The Streets of Vermijo

by Neil Hunter

  It was where Ruby spent her younger years. A self-sufficient girl who spent time in the saddle, when she wasn’t working on the books, alongside the other hands, learning the ways of the business. She could ride and rope, shoot a gun and had even been known to use a few cuss words when the need arose. When a small band of reservation-jumping hostiles tried to run off Keller stock, Ruby was alongside the ranch crew, and put one Indian down when he tried to back-shoot one of her partners. That was something Ruby did her best to play down. It happened and she had some bad dreams for months after, but it faded away.

  When her father died suddenly, taken ill of a fever, a large part of her life vanished with it. Even with his crippled hip Jonathan Keller had made the best of every situation and was determined his girl would learn to keep striving. At an early age Ruby took charge of the spread. Her heart wasn’t in it and when her still-grieving mother had died some months later Ruby sold out, took herself across country to take up a post accounting for a company in Arizona. She had looked after the ranch accounts and had a good head for figures.

  It was there she met Hiram Tucker and despite an age difference they had made a good union. In time Ruby accepted his offer of marriage. He had his thriving business in Vermijo. Ruby became a respected figure in town. She was a sociable woman and life took its course. She showed her true mettle after the violent events that ended the hold the Lockharts had on the town. Frustrated by the inability of anyone standing up and taking on the position of law officer she had literally shamed the men put herself forward. Riding out after the bunch that had robbed the bank and brutally murdered Sam Piggot …

  And she now had one of them being recognized as Ben Hodges. One of the Lockhart former deputies. Making a return to Vermijo to rob the bank and murder Sam Piggot.

  Which had brought her here. With only her horse for company. Driven by her need to bring in the bunch that had struck Vermijo. Brought about through her stubborn nature. During that moment of pure frustration at the town meeting, when no one would accept responsibility, she had stood and made her declaration. Partly in an attempt to force the town to come to its senses. Yet it hadn’t worked and Ruby stood alone, reluctant to back down, taking on the challenge that at first had seemed a thankless and mundane task.

  Sheriff of Vermijo.

  Facing the everyday chores that came with the badge. Maintaining the office. Putting it in order. Shuffling the endless paperwork that had littered the desk when she first moved in. Whatever else the Lockharts had been, they had allowed the administrative part of the job slide. That might have been a depressing matter if Ruby hadn’t possessed the skills to handle it. She brought in Eve Lockhart to help and between them they restored the status of the office. Between them they created and maintained a decent standard, though even Ruby herself felt the routine had become a little tiresome.

  Until the morning Dexter Bishop had rushed into the office.

  ‘He’s dead, Miss Ruby … no doubt about it … on the floor of the bank …’

  Sam Piggot.

  The town banker.

  Murdered by the men who had raided and looted the bank.

  The event that had swept away the everyday events of office and placed Ruby with a killing to face.

  ‘Well you wanted the job, Ruby Tucker,’ she said to herself.

  After a retreat into the undergrowth and performing the necessary, Ruby rinsed her hands, took her blanket roll and found herself a reasonable flat spot. She could feel the night chill coming on. Took her woolen coat and pulled it around her, wrapped herself in the thick blankets and slicker and lay down, using the curve of the saddle to rest her head. She had her rifle at her side, keeping it close. This was not going to be the most comfortable night she had ever had she decided, moving her hip to work into a restful position.

  Sleep came as it often did without awareness and when she opened her eyes it was to a brightening sky. Ruby lay for a while, reasonably comfortable in her makeshift bed. She picked up on the restless movement of her horse, turning her head to see the animal watching her.

  ‘I’m coming,’ she said.

  She climbed stiffly to her feet. Took the time to roll her blankets and slicker. There was still a chill in the air so she kept her coat on as she saddled the horse, tied on her roll, then knelt at the stream and sluiced her face before she drank. Slipping the Winchester back in the sheath she untied the horse and took it to the stream. As it drank she emptied her canteens and refreshed them.

  ‘Let’s go,’ she said, mounting up and guiding the horse back to where she had stopped the night before.

  She rode slow, aware she was in no position to move at any fast pace. The tracks she had followed from Vermijo had been definite but starting to fade. She had stayed with them, the only comfort that they were moving steadily in one direction.

  South.

  When she picked up the tracks a couple of hours later Ruby felt a sense of vindication. She had persisted and it was paying off. The day was bright and hot around her, the dusty landscape offering little shade. Pausing long enough to take off her coat she took a fast swallow from her canteen, then set the horse off along the thin impressions left by five horses. She noted that the hoofprints were close spread, showing the riders were not hurrying. They seemed confident there was no strong pursuit. It might allow Ruby to close the distance.

  That could bring its own dangers. The closer she got to the riders, the more likely the threat they might pose. That knowledge did little to deter her, though she did pull her Winchester and carry it across her thighs.

  Ruby urged her horse on, studying the tracks. Faint but readable. Enough of them visible to give her something to follow. She had picked up enough sign to show there had been no other movement in the area. It helped there were no other tracks. No marked trail. The five were breaking their own.

