Confessions of a Gunfighter

by Tell Cotten

  Cooper was also a very good tracker.

  The sound of scuffling feet interrupted their thoughts, and they looked up and saw J.T. Tussle in the doorway.

  Tussle was an ex rebel, and proud of it. He respected the Landons, but he also never forgot that they had fought on different sides.

  Tussle was a tall man with a wide frame. He had a weathered face that was trenched with deep lines, and those lines changed shape when he smiled or frowned.

  “Thought I smelled coffee,” Tussle hinted as he looked at the coffee pot.

  “Help yourself,” Cooper offered.

  Tussle nodded and made his way over to the coffee pot.

  “Eating a late breakfast,” Tussle remarked disapprovingly.

  Yancy was silent, so Cooper smiled pleasantly.

  “We are,” Cooper said.

  Tussle waited for an explanation. He didn’t get one, so he poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the table.

  “Where’s the rest of your outfit?” Tussle asked.

  “There’s a stomach bug going around,” Cooper explained. “They’re probably in the nearest outhouse.”

  “Hmm,” Tussle grunted. “Good to see our hard earned tax dollars being put to good use.”

  Yancy turned his head slightly and stared intently at Tussle. Cooper, meanwhile, ignored Tussle’s remark as he changed the subject.

  “You usually don’t come to town during the middle of the week,” Cooper commented. “This a special occasion?”

  “Here to meet the stage,” Tussle explained. “My niece Jessica is coming out.”

  “Didn’t know you had any kin,” Cooper remarked.

  “I had an older brother, but we ain’t had nothing to do with each other since before the war,” Tussle explained. “He turned to the North and I turned to the South.”

  “That sort-a thing happened to a lot of families,” Cooper nodded.

  Tussle nodded in agreement.

  “Anyway, his daughter Jessica wrote me and said he died, and now she’s looking for a place to live,” Tussle continued. “I told her she was welcome here as long as we didn’t talk politics, so she sold her father’s plantation and is coming out.”

  Cooper raised an eyebrow.

  “Plantation? That was bound to be worth something.”

  “I’m sure it was,” Tussle agreed. “But, I’ve already made it clear that I don’t want her money. I’m getting on in years, and it’ll be pleasant to just have a woman around the house again.”

  “Well that’s real nice, Tussle,” Cooper said pleasantly. “How old is she?”

  “Oh, early twenties, I’d say.”

  Yancy was still staring intently at Tussle. He cleared his throat and spoke for the first time.

  “And she ain’t married?”

  “You know how it is back east. Girls don’t get married as quick as they do out here,” Tussle explained.

  Cooper and Yancy nodded.

  After that they didn’t say much. They just sat there, drinking coffee and enjoying the cool breeze as it came through the door.

  But suddenly they heard the sound of rushing feet, and Sergeant Wagons appeared in the doorway.

  “Jed Hawkins just rode into town, Captain, and he’s mighty excited. He wants to see you right away,” Sergeant Wagons said breathlessly.

  “What about?” Yancy asked.

  “Says he heard some shooting,” Sergeant Wagons explained.

  With an irritated frown Yancy got to his feet, as did Cooper and Tussle.

  “It’s probably nothing. Jed is always trying to think up some disaster,” Yancy said. “Where is he?”

  “Down the street, sir,” Sergeant Wagons replied.

  Yancy nodded and walked out the door, and everybody else followed.

  Jed Hawkins was an old, cantankerous trapper who claimed to be an ex Indian fighter. He had a slender build with a scratchy looking beard.

  Jed had an opinion for everything, and he also liked to hear the sound of his own voice. A large crowd had gathered around him, and everybody was excited.

  “I was just coming to see you, Yancy,” Jed said as they walked up. “I heard some shooting when I was out checking my traps, and I thought you should know about it right away.”

  “Glad you came to me first then,” Yancy said dryly.

  Jed frowned.

  “I was on my way to see you, Yancy, when these folks stopped me and asked me what was wrong,” Jed explained.

  “So you heard some shooting,” Yancy said.

  “Sure did. One shot after another.”

  “Hearing gunshots ain’t much to get excited about, Jed,” Yancy said. “It was probably just some hunters.”

