Bullets Don't Argue

by William W. Johnstone

  It was close to suppertime when Possum heard the call from the other side of the pasture. He squinted against the sun on its way down to see who was calling. After a minute, when he was sure, he turned toward the campfire. “Emma, your family’s come home!”

  “Where?” She exclaimed, almost dropping her ladle in the pot of boiling soup in her excitement. In an instant, she was standing beside him, staring out across the pasture as well. “Thank the Good Lord in heaven,” she said, watching the three horses approaching, then uttered, “Where’s Perley? I don’t see Perley.”

  Her comment reflected his concern as well. “He mighta hung back a-ways, just to make sure nobody was followin’ ’em. I reckon they’ll tell us.”

  “They’re gonna be hungry,” Emma said. “It’s a good thing this soup is almost done.” She stood there nervously rubbing her hands together as if anxious to have her baby in her arms. Finding it impossible to wait until they rode into camp, she hurried out to meet them before they reached the wagons parked there. She reached up and took the child Rachael happily handed her. “Welcome home, all of you.”

  “Where’s Perley?” Possum asked when no one volunteered. There was an awkward pause in the greetings, as no one of the three wanted to confess that they didn’t know.

  “I don’t know.” Rooster started to take the responsibility, since no one else volunteered, but he suddenly hesitated. A wide smile broke out on his face and he continued. “But I expect that might be him yonder.” They all turned to see the lone rider at the far edge of the pasture, leading a string of three horses.

  The celebration started all over again, Emma fed the baby, and pretty soon Emma and Rachael were ladling out the soup and passing the biscuits Emma had baked for supper, hoping that there might be plenty of people to eat them. Possum and Emma wanted to know every detail of the rescue and Rooster, Tom, and Rachael were just as eager to hear what had happened when Perley had stayed behind. Of special interest to Possum was the string of horses Perley brought back with him. Two of them were saddled, one of which was a Morgan with an expensive saddle. The other was one of the spare horses he picked up on his way back.

  “I noticed you came back ridin’ bareback,” Possum said to Tom.

  “That’s right. Rachael was ridin’ my horse. We rode double outta that camp, then this mornin’ we run up on one of those extra horses we took with us.” He looked at Perley. “So you picked one of ’em up, too. Maybe the other one will show up here one day.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Perley said.

  “Who else might show up?” Emma asked him. Her question caused everyone else to stop talking and look to him for the answer.

  He was reluctant to go into much detail, but he shrugged and said, “I don’t think you have to worry about those two who came in here and took Rachael and the baby. One of ’em’s dead for sure and the other one is bad wounded. There were two other fellows that met ’em at that spring.”

  “Comanche Run,” Rooster inserted.

  “Anyway, there were two other men there to meet ’em.” That was as far as he got again before Rachael interrupted.

  “One of the two was Brent Slocum,” she said. “I heard the other man call him that, but I didn’t hear him call the man who came with him by name. What happened to those two?”

  “One of ’em came after me,” Perley said, “but the other one didn’t. I don’t know where he went.” He went on to tell them that he had stolen all the horses belonging to the three who chased him. “One of ’em pulled free after I rode a good ways, so I reckon there’s a possibility that third fellow found him. But he’da had to walk pretty far before he did.”

  “Tell you the truth,” Rooster said, “I thought you’da caught up with us before you did. I was a little worried till you showed up tonight.”

  Perley shrugged, then explained. “I decided to hang back a while, just to make sure that other fellow was on foot.”

  “Sounds to me like you’ve been pretty busy,” Possum said. “I doubt we’ll get any more visits right away. But as long as Zachary Slocum thinks he’s gotta have his grandson to raise, we’re gonna have to be extra careful. He knows where the baby is now, and he’s liable to send somebody else to try to grab him.”

  “Might be better if you moved into the cabin,” Rooster suggested. “I can sleep in the barn.” When Emma started to object, he insisted. “I end up sleepin’ out there half the time anyway, ’specially when I’ve been into my corn whiskey.”

