by Jake Logan
While Brace put the hackamore on the second horse, Oscar swung up onto the back of the first one. “Where we going?” he said.
“Head out toward the road,” said Brace. “We got to get out of the path of that damn fire.”
Oscar rode to the gate and reached down to drop the pole which served as a gate. Then he kicked the horse in the sides and rode hard toward the front of the house. Three shots from the Tipton bunch dropped him from the horse’s back. The horse ran wild, followed by several others that had been in the corral. Brace threw himself onto his horse’s back and dropped to one side, riding with the spooked horses. He managed to get himself into the middle of the small herd, and they rode fast by the clump of trees where Slocum and the others were hidden. Slocum caught a glimpse of a boot over the horse’s back.
“One’s getting away,” he said.
“Let’s get after him,” said Randy.
Slocum looked after the running horses. “We can’t catch him,” he said. “Check that other one over there.”
Randy sent a couple of cowhands to check the body of Oscar. They came back and reported that he was dead as hell.
“Well,” said Randy, “we better get moving before that fire gets any closer.”
“Yeah,” Slocum said. “Let’s head back for the ranch.”
They mounted up and turned their horses toward the road.
Hump and the rest of the gang rode hard ahead of the now-raging wildfire.
“It’s gaining on us,” Goofball McGinnis shouted.
“Shut up and ride,” said Hump. “We’ll make it to the house.”
Just then Goofball’s horse stumbled, throwing Goofball off over its head. He landed with a hard thump and rolled over three or four times. The wind was knocked out of his lungs. He tried to call out for help, but he couldn’t make any noise. He lay on his back gulping for air. No one had noticed his fall. The horse managed to get to its feet and run after the others. Goofball watched it go, still trying to suck wind. At last he caught some breath.
“Come back!” he yelled.
No one heard him, or if anyone did, no one paid any attention. They seemed to ride harder and faster away from him. Panic-stricken, he got to his feet. He watched them for a moment. Then he yelled again. “Hey. Come back.” He turned to look over his shoulder at the flames which were coming at him, moving faster and faster it seemed to the sorry wretch. He started to run. He ran ahead stumbling as he did. He knew that it slowed him down to turn his head and look over his shoulder, but he could not help himself. He frequently looked anyway, and each time he looked, he felt more helpless. He had a long run to escape the flames. He could not make it, but he could not just give himself up to a blazing death.
He stepped on a rock and turned his ankle, and it threw him to one side, and he fell hard on the rocky ground. “Ah,” he cried out. “Oh God.” He was out of breath again. He turned to look at the fire. Now it looked to him as if there was nothing behind him at all other than the roaring wall of flames with its billowing black cloud of smoke above. He could feel the heat. He knew that he was going to die.
“Goddamn Hump Beamer,” he cried out. “Goddamn him to hell.”
Hump and the others reached the house from the back. Some had started to dismount, but Hump suddenly cautioned them. “Something’s wrong here,” he said. “Get your guns ready and get down slow. Look around.” They all dismounted with their six-guns in their hands. Hump moved toward the house. The others went in other directions.
“Hump,” Butcher yelled. “The horses is gone. All of them.”
Hump had stopped still already. He was looking at the back door standing wide open. Maw never left the door like that, he thought. He moved in closer, staring at the open door. When he reached it, he stepped inside. There were the bodies of his two brothers, Hiram and Henley. He stopped still for a moment. Butcher came running up to the back door.
“Did you hear me?” he said. “The horses is gone.”
“I heard you,” Hump said.
Just then, Butcher saw the bodies. “Oh shit,” he said. “Where’s Maw?”
“I don’t know,” said Hump. “I ain’t seen her.”
Skinny Clark stepped into the front door, which, like the back, was standing wide open. “Hump,” he said, “your Maw is outside.” He pointed to his right through the wall. “Out yonder by the back corner.”