  “That ain’t all,” Jed spoke quickly. “’Bout five minutes later I saw some riders, and these fellers were in a mighty big hurry.”

  Yancy frowned. Meanwhile, Cooper reached inside his shirt pocket, pulled out his watch, and glanced at it.

  “Stage is running late,” Cooper remarked.

  “How late?” Yancy asked.

  “Almost an hour,” Cooper replied.

  “Ain’t like Steve to be late,” Yancy remarked thoughtfully.

  Cooper nodded in agreement.

  Yancy was worried, but he was careful not to show it.

  Yancy knew Steve well, for Steve had served with them during the war. Then, like so many that had served under Yancy, Steve had come west with them on a cattle drive.

  “Wagons, can any of the men ride?” Yancy asked.

  “I wouldn’t suggest it, sir,” Sergeant Wagons replied.

  “All right; it’ll be just the three of us,” Yancy declared. “We’ll go take a look.”

  Yancy started to walk off, but the crowd stopped him and offered to help.

  Yancy listened patiently, and then he shook his head.

  “I appreciate you folks wanting to help, but it would be better if you all stayed here,” Yancy replied.

  “I think I should come with you,” Jed argued.

  “Jed, what I’m trying to say all nice like is that you folks would just be in the way, and would slow us down,” Yancy said.

  Jed’s face stiffened, but he said no more as Yancy, Cooper, and Sergeant Wagons turned and walked away.

  Yancy glanced at Cooper when they were out of earshot.

  “’Bout your furlough, Coop -,” Yancy started to say.

  “I know; don’t say it,” Cooper interrupted.

  “Sorry,” Yancy said sincerely.

  Cooper smiled faintly and shrugged.

  Within minutes they were saddled. They mounted up, and they were just about to leave when J.T. Tussle came trotting up a-horseback.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Yancy asked gruffly.

  “With you,” Tussle replied.

  “Didn’t you hear what I said?”

  “I did,” Tussle replied with a straight face.

  “Look here,” Yancy said sternly. “Everybody’s getting all bent outta shape. I’m sure there’s a simple explanation for all of this.”

  “Mebbe so, but it could be something else,” Tussle replied grimly. “My niece is on that stage, Yancy, so I’m going. Besides, I could come in handy. You know how good I am with a shotgun.”

  “If she could pick it up, my great-grandma would be good with a shotgun,” Yancy replied curtly.

  “If you’d seen me during the war you wouldn’t be saying that,” Tussle scowled.

  “I did, remember? You were my prisoner,” Yancy replied.

  “That weren’t my fault, and you know it!” Tussle fired back. “Besides, that ain’t got nothing to do with this. I’m coming with you, Yancy, or else I’ll go on alone.”

  Yancy frowned, but without saying anything more he kicked up his horse. Cooper, Sergeant Wagons, and Tussle followed.

  They rode in silence until they had left town, and then Yancy turned in the saddle and glared at Tussle.

  “You always been this stubborn?” Yancy asked.

  “
Pretty much,” Tussle replied.

  “No wonder your family doesn’t like you none,” Yancy said.

  Chapter three

  They had only ridden about fifty yards when Cliff heard a noise from behind.

  He turned in the saddle just in time to see the shotgun rider taking aim, and before he could react the man fired. There was a loud thump, and Rusty slumped in the saddle.

  Seconds later there was another shot from up above. Stew’s aim was true, and the shotgun rider’s body was thrown over backwards. This time, he was dead for sure.

  Cliff, meanwhile, raced his horse up next to Rusty’s, and he reached out and steadied him.

  “Hang on!” Cliff yelled.

  Rusty’s face was pale, but he managed to nod back as they loped along.

  They kept up the brisk pace for about twenty minutes. It was during this time, unknown to them, that Jed Hawkins saw them from a distance.

  Cliff finally pulled up in a little draw that offered good cover. Everybody dismounted, and Cliff and Brian Clark eased Rusty out of the saddle.

  “Be careful with him,” Cliff said. “Let’s put him down over there by that tree.”

  Stew loped up as they carried Rusty over. Already Rusty looked weak, and his brow was beaded in sweat.

