“Nor a bull nor steer neither,” Polly added.
“What?” I said. “There had ought to be a good bunch out there. I had a few, and then me and Happy went and driv all a’ Chugwater’s cattle over to my place.”
“They ain’t there now,” Churkee said.
“Let me gether up Butcher and Happy and let’s all of us ride out there.”
So I done that, and the five of us rid out to my ranch. Not that I didn’t believe Churkee, but we rid all over the place again just in case, and sure ’nuff, there weren’t no cattle nowhere. We couldn’t find no sign telling us what had tuck place out there neither. We was just a-setting on our horses and staring out at the empty prairie where all a’ my cattle should ought to’ve been at.
“Churkee,” I said.
“What, Barjack?”
“You know, we never did get ole Chugwater.”
“And he won’t quit, will he?”
“No, sirree,” I said, “I don’t reckon he will. I should ought to have left one a’ these two”—I motioned at Happy and Butcher—“back at the jail to watch over Owl Shit. Chugwater might be hitting there next.”
“Should we all get back in there and watch for him?” Butcher said.
“First things first,” I said. “Let’s think on this problem a’ the rustled cattle.”
I thunk and thunk as hard as ever I could, and then I recollected that ole Chugwater had a little valley on his place that were kinda hard to get to, and it snugged right up against my own property. A man could run a fair-sized herd into there and block them off pretty easy with some brush and stuff. And all he’d have to do to get them off a’ my property would be to just cut a fence.
“Come on,” I said. “I got a idee.”
I whipped up my ole horse and lit out for that part a’ my ranch what was right there where I was a-thinking about. In a while we was there, and sure enough, I seen where my fence had been cut.
“Someone has cut your fence, Barjack,” said Happy.
“Tell me something else what ain’t readily available to my eyeballs,” I said. I kept on a-riding and led the rest right through that cut fence. We rid on down into the valley and by and by we come on the cattle. It looked to me like the whole damn herd.
“Chugwater has reclaimed them,” said Churkee, “and he’s added yours in too.”
“Well, we’re a-fixing re-reclaim the bastards,” I said. “Let’s get them moving. Right on through the fence where they’ve already been through. Come on.”
I whipped up my ole horse and the others did the same. We bunched them up first, and then we got them turned in the right direction and started them moving. They bawled and bitched and moaned, but they moved in the right direction. Now and then one ole ornery cow would wander off in her own direction, and one of us would have to chase her back into the herd. We had a few unruly calves to chase down now and then too. It tuck us most a’ the afternoon, but we got them back onto my own place, and then we clumb down outta our saddles and mended the damn fence.
I got to wondering who in the hell invented fences in the first place, and it come to me that I would enjoy the hell outta shooting the son of a bitch if I could locate his ass. But we got it did. We rid back to the ranch house, and Churkee and Polly got off a’ their horses. “I think we’ll just stay right here, Barjack,” said Churkee. “I want to keep my eye on that herd. Chugwater might come back, and I ain’t hankering to mend that fence again.”
“Butcher,” I said, “why don’t you stay here with them in case there’s any more trouble?”
“Yes, sir,” he said.
So me and Happy headed back in, now that the cow problem was settled, at least for a time. I had decided to leave Butcher out there with Churkee and Polly on account a’ he didn’t know nothing about cows and ranches and such, and I figgered he might could learn a little bit by staying out there. And if I was to have just one depitty with me, I had ruther it be Happy than Butcher. I didn’t have to worry so much about Happy.
We was riding back into Asininity when Happy ast me, “Do you think it was really Chugwater what cut that fence?”
“Who else?” I said. “He musta seen what we done to his ranch, and he’s wanting to get some even. Hell, he might even try to burn my house down out there. Damn. I shoulda warned Churkee about that there possibility.”
“If you’re right, Barjack,” Happy said, “that means that Chugwater’s still hanging around these here parts.”
“It sure does mean that, Happy,” I said, “and with Owl Shit back snug in jail, it means he could be anywhere trying to pull anything. His ranch, my ranch, the jailhouse. Hell, even the Hooch House. Don’t forget, Happy, he ain’t above turning on women.”