Butcher hurried out the back door and ran to the corner of the house. Hump followed more slowly. The two brothers stood there looking down at their Maw. In another minute, Jefferson Davis walked up.
“Maw?” he said.
“She ain’t going to answer you, Jeff,” said Hump. “She’s gone.”
“Maw and Hiram and Henley?” said Jefferson Davis.
“Yeah,” said Hump. “And don’t forget Billy and Ike and Harman.”
“Say,” said Skinny, “I don’t see Goofball.”
“We lost him back at the fire,” Hump said.
“What?” said Skinny. “What do you mean we lost him?”
“Just what I said. His horse threw him. He fell. He’s still back there.”
“Well, we got to go get him,” Skinny said.
“Hell, he’s cooked already,” said Hump. “Let’s get mounted and get out of here.”
“What’re we going to do about Maw and the boys?” Jefferson Davis said.
“Leave them here,” said Hump. “They’ll be cremated.”
“We can’t do that.”
“If we don’t, we’ll likely be cremated ourselves. If you want to take a chance like that, go on ahead and stay behind and dig some graves. Me? I’m getting out of here.”
Hump walked back to his waiting horse, and the others watched him go. They looked at one another. Skinny looked at Butcher and at Jefferson Davis. Then he turned and walked after Hump. Hump turned in the saddle to look at his two brothers. “Well,” he said, “you coming?” They ran after him and mounted up. The three Beamers and Skinny rode off toward the road. Hump turned toward town, and the others followed him. They had gone a ways before Butcher spoke up.
“Hey, Hump,” he said, “where the hell’re you headed?”
“I figure that fire’ll take out our house,” said Hump. “Then it’ll come on out here to the road. It’ll stop there. We’ll get away from it all right if we’re in closer to town. We’ll move off the road in another mile or so.”
“All right,” said Butcher. He rode along with the others for a space in silence. Then he said, “Hump, what do you mean to do next?”
“What do you want to do, Butcher?” Hump said.
“Kill Slocum,” said Butcher.
“Me, too,” said Hump, “and Tipton. At least them two.”
“All right.”
Hump turned his horse off the road to the right. The others followed him.
“I’d like to fuck that little gal of his,” Jefferson Davis said.
“We kill Slocum and Tipton,” said Hump, “you just might get to do that.”
“What about the rest of us?” said Butcher.
“All of us,” Hump said.
“We can fuck her to death,” said Jefferson Davis.
“That’s the general idea,” said Hump.
They all laughed at the thought. They rode on a little farther until they came to a side trail. Hump led the way onto it, turning in the direction that led away from the main road.
“Where’s this go?” asked Jefferson Davis.
“You’ll know soon enough,” Hump said.
They moved along for a while in silence. Then they topped a rise, and Hump stopped his horse. The others rode up beside him. About a half a mile ahead and on the left side of the trail was a small log cabin nestled back in the trees. Smoke rose gently from its chimney.
“That there is old Yancey Jones’s place,” said Hump.
“I never knowed that was here,” said Butcher.
“You never did get around enough,” Hump said. “Now let me tell you about old Yance
y. He’s a goddamned hermit. No one comes to see him, and he don’t go nowhere.”
“How’s he live?” asked Jefferson Davis.
“He keeps a little pissy-assed garden, and he raises goats. That’s what he lives on.”
“Goat meat and radishes?” said Butcher.
“Yeah. And whatever else is in his garden and goat’s milk.”
“I couldn’t live like that,” said Skinny.
“Well, we’re going to,” said Hump. “For a little while.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We’re going to hole up right down there,” Hump said. “Won’t no one come looking for us there. We’ll wait a few days. Everyone will figure that we hightailed it out of here. They’ll relax. Then we’ll come sneaking out, and we’ll kill them.”
“That’s good thinking,” said Butcher.
“Let’s go on down,” Hump said.
