The Running Gun

by Jory Sherman

  A cheer went up from Tyler, Jones, and Raskin as Dapper climbed the bank onto dry land.

  “Go in a little higher than I did,” Dan shouted across the river. “You all ought to make it okay.”

  Jerico Jones rode his horse into the river next and Dan watched the animal fight the current. Halfway across, the horse tried to turn back, but Jones reined him hard and dug heels into the flanks. The horse straightened out and made it the rest of the way all right, although Dan could see the whites of the horse’s eyes between flattened ears.

  Pete Raskin turned his horse into the river and the animal held its head high and pumped its forelegs with a regular rhythm, swimming like a seal through the deepest part of the river, and the swiftest. The horse seemed a natural to Dan, one that had swum a river before.

  Vern Tyler finally entered the stream and before Dan could relax, the horse fought the water and turned back. The current caught its rump, which scared the horse and it clambered back onto the bank, shaking itself like a wet dog.

  “Damn,” Tyler said.

  “Give it some time,” Dan shouted. “Take the horse upstream a little more. Let him get used to it.”

  “I’ll do ’er,” Tyler said testily. “Damned horse is just a mite skittery is all.”

  Jones held his breath.

  Pete shot Dan a look and ran his tongue inside a cheek in disbelief as his eyes rolled.

  After his horse calmed down, a six-year old steel-dust, gray gelding about fifteen hands high, Tyler dug the rowels of his spurs into the animal’s flanks, leaned forward in the saddle and, reins slack, put the horse back on track. The horse jumped into the river, burying Tyler up to his chest. For a moment, Dan thought horse and rider were going to be swept downstream and come up in deeper water along a straight stretch. But the horse bobbed up, his forelegs churning, its hind legs kicking, and propelled itself through the swift current in the center of the river.

  Raskin and Jones sent up a rousing cheer of encouragement and Tyler stood up in the stirrups and leaned forward as if trying both to be weightless and to impel the horse to follow a straight path.

  The horse flayed the water with its front hooves, splashing like a puppy, kicking out his hind legs. The horse appeared to be trying to buck Tyler off, but was gaining momentum, stretching its neck out full, lifting its head and shaking it from side to side. Wild-eyed and flailing, the horse reached the shallows and, with a desperate effort pulled its entire body onto the hardpan. Then it bolted through the shallow water, splashing spray and water in all directions. Tiny rainbows danced in the mist, then disappeared like mirages.

  Tyler was tight-lipped as the horse clambered up the bank, and he settled back into the saddle and took control with a steady pull on the reins. The horse headed straight for the other riders, its eyes filled with terror.

  “He ain’t a swimmer, that’s for sure,” Dan said, wry tone to his voice, as Tyler pulled the horse to a stop in front of him.

  “No, but he sure kicks hell out of water,” Tyler said.

  “He left some in the river,” Dan said. “Kind of him.”

  Tyler grinned. “You know, Jason, you got a fair sense of humor. I hope it holds up when your horse gives out and mine is just gettin’ his second wind.”

  They all laughed, then Dan turned serious. “Where to now, Mr. Tyler?”

  “We’ll head for Kerrville then cut east to San Antonio. If we’re lucky, Krebs won’t be waitin’ for us.”

  Dan said nothing. But he looked at Jones and the man’s pasty expression told it all.

  The witness was still scared out of his wits.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A blue evening stole away the daylight, and with only a smear of color in the western sky, the four men, weary from the long ride, dogged by horseflies and blue bottles swarming up from boggy ground turned to mush by the recent rain, pulled up to a small stream to make camp, rest for the night in a tranquil place.

  Cattle grazed in the distance, vanishing as the rent in the sky closed and Venus sparkled like a diamond against the pale aquamarine backdrop of endless space. One of them made a lowing sound, as mournful as anything Dan had ever heard, and for some reason it made him homesick again.

  Tyler had been in a foul mood all day, gruff one minute, taciturn the next, cursing under his breath at the prairie dogs and the rattlers, the mindless armadillos, and the fleet scurry of roadrunners streaking across their unmarked trail.

  “So damned much emptiness out here,” Tyler said, as he unsaddled his horse. “We ain’t seen another human in days.”

