Kill Crazy

by William W. Johnstone

  “But where do all those things come from? They come from Mr. MacCallister. He had to build the cook shack, he has to keep it supplied with food, and he has to pay the cook.

  “He had to build the bunkhouses, he had to buy the beds, and in the wintertime he has to make sure we have enough wood to burn. He furnishes the horses we ride, and the tools we use. That’s responsibility.”

  “Damn,” Dale said when Meacham finished his lecture on responsibility. “I guess if you put it that way, I’m glad I don’t have a lot of money.”

  “Where is Mr. MacCallister, tonight?” Poke asked.

  “I don’t know. I saw him ride out a while ago. He’s goin’ into town, I reckon,” Dale said. He chuckled. “I’ve heard that he is sweet on that lady that owns the dress emporium.”

  “Yeah, well, have you ever seen her?” Meacham asked. “She is one pretty woman.”

  “Yeah, she is,” Poke said. “I wish he would go ahead and marry her and bring her out here, so I’d have me a pretty woman to look at.”

  “What are you talkin’ about?” Dale asked. “If he was to marry her, you wouldn’t have no right to be a-lookin’ at her.”

  “Hell, Dale, what are you sayin’? That I ain’t got the right even to look at a pretty woman?” Poke asked.

  “Oh,” Dale said. “Well, I reckon if you put it that way, well, yeah, sure, you got the right to look at her. I mean as long as you know she ain’t for you.”

  “She’s a rich woman that owns her own business, and, from what Elmer says, has an interest in the cattle that’s out here on the ranch. I make forty dollars a month and found. Do you think I don’t know she ain’t for me? Show me your hand.”

  Dale put down three nines, and, with a smile, Poke put down three queens.

  “Damn,” Dale said as he watched Poke rake in the pile of pebbles.

  When Duff dismounted in front of Fiddler’s Green, Biff met him on the front porch.

  “Duff, before you go in, I think you should know that there’s a man in there who has been asking about you,” Biff said.

  “Do you know him?”

  “I don’t know him, but someone told me that his name is Harper.”

  “Harper? And could you be for telling me if that his surname, or his Christian name?”

  “I’ve never heard his first name, but I have heard of him, Duff. They say he is a hired killer. I don’t like it that he is asking for you.”

  “And where would this gentlemen be sitting?”

  “He’s in the table nearest the stove. That way he can see the front and the rear door, and he is studying everyone who comes in.”

  “What about the stairs? If he is watching both doorways, he can nae also be watching the stairs.”

  “No, he can’t see the stairs,” Biff agreed. Biff smiled. “And there’s a ladder lying on the ground behind the saloon. Climb up to the last window on the left. I know it isn’t locked, and it opens onto the end of the upstairs landing.”

  Moving around to the back of the saloon, Duff saw the ladder Biff had told him about. It was lying in the weeds up against the back wall of the establishment. Duff leaned it up against the last window on the left, then climbed up.

  Testing the window, he discovered that it wasn’t locked, so he slid it up, then climbed in.

  Walking toward the front, he stepped up to the banister that provided a safety rail between the upstairs landing, and the main floor below. Looking out over the room, he saw the man Biff was talking about. He studied him for a moment and saw the way he was sitting so as to provide quick access to his pistol. The man was staring intently at the only two entrances to the saloon.

  Or, at least, he was watching the only two entrances he knew about. Harper had no idea that the man he was searching for so diligently had come into the saloon through a back window.

  Duff started down the stairs, moving slowly, deliberately, and quietly. Within a moment, he was standing less than three feet behind Harper. That was when he noticed that Harper was drinking coffee only. He waited until Harper lifted the cup to his lips. That effectively occupied his gun hand.

  “My name is Duff MacCallister,” Duff said. “I am told that you are looking for me.

  “What the hell?” Harper shouted. Standing up quickly and spinning around, Harper’s hand dipped toward his pistol, but he never reached it. Duff was so close to him that he laid Harper out with one powerful punch. With Harper lying unconscious on the floor, Duff picked up his pistol, then searched him quickly for a second weapon.

  Biff came over to look down at Harper.