They rode slowly down to the little cabin. When they reached it, they moved their horses into the yard right in front of the cabin. In a couple of minutes, the front door of the cabin was opened from the inside, and a couple of eyes peered out from the darkness.
“Who are you?” came a voice.
“Just some weary travelers,” said Hump.
“What are you doing here?”
“Looking for a little kind hospitality.”
“There ain’t nothing here for you.”
“We don’t want much,” Hump said. “Just a little bit to eat is all. We been traveling a long road.”
“I think you’re lying to me,” said old Yancey. “I think your name is Beamer. I seen you around. You just live a few miles from here. You all get on out of here now.”
“Hell, Hump,” said Butcher, “you said the old son of a bitch didn’t never get out.”
The long barrel of an ancient Kentucky rifle poked out through the crack of the door, and Hump stiffened in the saddle.
“I’m telling you to ride on,” Yancey said. “You ain’t welcome here.”
“That’s mighty damned unfriendly,” Butcher said.
“Naw, hell, that’s all right,” said Hump. “If he don’t want us around, we’ll just move on. Let’s go, boys.”
“What?” said Butcher.
“You heard me,” said Hump. “Let’s go.”
He turned his horse and rode back out onto the trail, and the others followed him. Hump continued to ride away from Yancey’s cabin. He rode until they were out of sight of the old man, and then he stopped.
“What are you up to?” Butcher asked.
“I didn’t want to take no chances on getting one of us shot with that damned old gun of his,” Hump said. “We’ll just wait a while. Then I want you to sneak back down there. Keep hid. Take your rifle with you, and wait for that old fool to show hisself. Then drop him. When we hear your shot, we’ll come a running to join you.”
“What if he don’t come out?”
“He’ll come out. He’s got to take care of his critters, don’t he? Now get going on down there.”
Butcher dismounted, took his rifle, looked back at Hump, then started down the edge of the trail toward Yancey Jones’s lone cabin. Soon he found a spot beside the trail where he had good cover and a clear view of the cabin. He settled in to watch and wait.
14
Brace Beamer wandered the prairies and the woods alone wondering just what the hell he was going to do with himself. He was all alone, and he was wanted by the law. Well, the law was no problem, but there were those damned dodgers that someone had put out offering a reward for him and for Hump. He wondered where Hump might be just now. Hump had gone out to cause mischief on the Tipton spread, and he had not been seen again, at least not by Brace. Brace had never been alone before, not really. He had gone to town a few times by himself, but he always knew that Maw and his brothers were there at the ranch. Now Maw was gone, and so were several of his brothers. As far as he knew, Hump was still alive and so were Butcher and Jefferson Davis. But where in hell were they?
He was getting hungry and thirsty. He knew where there was a stream not far away, so he decided to ride over there and at least quench his thirst. It ran across the Tipton place, but he did not want to go that way. That was where the fire had started, and for all he knew, it was still raging. The looked in that direction, and he could still see the black smoke rising. The stream ran across the road and into the woods on the other side. He could find it over there. He just had to be careful when he crossed over the road. He did not want to be seen by anyone. He was fair game now with those damn dodgers out.
He felt in his pockets, but he knew before he did so that there was nothing in them: no money, no chaw, no makings for a smoke. His ass and his legs hurt from riding bareback so long. He knew that he had to think of something. He had to do something to change his luck. He couldn’t just go on like this. If only he could figure out where to look for Hump and the others. He stopped at the edge of the road to listen for any riders that might be coming along. Hearing no one, he crossed hurriedly, and in a few more minutes, he had found his way to the stream on that side of the road. He dismounted by sliding off of the bareback horse, and he staggered down to the water’s edge. Dropping to his knees and then lowering himself to his belly, he dipped his face in the cool, fresh water and drank his fill. At last he rolled over onto his back to rest.