  “That sounds like a good idea to me,” Possum said. Perley nodded his agreement. “There’s room in that cabin for Rachael and the girls, too,” Possum continued. “It’d be a lot easier to keep ’em all safe.” He glanced at Tom. “I reckon Rachael could come out to the wagon to visit you, if she felt a need to.” Tom’s face flushed while everybody laughed at his embarrassment.

  “I think it’s a good idea,” Rachael said, looking at her husband. “And it won’t be for long, honey,” she teased. “When Emma and Possum build their hotel, I’m sure we’ll find a permanent place to live, maybe in the hotel.”

  * * *

  Perley rode down the street in Bison Gap, leading the dark Morgan gelding with the expensive saddle. Passing Wheeler’s Merchandise, he stopped when Ralph Wheeler came out on the porch and hailed him. “Perley,” the mayor exclaimed. “I’m mighty glad to see you back in town.”

  “Why,” Perley asked, “Is anything wrong?”

  “Well, there was a little trouble at The Buffalo Hump last night. I just don’t like to have the town without law enforcement.”

  “I had something I had to take care of,” Perley said. “Didn’t Horace tell you I was gonna be gone for a little while?”

  “Yes, but I thought you’d be back the next morning, I didn’t know he meant you’d be gone this long.”

  Perley shrugged. “I didn’t know, myself, how long it was gonna take, so there wasn’t any way Horace coulda known.” He was already feeling the restriction of the town marshal’s job, and it was a sign to him that he could never take it on permanently, even had he given that possibility any thought. “What was the trouble at The Buffalo Hump?”

  “Some Mexican cowhand from a ranch south of here somewhere started raising hell because Jimmy didn’t have any tequila. He fired a couple of shots through the window, ran everybody out, and from what I’ve heard, just took up residence at one of the tables for the night. It cost Henry Lawrence a night’s business, because the Mexican effectively closed the saloon. That’s why we need a sheriff here in town.”

  “You do remember that I’m just helpin’ you till you get a full-time sheriff, or marshal, whatever you wanna call him, don’t you?” Perley asked. “I had to stop a kidnapping aimed at one of the new investors in your town. And I’d think that was important to you.”

  “Oh, it is, it is,” Wheeler quickly responded. “I just wanted to let you know we’re glad to see you back. Is Emma all right?”

  “Yeah, she’s all right, and her baby, and her sister, too,” Perley replied, thinking the mayor’s concern for them was a little belated. “Well, I’d better go see if the jail’s still standin’, I reckon.” He nudged Buck and continued on down the street to the stable.

  Horace Brooks met him at the front of the stable. “Good mornin’, Perley, I see you got back all right. Where’d you get the horse?”

  “It’s a long story,” Perley said. “It sorta followed me home. I wanna put him up in your stable and see if his owner comes to pick him up.” He stepped down from Buck. “Give both of ’em a portion of grain.” He was about to ask about his other horse at the stable when they heard a shot fired back up the street. He reacted at once, but Horace stopped him.

  “That ain’t nothin’ but that crazy Mexican,” Horace said. When Perley looked confused, Horace asked, “Didn’t anybody tell you about the Mexican?”

  “The mayor stopped me on my way in to town. He told me some drunk cowhand had took up residence in the saloon, but he didn’t say
he was still in there this mornin’.”

  “He’s been there all night,” Horace said. “I reckon Henry and Jimmy were hopin’ he’d pass out and they could tie him up, but he just sits there, darin’ anybody to come in the place. That’s the first shot I’ve heard this mornin’, though. Hell, I feel sorry for his horse, tied up at the rail all night, no water, no grain.”

  “Damn,” Perley swore, “that is bad. I reckon I’d better go get him outta there. Is Jimmy still in there?” Horace said that he thought he was.

  Perley took the coil of rope from his saddle and walked across the little bridge to the saloon where a lone horse was tied at the rail. He stepped up on the porch, and standing to the side of the door, pushed it open far enough to peek inside. He saw the drunken cowhand seated at a table in the middle of the saloon, facing the door. Since he was slumped in the chair, Perley thought he might have finally passed out, so he opened the door a little wider. Now, he could see Jimmy McGee slumped over on the bar, dead or asleep, he couldn’t tell. He was about to push on in when the cowhand suddenly raised his pistol from the table and sent a bullet into the door a few feet from Perley’s head. Perley jumped back away from the door. That doesn’t look like I’m gonna get any breakfast anytime soon, he thought. He had planned to eat there this morning. Now he hoped Ida Wicks was not trapped inside.

