by Jake Logan
“So you turned him down.”
“Of course I did. We have a town marshal now. With a deputy. If we mean to make this stick, we have to have law and order. I’ll back up your office all the way.”
“I don’t know how much good that’s going to do if Oates rides in here with twenty men,” Slocum said.
Church looked thoughtful for a moment. “And he’s apt to do just that,” he said. “I’ll see how many men I can raise here in town.”
“That would be an idea,” Slocum said.
The door opened and a man dressed like a rancher stepped into the office. “Howdy, Will,” he said. “I assume that this is your new marshal, Slocum.”
“It is, Bill,” Church said. “Slocum, this is Bill Bartlet. He’s the other big rancher around here.”
Slocum and Bartlet shook hands. Bartlet said, “I understand you’ve got that Sam Hyde in jail.”
“That’s right,” Slocum said.
“Bennie Dill was one of my boys,” said Bartlet. “I came in because I heard that Simon Oates was in here to see you.”
“He was here all right,” said Church. “He stopped in the marshal’s office first, and then he came to see me.”
“I guess he didn’t get what he wanted from the marshal then,” said Bartlet. “Did he have any better luck here?”
“He rode away angry,” said Church.
“That’s what I want to hear,” Bartlet said. “I just want to make sure that Hyde hangs for what he did.”
“I can’t promise you that,” Church said. “All I can promise is that he’ll get a fair trial. I can tell you, though, that there were plenty of witnesses, and they all said that Dill was unarmed.”
“I have an idea,” said Slocum. “Someone said that Oates might come in here with his whole damn crew to take Hyde out of jail.”
“I can have my whole crew in town to see that he don’t,” said Bartlet.
“You took the thought right out of my head,” Slocum said. “What size crew you got?”
“I have twenty-four cowhands,” said Bartlet.
“Mayor,” said Slocum, “when you warned me that there might be a range war looming, you weren’t talking about these two, were you?”
Church looked sheepishly at Bartlet. “Well, yes, I was.”
“Bartlet,” Slocum said, “if there’s a chance of something like that brewing, I wouldn’t bring my whole crew into town. Half maybe. Me and Tommy will make it fourteen. That ought to be enough. I doubt if Oates will bring in all of his at once, either.”
“It’ll be a war right here in town,” Church said.
“Maybe not,” Slocum said. “It might just be a standoff.”
“Oates won’t dare try anything if he sees me and my boys in town,” said Bartlet. “I’ll get back out there right now and come back with a crew.”
Bartlet rode out of town, leaving Slocum and Church alone in the office.
“The range war might come sooner than I thought,” said Church.
“Yeah,” said Slocum. “It might. And we’ll be fighting with one crew. I hope it don’t look like we chose sides.”
“We’ll just be upholding the law,” Church said. “Oates has threatened to stop the trial. We have a right to deputize citizens. If those citizens happen to work for Bill Bartlet, that’s just the way it is.”
“Well, I think I’d best go inform my deputy of what we’ve schemed up over here.”
“You mind if I go along?”
“Nope. Not a bit.”
They walked together across the street to the marshal’s office, where Tommy sat alone except for the prisoner sulking in the cell, his clothes still sopping wet. Church noticed him dripping in the cell.
“What happened to him?” the mayor said.
“Oh, nothing much,” said Slocum. “He was just talking too much is all.”
Church looked from the prisoner to the empty water bucket on the floor and then at Slocum. He looked back at Hyde. “If I were in your shoes,” he said, “I believe I’d keep my mouth shut.”
Hyde grumbled but said nothing.
“Tommy,” said Slocum, “let’s go have a drink.”
“Right now?”
“That’s right. Come on.”
“What have I done?”
“Nothing. Me and the mayor have done something.”
As they went out the door, Slocum looked back at Hyde and said, “Don’t go anyplace till we get back.” They walked to the Fancy Pants. The first thing they noticed was that none of the customers was wearing a gun.
“Get us a table,” Slocum said. He stopped at the bar and got a bottle and three glasses from Charlie. Then he joined Tommy and Church at an out-of-the-way table, where they could talk without being overheard. Slocum poured the glasses full. They each took a drink.
