A Cold Hard Trail

by Robert J Conley

  I was a-watching close. That nigh onto him, most men woulda tuck a shot and blowed ole Gish outa the saddle, but that ain’t what Churkee done. No sir. What Churkee done was he rid up as close as he could get, and then he leaned across and stretched his arm and tuck hold a Gish’s shirt collar and lifted that little shit right outa the saddle and then just let him drop to the ground while his ole horse kept a-pounding hoofs and riding away. When that little runt landed on his ass on that hard prairie ground, why, I mean to tell you, I never seed nothing like it before or since then. He bounced straight up again real high and turned hisself a flip-flop like and lit down and bounced again two or three more times at least before he quit bouncing and went to rolling. Ole Churkee was a-going so fast that he rid right on past him, but by the time ole Gish final quit a-rolling, me and Potter was right there beside him a-looking down on him with our shooters in our hand. Then ole Gish, he final managed to set up and suck in some air, and then he looked up right square into my face, and he said, “You son of a bitches, I’ll kill ever’ damn one a you if I ever get a-loose.”

  Well, I give him my most iciest stare, and whenever I spoke up, I done it in my most coldest and meanestsounding tone a voice.

  “You’ll have to shoot me in the back,” I said, “’cause there ain’t no way you could take the likes a me to my face.”

  “I’ll kill you,” he said. “One way or the other. And I won’t stop there. When you’re dead, I’ll stomp your whole head into brain mush.”

  Chapter 15

  Well, ole Churkee final managed to get his horse slowed on down and turned back around, and he come a-riding back real slow and easy like, a-taking pity on the poor horse what had just did him a hell of a job, and the rest a the posse come riding on up to where we was at. Two a the men already had that second old man, ole Coy, with his hands tied behind his back, and a couple more of them jerked ole Gish on up to his feet and went to hog-tying him. He kept up a steady string a cussing at us, I can tell you, and for some reason, he was a-spitting most a his venom right at me. I wondered how come.

  Anyhow, the supply wagon come a-rolling on up to us then, a-rattling and a-clattering, and they throwed Coy and Gish on up in there with ole Wright. They was all trussed up good. Sheriff Potter got down offa his horse, tuck the hat offa his head and swiped at his forehead with the sleeve a his shirt.

  “We’ll move back into those hills for a little shade,” he said. “We’ll make us a camp and rest up overnight. Head back early in the morning. Couple a you boys catch up the kid’s horse. Ed, go get the saddlebags off the old man’s horse.”

  I didn’t really like it, them to keep on a-calling ole Gish “the kid,” on account a that was what I was called, and it was the fact that he was about my size and age and all and running with two old men what had got me in all that trouble in the first place. But I didn’t say nothing about it. I didn’t want to start no fuss. I figgered my troubles was all over and did with now that we had them three all roped up like that. Wouldn’t no one be accusing me and Zeb and Paw a-doing their dirty deeds no more.

  The mainest thing what I had left for me to do was to just get the word on down to ole Sheriff Jim Chastain back down in Fosterville. I weren’t quite sure how to go about that, on account a I knowed that if I was to ride into his sight, he would just start in a-shooting at me without giving me no chance to tell him nothing. I’d have to figger out how to get it did though. Then I could go on back up in the mountains to ole Weaver’s gold camp and fetch ole Zeb back down outa there—that is, if he’d be a-wanting to leave. Me and Zeb would be free again. We could go right on back to hunting gold for ourselfs, a-looking for ole Zeb’s mother lode or bananzy or whatever he called it. Or if he was to want to stay with Weaver and them for some unknowed reason, well, hell, I could go hunting me up another cowboying job, which was what I liked doing best anyhow.

  “You smart-ass little shit face,” I heared Gish say, and I looked over toward the wagon where he was at, and he was a-looking real mean and right at me again. “You’re the first one I’ll be a-coming for.”

  “Sheriff Potter,” I said, “why don’t you turn that little shit a-loose and give him a gun? He’s a-wanting to kill me real bad, and I’m developing the same kinda sentiment towards him. Me and him can go at it right here and now. Save yourself a lota trouble and save your town some money.”