  “I can’t feel anything!” Rusty said in a panicky voice as Cliff and Brian Clark knelt beside him.

  “Your body’s just in shock, is all,” Brian Clark explained.

  “Am I dying?” Rusty asked, and there was a pleading sound to his voice.

  “You’ll be fine!” Cliff reassured. “You just rest easy now.”

  “I’m feeling weak,” Rusty said, and his voice was fading.

  “We’re going to have to turn you over, Rusty, and see how bad you’re hit,” Brian Clark told him.

  Rusty didn’t answer.

  “Rusty?” Cliff asked, concerned.

  “He’s passed out,” Brian Clark explained. “He’s probably better off this a-way. We’re going to have to dig that bullet outta him.”

  “Ever done it before?” Cliff wanted to know.

  “I ain’t no doctor, but I reckon I’m qualified,” Brian Clark said as he scratched his stubbled chin thoughtfully. “I’ve skinned hundreds of buffalo and deer, and during the war I sawed off a feller’s leg. Course, he died a few days later, but he was shot up pretty bad.”

  They turned Rusty over, and while Brian Clark examined the wound Cliff asked him, “What do you need?”

  “I’ll use my knife to try and dig it out,” Brian Clark replied. “I’ll need bandages. We also need a fire, ’cause my blade needs to be hot. Keep it from getting infected.”

  “I’ve got an extra shirt in my saddlebags,” Cliff offered.

  “That’ll do. Get it and tear me off a good sized piece,” Brian Clark said. “I need to put some pressure on this wound so it’ll slow the bleeding down some.”

  Cliff nodded and scrambled to his feet.

  “You heard him,” he told everybody. “Get some wood gathered up.”

  The men didn’t move. Instead, they just stood there looking uncomfortable.

  “Didn’t you hear me?” Cliff snapped.

  “We heard you,” Stew replied. “We were just wondering how long this will take.”

  “What for?” Cliff asked angrily.

  “Folks will be pursuing us, Cliff,” Stew explained. “We’re going to have to move fast.”

  “What are you saying?” Cliff narrowed his eyes.

  “Well, if I was the one giving the orders we would leave him here, and they’d be sure to find him,” Stew replied.

  “Would you now?” Cliff snorted sarcastically. “Well, you ain’t giving the orders. I am, and we’re going to stay here until Clark gets that bullet out. Then, we’ll all leave together.”

  “They’d take care of him, Cliff,” Stew tried again. “In fact, Rusty would probably get better care with them than with us.”

  “They’d take care of him all right; right up until they hanged him,” Cliff fired back.

  “Better him than all of us,” Stew said arrogantly.

  “This is all your fault,” Cliff said irritably. “If you had killed that shotgun rider like I told you this wouldn’t have happened!”

  “I thought I did,” Stew’s face stiffened.

  “You thought wrong,” Cliff snapped back. “Now we’re wasting time. Get some firewood.”

  Everybody hesitated, so Cliff repeated sharply, “I said; get some firewood!”

  Clyde and Clay glanced at Stew, and with a shrug they turned and started gathering up some loose mesquite wood.

  Stew, meanwhile, stared hard at Cliff, and then he turned and walked away.

  But he didn’t gather firewood. Instead, he sat down on a log and started rolling himself a smoke.

  Cliff frowned. He breathed deeply and gathered himself, and he walked slowly toward Stew. His gun hand hung ready by his side.

  Stew ignored Cliff as he continued to roll his smoke. Cliff stopped in front of him, and when he spoke his voice was hard and clear.

  “I told you to gather firewood.”

  Stew lit his cigarette. He took a long drag, and as he exhaled he looked up at Cliff.

  “Ain’t being paid to gather firewood,” Stew replied.

  It fell silent, and the tension was thick. Cliff glared at Stew, and Stew returned the glare with a confident smirk. He was still seated on the log, but his gun hand was in position for a draw.

  Cliff started to say something, but before he could Brian Clark spoke urgently.

  “Hate to break up the argument, but I need them bandages. Rusty’s bleeding all over the place!”

  Cliff’s hard look softened, and Stew’s smirk grew wider.

  “Clark needs them bandages,” Stew mimicked. “You’d best go get ’em.”

