Powder Burn

by William W. Johnstone

  “Hell,” Cal said, “forget about those buzzards. Let’s get us a drink and get on back to the ranch before Shorty sends Billy to look for us.”

  “Howdy, boys,” Moe Garvin greeted them when they sidled up to the bar. “What’ll it be?”

  “We need a little drink of whiskey to keep us warm on the ride back to the ranch,” Cal replied.”

  “Well, I can take care of that for you,” Moe said, and set two glasses on the bar. “Ain’t seen none of your crew lately. You been busy?”

  “Nothin’ special,” Slim said. “Just tryin’ to keep J-Bar-J cattle on our own range.” He didn’t elaborate on the trouble they had been having with missing numbers of cattle since the fall roundup ended. They were still trying to build up their herd, and it wasn’t easy with the small crew of men they worked. Shorty had hired two additional men, Mutt Samson and Billy Wilson, to help after Will Tanner had signed on with the Marshals Service in Fort Smith. Ordinarily, that was crew enough to manage the cattle. But since the recent tendency for the cows to stray, especially along the eastern boundary of their range, Shorty was convinced they were dealing with some rustling. Since Ike Cheney had started grazing cattle close to that side of their range, it was easy to suspect that that had something to do with their missing cattle. Shorty was reluctant to make any accusations, however, until catching the Cheneys in the act. So far, that hadn’t happened.

  Ike’s sons were well known around the little town of Sulphur Springs, Texas, even in the short time since they had shown up in the area. Most law-abiding citizens steered well clear of them whenever possible, and this was Slim and Cal’s intent on this day as well. As a rule, all four brothers usually hit town together, but on this occasion there seemed to be only two, the youngest of the four, Levi and Buck. From the loud, boisterous conversation coming from the back table, however, they seemed to be creating enough noise to compensate for the absence of Rubin and Luke. Slim and Cal tossed their whiskey back, waited a few moments for the burn to die down, then ordered another. “This is gonna do it for me,” Cal said. “We’d best get started back home.” Slim was about to concur, but before he could say so, a loud scream pierced the noisy atmosphere of the smoky saloon. It was followed by an angry tirade from Belle McClure.

  “You sick son of a bitch,” she fumed as she tried to pull her arm from the grasp of Buck Cheney. Buck laughed at her efforts to free herself and clamped down harder on her wrist. “Let me go!” she demanded, frantically struggling to keep him from burning her forearm again with his cigarette. Levi, the youngest Cheney son at sixteen, laughed, enjoying his brother’s methods of amusing himself.

  Although reluctant to say anything to the feared Cheney sons, Moe decided he should do something. Already, sensing trouble to come, several of his paying customers were heading for the door, perhaps to find a more peaceful environment at his competitor’s establishment. Moe walked back to the table. “Take it easy, boys,” he said. “There ain’t no call to hurt the lady.”

  “The lady?” Buck responded. “I don’t see no lady in here. You ain’t talkin’ ’bout this ol’ whore, are you?” He yanked even harder on Belle’s wrist, causing her to fall against the edge of the table, almost knocking the bottle of whiskey over.

  “We ain’t payin’ for no bottle of whiskey this ol’ whore spills,” Levi said.

  “Come on, fellers,” Moe pleaded. “There ain’t no use to get rowdy. Why don’t you let Belle go?”

  “’Cause she’s supposed to be in here to entertain the customers,” Buck replied. “And I aim to be entertained.” Belle made another attempt to escape his grasp and was slammed down hard in the chair for her effort, an act that seemed to tickle Buck’s younger brother.

  “I swear,” Levi said, chuckling, “you do have a way with women, brother Buck.”

  “That’s a fact,” Buck said, then turned to Moe. “Now, you can drag your sorry ass back over behind that bar and mind your own business. This business is between me and the whore.”

  Belle protested again at this point. “There ain’t gonna be no business between me and you,” she complained. “Now let me go.”

  “I’ll let you go when I’m done with you,” Buck blurted, and tightened down again on her already bruised wrist.

  “There ain’t no call to hurt her,” Moe said in one last feeble attempt before retreating to the bar.