  “Maybe that’s good,” Raskin said. “Means we ain’t bein’ follered.”

  Tyler snorted and laid out his bedroll. “You fellers gather some rocks and wood, we’ll burn a fire tonight, have us some hot food and coffee for a change.”

  Dan said nothing. He didn’t know the country as Tyler and Raskin did, but he found it fascinating. It made him look at Texas in a whole new way, as a place bigger than Kansas, bigger than his homestead near Waco. It seemed endless and ever changing, like the sky at sunset, like the moiling colors on a pond at evening. In the vastness, he found comfort for some reason, as if the land were as big as the sky and would go on forever. He just wished that such peace as he had found that day would last forever.

  But he knew it would not. Ahead lay more of the unknown, and perhaps the deadly known as represented by Jake Krebs and his henchmen. They were out there, somewhere, just waiting—perhaps closer than he thought—tracking them, watching them through a spyglass, just biding their time until the right moment when they would pounce, guns blazing, lead flying like hornets, death in every blamed bullet.

  And Dan knew that Tyler felt the same way. The Ranger had been jumpy all day, looking over his shoulder, riding drag, circling the three of them as he asked them to stay on course. Doubling back and then returning with a rigid set to his lips, a frown on his face like a cloud shadow. And there were other little things Dan noticed too.

  Tyler doubled back once then, after he rejoined them, he would continually pull his rifle a little way out of its sheath as if to see how fast he could jerk it into action, and keeping his pistol loose in his holster, lifting it, and dropping it back down easy. Dan hadn’t said anything, figuring if Tyler wanted him to know anything, he would have said something. The man was jumping at shadows all day long.

  Dan built a fire with just enough flame to boil the coffee water and cook up some dried beef brisket and beans, with the rocks piled high enough so the flames couldn’t be seen from a long way off. He noticed that Tyler walked well away from the fire, circling their small camp like a cougar pacing inside a rock cave, never looking directly at the fire. Walking, watching, listening.

  “You think Krebs and them boys will jump us tonight?” Jones asked, finally.

  Dan saw that Tyler’s nervousness was getting to him too.

  “Me? No,” Tyler said.

  “Then why are you walkin’ all around and lookin’ out into the dark?”

  “Just in case.”

  “Just in case of what?” Raskin asked. He too seemed nervous.

  “Case of critters,” Tyler said, and Dan knew he was lying.

  They took turns eating their grub.

  Dan and Pete ate first, while Jones and Tyler walked circles well away from the campfire. Then Dan called the two in and he and Pete walked guard. Dan stopped every so often to listen and he noticed that Pete did the same. Their nerves were stretched like strings on a guitar being wound too tight.

  Tyler put the fire out, plunging the camp into darkness. A whip-poor-will tootled its melancholy song from the nearby trees. Crickets struck up their incessant sawing in the grasses. Bullfrogs whumped around a nearby tank, and from far off, Dan heard cattle lowing. Jones walked out and called him and Pete in.

  “Tyler wants to tell us all something,” he said.

  The fire wasn’t even glowing. It was pitch dark, except for the pale light of the distant stars. The moon had not yet
risen, and when it did come up, it would be only a sliver. There was a breeze, stiffening as it prowled the open land, bringing with it a chill from some northern place.

  “Set,” Tyler said. “Close, so my voice doesn’t carry beyond the four of us.”

  “You think somebody’s listening?” Dan asked, as he sat down on bare ground next to the dead fire.

  “You can’t never tell,” Tyler said. “Sound carries far out here.”

  “You’re scarin’ me, Mr. Tyler,” Jones said.

  Dan could hear him shivering.

  “Don’t mean to, Jerico, but we’re bein’ tracked, sure enough.”

  “What?” Raskin said.

  “I run across tracks today. Back when we was jumped by Krebs, I made sure I studied the hoofprints their horses made. And sure enough, that Frank Gaston has been crossing our trail every so often. Stayin’ out of sight. Not in any hurry.”

  Dan felt a ripple of chilblains up his spine.

  “Why didn’t Krebs jump us?” Jones asked.

  Tyler made a sound with his breath as he breathed in and out through his nose.

