by Neil Hunter
‘Charlie, damn your eyes, I can’t stand to see you turning around every couple’a minutes. Just what you ’specting’ to see?’
Seaburgh unhooked his canteen and took a drink, wiping his sleeve across his stubbled chin.
‘Well it ain’t the town band,’ he said. ‘I got one of those feelings.’
‘I got feelings, too, Charlie. Mainly in my aching butt, but I ain’t making a fuss about it.’
Seaburgh scowled across at his partner. ‘Sometimes get to wondering why I side with you.’
‘Why? Because of my pleasing manner and the fact I’m the only one who puts up with your bellyaching. Come a few days an’ we’ll be in Mexico. Maybe that’ll quiet you down some. ‘When you got time to spend some of that cash in your pocket.’
‘Mebbe so,’ Seaburgh said. ‘Tell you, Ben, I’ll breathe easier once’t we cross the line.’
‘Can’t argue that. Sonofabitch, though, it still smarts having that old fart Tyler ridin into town and capping Luke. We had a good thing going in Vermijo. Easy life taking money of those townsfolk. Could still have been doin’ it if that sorry excuse Ace had kept his hands off that woman of his and riled her so much she ended up shooting him.’ He gave a hoarse chuckle. ‘Shot down by a damn woman. Hell of a way for a man to go.’
‘He allus did figure he was the high cockalorum,’ Seaburgh said. ‘Too highfalutin’ by half. Anyone could see he was headin’ for a comeuppance.’
‘Well he got that well enough.’
‘You got that right.’
Hodges drew rein, sat staring at the distant landscape, a hard gleam in his eyes. His partner watched him for a moment.
‘What’s on your mind, Ben? I know that look you get when something is sticking in your craw and I don’t rightly like what I’m thinking.’
‘That damn town,’ Hodges said. His voice was low, his words pushed out between clenched teeth. ‘Vermijo. That goddam town owes us. An’ I don’t mean money this time. I ain’t goin’ to be happy ’til I see it burning from one end to the other. We had us a time there. No one to bother us. A prize for the takin’ an’ dam well we took it.’
‘Now you’re talkin’ crazy, Ben. We got clear away from Vermijo. No reason to go back. Not just for a notion.’
‘Notion? It’s a reckoning I’m looking for. Goddam it, Charlie, they made us run. That pissant town. I ain’t ever run from anything in my life and it’s admitting something saying Vermijo made me quit. Just knowing that is chewin’ away at my insides.’
‘If we’d stayed they would have strung us up like they did Carl. And gunned down Jim. If’n we hadn’t got out of there it would have been us next.’
‘That was then,’ Hodges said. ‘I don’t give a damn about that. I just got me a bellyful of walking away like a cur dog. Being back there in Vermijo just got me thinking how that town made us quit and run. Don’t sit right with me, Charlie, an’ I don’t figure what we stole is enough to make it right.’
Seaburgh swung out of the saddle and paced back and forth. He pulled out a sack of makings and rolled himself a quirley. Lit it with a match he struck on his pistol butt. He sucked in smoke. Inhaled and paced some more.
‘We could ride into a passel of waiting guns. Get ourselves shot to pieces and for what, damnit? You and your damn pride is why.’ He stabbed a finger in the air. ‘That way is south. We go over the border and ride into Mexico. Leave it all behind, but you are like to turn around and go back to Vermijo. Goddam it, Ben, that’s crazy man talk. We might as well just take our guns an’ shoot each other here and now …’
Leaning on his saddle horn Hodges said in a quiet voice, ‘I ain’t askin’ you to come with me, Charlie. Nobody forcing you to.’
In the silence that followed Seaburgh pulled off his hat and slapped at his dusty pants. When he looked up at his partner there was a meaningful expression in his eyes.
‘Hell, Ben, weren’t no call to say that. You know I’d allus back you. Ain’t we ridden together through good and bad times? I ain’t never turned my back on you. Makes me real sorrowful you’d even consider me not siding you.’
The silence that followed was awkward for Hodges and he realized he had got too close to the line.