  “I can’t do that, Kid,” Potter said. “I got to take him on in. You know that.”

  Me and that other kid just stared at each other then, and it come to me that he was just about my size all right, but he was a hell of a lot uglier than what I was. It kindly pissed me off that folks had mistook him for me. I just couldn’t figger how in the world they could think I was that ugly. I wished real bad then that ole Potter hadn’t a been such a stickler, ’cause I would dearly loved to of shot that kid dead, or even not dead but just only hurt him real good.

  Well, we all mounted on up and rid back into the hills like ole Potter had said and made us a camp for the night. Some a the posse men had rounded up the saddlebags offa all three a the outlaws’ horses, the two live ones and the one dead’n, and ole Potter had gone through them bags hisself, and he had come up with all the bank’s money all right. So it looked like we had been right successful in our chasing down a the outlaws and the loot. We all settled in feeling right smug. A chill come into the air that night, and me and Churkee was a-setting by a fire and drinking coffee. It was done dark. We was some tired out, but we wasn’t yet what you’d call sleepy.

  “What now, Kid?” Churkee asked me.

  I kindly give a shrug, you know, like as if I didn’t really know or hadn’t give it all that much thought.

  “I got to make for damn sure that ole Jim Chastain, the sheriff over to Fosterville, knows the whole truth about all this here matter,” I said. “Once I get that little chore tuck keer of, I reckon I’ll be free to do whatever I take into my head to do. I’ll go back and find my ole pardner, Zeb, I guess. See if he’s got anything pertikler in his old head. What about you, Churkee?”

  “I still have to find Randall Morgan,” he said.

  Well, I tell you what, what with chasing down old Gish and them, I had just about forgot all about ole Morgan and the fact that Churkee was on his trail. I felt plumb bad about that too. Here Churkee had done gone way off outa his way to help me out with my running down a Gish and them two old men, and he had even gone and caught up with ole Gish all by his own self there in the end, and there I had went and put his own personal manhunting job most nearly outa my head.

  “You know, Churkee,” I said, “I just now give it all a second thought. I think that if it’s all just the same with you, well, hell, I might just tag on along with you for a spell. If that’s all right.”

  He tuck a sip a his coffee and then lowered the cup down and looked right across that fire at me. The firelight was kindly bouncing on his dark face. Then he grinned.

  “I think that would be all right,” he said.

  Well, it tuck us a couple a more days in the doing, and we was all sure enough glad that ole Potter had thunk about bringing along that there supply wagon, but we all got back all right into Potter’s town, what, if you recall, was named Nugget, and Potter got them three owlhoots all locked up safe and sound in his jail. That damn Gish was still a-cussing and a-threatening. I wished again that Potter had went and let me and him shoot it out back out there on the prairie. I’d a shut the little shit up once and for all.

  Me and Churkee tuck keer of our horses over to the stable, and then we went back over there where I had rented us a room. Sherm and Roscoe was in the saloon part a the place whenever we walked through, and I seed that they was giving us hard looks. Some a the other men what had rid with the posse was in there too, and they was telling the tale how me and Churkee had did most a the ketching. I figgered that was going down hard with them two cowards. You know, they hadn’t tuck to me and Churkee right off the bat whenever we first rid into Nugget.

&nb
sp; I knowed that I still had me a bottle and a couple a glasses up in the room, so me and ole Churkee coulda just went right straight on up there and poured us each a big drink a whiskey and set our ass down to drink it there in the room a-saving the expense a buying more drinks bat the bar, but the only thing was I figgered it would be some fun to stay around in the saloon a while and kindly rub it in. Churkee musta figgered the same thing, ’cause he never argued with me none about it. I ordered us each a glass, and me and Churkee set down at a table. Them fellers from the posse kept on a-bragging on us, and them other two, Roscoe and Sherm, just kept on a-glaring. By and by, Potter come in and ordered hisself a drink. He set down with me and Churkee.

  “You boys doing all right?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “We’re doing just fine.”