  “My guess is that Krebs ain’t around just yet. I only saw one set of tracks the whole day, and they belonged to that marshal from Abilene. I figure Krebs has something worked out so’s he can find out where we’re headed, then bring in some other men to finish the job he started the other day.”

  “You can guess yourself to death, Tyler,” Dan said. “Gaston has no way to tell Krebs where we are, or where we’re goin’. We can beat him to the draw, I think.”

  Tyler snorted in mild derision. “I’ll tell you how Krebs works, and maybe you can figure it out, Jason.”

  “Shoot,” Dan said.

  “Krebs knew we’d have to cross the Colorado—somewhere, sooner or later. So, he sends Gaston upriver and he stays downriver, or maybe Lonnie Bartlett takes one track, Krebs another. Krebs knows exactly where we are, and pretty soon, he’s going to know where we’re going. If he don’t already.”

  “That sounds logical,” Dan said.

  “The man’s smart as a whip. And there ain’t no better tracker in Texas than Jake Krebs.”

  “So, where’s he goin’ to get them reinforcements?” Jones asked.

  “Along the way. Some little town. He knows how to pick men too. He’ll hire some guns and offer them top dollar. Oh, don’t you worry none about that end of it. Krebs will have more men with him when he makes his move.”

  Dan leaned back and let out a sigh. He knew Krebs was smart. He had certainly outwitted him and Jason, and the marshals in Abilene and Junction City. He was outwitting Ben Alexander as well. And, where in hell was Alexander? He must know more about Krebs than Tyler did. If he didn’t, he didn’t deserve to wear a U.S. Marshal’s badge.

  “Well, that’s it, boys,” Tyler said. “You boys get you some shuteye. Jason, you and I will take a walk, just in case.”

  Dan was mildly surprised that he had been asked to stand the first watch with Tyler. He was suspicious. He said goodnight to Jones and Raskin, then walked away from the camp with Tyler. They walked a good distance, well out of earshot of the two they left behind.

  “Them two boys are greenhorns,” Tyler said, keeping his voice low. “Still wet behind the ears. You look like a man who’s been down the road.”

  Dan didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

  “I think we’re going to buck up against Krebs pretty soon now.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Oh, not here. He’ll get us in a corner somewhere, likely. I can’t count on Jones. He’s a damned water witcher. The only thing he’s used a gun for before was to hammer a nail in something. Now, that boy with you, he shows more promise.”

  “He’ll do, I think.”

  “I know his name ain’t John.”

  Dan stiffened. He held his breath, wondering where Tyler was going with this.

  “No?”

  “I seen him around Belton a time or two. Don’t worry, I’ll keep that secret, same as I’ll keep yours. For the time being, anyway.”

  “I, uh….”

  Tyler raised a hand, waved it as if he didn’t expect Dan to defend himself.

  Dan was relieved—well, a little anyway.

  “I know he’s Pete Raskin. I knowed his pappy once’t. He’s a good boy, and I know he got in trouble over a stolen horse. But he’s not on my list. The Rangers aren’t going after him.”

  “I’d like to tell him that.”

  “You go right ahead. Now, you, you’re another case entirely.”

  Dan said nothing.

  “I was tempted to throw you in irons when I first saw you, but I heard a story at the fort that I remembered. One of our boys chased some Kiowa up into Kansas and run into a wagon train. Folks there told them about a man who killed a half-dozen of them and saved their bacon. They were mighty grateful.”

  Tyler looked at Dan for a reaction. But Dan stood his ground, cloaking himself in the night and in the silence.

  “Well, this one Ranger, he asked for a description of you, and when the man told him what you looked like, he pulled out a dodger he had in his pocket and showed it to the man. He said that was the man who shot and killed them Injuns. Quite a coincidence, we all thought.”

  “I guess you’re getting at something, Tyler.”

  “Sure am—in my slowpoke way.”

  “Fascinating story.”

  “Ain’t it, though? Well, I looked at that dodger too, and being as the wanted man was from Waco, we all paid special attention to it. Then, a U.S. Marshal stopped by one day. He talked about this same man, asked us not to kill him if we saw him. Said there might be some question about his guilt, saying he might have been set up by Jake Krebs.”