“Yes, sir.”
We made it back to town, and the first thing we done was we went by the jail and checked on Owl Shit. He were still in his jail cell a-sulking. I figgered he had good reason to sulk, though, on account a’ ever’ day, he were getting closer to a hanging. “Howdy, Owl Shit,” I said. “You ain’t saw your brother today, has you?”
“No. I ain’t. You blowed him up anyhow.”
“No, Owl Shit, we never. We never found no remains we couldn’t count for over at that ole hotel.”
“Chugwater ain’t dead?” he said.
“He’s still out there somewheres,” I tole him.
“He’ll still be a-coming for me,” he said.
“I’ll be surprised if he don’t.”
I got the bottle outta my desk drawer and poured me and Happy each a drink, and we set down to drink them. Outta the corner a’ my eyeball, I seen Owl Shit with his mouth a-watering, but I wasn’t in no mood to take no pity on that son of a bitch. I finished my drink and got up, and I said, “Happy, I want you to stay here in the jailhouse. I’m going out to look around some more.”
“Yes, sir,” he said.
I went on out, and when I did, I heared Happy say, grumblinglike, to Owl Shit, “Damn your hide, it’s your fault I have to stay around here like as if I was in jail.” And then I heared Owl Shit laugh. I kept on a-walking, and I never heared no more after that, but I reckon ole Happy done something mean to Owl Shit. It just ain’t like Happy to take no guff off a’ no damned outlaw.
I hadn’t tole Happy, but I never went on back over to the Hooch House. I walked right past it, and I went over to Miss Lillian’s fancy eating place. She didn’t look none too thrilled to see me a-coming in, and when I ast her for ole Sly, she said he weren’t there.
“Well, where might I could find him?” I ast her.
“It wouldn’t be too stupid to look at the house,” she said. “But don’t go inside. Just ask for him at the door. He can go outside to talk to you.”
“Yes’m,” I said. Now, ain’t that a hell of a way to talk to your own ex-wife? Miss Lillian had a way about her to make you act thattaway, though. She really did. As I walked outta her place a’ business, I reached up and felt a’ my ear there where she had shot a chunk out of it that one time. I walked on over to the house what had one time been my house, and there I seen ole Sly a-setting on the front porch with a cup a’ coffee.
“Barjack,” he said whenever he spotted me a-coming, “what brings you around?”
I walked on up to his porch and tuck the other chair what was setting there. I were panting kinda hard by this time. I tuck my hat off and mopped my forehead with a rag I carried in my pocket.
“Sly,” I said, “you know, we never got ole Chugwater.”
“Yes,” he said. “I know.”
“He’s still around.”
I told him about my fence and my cattle. I told him about leaving Churkee and Polly with Butcher out to my ranch. I told him that Happy were minding the jail. “I suppose you’re wanting to go out looking for Chugwater,” he said.
“He might try anything,” I said. “He might keep after my cattle, or he might go after Owl Shit. Hell, he might even go after Bonnie again. You just never know about that slick son of a bitch.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Just let me go strap on my guns,” he said.
Me and Sly rid out to Chugwater’s ranch, and we rid all over that son of a bitch never seeing no sign a’ the bastard we was after. Then we rid to my place, and I showed him where Chugwater had cut my fence and where he had driv my herd. I told him how we had brung it back to where it belonged.
“Barjack,” Sly said, “the problem is we don’t have any idea where he might be hiding, or where he might strike next. I’d maybe say we ought to go back to town and watch out for the jail. That’s where his brother is, and his brother’s time is running out.”
“That’s right,” I said. “The ole judge could be here any day now, and I reckon that ole Chugwater knows that as well as we do.”
“You have Mose Miller and Polly out here at the ranch along with Butcher. They should be able to handle Chugwater if he shows up. Why don’t you and I go back to town and watch the jail?”
“Okay, Sly. I can’t argue with none a’ that. Let’s go.”