  “I sent a wire down to Fosterville,” he said. “I told Chastain that I have the real outlaws in custody, and that you were with me in the posse, Kid. Invited him to come up and take a look if he feels the need. That ought to straighten things out for you.”

  “I’m obliged to you, Sheriff,” I said.

  “It’s the least I could do,” he said. “You two did a lot for me, for this town, hell, for the whole damn territory. Oh, we’d have caught them sooner or later, but thanks to you, it was sooner.”

  “Glad to be of assistance,” Churkee said.

  “Hey, Potter,” ole Roscoe hollered out from over yonder where he was at. “Ain’t there a law against selling whiskey to Injuns?”

  “Don’t start anything, Roscoe,” Potter said.

  “I want to make a complaint,” Roscoe said. “I got a right. I’m a citizen. I want to make a complaint on that damn Injun setting there a-drinking whiskey bigger’n shit in our saloon when it’s clear against the law. And you just setting there with him too, and you the sheriff. Well? What’re you going to do about it?”

  Potter looked kindly tired, and he give Churkee a straight-in-the-face look.

  “What is your nationality, my friend?” he said.

  “I’m a Mongolian,” Churkee said, and I don’t know what that meant, but whatever it was, he said it with a straight face and never blinked no eye.

  “See there?” said Potter. “He’s Mongolian. So relax, Roscoe.”

  “My ancestors came here a thousand years ago across the Bering Strait,” Churkee said. He tuck a sip a his drink. “They wandered all the way down to North Carolina where they settled and evolved into contemporary Cherokees.”

  “What’s that mean?” Roscoe said.

  Well, hell, I didn’t know what ole Churkee was a-talking about neither, so I never said nothing. I just kept out of it. If there was to be any shooting over it, I’d a been in it right off, but I couldn’t get into it with them fancy words and all.

  “It just means that he’s Mongolian,” Potter said. “That’s all. And I don’t know of any liquor laws pertaining to Mongolians. Do you?”

  “Well, no,” Roscoe admitted.

  “Then just keep quiet and mind your own business.”

  “I don’t know. I just think it’s a sad thing,” Roscoe said, “that we got us a paid killer and a damned Injun or a mongoo—whatever he is—come right into our town, a-drinking our whiskey, and our own sheriff is a-buddying up with them when he had oughta be arresting them or running them outa town. That’s all.”

  Well, I kicked my chair over backward and stood up fast a-looking right at that Roscoe. I understood what he said all right, and I didn’t like it none. I had my snake-eyes look on him too.

  “I ain’t no paid killer, you son of a bitch,” I said. “And I’ll kill you dead right here and now for nothing just to prove it.”

  Roscoe shut up and set still. It got real quiet there for a space. I was ready for just about anything, I can tell you.

  “Sit down, Kid,” Potter said.

  I didn’t set right away, and so he said it again.

  “Sit down.”

  I set, but I kept my snake-eyes on that goddamned Roscoe. Then ole Potter stood up slow like and walked on over there to where Roscoe was a-setting. Potter just stood there a-looking down on Roscoe.

  “Go on home, Roscoe,” he said. “You’re out looking for trouble, and I’m tired. I don’t want any trouble in town tonight.”

  “You can’t make me go home,” Roscoe said. “I ain’t done nothing. I got a right to set here as much as you or any man. More right than them two.”

  Well, ole Potter, he heaved a heavy sigh and started to walk on off. He headed right for the door just like as if he had done give up on trying to talk any sense into that damn Roscoe’s thick skull, but soon as he got on over to the backside of ole Roscoe, he whipped out his shooter damn quick and whirled around and brung the barrel a the gun down hard smack on top a Roscoe’s dull bean. It made me wince to see it and to hear it, I can tell you. It didn’t hurt Roscoe none, though, on account a he just slumped dead away. He didn’t even make no whimper. I reckoned it would hurt aplenty, though, whenever he come around awake again and had his feelings back. Well, ole Potter put away his shooter and looked at a couple a men who was just a-setting there.

  “Drag his ass on over to the jail,” he said. “Tell ole Lick Skillet over there to lock him up for the night.”