  Cliff eyed Stew as he backed away.

  “This ain’t over,” Cliff muttered, and he turned and walked over to his saddlebags.

  “Sure,” Stew replied.

  Clyde and Clay had stopped working while they watched, and Cliff glared at them.

  “Build that fire!” He shouted at them.

  They sprang into action while Cliff dug out his shirt. With his knife he cut out a large section, and he handed it to Brian Clark.

  Brian Clark used both hands as he immediately applied pressure to the wound. Meanwhile, Clyde and Clay built a fire, and soon as it got hot Cliff stuck Brian Clark’s knife blade deep into the coals.

  After that there was nothing to do but wait.

  Stew rolled himself another smoke while Clyde and Clay sat down in some nearby shade.

  Cliff, meanwhile, rubbed his shoulder gingerly as he sat next to Brian Clark. Using his knife, he cut the rest of his shirt into long strips.

  “Your shoulder bothering you?” Brian Clark asked curiously.

  Cliff didn’t realize that it was obvious, and he frowned irritably.

  “Yeah,” he said reluctantly.

  “Hmm,” Brian Clark said as he adjusted his hands.

  It was silent, and then Brian Clark glanced at Cliff.

  “Stew has a point, Cliff,” Brian Clark said softly. “Killing those men like you did, they’ll be coming after us for sure.”

  “You want to leave Rusty too?” Cliff frowned.

  “No, but you’d better think of something,” Brian Clark replied. “I know who the law is over at Midway.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Two brothers, and they’re kin to the feller that put that slug in your shoulder,” Brian Clark told him. “And, they’re both just as tough as Rondo is.”

  “I remember ’em,” Cliff recalled. “Name’s Yancy and Cooper Landon, ain’t it?”

  “That’s right,” Brian Clark nodded.

  Cliff thought on that and shrugged.

  “I reckon I can handle ’em,” Cliff declared.

  “Don’t be too sure,” Brian Clark warned.

  “You don’t think I’m good enough?” Cliff
frowned.

  “Listen Cliff, you’re better than most. But you ain’t as good as them Landons. Nobody is. Remember what happened the last time you tangled with a Landon,” Brian Clark nodded at Cliff’s shoulder.

  Cliff wanted to disagree, but he knew that Brian Clark was right. He frowned as he thought on it, and then he scrambled to his feet.

  “You’re right, Clark. I reckon I’d best do something.”

  Cliff walked over to Clyde and Clay and talked to them in low tones.

  Clyde and Clay jumped to their feet. They hurried over to their horses, and as they rode out Cliff walked back over to Brian Clark.

  “What was that all about?” Brian Clark wanted to know.

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” Cliff replied as he looked at the fire. “That blade’s plenty hot. You’d best get started.”

  Brian Clark frowned thoughtfully and nodded.

  “You’d best get a-hold of Rusty and hold him down while I work,” Brian Clark said. “I don’t want him twitching while I’m digging.”

  Cliff nodded soberly.

  “Let’s get it done.”

  Chapter four

  “We’re being followed,” Cooper announced suddenly.

  They were at the top of a little hill, about four miles out of town.

  Yancy pulled up, and everybody turned in the saddle and looked behind them.

  “I don’t see anything,” Tussle said.

  Cooper was silent. If he hadn’t been sure he wouldn’t have said anything, and Yancy knew that.

  “How many?” Yancy looked at his older brother.

  “Just one.”

  “How far back is he?” Yancy wanted to know.

  “’Bout half a mile.”

  “Any ideas?” Yancy asked.

  “I’d bet two month’s pay I know who it is,” Cooper said.

  “Jed Hawkins?” Yancy figured.

  Cooper nodded, and Yancy sighed as he laid his reins across his horse’s neck. He stuck his hands deep inside his vest’s pockets, hunched his shoulders, and looked at Cooper.

  “Well, go fetch him,” Yancy said sourly.

  Cooper nodded and took off. About twenty minutes passed, and he came trotting back with Jed following.

  Yancy scowled at Jed, but Jed smiled and tried to look unconcerned.

  “You boys ain’t made it very far,” Jed said as he pulled up.