  Witnessing the disgusting display of bullying was too much for Slim to ignore. “That just ain’t right,” he muttered to Cal. “Ain’t no reason Belle should have to put up with them two bastards.” Determined to come to the woman’s assistance, he started toward the table. Cal caught him by the arm before he could take more than a step, but not in time to escape Levi’s notice.

  “Well, now, mister, you got somethin’ to say?” He turned to his brother. “Look here, Buck, we got us a genuine hero who’s fixin’ to save this whore’s honor.” He rose slowly to his feet, his hand hovering close over the .44 he wore.

  “It sure looks like he’s thinkin’ about it,” Buck answered. A grin spread wide across his unshaven face as he released Belle’s wrist and got up from the table. “All right, mister, you called the game.” Those customers who had not already cleared out, backed away from the center of the room to get out of the anticipated line of fire. It was not the first time one of the Cheney boys had called out an unwitting cowhand in what amounted to a simple execution. Forgotten now by her antagonist, Belle moved quickly behind the bar to take cover behind Moe.

  Slim found himself caught between his sense of honor and the stark awareness that he might be facing certain suicide if he did not turn tail and run. Cal, realizing that Slim was no match for either of the two gunmen, and neither was he, knew that he was a player in this deadly game as well. “Just hold on a minute,” he implored. “There ain’t no reason to let this get outta hand. And there sure ain’t no call for anybody to get shot over a little argument. Slim wasn’t callin’ anybody out. Slim don’t do things like that.”

  Unfortunately, Cal’s attempt to reason with the two gunmen only intensified Buck’s and Levi’s desire to spill blood, especially since it was apparent the two facing them were not experienced gunhands. “Well, now,” Buck said, “I’m callin’ him out. Everybody heard him call me a dirty name. You heard him, didn’t you, Levi?”

  “I did,” Levi said. “He called you a low-down dirty name.”

  “So I reckon you’re gonna have to back it up,” Buck said to Slim.

  “I never called you no name,” Slim said.

  “Now you’re callin’ me a liar,” Buck said. “So I’m fixin’ to step out in the street and wait for you to come on out, and we’ll see who’s lyin’ and who ain’t.” He waited for Slim to accept the challenge, but Slim was frozen in a state of panic. “If you don’t come outside,” Buck taunted, “I’ll shoot you down right where you stand, you no-good son of a bitch. You’re wearin’ a gun, so you’d best be drawin’ it, or crawlin’ outta here like the cowardly dog you are. What’s it gonna be?”

  Cal could not let it go any further without trying to reason with the smug bully. “Look here, Cheney, there ain’t no sense in this. Slim ain’t never drew that pistol for any reason except to maybe shoot a snake or somethin’. Why don’t we just forget this little disagreement and get on about our business?”

  “That sounds like the sensible thing to do,” Moe piped up, anxious to defuse the issue.

  “The hell it is,” Levi Cheney snarled, his gaze locked on Cal. “This is between Buck and this other feller, and anybody else butts in is gonna answer to me.” His warning was enough to cause Cal to hesitate. There was little doubt that Levi hoped he would make a move to help Slim.

  Buck grinned when Cal stepped back to the bar. His full attention back to Slim again, he said, “You called me a dirty name and a liar to boot. I don’t let a man get away with that. So go for that gun you’re wearin’ or I’ll shoot you down where you stand.”

  Left with no choice, Slim tried to steady hi
s hand, but he seemed to be paralyzed with fear as he stared helplessly into the sneering face of Buck Cheney. The single-action .44 resting on his hip suddenly seemed unusually heavy, when before he had barely noticed it. He wanted desperately to run, but he knew to do so would brand him a coward. His life was over, no matter which choice he made, so he stood frozen, knowing he was about to die. There was a long moment of total silence in the saloon until broken by the lethal sound of the cocking of a Winchester 73. It was followed immediately by a simple warning. “Pull that weapon and I’ll cut you down before it clears the holster.”

  No one had noticed the arrival of the man in the doorway until that moment. “Will Tanner!” Cal gasped in surprise when he turned to discover the rangy, sandy-haired rifleman who had suddenly appeared. Hearing the name, Slim came close to fainting, but managed to turn to see that Cal had not seen an illusion. It was in fact Will Tanner, and had he appeared with wings on his back, he could not have looked more like an angel, even with a Winchester rifle in his hand.