Chapter Twenty
Well, hadn’t nothing happened in town, and Happy was a-setting in my chair behint my desk with his damn feet propped up on the desktop a-leaning back and asleep. Owl Shit was a-laying on the cot in the cell. He looked to be asleep too. I walked over to my chair where Happy was a-snoozing, and I put one a’ my feet behint one a’ the back legs a’ the chair. The two front legs was up in the air, and I kinda shoved that back leg forward. Well, the chair turned over backwards with Happy in it, and he hit the foor with a crash. Soon as he come awake, I yelled at him. “Wake up, Happy. The world is coming to a end.”
He come a-scrambling to his feet with his eyes kinda glazed, and he said, “What? Where? Where we going?”
“We ain’t going nowhere,” I said, “but I reckon you’re going home to get some shut-eye.”
“I’m all right, Barjack,” he said. “I ain’t seen hide nor hair of ole Chugwater.”
“I don’t reckon you have,” I said. “I don’t reckon you’ve seed much of anything setting there asleep like that.”
“Oh, I ain’t been asleep. I just dropped off for a minute there. I’m all right.”
“I reckon you need to get some sleep,” I said, “so go on and do like I tole you to do. I’ll stick around here for a spell.”
“Well, all right, if you say so.”
He went and got his hat off a’ the rack and went out the front door. Looking back just before he shut the door behint him, he said, “I’ll be back in a little while, Barjack.”
Then he went on. I looked at Sly. “There ain’t no need for you to hang around here,” I tole him. “I can watch the place awhile, I reckon.”
“Well,” he said, “I guess I’ll go see how Lillian is doing. I’ll check back with you, though.”
He left, so it was just me and ole Owl Shit in the cell. I tuck out my bottle and a tumbler and poured me a full drink. I was just a-setting there and enjoying that good whiskey when I seen Owl Shit kinda stir and then set up. I poured another glass full and tuck it over to him. I guess on account a’ I didn’t have no other company in there just at that time. He tuck that glass real greedy-like and shaking, and he said, “Thanks, Barjack.”
“There ain’t nothing like a good glass a’ whiskey,” I said.
“No, sir,” he said. “There ain’t.”
Well, I dragged a chair over there beside a’ the bars, and I set down in it right close to Owl Shit. “Barjack,” Owl Shit said, “do you think they’re really going to hang me?”
“My guess is that they will, for sure,” I tole him. “You know, I seen you shoot that man in cold blood right there in my own saloon, my Hooch House. You never give him a chance or nothing. And I’m bound to give my testimony and to tell it just the way I seen it. There ain’t nothing more for it.”
“I reckon not,” he said, “you being the town marshal and all.”
“That’s the way of it. Say, Owl Shit, how come you to do people thattaway, to just shoot a man down for nothing like that? What is it that’s in you that makes you that mean?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I ain’t really mean, I don’t think.”
He drained the rest a’ the whiskey outta his glass and stood there looking kinda like a whipped dog. I drained my glass and went after my bottle. When I come back I poured us each one another drink. He tuck a sip.
“People always used to whip up on me when I was a kid,” he said, “up until the time I went to carrying my own six-gun, and then one day a big ole boy started in to whip me again, and I shot him. It felt good. It was easy. Each time after that it got easier, you know? Then the next thing I knowed, I didn’t even need no excuse. I just shot them if I felt a need to. It made me feel good. That’s all.”
“How come you to get that name, Owl Shit?” I ast him.
He kinda let his head drop like as if he was a little embarrassed or even ashamed.
“I come home one day whenever I was just a little snot,” he said, “and I had stepped in some fresh owl shit out by the barn. I didn’t get my shoe cleaned off very good, and my papa smelt it. ‘Phew,’ he said. ‘What’s that?’ He looked down at my shoe. ‘Oh,’ I said, ‘I just stepped in some fresh owl shit, is all.’ Well, from that day, he went to calling me Owl Shit, and ever’one else just kinda picked up on it. I never thought nothing of it, I guess. I was just a little feller.”
“I’ll be damned,” I said. “So it were your own daddy what named you that.”
“Yes, sir,” he said.