‘You’re right, Charlie. I was wrong as a man could be. I’d trust you to the gates of hell. Take my oath on that.’
He got down off his horse and thrust out his hand to Seaburgh, who hesitated for no more than a couple of seconds before he took it.
‘Ben, times are you can be a horse’s ass.’
‘I know it.’
‘So how are we going to handle it?’
‘Go in fast. Hit Vermijo like it never expects, then ride out and get clear of the territory.’
‘Figure we can get away with it?’
‘Vermijo allus was a sleepy damn town. Never was anything but. Well, hell, son, it’s goin’ to be even quieter when we bring it down.’
They climbed back into their saddles and turned their horses around.
Ben Hodges rode easy, his mind on thoughts of retribution. For the pain he was going to bring to Vermijo. This was going to make the town suffer for what it had done to him and his former partners. If he brought it off he would feel his actions justified.
From the moment he had left Vermijo behind Hodges had harbored guilt at deserting his partners. Jim and Carl Lockhart had died while he had escaped with his life. The fact there had been little he could have done at the time did not clear the feelings of guilt. Those feelings had remained, growing as time passed until he knew he needed to put things right. It was an unspoken rule that said when you rode with a man you sided him. Stood by him in good and bad times. And riding out of Vermijo, leaving behind the Lockhart brothers had stayed with him even though there had been nothing he could have done at the time. As the days went by the fact he was in the clear became a burden Hodges carried with him. The passage of time increased his feelings of guilt, made him consider whether he might have saved Jim and Carl, and he was unable to dispel those doubts.
The town had exacted its own vengeance on the Lockharts.
Now was the time for Ben Hodges to do the same.
The town would suffer the same fate when he returned to Vermijo.
That was a promise Ben Hodges intended to honor.
~*~
‘They was here,’ Luke said as he moved around the campsite, reading the sign. Four riders and four horses. The detritus of the time they had spent lay scattered in the dirt. The remains of a long-cold fire. Horse droppings where the four mounts had stood. Cigarette and cigar stubs. ‘Been gone a while now.’
Frank was out of his saddle, examining more tracks. A single rider, plus the hoof prints of a led horse. He walked to where the lone rider, obviously Ruby Tucker, had ridden out to follow the tracks the pair of horsemen had left the campsite, heading in the general southerly direction.
‘Ruby took the horse of the feller she shot,’ he said. ‘Smart move. She can keep changing saddles. Rests one horse. Allows her to move a little faster.’
‘What about these?’ Luke said. ‘Two separate trails. One heading off north, the other goin’ east.’
‘Likely they decided to go their own ways. Don’t forget they got the money from the Vermijo bank. Gives each of ’em a stake.’
‘On’y way we can keep after them is by splitting up too.’
Frank glanced at his grandson. Since the episode in Vermijo and the time since they left, Luke had done a deal of growing. Under Frank’s guidance he had improved his gun skills and Frank had to admit the younger man had become proficient.
‘Ain’t simply enough to be a fast draw, Luke. Speed ain’t the only way. Hold your nerve and your aim before you fire. No such sense in blazing away if you ain’t got your target where you need it and where your shots are going to land. When you face a feller just remember what I told you. Man is the sneakiest creature you’ll ever have to deal with. He’ll try to trick you. Smart talk you. Let you figure you have him beat
even while he’ll do his best to shoot you down with a smile on his face and pure murder on his mind. Minute you ease off is when you take a bullet. Time you know it’s coming to a shooting you clear leather and put him down first. Don’t think about it. Don’t hesitate. And don’t ever feel sorry for the son of a bitch. Take out your gun and shoot to kill. Not to wound, ‘cause a wounded man can turn out to be meaner than a stomped on rattler …’
Frank admitted his grandson was talking sense. The only way to reach the outlaws was by picking up one of the trails and following it to the end. He felt a moment of regret he and Luke having to go in different directions, each taking off after the riders. But in truth there was no other option. If they left the trails too long sign would fade and their quarry could easily drop out of sight and escape justice.