  The tense situation having been changed in an instant, the two Cheney brothers found themselves in an uncertain position. They were too recent to the little Texas town to know who they were now facing. At any rate, whoever he was, he had a definite advantage with a rifle cocked and aimed before they had a chance to reach for their weapons. Judging by the intense gaze he fixed upon them, it seemed likely that his warning was no idle boast. When he spoke, it was in a calm and even tone. “Like the man said, there’s no call for gunplay. So I reckon it’s best for you two to clear outta here now before somebody gets hurt.”

  Emboldened by the fact that the stranger seemed intent upon a peaceful solution to the face-off with the cowhands from the J-Bar-J, Buck was reluctant to back down completely. “Looks like you got the jump on us with that rifle,” he scoffed. “I wonder how tough you’d be in a fair fight.”

  “You ain’t likely to get a chance to find that out,” Will replied. “Now, I’m startin’ to lose my patience with you two. If you’re so damned anxious to see who can draw those pistols and kill somebody the fastest, why don’t you go out in the street and face off against each other? Maybe some of this crowd will go outside to watch the show. Maybe it’ll be a draw and the town will get rid of both of you. So get movin’ before I decide to do that little favor for the town, myself.” He might have considered putting them in jail for disturbing the peace, but he was in Texas, not Oklahoma. He had no authority here. Aside from that, the last time he was in Sulphur Springs they didn’t have a sheriff, much less a jail.

  “Mister,” Levi said when his brother seemed stumped for a response, “you don’t know who you’re messin’ with. You ain’t seen the last of us, and next time we’ll see who gets the jump on who.”

  “Get movin’,” Will replied.

  Moe Garvin spoke up then. “They ain’t paid for that last bottle they drank.”

  Will nodded. “Pay the man.” He directed the command toward Buck.

  Still sulking over losing face before the customers in the saloon, Buck reluctantly dug into his vest pocket for the money and slammed it down on the bar. When Slim and Cal both stepped aside to give him room, Levi saw it as the opportunity he had been waiting for. Confident with the knowledge that he was faster than any of his brothers, he reached for the .44 riding on his hip when everyone looked toward the bar—everyone but Will Tanner. Levi was fast, fast enough to raise his pistol almost to the point where the barrel would clear the leather holster before he doubled over with the impact of the rifle slug that tore into his abdomen.

  Once again the barroom was struck dumb as everyone recoiled from the sudden report of the Winchester. Buck, as surprised as everyone else, turned to see his brother sink slowly to the floor, grasping feebly at the bar for support. His first reaction was to reach for his gun, but he got only as far as dropping his hand on the handle when he locked eyes with Will. “Do it and you’re a dead man,” Will calmly said.

  Buck realized then that in the instant Will had fired the fatal shot, he had already cranked a new cartridge in the chamber and was poised to squeeze the trigger again. “Hold on!” he bellowed, and immediately raised his hands. Will directed Cal to lift the gun from Buck’s holster, in case he decided to make the same foolish move that Levi had. Frantic then, Buck looked at his brother lying on the floor, a scarlet pool of blood spreading rapidly under his body. “Levi!” he cried out helplessly, seeing blood coming from Levi’s stomach and mouth from the wound high in his midsection. Levi tried to speak but could not form the words until finally he quit trying and they knew he was dead. When Buck saw that his brother was gone, he looked up at Will and said, “You’re as good as dead when my pa and my brothers find out you killed Levi. You ain’t gonna get away with this.”

  “He had a choice,” Will said, “and he picked the wrong one.” He motioned toward the door with his rifle. “A couple of you fellows help him carry his brother outside to his horse and lay him across the saddle.” To Buck, he said, “I expect you’d best be goin’ about takin’ care of buryin’ him.” He walked along behind them with his rifle trained on Buck. Once Buck was in the saddle, Will took his pistol from Cal and put it in one of the saddlebags on Levi’s horse. “Now you get along home and tell your pa the straight of it.”

  “You’re a dead man,” Buck blurted as he kicked his horse hard and headed out of town, leading his dead brother’s horse behind him.

  The gathering of spectators stood behind Will, watching until Buck disappeared past the end of the ridge below the town. Only when they were sure he was gone, did Cal and Slim descend upon the man who was once their boss and still half owner of the J-Bar-J. “Will Tanner,” Slim exclaimed. “I ain’t never been so glad to see someone in my whole life! I thought you was one of them whatcha-call-its. You know when you think you’re seein’ somethin’ that ain’t really there.”