  He hurried around to the back door of the saloon and cautiously tried the door. It was not locked, so he opened it and walked in to find Ida sitting behind the kitchen table, a shotgun on the table before her. She started when he came in, but he put a finger to his lips to quiet her. She nodded her understanding. He tiptoed through the kitchen to the door to the saloon. There he saw the Mexican still sitting in the chair, his back to him. Perley shook out his rope and stepped through the door. The cowhand was alert enough to hear the sound of the rope as Perley twirled it over his head, and he sat up straight to listen. He made a much easier target than Coy Dawkins had on a horse. Perley’s lasso dropped over him and was immediately drawn up tight, pulling the Mexican, bound to his chair, over on his back. Unable to reach for his pistol on the table as he went over, he was helpless. Perley made quick work of him, wrapping the rope around and around him until he couldn’t move from the chair, all the while screaming insults at Perley in Spanish. Looking at the bar then, he was glad to see Jimmy raise his weary head and stand up. “Are you all right?” Perley asked.

  “Boy, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Jimmy replied. “Yeah, I’m all right. The son of a bitch threatened to shoot me every time I tried to leave the bar. I’m just tired as hell and I’ve got to go to the outhouse before I bust.”

  Behind him, Perley heard Ida Wicks, standing in the kitchen door. “Whooee! Ride ’em, cowboy!”

  “Are you all right, Ida?” Perley asked. When she said she was fine, he asked, “Why didn’t you just go out the back door?”

  “Because I didn’t want him comin’ in here to tear up my kitchen,” she said. “If he’da come in here, I was gonna blow his ass right back in the saloon.” Changing the subject without batting an eye, she asked, “You wantin’ breakfast this mornin’? It’s gonna be a little late.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be back later. I’m gonna take Jimmy’s special customer to jail first, but I’m comin’ back. Jimmy, I’m gonna borrow your chair. I’ll bring it back when I come to eat.” He pulled the free end of the rope over his shoulder, hunkered down, and pulled the cowhand, chair and all, out the front door. Outside, he untied the cowhand’s horse and looped the end of the rope around the saddle horn. Then he took hold of the horse’s bridle and led it toward the jail a short distance away. The Mexican howled in pain as the chair bumped down the steps before hitting the smooth dirt between the saloon and the jail.

  By the time he had been dragged over the dirt between the two buildings, the cowhand was in no condition to protest his treatment. He made no move to fight Perley when he was led into one of the cells and locked up. As soon as his hands were freed, he staggered to the slop bucket and fell on his knees before it. Perley pumped some fresh water and set it inside the cell. “Here,” he said, “you’re gonna need this.” He took a quick look around in the sheriff’s office, but it appeared that no one had been in while he was away. He locked the front door then, picked up the chair in one hand, and led the cowhand’s horse with the other, stopping at the watering trough before taking the horse to the stable. After the horse was taken care of, he went back to the saloon, where some of the regular customers were already filing in since the threat was gone. Horace went with him, deciding he might as well have breakfast, too.

  “I swear, Perley,” Horace said. “I wish to hell you’d think about keepin’ the marshal’s job.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Eli Ballenger was in no mood to fight the late Joe Cutter’s ornery gray gelding. The horse seemed inclined to pick its own pace, no matter how hard Ballenger fought to dominate. He attributed it to the fact that Cutter was a huge man and a cruel master, in contrast to his slim, wiry frame. He had thought hard about pursuing the man who had managed to completely destroy this simple kidnapping job. Reason enough was the fact that he had stolen his horse and saddle. He had paid eighty dollars for that saddle and he intended to get it back as well as the Morgan gelding under it. However, there were other matters to take care of. Major among them was his arrangement with Zachary Slocum. Slocum’s son was on his way back to tell his father the woman and child had been kidnapped but had managed to escape after they had been brought all the way to the southern boundary of the Lazy-S ranch. Brent Slocum had clearly not been pleased with the way the operation had been handled, and Ballenger could really not blame him. And now, his reputation depended upon his ability to straighten things out with Slocum, plus the matter of money already paid for the job. With his agents, Cutter and Logan, out of the picture, Ballenger could see no alternative but to go after the child, himself. And that was not to his liking. His business was assassination, and he was the best in the business. Kidnapping babies and their mothers was for lowlifes like the two he had just hired. Unfortunately, he had made a contract to do it. Before anything else, he told himself, he would recover his horse and saddle, and he would find this man who had made fools of them all. And he would kill him.