“Tommy,” said Slocum, “remember what you said about Oates riding in here with twenty men to break Hyde out of jail?”
“Sure. I remember. He just might do it.”
“That’s what we told Bill Bartlet.”
“Bartlet?”
“Yeah,” said Church. “He came to see me in my office. Slocum was there at the time.”
“It seems that the man Hyde killed was one of Bartlet’s crew,” Slocum said. “Bartlet wants to see Hyde hang. Bartlet said he’d send in half his crew to keep Oates from breaking Hyde out.”
“Well,” said Tommy, “it sounds like it might keep Hyde in jail till the trial all right, but it might just start—”
“Start the range war,” said Slocum.
“It’s a chance we have to take,” the mayor said. “This has been brewing for a long time now.”
7
The town filled up amazingly quickly. Simon Oates showed up first with twelve men. They rode directly up to the jail. They did not dismount. Oates shouted out in a bold voice, “Slocum. You in there?” The door opened and Slocum stepped out onto the sidewalk. He did not speak. He just stood, staring straight into the eyes of Oates. “I want Sam Hyde, Slocum,” Oates continued, “and I mean to have him.”
“You mean to go against the law?” Slocum asked.
“We’ve got along here just fine without no law,” Oates said. “You going to unlock that cell, or do I have to turn my boys loose?”
Slocum looked around at the “boys.” He noticed that Mo Diamond was conspicuously absent. It looked to Slocum as if Old Man Oates had brought in about half of his crew. He figured that Diamond had been left behind at the ranch to manage things out there. Maybe also because he seemed to have a cool head. Oates needed hotheads for this job.
“Just say the word, boss,” said a cocky young kid sitting horseback next to Oates.
“Well, Slocum?” said Oates.
The door to the office opened again, and Tommy Howard stepped out to stand beside Slocum. He was carrying the shotgun.
“It’ll take more than two of you to handle us,” said Oates.
“This here scattergun will handle you, old man,” Tommy said. He lifted the barrel and pointed it directly at Oates. “If I see anyone even look like he’s going for a gun or thinking about dismounting, I’ll pull this trigger. And at this range, it’ll blow you in half.”
“It might take a couple of men close to you as well,” said Slocum.
“Boss?” said the smart-ass kid next to Oates.
“Shut up, Breezy,” Oates said.
“We going to stand around looking at each other all day like this?” Tommy asked.
At just that crucial moment, another group of riders appeared. Oates turned in the saddle to see what was going on just as Bill Bartlet rode up with ten of his men along. They stopped, their horses facing Oates on his left.
“Bartlet,” said Oates. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“We heard there’s going to be a trial,” Bartlet said. “We came early to make sure nothing goes wrong. What are you doing?”
“Just came to town for a drink,” said Oates. “Come on, boys. Let’s get on over to
the Fancy Pants.”
“Don’t forget to check your guns when you go in,” said Slocum.
Oates turned his horse and led the way to the Fancy Pants. Bartlet rode up closer to the jail. “It looks like we got here just in time,” he said.
“I’d say so,” said Slocum.
“Aw, hell,” said Tommy, “we had everything under control.”
“Since you’ve got such control,” Slocum said, “why don’t you take that shotgun down to the Fancy Pants and make sure all those men check their guns.”
“Why, shore, daddy,” said Tommy, and he headed for the Fancy Pants saloon with a wide grin on his face. Slocum looked up at Bartlet. He nodded toward the Fancy Pants.
“He’s left a man on the street to watch the jail,” he said.
“I’ll leave a few out to watch him,” Bartlet said.
“Let’s put a couple of them in the jail,” Slocum said.
Bartlet selected two men to go inside the jail, and two more to stay out on the street. He and Slocum and the rest of his hands headed for the Fat Back. Along the way, they met Tommy.
“All disarmed in the Fancy Pants,” he said.
“Bartlet left two men at the jail,” Slocum said. “Why don’t you go back there and hang with them for a spell?”