We set there drinking and talking like that till we was both of us pretty damn drunk. After a while, Owl Shit said, “Barjack?”
“What is it?” I said.
“I stepped on that owl shit a purpose. I ain’t never tole no one this, but I seen it on the ground, and I just wondered was it soft and would it squish, you know? Like I said, I was just a little snot. So I stepped on it. Sort of to see would it squash?” He paused a bit. Then he said, “It did.”
I laughed at that, and he went to laughing too. I poured us another drink. I looked at my bottle, and it were getting kinda low. “Owl Shit,” I said, “it looks as how I’m a-going to have to get us another bottle here pretty damn soon.” He just nodded his head real slow. “I wish to hell you hadn’ta shot that ole boy right in front a’ my eyeballs thattaway,” I said. “You know, once you shoot someone thattaway, there ain’t no way to un-shoot them. You’ve done done it, and you’re into it then. That’s all there is to it, and there ain’t nothing can be done about it no more.”
“I guess you’re right about that.”
I drained my glass again, and I went to pour me another drink, but I seen that I woulda tuck the rest a’ the booze outta that bottle. I looked over at Owl Shit’s glass, and it was empty too. I thunk a minute, and it come into my head that Owl Shit weren’t going to live too much longer. I poured the whiskey into his glass and dropped the empty bottle on the floor. I don’t know what come into me to make me so generous like that. I felt a little bit foolish for it too. “I got to get us another bottle,” I said, but when I went to stand up, I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t make my damned ole legs raise me up outta that chair. I got my ass about halfway up and I strained like hell, but then I fell back down kerplop onto the chair.
“Damn,” I said.
I studied on the situation for a spell, and then I tuck a holt a’ two a’ the cell bars what was right there beside a’ me, and I tried again, a-pulling myself with the bars, and I managed to get up onto my feet. I stood there for a minute or so just a-getting used to the altitude. My head were spinning. Final I felt kinda steadied up, and I turned toward the door, but the turning had upset something, so I had to stand still again for a bit. Final I decided that I could walk, and I tuck a step with my left foot, but I never went forward. Instead, I kinda lurched sideways and bounced off a’ the bars. I steadied myself again and ste
pped off again, but this time I went way out toward the middle a’ the room. Now I didn’t have nothing to fall against if I was to fall.
I just stood there with my legs splayed way out, a-knowing that if I was to try to step off again, I would land flat on my face on that hard floor. I knowed that I had to figger something out pretty damn soon. I thunk that if I was to take another lurching step, this time toward the wall, I could maybe catch myself against the wall and then walk along it back to the bars and back to my chair what was setting over there. Just then the door kinda blowed open and Bonnie come a-swishing into the room. I could smell her perfume soon as she stepped in.
“Barjack,” she said.
“Bonnie,” I said, “sweet tits, get me to a chair fast.”
She rushed over to me and grabbed me and walked me over behint my desk and dropped me in my comfortable chair back there. “What’s wrong?” she said.
“Oh,” I said, “nothing much. Me and ole Owl Shit was just a-drinking, and we run outta whiskey. Did you bring a bottle with you?”
“No,” she said. “I never.”
“Well—”
“I can go get you one,” she said. “Are you all right? I’ll be right back.”
“Bring two while you’re at it,” I said.
She said, “Okay,” as she was a-hurrying out the door. I set in my big chair behint my desk, and my head was still a-spinning. I sure did want another drink, and I was pretty sure that Owl Shit did too. I looked over at him, and he had just finished off his. I looked around for my tumbler, and final I seen it a-tumbling around on the floor over by the cell.
“Barjack,” Owl Shit said, “are you for sure all right?”
“I’ll be just fine, pard,” I tole him, “whenever ole Bonnie gets back here with my whiskey.”
It weren’t long before she come back with two bottles, and while she were a-picking up my tumbler for me I opened up one bottle. I poured me a drink and tuck a big slug of it, and by God, I was right. I were some better as soon as I done that. I got my ass up and went back over to my chair by the jail cell, and I poured ole Owl Shit another drink.
Rio Loco Page 16
