the feeling that she never bought into that there hard work stuff I was a-laying on her. I didn’t give a shit, though. I had me another long drink. I slipped my right hand through the stobs in the back a’ her chair and grabbed me a hunk a’ ass and kinda squeezed on it, and she kinda twitched all over and give me a look. “Barjack,” she said, kinda scolding like.

  “What, sugar lumps?” I said.

  She never answered me then. She just only picked up her little ole pink drink, whatever it was, and tuck a polite sip of it. She ain’t never been the same since ole Sly hit town and commenced on his polite ways all the damn time. My curiosity got the better a’ me, though. I wondered what that pink shit tasted like, so I
picked up her glass and tuck me a swallow. I set the glass back in front a’ her and shuddered all over me and made a face.

  “Goddamn,” I said. “That tastes like parlor woman piss.”

  Happy and Butcher went to laughing loud. I give them a hard look. Happy, when he could, said, “Barjack, whenever did you taste any parlor woman’s piss?”

  “I never did,” I said, “but if I was to, that there is what it would taste like.”

  Bonnie whomped me real hard in the ribs with her left elbow and like to knocked me over sideways.

  “Damn,” I said. “What the hell was that for?”

  “For picking on my drink,” she said. “I don’t never say nothing about what you drink. It ain’t nice to pick on what someone likes. How’d you like it if I was to do you that way?”

  “Hell, I wouldn’t give a damn.”

  “All right, then,” she said, “go on and drink your horse’s piss.”

  I picked up my glass and said, “Be glad to,” and I tuck me another gulp. My glass was kinda low by then, and Bonnie, she waved at Aubrey. He seen her and he seen my glass, so she didn’t need to holler the way she done. She done that outta meanness. She hollered, “Aubrey, have you collected any more piss outta that damn mule out back?”

  Aubrey looked at her kinda weird, like he didn’t know what the hell she was talking about.

  “Barjack needs some more of it in his glass,” she said.

  Course, ever’one in the place heard her, and most of them looked at me and went to laughing. I felt my face burn and knowed it turned red. Aubrey brung the bottle over and refilled my tumbler. Bonnie lifted up her glass, and I thought about something to say but decided it would be best to not say it. Instead I said, “Enjoying your pretty pink drink, Bonnie?”

  She lifted her glass and tuck a sip. “Yes, indeed I am. Thank you, Marshal. How is your whiskey, dear one?”

  “It’s just fine,” I said. “The damn best whiskey money can buy.”

  Right about then, I heared some gunshots outside. I couldn’t tell exactly from where they was coming, but I had me a idee. They was coming most probable, I figgered, from the jailhouse and my marshaling office. With the trouble I was expecting, I figgered it had to be ole Chugwater or his boys trying to turn Owl Shit a-loose. I tuck me another gulp a’ whiskey and set the tumbler down hard on the table.