As much as he didn’t truly favor what was about to happen he knew he had to accept it. Luke had pinned on his Deputy US Marshal badge and had taken the oath of office. It had been a proud moment for Frank Tyler. He had known even then the time would come when Luke had to strike out on his own. That time was now.
‘What about Ruby?’ Luke said.
‘She already faced one of them. Put him down by herself. She’ll handle her part, don’t you fret, boy.’
They spent some time at the camp site. Enough to make up the fire and prepare a meal and coffee. There was little talk this time, each man with his thoughts on what lay ahead for them. Aware of the dangers.
‘You sure about this?’ Frank said.
‘I didn’t pin on badge so’s I could hide behind yours. Time I walked in my own shadow.’ Luke managed a grin. ‘And I’m damn sure not going to let myself get done over by a woman. If Ruby Tucker can face down one of those owlhooters … well I guess I can, too.’
‘It’s no game, Luke. Just you remember that.’
‘Not about to forget that, grandpa. And you take care yourself.’
They forked their saddles and moved out.
Frank settled in to follow the trail of the rider going north, while Luke took the remaining set of tracks.
They were both aware they were following seasoned outlaws. Men who made their living by stealing and killing. This was a manhunt plain and simple and the most likely prize at the end would be for one of them staying alive.
~*~
Colston had a long ride ahead of him. He was settled comfortably in his saddle, his thoughts on how he might spend his money. Siding with Hodges had been a smart move. He and Larch had an easy part to play. Riding in Vermijo and checking out the town and the bank. No hassle. Once they had the information they had ridden back and given Hodges the news.
Armed with the knowledge the gang had returned to Vermijo, staying out of sight along the backlots and waiting until Sam Piggot appeared. Colston had hung around the side of the bank and the moment Piggot showed himself he had casually stepped up behind him. The banker, at gunpoint, had let Colston follow him inside. Locking the main door again they had walked to the back of the bank and open the rear door, allowing the rest of the bunch to slip inside and under Hodges instructions they cleaned out both safes. Bank notes and the added bonus of silver nuggets, part of the deal Piggot, the banker, had with Jim Lockhart. Even divided up amongst the five of them the take from the bank would give them all a big stake.
It was going well until the moment Piggot decided he couldn’t stand by and let it happen. It was an impulsive move that ended badly for the banker. They had all known they couldn’t risk a shot to prevent him shouting a warning.
Ben Hodges had reacted quickly. As Piggot made his try for the door he had reached out and snatched the bronze bust standing on a plinth close by. He raised it and slammed it down on Piggot’s head. The force of the first blow sent Piggot to his knees, barely a sound coming from him. For a reason known only to Hodges he rained a number of further blows on Piggot, each one doing terrible damage. Piggot’s skull was splintered, gaping open and exposing torn flesh and bone, his face seeming to crumble when Hodges altered his aim. When he flopped to the floor, twisting in silent agony the ragged mix of blood and brain matter spilled out of the gaping wound. Hodges stared at the object in his hand, threw it down, wiping his hand on his pants.
‘He didn’t need to try and warn the damn town,’ he said. His voice was hoarse with emotion. ‘Stupid. Stupid.’
Seaburgh grasped his arm. ‘It’s done, Ben. Now let’s get the hell out of here before somebody shows up. Rest of you. Grab those pouches and move out. Back door. Goddam it let’s go.’
Being early morning there were few people on Vermijo’s street and the backlots were deserted. The bunch skirted the edge of town, then cut off across country, not stopping for a few hours until they decided it was safe. On the crest of a long slope that were able to look back across the landscape. There were no signs of any pursuit.
Ben Hodges had everyone dismount and while one man stood lookout the proceeding from the Vermijo bank were counted up and divided equally, each man receiving his share. This had been decided on well before the raid on the bank. The only dissent raised was about how they would proceed now. Each man had his own thoughts about what he wanted to do. It became a decision to break up the group, with Hodges, Seaburgh and Bigelow heading for the border. Larch and Colston had their own personal thoughts and would separate from the bunch sometime later.
It was agreed that splitting the group would reduce the appearance of a sizable bunch of men riding together and attract less attention.