He was still hungry, but he felt a little better after the long, cool drink. He was sore from the long ride with no saddle. He wondered where he could find one. Of course, he would have to steal it. He had no money. He tried to think of places where he might locate a saddle to steal. The Tipton place was the nearest, but that would not be a good place to ride into alone. Tipton had an army of cowhands and that damned gunslinger watching over the place. He hated to think about climbing back onto that damned horse without a saddle, but his hunger was getting ferocious. He had to find something to eat before long. He fancied that he might be dying of hunger. Of course, he was not.
Deciding that he could put it off no longer, Brace sat up. His eyes opened wide. He looked all around. There was no sign of the horse. Damn it. He had been so anxious to get himself a drink that he had not bothered tying the animal. The son of a bitch had wandered off. He stood up and walked over to where he had left it, and he looked around in all directions. He could not see the horse anywhere. He wondered where it could have gone. The woods were thick. It could have gone in any direction. It might have gone back out onto the road. Hell, it might even have headed back toward home. What would a horse do, he wondered, if it went back home and found the whole place burned to the ground?
Then he started to think about the home place. It might be possible that the fire had skipped over some stuff. There had been food in the house. And there were those loose horses that had run off when he and Oscar had made their run for it. Some of them might still be around. Maybe a saddle had survived the conflagration. Well, he decided, there was nothing to do but make the long walk back to the house, or to where the house had been. He started hoofing it.
Butcher had been waiting in his hiding place for so long that he had dropped off to sleep. He came awake with a start. Rubbing his eyes, he looked toward the cabin. It was as it had been. He squirmed around in an attempt to relieve some of his limbs which were beginning to ache from sitting so long in the same position. Then he saw the door open and old Yancey step out front. The old man looked up and down the road as if to assure himself that he was indeed alone. Butcher raised his rifle to his shoulder and took careful aim. He could only afford one shot. He squeezed the trigger, and the rifle bucked against his shoulder. The lead smashed into the old man’s chest dropping him instantly. Butcher stood up. In spite of his weary limbs, he grinned a satisfied grin, and he started walking toward the cabin.
Brace made it back to where his home had been, but he found nothing but piles of ashes. There was no house, no corral, no horses. The bodies of his mother and of his two brothers were charred beyond recognition. The fire wa
s out, but everything was still smoldering and smoking. Exhausted, he sat down on the blackened earth, but he yelped and jumped back up. The ground was hot. He slapped at his own ass, afraid that he had set his pants on fire. He looked around once more, wondering what he was going to do. It looked to Brace as if the fire had burned in a diagonal line from where it had started on the Tipton spread across the Beamer place to the road where it had stopped. That meant that not all of the Beamer place had burned. There was some wild country off to the northwest that had not been touched. But that would do him no good.
He thought about all the things that had been there that he was so desperate to have. There had been money. He knew that. Maw always kept some money around. There had been horses and saddles. And there had been food. Lots of food. He wanted all of those things. He decided to rummage through the burned mess that had been his house. Walking into the middle of the pile of burnt wood, he made his way to where the fireplace still stood, its rocks unharmed by the flames. The things that had been sitting on the mantel were burned. He tried to think where Maw had last put her money, but he could not remember where it had been. She had moved it occasionally by habit, so that her boys would not try to sneak any of it out.
He found a chunk of burned black beef, and he picked it up, but it was so hot that he dropped it again. He looked around until he found a kitchen knife. Its wooden handle had been burned away, and the blade had turned black, but it was still in good shape beyond that. He picked it up and dropped it, yelping and flapping his fingers. He took the rag out of his back pocket and carefully wrapped it around the knife where the wooden handle had been. Then he took the knife and stabbed it into the beef. Lifting the beef in this manner, Brace took a bite. It was burned black. Eating it was like trying to eat a piece of burnt wood. He forced himself to eat several bites before he threw it away. Then he stood there looking around, feeling helpless and alone. For a brief instant he thought about burying the remains of his mother and brothers, but he could not even bear to look at them. He decided that were just as well off left as they were.