  “Like a ghost or spirit,” Cal supplied for him. “What the hell are you doin’ here, Will? Shorty ain’t said nothin’ about you comin’ home.”

  “Shorty doesn’t know,” Will said. “I was sent down to Durant to pick up a prisoner to transport back to Fort Smith. Choctaw Lighthorse had him locked up in an old smokehouse. I guess the fellow didn’t like it much ’cause when I got there I found out he’d hanged himself. Since I had no prisoner to transport back, I wired my boss and told him I was gonna take a few days to tend to some business. I didn’t have any idea when I’d be back down that close to the Red River, so I thought I’d slip on over the line and pay you boys a visit. It’s been awhile since I’ve been back.”

  “It has been a while,” Cal agreed. “And I’d say you picked a mighty fortunate time to visit.”

  Will grinned and said, “I reckon. Looks to me like you boys need somebody to keep you from gettin’ into gunfights.” He paused to give Moe a friendly nod when the owner of the saloon walked over to say howdy. “Who were those two?” Will asked.

  “Good to see you again, Will,” Moe said. “They was two of the Cheney bunch that moved onto that range between here and the Red. I’m sorry they were in town, but it’s damn lucky for Slim and Cal that you showed up. I’m afraid you mighta stirred up some big trouble for yourself when you tangled with those bastards, though.”

  “I didn’t see that I had much choice,” Will said. “Looked to me like the big one was fixin’ to shoot ol’ Slim, here.” He winked at Cal and joked, “’Course, Shorty might notta even noticed he was gone.” He turned serious then. “I don’t like havin’ to shoot anybody, but like I said, I couldn’t see anyway to avoid it.”

  “I ain’t sure we weren’t bound to have some trouble with that bunch, anyway,” Cal said. “Ever since they showed up in this part of the country a couple of months ago, a few of the ranches have been missin’ some cows. And it seems like the J-Bar-J has lost more’n our share.”

  “How many of ’em are there?” Will asked.

  “It’s all one family,” Slim said. “I ain’t sure if they’ve got anybody els
e on their payroll. But all we know about is the old man, Ike Cheney, and his four boys.”

  “Three now,” Cal reminded him.

  “And there ain’t a meaner bunch of coyotes in all of Texas,” Slim went on. “I heard they moved into an old line shack on Kettle Creek. Their mama’s livin’, but ain’t nobody in town ever seen her. There’s a daughter, too. She’s been in town a couple of times. Moe says she ain’t a helluva lot different from her brothers.”

  “That’s a fact,” Moe interjected. “She came in here one time and ordered herself a drink of whiskey, pretty as you please. Stood right there at the bar and knocked it back just like a man would.”

  “Where’d they come from?” Will asked.

  “Don’t know for sure,” Moe said. “They ain’t ever said, at least not to me.”

  It was certainly not the best of situations to have ridden into. And if that prisoner in Durant had not hanged himself, Will would have been on his way back to Fort Smith instead of speculating about the possibility of more trouble with the Cheneys. That was, of course, idle thought because, had that happened, Slim, and possibly Cal, would be lying dead instead of Levi Cheney. It’s just the way things worked out. Will wasn’t the only one thinking, what if? Both Slim and Cal were considering what a craving for a drink of whiskey had almost cost them. They were more than ready to drive the wagon back to the J-Bar-J, and grateful to have Will riding along beside them.

  * * *

  Like Cal and Slim had been, Shorty Watts was profoundly surprised to see the familiar sight of the tall rider on the big buckskin horse walking beside the wagon, as it ambled back into the yard. His first thought upon seeing Will was to hope his partner had decided to quit the Marshals Service and was coming back to raise cattle. He soon found out that it was not the case, however, with Cal and Slim both eager to relate the confrontation in The Cattleman’s. “I don’t know if I’ve caused you any trouble or not,” Will said. “Maybe that fellow is all talk, but he was sure aimin’ to shoot Slim down. At any rate, I think I’ll hang around for a while in case they plan to come lookin’ for revenge.” After hearing about the incident in town, Shorty was relieved to hear Will was planning to stick around.