  The landscape spread wide around her. Ruby found the trail she was following dipped into a wide slope, broken by fields of boulders and ragged growths of brush and some thin trees. The hoofprints became even less visible as the riders crossed stretches of stony ground and Ruby had to slow her horse to a walk, leaning forward in the saddle to pick up the trail again.

  The beat of the sun struck against her and she was glad she had shed her coat. She felt the heat through her shirt, strong against her skin. Sweat formed on her neck, sliding down her back. Looking ahead she could make out the shimmer of heat waves. It made her aware of her vulnerability. She pushed the feeling aside. Now was not the time to start doubting her strength.

  She drew rein on the crest of a steep slope, the terrain falling away in dusty folds. As she surveyed the way ahead she took time to unhook one of her canteens and take a mouthful of the tepid water. Her horse swung it head around and the look it gave her couldn’t have been expressed better with words.

  ‘Okay, you convinced me.’

  She climbed down and tipped water into her upturned hat, letting the horse drink. She put her hat back on, feeling the cool moisture for a while. She took time to stretch her aching body. Hanging her canteen back Ruby stepped up to the stirrup.

  A distant shine of sunlight on something made her pause. Her mind telling her she needed to move quickly. That was no natural shine.

  Letting go her grip on the saddlehorn she let herself drop. Felt the ripple of the bullet as it went over her head, then heard the distant crack of the shot.

  She had the Winchester tucked under her left arm and slid it into position as she moved to the side and hunched over by a hump of rock close by. She was aware of a shiver coursing through her. Being fired upon was an unnerving experience.

  Peering over the rock she searched the way ahead, attempting to pinpoint where the shot had come from. A fragment of movement caught her eye. Close enough to recognize it as a man wielding a raised rifle in her direction. He opened fire, sending a rapid volley of shots in her direction. She felt them slap the hard earth to her left, raising gouts of gritty dust.

  Ruby shouldered her
Winchester, sighting quickly and firing, working the lever and letting go a second shot. She knew she had missed straight off. She needed to take more time to set her target. The distant figure fired again and she felt the slug score her right boot, the impact making her foot jump. The shooter stepped back and brought his weapon on line again. When he fired Ruby heard her horse squeal, jerking aside and almost falling. The sound angered her more than being shot at herself. Aware it was a reckless move she pushed to her feet, firing as she broke cover, knowing she was offering herself as an open target. Repeated shots broke the silence. Brass casings spun from the Winchester as Ruby moved forward, unmindful at exposing herself. She was taking a risk, but a deliberate one.

  The shooter paused for a moment, caught unprepared by her brazen act. Ruby took a hard breath, stopped in her tracks as she caught the shooter head one and pulled the trigger, the rifle bucking in her grasp. She put her shots close together and the shooter staggered under the impact. He went down on his knees, letting his rifle fall from his hands as he clutched his bloody chest. Ruby put him on his back with a final shot that hammered in over his heart, ran forward and stood by him, a sick feeling washing over her as he died.

  Smoke trailed from the hot muzzle of her rifle. The acrid smell stung her nostrils. As the sound of the shots faded Ruby felt the silence fall again. She felt tears prickle her eyes as she stared down at the dead man.

  She had reacted instinctively. Her actions driven by the shooter’s own stance. Leaving her with the choice between living and dying.

  This was not what I wanted.

  Off to one side she saw the man’s horse moving restlessly in the shade of the trees. She forced herself to go to it and unstrap the saddlebag pouches. Going through the contents she found a pouch holding a sizable amount of silver nuggets and thick wads of banded banknotes. The paper holding the cash together bore the name of Vermijo’s bank. The confirmation that the dead man had been a member of the bunch who robbed the bank and took part in the death of Sam Piggot did little to wipe away how she felt over killing the man lying some yards away. She transferred the stolen goods to her own saddlebags, making sure the pouch was buckled tightly. She took the man’s blanket roll and shook it out, covering the body.

  ‘Damn. Damn. Damn.’

  The sound of her own voice startled her and she stood motionless as the moment passed.

  Don’t let this throw you off track, Ruby. When you took the job you knew things could go beyond just dealing with paperwork and local matters.

  She heard her horse stamping restlessly and crossed to where it stood. Checked the bullet wound and found it was a three inch score along its left flank. She talked to the trembling animal, calming it. She pulled a roll of cloth from her saddlebags and tore off a strip. Wetting it from one of her canteens she cleaned the wound as best she could. The horse twisted its head around, eyeing her as she tended to it.

  ‘Wish I had something more,’ she said. ‘Best I can do.’

  Ruby reloaded her rifle, conscious how fast the episode with the rider had come about. She gave her horse water, then mounted up, trailing the dead man’s animal by its reins and set off again. She still carried her Winchester across her lap, searching the way ahead as she reminded herself there were still four men ahead of her.

  ~*~

  ‘I say we should have waited for Cletus,’ Colston said.

  ‘His animal was played out,’ Hodges said. ‘Cletus never had good sense when it came to choosing horseflesh. That damn gray just didn’t have the bottom for a long ride. Told him more’n once but he wouldn’t listen. He knew he was slowing us down. He had the chance to pick a good horse but he wouldn’t use his head. I ain’t about to get shot for him.’