  Dan’s throat constricted. It was like hearing a single footstep in your room at night and waiting for the next foot to come down and make a noise.

  “Do you remember the name of that marshal?” Dan asked.

  “Sure. It was Ben Alexander. Know him?”

  Before Dan could make up a lie or dodge the question, Tyler spoke up again. “Never mind. It’s not important. Like I said, when I saw you, I was ready to clap handcuffs on you, but then I saw that damned marshal out of Abilene, Frank Gaston, and what that Alexander had said made some sense. Gaston was lookin’ for the same man, and yet he’d thrown in with a known outlaw, Jake Krebs. So, I figured to give you the benefit of the doubt. For the time being.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, I know who you are, Jason. You’re Dan Cord, and you’re wanted up in Kansas for murder.”

  Dan felt as if the earth had fallen out from underneath him. He tensed, ready to snatch his pistol from its holster and take the Ranger down.

  But, he had underestimated Tyler.

  “Cord, before you draw that hogleg, you got to know I got the drop on you.”

  Dan felt something hard ram into his gut. And then, he heard the click of a hammer cocking.

  He knew then, that it was all over for him.

  Chapter Twenty

  Dan felt the pressure of the pistol barrel pressing into his belly. The click of the hammer echoed in his ears.

  “I just didn’t want you to make a foolish mistake, Cord,” Tyler said. “Take your hand away from that Colt of yours and I’ll back off.”

  Dan breathed a sigh of relief. “I wasn’t going to shoot you, Tyler.”

  Tyler laughed. “I wasn’t going to shoot you either. A question, though. Did Krebs frame you for murder?”

  Dan thought of his promise to Marshal Alexander. Ben had asked Dan not to tell anyone that he was on the government’s payroll. But he didn’t tell him he couldn’t defend himself to anyone who asked whether or not he was guilty of killing his brother and the Abilene marshals. He knew he had to be careful where he stepped, but Tyler had asked a legitimate question and it deserved an honest answer.

  “He did,” Dan replied.

  “That’s all I need to know. Except, maybe this. Can you prove it?”r />
  Dan sucked in a breath. “That’s why I’m on the run. I can’t prove it.”

  “Ever?”

  “Not unless Krebs confesses to what he did to me.”

  “Hmmph. Well, that don’t seem likely. You’re in a fix, young Cord. That’s for sure. You may have to ride the owlhoot trail for the rest of your life.”

  The two men stood watch for the next three hours, then woke Jones and Raskin for their turns standing guard. Dan and Vern got into their bedrolls after the two young men left the camp.

  Dan lay on his back, looking up at the stars, thinking about what Tyler had told him about being doomed to ride the owlhoot trail his entire life. It was something he was determined not to do, if there was any way out of it.

  There was dead silence except for the call of the whip-poor-will and the far away plaint of a lone coyote. Dan’s mind was racing, now that his identity was known to Tyler. Could he trust the man? So far, he had not been able to trust anyone, except, perhaps, Ben Alexander. Maybe old Galoot, the man he had met in Abilene. No others that he could think of right off-hand. Raskin, maybe, but it was too soon to tell. He had not known Pete that long.

  “Dan Cord?”

  Tyler’s voice startled Dan.

  “You awake?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You don’t have to worry none, you know.”

  “About what?”

  “About me. We get to San Antonio, I won’t arrest you or turn you in.”

  “Even for the reward?”

  “No. You been a big help to me. I think you and Raskin saved my life. And the life of that witness, Jones.”

  “Maybe. That don’t buy me no free ticket, though.”

  “It does with me.”

  “All right. Thanks.”

  Dan waited. He heard Tyler sigh. Then…

  “I just wanted you to know, Dan. Get some sleep.”

  “G’night, Vern.” That was the first time Dan had used Tyler’s first name.

  “Good night, Dan.”

  Dan felt better. But he still didn’t trust Tyler. He said one thing now, but he might sing a different tune when they got to San Antonio—back to Tyler’s world. Out here, it was pretty much every man for himself. He felt sure that Tyler could be trusted only so far. And only as long as he needed Dan and Pete to keep Krebs and his wolves at bay.