  The woman and child had no doubt returned to Bison Gap, so it stood to reason that the man who stole his horse was there also. So after he searched the bodies of his former partners for anything useful, he wrestled the ornery horse’s head back toward Comanche Run to see if their packhorse was still there. If it was gone, he would be hard put to make any kind of camp without a bedroll or supplies. When he reached the camp, he found the packhorse patiently waiting, along with the horse Rachael had ridden. He was satisfied then that he had the supplies he needed, even though it was not his packhorse or his supplies. He had little choice, since his packhorse was at the Lazy-S, and he was in no mood to defend his failure to deliver the package to Zachary Slocum. With that in mind, he decided it best to let the horses rest, then start out for Bison Gap later that night.

  Morning brought the promise of yet another day of cloudless skies and clear warm nights. Ballenger cut some strips of bacon to fry to go with a cup of coffee before starting out on his vengeful task. He had no choice other than to use the coffeepot Cutter and Logan had used. Since he needed no more than a cup or two of coffee, he filled the pot with water just short of the bullet hole and measured an estimated amount of grounds. When he finished his breakfast, he set out again for Bison Gap.

  Arriving in the little settlement close to suppertime, he pushed the reluctant gray down the length of the street to the stable at the end. As soon as he pulled up there, he saw what he had come looking for. He had not expected to find his horse so easily. To be sure, he dismounted and walked to the rail of the corral to get a closer look. Any doubts he may have had were immediately dissolved when the horse came over to greet him. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.” The voice came from behind him. “I believe yo
u musta took a likin’ to our little town.”

  Ballenger turned to see Horace Brooks coming out the front door of the stable. “It’s an easy town to take a liking to,” he said. “I was just passing by when I noticed this Morgan here in the corral. When I took a closer look, I recognized him. That’s my horse. He got away from me a couple of days ago, and I’ve been looking for him ever since. He had my saddle on him, too. How’d he end up in your corral?”

  “Perley Gates brought him in,” Horace replied. “He said the horse had followed him home and he was gonna leave it at the stable to see if its owner came lookin’ for it. He’ll most likely be glad you came by.”

  “Perley Gates?” Ballenger responded, surprised, “the young fellow who’s acting as the temporary sheriff?”

  “That’s the feller,” Horace replied

  Ballenger was stumped for a moment, thinking back to the unassuming young fellow he had met, sitting at the table in the saloon with Possum Smith. He had to doubt that Perley was the man who had led Joe Cutter and Waylon Logan into an ambush and then stolen the horses. If he had not been careful, he might have been caught in that same ambush. He could not have been so far off in judging a man. Maybe, the man he was looking for turned the Morgan over to the sheriff, and that was how it ended up in Horace’s stable. He noticed then that Horace was staring at him as if puzzled, and he realized that he had been lost in thought for a long moment. “That reminds me,” he said. “There was something I wanted to talk to the sheriff about. I almost forgot it. You think he’s around today? I heard he was out of town for a few days.”

  “Well, yeah, he was. But like I said, he brought your horse in a couple days ago. Soon as he got back, he had to go in and hog-tie a crazy Mexican who was shootin’ up the saloon.” He went on to tell Ballenger the whole story of the way Perley roped the cowhand and dragged him over to the jail. When he had finished, Ballenger’s opinion of the mild-mannered temporary lawman had rapidly changed. He had underestimated the craftiness of the man, and he was suddenly more determined to test his nerve when there was nothing for Perley to hide behind.