  Them two men got right up all right, and they went to dragging Roscoe’s limp body outa the saloon by his feet. It weren’t no easy chore neither. Roscoe was a big man. Potter come on back over and set down with us again.

  “Maybe now we can have us a quiet visit,” he said.

  Well, I poured me another glass. I had done had a couple, and I was commencing to feel some woozy, but ole Churkee, he had just been a-sipping on that first glass a his. He was still clearheaded enough, I’m sure. And ole Potter, he gulped his down, and it didn’t seem to have no effect on him atall. I was a-wishing that I could drink whiskey like that. It’s fun to drink whiskey when you got good company, but only in my case it makes me get drunk pretty damn quick and so the evening’s over for me just when it starts in to getting real good. We made some small talk, and I finished my drink and poured me one more, but I recollect a-thinking that was likely a big mistake. ’Course, ole Roscoe was outa the way, and I didn’t figger that I had no special reason to keep myself all alert and ever’thing, what with Potter and Churkee both right there, and Gish and them in jail.

  Then I heared a shot. Then there was another one and another one. Potter was up and out the door before I knowed what the hell was a-going on. Churkee follered him, and so did most ever’one else in the place. I got up kindly slow and unsteady and staggered for the door. On my way over, I heared more shots and all kinda yelling and horses stamping around. I made it to the door and pushed my way through them batwings, and just then a bullet smashed into the wall just right over to my left side. I pulled out my Colt, but I was slow, and I couldn’t tell what was going on nohow, so I just fell on over on the sidewalk and snugged myself up against the wall real tight.

  A couple a men went running past me, and a man on horseback went riding fast down the road, but the real action was off to my left and down the street a ways. I kindly thunk that the jailhouse was down there, but my thinking weren’t none too clear. I tried to set up then and see could I tell what was a-happening, but the most I could tell in my fuzziness was that there was some kinda ruckus all right. Pretty soon it all come to a stop. At least the shooting and the stomping horses quit. It got quiet ’cept for some hollering around.

  Churkee come back then, and he seed me there and give me a hand up to my feet. My head was some dizzy, and my legs was wobbly, I can tell you, and for once in my life I really did wish that I hadn’t a drunk so damn much whiskey. With Churkee a-holding me up, I made it back inside and back over to where I had been a-setting before, and I dropped my bony ass down heavy into the chair.

  “What’s going on?” I said, and my speech was real blurry. Even I noticed it.

  “Someone broke those outlaws out of jail,” he said.

  “Bef
ore they even spent a night?” I said.

  “That’s right,” he said. “The deputy, the two men that took Roscoe over there, and Roscoe have all been shot and killed.”

  “Damn,” I said.

  “Potter’s talking to some of the men who were in the posse,” he said. “He wants to gather it up again and go after them first thing in the morning. He says it won’t do any good to go after them tonight.”

  “You going?” I asked him.

  “I’m thinking about it,” he said.

  “Well, me too,” I said. “Hell, it’s like we done all that work for nothing.”

  “There’ll be more of them this time,” Churkee said. “The three we brought back and however many there were who broke them out. They can’t seem to get a handle on that. It could turn out to be a big fight.”

  “I been in big fights before,” I said. “I ain’t a-skeered.”

  “You’re pretty drunk, Kid,” he said.

  “I’ll be sober in the morning.”

  Just about then ole Potter come on back in, and he was follered by some more men. I sorta reckanized some of them from the posse. Potter stood with his back to the bar, and the rest tuck seats a-facing him.

  “It was five or six men who did the job,” Potter said. “We’re not sure exactly. That means we’ll be after either eight or nine. I’ll need a good-sized posse in the morning, and I’ll want to get an early start.”

  “Who done it, Sheriff?” someone asked.

  “We don’t know.”

  “They was a man over to the Watering Hole earlier,” someone said. “He was a-hiring gunfighters.”

  “What was his name?”

  “I never did catch it.”

  “Go on back over there and see if he’s still around,” Potter said, and the other man hurried out the door.