  “Have you ever seen him before?” Biff asked.

  “No.”

  “Then, if you’ve never run into him before, whatever he has against you isn’t personal—and that makes it worse. From what I’ve heard of him, he’s a hired killer. That means someone may have hired him to kill you.”

  Duff picked up Harper’s pistol, removed all the bullets, then put it back in Harper’s holster.

  “Tell me, Biff, would you be havin’ an idea as to what we do with him now?”

  “I don’t know. I’d say have the marshal throw him in jail, but I don’t know as he can do that. Harper hasn’t done anything yet.”

  “You son of a bitch!” Harper shouted. Jumping up, he jerked his pistol from his holster and pulled the trigger. The hammer fell on an empty chamber.

  “What the hell?” he said. Raising the pistol as a club he came toward Duff, and, once again, Duff laid him out on the floor, this time knocking out a couple of teeth in the process. Harper went down again.

  “Have you come up with any idea of what to do with him?” Duff asked.

  “I suppose you could just keep knocking him out,” Biff said with a chuckle.

  “I think I’ll just tie his carcass belly down across his saddle, take him about five miles out of town, and drop him off,” Duff suggested.

  He picked Harper up, threw him over his shoulder and took him outside, followed by everyone who was in the saloon at the time. Those who were on the street soon joined the saloon patrons.

  “Who’s the fella that Duff just laid across the saddle like that?” one of the street people asked.

  “That’s Harper,” Schumacher said.

  “Harper what? Only Harper I know is a gunfighter.”

  “This is that Harper.”

  “What happened to him? Is he dead?”

  “No, he ain’t dead, but he’s goin’ to be some pissed with he comes to. What happened is Duff MacCallister come up behind him and dropped him like a poleaxed steer,” Schumacher said.

  “Why did he do that?”

  You’ll have to ask MacCallister that.”

  Harper began to regain consciousness as Duff was tying him across the saddle.

  “Here! What the hell is going on?” Harper demanded.

  “We’re going to take a ride,” Duff said, mounting Sky, then taking the reins to Harper’s horse and leading him out of town.

  Most of the townspeople followed the two men down the street, laughing and calling out to Harper.

  “Harper, I thought you were a gunfighter!”

  “Ha, Harper, tell me, how does the belly of your horse look?”

  “You’ll regret this, MacCallister! I’m going to kill you, first chance I get!”

  Marshal Ferrell stepped out into the street in front of Duff then, and held up his hand.

  “Hold up, Duff,” he called. “Didn’t I just hear him say he was going to kill you?”

  “You damn right I’m goin’ to kill this son of a bitch!” Harper shouted angrily.

  “Well now, Mr. Harper, you have just talked yourself into jail for threatening murder. Bring him over to the jail, if you would, Duff.”

  “Aye, the jail is as good a place as any for him,” Duff replied.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The little town of Bordeaux, Wyoming, was on the Chugwater Creek in Laramie County, about fifteen miles north of the town of Chugwater. The land immediately arou
nd Bordeaux was arid and too poor for farming or ranching. Many tried though, and a few even managed to eke out a meager existence. There were some who searched for gold or silver, and though little of those commodities were found, enough nuggets turned up to hold out tantalizing prospects, thus the hunt continued.

  Despite the bleakness of its agricultural and mining prospects, Bordeaux was, nevertheless, a bustling town. It saw a surprising amount of money flow through its half a dozen saloons, whorehouses, gaming establishments, and cafés.

  Bordeaux supported a most unusual enterprise. Outlaws who were on the run often wound up in Bordeaux. And since many of those same outlaws were fleeing from bank robberies or other sources of ill-gotten gains, money was in abundance. Bordeaux existed to provide a safe haven from those on the run, and it found the rather unique venture to be most profitable.

  Bordeaux had a town marshal and a deputy. The marshal was C.F. Cline, a man of average size, but with a face that was scarred from the pox he had as a child. His unattractiveness was exacerbated by a scar that caused his upper lip to be misshapen. One wall in the marshal’s office was decorated with wanted posters, but they were all for show. Neither Marshal Cline nor his deputy had ever made any attempt to apprehend any of the men on the wanted posters, nor did they intend to. The way that Cline explained it, he had been hired by the people of Bordeaux to keep the peace in Bordeaux.