When Cletus Bigelow’s horse became lame he offered to leave the group, not wanting to hold them back. With the possibility of pursuit on the cards his sacrifice allowed the rest of the bunch to carry on.
~*~
None of the bunch knew then that there was someone on their trail. Colston found out to his cost when Ruby Tucker, relentlessly following the tracks left by the group, came across him, and in the confrontation between them shot him.
The face off was short and deadly, the outcome not in Colston’s favor. He died barely even knowing it had been woman who had brought him down
When she later picked up the tracks separating she made the decision to follow the pair of riders heading south, hoping she could reach them before they jumped the border into Mexico.
~*~
Luke kept up a steady pace that would not over tire his horse. He found the early part of his ride was across flat, open terrain. The tracks he was following were clear enough, the ground still moist after a slight rain shower, and the hoof prints were deep enough to hold their form.
He checked his guns again, despite having done so before he and Frank had parted company. Frank had drilled into him the need to make sure his weapons were always ready for use. A malfunction at the wrong time could have a fatal outcome and in a gunfight no one got a second chance.
Luke found his nerve was holding, even though the thought of facing up to one of the outlaws was not a pleasant one. He accepted that pinning on the Deputy Marshal’s badge obligated him to face his responsibilities. Frank had spoken up for him and made him realize what he was taking on. He had as much responsibility to his grandfather as he did to the service. In truth Luke was more afraid of letting Frank down than anything else.
His grandfather had sided him in Vermijo. Had taken him in hand when they rode out and he had passed along a great deal of advice to the younger man. Luke had realized it was time he settled into some kind of responsibility. It had always been the easy option he’d chosen. Drifting from place to place. Taking on casual jobs when he needed money. In general he had been allowing his life to amount to nothing. The trouble in Vermijo had more than opened his eyes that his life was passing him by and leaving him with nothing to show for it. Life on Frank’s ranch had been pleasant enough.
Oddly it had been Frank himself who started in being restless. After the incident in Vermijo he had considered a change himself and when the offer to take up his old position in the US Marshal service came up Frank was ready. Leaving his ranch in the
hands of his small crew, Frank, with a newly deputized Luke, had ridden back to Vermijo and found the town was in trouble again, though because of a different set of circumstances.
Middle of the day found Luke crossing a wide swath of land, with a scattering of scrubby trees and patches of dusty brush. There were low hills to his left. Barely high enough to really be called hills, but close enough to warrant the name.
He had halted to take a mouthful of water from his canteen, his gaze moving as he saw two mounted riders appearing and angling downslope to cross his line of travel. Holding the canteen in his left hand and shielding his actions with his body, Luke let his right hand ease to his holstered Colt, easing off the hammer loop and loosening the revolver in his holster. He did this with caution uppermost in his thoughts.
There was a flickering of unease growing inside. Something about the pair of riders—he couldn’t exactly put his finger of what it was. Even so he kept his eyes on them as they rode in close.
Luke capped his canteen and hooked it back over the saddlehorn. As the two riders came to a halt just ahead of him Luke offered a friendly nod.
‘Hot ride,’ he said. ‘Be handy to find a stream to cool off some.’
The closest of the pair, lean and shaggy haired, leaned forward and studied the badge pinned to Luke’s shirt. A thin smile edged his wide mouth as he scratched at his unshaven jaw.
‘Cain’t recall the last time I seen a lawdog out this way,’ he said. ‘What do you say, Kell?’
The man named Kell nodded in agreement. He could have been a twin to the first man in appearance. Both were clad in grubby range clothes that were well worn. Kell wore fringed, knee-high Apache style N’deh b’keh, a sheathed knife tucked down the left one. Each man carried a holstered .45 Colt in simple holsters belted around their waists and rifles in saddle scabbards.
‘Nice shiny badge, too,’ Kell said. ‘I’d wager this one ain’t been long on the job. That right, deputy?’
‘You boys got a reason for standing in my way?’ Luke said.
Kell grinned, showing brown and uneven tobacco stained teeth. The smile was a long way from his eyes.