  ‘Cletus never was much of a thinker,’ Larch said, hunching over his saddle horn. ‘Just short of dumb I’d say. An’ he always figured he knew better’n anyone else.’

  ‘If we got a posse from Vermijo on our backtrail last thing we need is to be held back by a slow horse,’ Hodges said.

  ‘I thought it was just one rider,’ Colston said. ‘An’ you figured it likely to be a woman, seein’ as how the law from Vermijo is a woman.’

  ‘A slug from a 44-40 rifle does just as much damage coming from a man or a woman.’ Hodges was becoming impatient now, fidgeting in his saddle. ‘Cletus took his share of what we got from Vermijo’s bank. Ain’t like he went away empty handed. He knows the country around here, like he said. He can pick up a fresh horse and choose to follow us, or strike out on his own. It’s what we were plannin’ anyhows.’

  A silence hung over the group, each man considering what Hodges had told them. The idea had been discussed at length before the robbery. Once clear of Vermijo, the stolen silver and cash would be divided between the five of them, and then each man would be able to decide what he wanted to do. Splitting up would make it harder for any law following them and the men could strike out, riding far and wide.

  By this time each man had his individual stake, in silver and cash money. There had been enough in the bank safes to give each man a considerable amount.

  Hodges poured himself a final coffee, squatted down and watched the other three. He sensed they were getting ready to move out and that suited him fine. Apart from Charlie Seaburgh he wouldn’t miss the other two. Seaburgh had a sound head on his shoulders and he and Hodges worked pretty well together. Had done so for an age.

  Sometime later, the campsite cleared they took to their horses. Sat for a while as they discussed what they were going to do.

  ‘Me and Charlie are still heading south,’ Hodges said.

  ‘I’m for the north,’ Colston said. ‘Got me some friends I can look up.’

  ‘Cy?’ Hodges said.

  ‘Got me a notion to trail Flagstaff way. Woman there who’ll like me even more now I got me some money to spend.’

  ‘Law’s going to have fun trying to figure out which way to ride once we split up,’ Colston said.

  ‘Well, hell,’ Hodges said, ‘I’ll be damned if I’m going to make it easy for ’em.’

  ~*~

  Midday and Ruby stood over the dead campfire. Eyes scanning the dry earth and picking out the tracks leading away from the spot.

  Four riders.

  An equal number of hoofprints leading away. Two riders had left together heading south. Of the other pair one was heading north, while the fourth rider had angled off and the only noticeable place that lay in that direction was Flagstaff.

  ‘Didn’t figure on that happening,’ Ruby said.

  She took off her hat, scrubbing fingers through her hair as she studied the tracks. Her busy mind was dealing with the signs. The rider heading north was moving up country. If her reasoning was correct the one taking the possible route towards Flagstaff could be easier to track. That left the pair going south. Maybe with the intention of crossing the border, taking them out of the country. If they did cross the line her chances of locating them would become slimmer. She had no jurisdiction in Mexico. Nor did she even favor going that way. There would be too many obstacles in her way. A woman wearing a badge was at the top of the list. Ruby had no intentions of even putting that to the test. Her only option was to catch up with the two riders before they crossed over.

  She mounted her second horse and moved off again. At least with her pair of animals she might gain a little distance and close the gap between her and the two riders.

  Sam Piggot.

  The dead man’s name came into her thoughts without warning. The last time she had seen him he was lying on the floor of Vermijo’s bank in a pool of blood from his crushed skull. There had been times when she and the banker had not seen eye-to-eye, agreeably over small matters. Yet he had been the one who had allowed her the opportunity to become the law in town. Giving her the chance to prove she could do the job. At the time even Ruby had seen herself as simply sitting in until a fulltime lawman could be appointed. In the wake of the demise of the Lockharts the town had reverted back to being acceptabl
y peaceful and for her part Ruby had sat behind the desk, or walked the streets, simply a token presence. Until the day came when five men had broken into the bank, murdered Piggot and removed the cash and silver in the safes. When Ruby had taken the oath of office it had meant, as far as she was concerned, that she accepted good and bad times. A lawman wasn’t able to pick and choose. It wasn’t that kind of an occupation.

  It came down to black and white—not black or white. Since taking office she had had the quiet time. That was over now.

  It had ended with the bank robbery though that came second to the unexpected and brutal murder of Sam Piggot. A good man who should not have died in such a manner. Not with his head beaten until his brains and blood spread in a pool across the bank floor. It had been a cruel end to a life and one that Ruby Tucker wasn’t about to forget. Or forgive. Come hell or high water she was going to honor the badge she wore, or die trying.

  The easy time was behind her—it was the hard time now.

  In the line of duty she had already been forced to take a life. The thought didn’t sit easy. But there had been little choice for her. And what lay ahead didn’t promise to be any the less peaceful.

  ~*~

  Ben Hodges finally had enough. Every few minutes it seemed Seaburgh twisted around in his saddle to stare along their backtrail.