“Sure thing,” Tommy said. He headed for the office, while Slocum and Bartlet and the cowboys continued on their way to the Fat Back.
In the Fancy Pants, Oates sat at a table with the slick kid he’d called Breezy and a couple of other cowhands. The rest of his men were scattered around the room, some sitting at tables, a few standing at the bar. Breezy downed a whiskey, and it went to his head right away.
“Boss,” he said, “how come we’re sitting around in this damn saloon without our guns? What the hell are we going to do?”
“I’ve got to think of something, kid,” Oates said. “If that Bartlet bunch had come in just a little later, we’d have Hyde out of there. Now, it looks like it’ll be a big fight.”
“Me and the rest of the boys ain’t afraid of a fight,” said Breezy.
“Are you suggesting that I am?”
“Well, you—”
“Listen to me, smarty pants,” Oates said. “I ain’t afraid of Bartlet and his bunch or of the law. I just don’t want to turn this town into a battleground if it can be helped, and I don’t want to get any of my crew killed unnecessarily. I mean to get Hyde out of jail, like I said. I look after my boys. But I mean to do it without blood-shed if I can.”
“They ain’t going to turn him loose without a fight, boss.”
“I know that. Just be patient, Breezy. Our time will come.”
“Bartlet means for that trial to go on,” Breezy said. “He wants to see Sammy hang.”
“I know that, Breezy. And you know my intentions.”
Breezy reached for the bottle and poured himself another drink. He knew his boss’s intentions, all right, but he did not go along with his methods. Patience was not one of Breezy’s few virtues. He was a two-gun kid, and he was fast with both hands. It was his way to dive right into a situation and get things done. He downed the drink fast and reached for the bottle again. Oates grabbed his wrist.
“Breezy,” he said, “I think you’ve had enough.”
One of Breezy’s few virtues was loyalty and obedience to his boss. He did not argue. “Yeah. Okay, boss,” he said. “I think I’ll go out for some fresh air.” He stood up, a bit wobbly on his feet, and he felt a little light-headed. He did his best to stand and walk straight. He went out onto the sidewalk and stood for a moment, looking around and trying to regain control of his legs. He saw the Bartlet men on the sidewalk. He took deep breaths. He started walking.
He walked down the street till he came to one of Bartlet’s men. He nodded, tipped his hat and smirked, and walked on by. In another minute, he found himself at the jail. He paused, then walked boldly inside. The two Bartlet men stood up quickly, hands on the butts of their six-guns. Tommy swung the barrel of the shotgun up and ready.
“Hold it right there,” he said.
The kid smiled and raised his hands.
“I ain’t looking for trouble,” he said. “I just want to talk to Sammy there.”
“I guess there ain’t no harm in that,” Tommy said. “Take off your gunbelt.”
The kid unbuckled his belt and held it out toward one of the cowhands, who took it and then sat back down. Breezy walked on over to the cell. Sam Hyde was at the door, clutching the bars.
“When am I getting out of here?” he said.
“I ain’t sure about that, Sammy. The boss is over in the saloon with the boys. He’s got about a dozen of us in town, but then old Bartlet has got a bunch of his boys in town, too. It’s a kind of a standoff, I guess.”
“If we have that trial on Monday, they’re going to hang me,” said Hyde.
“Well, now, we don’t mean to let that happen.”
“What’re you going to do?”
“I ain’t sure. The boss—”
“When?”
“I don’t know, Sam. The boss don’t want to start a war in town.”
“I don’t give a damn about that,” said Hyde. “It’s my neck I’m thinking about.”
“Yeah. I know. Be a little more patient with us, will you? Something might happen real soon.”
Breezy turned away from the cell and walked to the door. He looked at the cowhand who was holding his guns.
“I’m leaving now,” he said. “Can I have my guns back?”
The cowhand glanced at Tommy, and Tommy nodded. The cowhand held out the gunbelt, and Breezy took it and strapped it on. Then he stepped outside. He stood for a moment thinking, a task he was not much good at. Then he walked to the Fat Back and went inside. All the Bartlet hands looked at him, as did Slocum. Breezy stepped up to the bar and ordered a shot. Slocum got up and moved to the bar beside Breezy.