  Whatever happened outside Bordeaux was none of his business. If a man who had a price on his head in Colorado, or the Dakota territories, or even anywhere in Wyoming, happened to pass through Bordeaux, he was just as welcome as any other traveler, so long as he didn’t disturb the peace in Bordeaux. In addition, Cline had a very loose definition of disturbing the peace.

  The outlaws were very aware of Marshal Cline’s policy toward wanted men, so they tended to behave while in his town and around him. In fact, some of them even became friends with him and the Marshal’s “Rogues’ Gallery” became somewhat well known throughout the West for a most unique reason. Almost three-quarters of the wanted posters on the wall in the sheriff’s office were autographed by the very outlaw whose face graced the dodger.

  Johnny, Short, Evans, and Calhoun were in Bordeaux, having come there from Chugwater. They’d come for several reasons: one, because it was a place of refuge for them; two, because here they could spend some of the money stolen from the bank; and finally, because here they would meet up with Jim and Leroy Blunt. Ike Thomas had already joined them.

  “I’ve taken one more man into our group,” Johnny said as the five men gathered around a table in the back of Red Eye Saloon. “He’ll be here soon as he takes care of a little job I’ve give him to do.”

  “Who is that?” Ike asked.

  “Harper.”

  “Are you talking about the gunfighter?” Ike Thomas asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “He ain’t comin’.”

  “What do you mean, he ain’t comin’?”

  “He’s in jail down in Chugwater.”

  Johnny smiled. “He killed MacCallister, did he? Well, he knew the chance he was takin’.”

  “No, he didn’t kill ’im. He threatened to kill him, and the marshal throw’d him in jail.”

  “He threatened to kill him? Why would he do a dumb thing like that?

  Ike shrugged. “Beats the hell out of me. But what I heard was that MacCallister had Harper tied, belly down, on his saddle, leading him out of town. Ever’one in town was laughin’ at Harper and he got mad and yelled out that he was goin’ to kill MacCallister. The marshal heard him, and, like I said, throw’d him in jail.”

  “I thought Harper was supposed to be good,” Short said. “How did MacCallister get him belly down on the saddle?”

  “I don’t know,” Ike said. “I never heard the tellin’ o’ that part of the story.

  “Hell, if he’s that dumb, we’re probably just as well off without him,” Calhoun suggested.

  Al Short smiled then, and stood up. “Here comes my two friends, Jim and Leroy.” He waved them over, then introduced them all around.

  Leroy was short and wide, with powerful shoulders, no neck and no hair so that he somewhat resembled a cannon ball. Jim, on the other hand, was tall and thin. They bore little resemblance to each other, for all that they were brothers.

  “Al said to come join you folks. What you got in mind?” Jim asked.

  “Money,” Johnny answered. “I’ve got money in mind.”

  “How much money?” Jim asked. “The reason I ask is, Al said somethin’ about two hundred fifty dollars.”

  “Apiece,” Leroy added.

  “To start with. But once we finish this job, if you boys want to stay on, there will be other jobs that make lots more money.”

  “He’s tellin’ the truth, boys. I can testify to that,” Short said.

  “Are you boys interested?”

  Leroy smiled. “Hell yes, I’m interested.”

  “Me too,” Jim added. “But I’m wonderin’ what this first job is that you have planned.”

  “There’s a couple of men in jail down in Chugwater. I want to get them out.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they were working for me,” Johnny said. “And I like to take care of them that works for me. If you two was workin’ for me and you got caught and put in jail, wouldn’t you like for me to get you out?”

  “Besides which, one of ’em is his brother,” Short said.

  “You got a plan? ’Cause I ain’t exactly too keen on attackin’ a jail head on,” Leroy said.

  “Don’t worry, that ain’t nothin’ near what I got in mind.”

  “Look here,” Jim said. “This two hundred and fifty dollars you was talkin’ about. We ain’t goin’ to have to wait ’til you brother is out of jail afore you pay that, are we?”