“You forgot to check your gun,” he said.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry, Marshal,” Breezy said. He downed his whiskey in a gulp. “I’m just leaving. I think I come into the wrong place anyhow.”
He walked back outside feeling big and bold. He decided that he could get Sammy Hyde out of jail without any help. He was fast with his guns. He thought that he could step in the door of the marshal’s office and gun down all three men before they even expected it. He was that fast. He did not know of any fast guns working for Bartlet, and as for the deputy, well, he was just Tommy Howard. Tommy had been around town for quite a spell. No one had ever paid any attention to him. He had no reputation. Since he had become Slocum’s deputy, he had pulled off a couple of deals by bluff, by waving that shotgun. He was nothing. He pulled out his Colts one at a time and checked them. Then he slid them in and out of the holsters. He was ready.
He walked back to the marshal’s office and jail and went around back to try the door. He found it locked. So he would have to use the front door. He walked around to the front and opened the door, stepping in quickly and jerking out his Colts. The two Bartlet cowhands jumped up and jerked at their Colts. Breezy fired two quick shots, dropping both cowboys. Tommy fired the shotgun, blasting Breezy back through the door and into the street.
Slocum heard the shots and rushed out of the Fat Back. He saw the body in the street as soon as he stepped outside. He ran the rest of the way to his office. Even with the chest and face all messed up from the shotgun blast, he could see that the corpse had been Breezy. He stepped into the office. Tommy was standing there looking at the two dead cowboys.
“What happened here?” he asked.
“That fool kid just stepped in and started blasting. He killed these two before I could shoot. I got him then, though.”
“I can see that,” said Slocum. He stepped back outside. Some men were already gathering on the sidewalk. Slocum turned to one of them and said, “Go get Harvey Gool.” The man turned to run down the street. Slocum walked to the Fancy Pants and found Oates still sitting at his table.
�
��Your gunman is dead,” he said.
Oates looked up at Slocum. “What are you talking about?” he asked.
“You don’t know? You didn’t hear the shots?”
“I heard the shots. What were they?”
“Your kid gunslinger walked into my office and started shooting. He killed two Bartlet cowhands before my deputy got him.”
“So Breezy’s dead. I told him to be patient.”
“You didn’t send him over to break Hyde loose?”
“No, Marshal, I did not. I did not want anyone to get killed over this business.”
“I think everyone would be better off if you took your crew back out to your ranch,” Slocum said.
“I don’t think you have the authority to order me out of town,” Oates said. “I haven’t broken any laws.”
“One of your men did.”
“And he’s dead.”
“Well, you’ve been warned,” said Slocum. He went outside and walked to the Fat Back, where he told Bartlet what had transpired. Bartlet left the saloon to go to Gool’s establishment and look at the bodies. He paid Gool for two caskets and burials. Then he went back to the Fat Back and told his hands they would have a funeral that afternoon. He assigned two more men to stay at the jail with Tommy. Then he had another glass of whiskey. Slocum reached for the bottle and also poured himself another. He looked at Bartlet.
“You know it’s started,” he said.
“I know.”
“You’ve lost three men now, and Oates has lost one.”
“It won’t stop here,” said Bartlet. “It won’t stop now. Not until one of us has lost. Clearly and definitely. Till one of us is dead or has left the country.”
8
It was early the next morning, following a particularly tense night during which nothing of note happened, when a stranger rode into town. From the front window of the marshal’s office, Slocum noticed him in particular. He had the look of a gunfighter, but there was something else about him. There was something familiar about his features. He rode easy. He was somewhere in his thirties. His face was clean-shaven, and he was dressed like a cowboy going to town on a Saturday night—wearing polished black boots with his tight, black trousers tucked into them. He had on a white shirt with a thin black tie, a black vest, and a flat-brimmed black hat. Blond hair showed underneath it. Around his waist was buckled a black leather gunbelt with a black holster on each side. His guns were Colts. He stopped in front of the Fancy Pants saloon, dismounted, and tied his horse. Then he walked inside.