  Johnny smiled, then reached down into his pocket and pulled out two little packets of bills, each packet bound by a piece of twine. He handed a packet to each of the two men.

  “Here is the two hundred fifty dollars, right now,” he said. “And like I said, after this, there will be more money. A lot more money.”

  Jim and Leroy smiled broadly upon receipt of the money. “We ain’t goin’ to get started right away, are we?” Leroy asked. “The reason I ask is, I ain’t had me this much money in two or three years maybe. I’d like a little time to enjoy it.”

  “You’ll have a little time to enjoy it,” Johnny said. “I’m goin’ to send Ike back down to Chugwater to take a look around for us.”

  “What are you sendin’ Ike for?” Evans asked. “Hell, why don’t you send me?”

  “We’ve already spent too much time there now. Someone might see you and start putting things together.”

  Back at Sky Meadow, Duff and Elmer were engaged in conversation when Elmer squinted as he noticed a man on horseback on the road from Chugwater. “That’s Willie Pierce, ain’t it?” he asked, pointing toward the rider.

  “Aye,” Duff replied. “I saw him when he crossed the stream.”

  “What do you think the deputy wants out here?”

  “Wouldn’t it be nice now, if he was coming for to tell us that they’ve recovered the money?”

  “Yeah, but somehow I got the idea that he ain’t comin’ for that,” Elmer said. “ ’Cause if he was, I figure he’d be comin’ at a gallop, all a-whoopin’ and a-hollerin’ and takin’ on, so.”

  “Aye, I think you are right,” Duff said.

  The two men watched as the deputy approached, never moving faster than a rather quick lope until he reached the gate that led into the compound. There, he urged his horse into a trot.

  “Good morning, Deputy Pierce,” Duff said. “Would you be for steppin’ down and havin’ a wee bit of tea, with us now? Or coffee if you prefer?”

  “I wish I could, Mr. MacCallister, but the marshal told me to be gettin’ on back. That’s what he told me. ‘Deliver the message to Mr. MacCallister, then come on back here,’ he told me.”

  “
All right,” Duff said. “What is the message?”

  “Justice of the Peace Norton is goin’ to have the preliminary hearin’ first thing tomorrow mornin’, and Marshal Ferrell wants all the witnesses to stay at the Antlers Hotel tonight, just so’s he can sort of keep an eye on things.”

  “Oh? And would the good marshal be havin’ any special reason for such a request?” Duff asked.

  “No, sir, nothin’ particular, and he didn’t tell me to bring you in neither, so I reckon if you say you don’t want to come in then I’ll just go back and tell him, you said no.”

  “There’s no need for that. I’ll come in if that’s what the marshal wants.”

  “Yes, sir. He said it would only be ’til after the preliminary hearing. Of course, Justice of the Peace Norton, he ain’t really a judge,” Pierce said. “Not so’s he can actual hold a trial ’n’ all. He is a justice of the peace, so ’bout the only thing he can do is hold a hearin’ to see if a fella needs to go to a higher court, and that’s what he’s fixin’ to do.”

  “All right,” Duff said, taking the last swallow of his tea. “Let me get my horse saddled, and I’ll go back with you.”

  “Yes, sir, that’s pretty much what the marshal was hopin’ you’d do.”

  “Don’t worry none about the ranch,” Elmer said. “I’ll look after things while you’re in town.”

  “I’ll nae be worryin’ with you here,” Duff called back over his shoulder as he started toward the stable.

  When Duff and Deputy Pierce reached town, they went straight to the Antlers Hotel. Cindy Boyce and Bernie Caldwell were waiting with Deputy Mullins in the lobby.

  “Go ahead ’n’ get signed in, Mr. MacCallister,” Deputy Pierce said. “Don’t worry, the court will pay for your hotel room.”

  “And the court is taking us out to dinner tonight too,” Cindy said enthusiastically. “Isn’t it exciting?”

  “No,” Caldwell answered. “I would much prefer to be home with my wife and children. Besides, I don’t consider being a possible target of those murderers exciting in the least.”