by Tell Cotten
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.”
“It ain’t like Steve to be late,” Yancy remarked thoughtfully.
Cooper nodded in agreement.
Yancy frowned. He knew Steve well, for they had served together during the war. And then, after the war, Steve had come west with them.
“Wagons, can any of the men ride?” Yancy asked.
“I wouldn’t suggest it, sir.”
“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. He listened patiently and then 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.”
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 -,” he started to say.
“I know; don’t say it,” Cooper interrupted.
“I’m sorry.”
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.”
“Didn’t you hear what I said?”
“I did,” Tussle nodded, and added, “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.”
“If you’d seen me during the war you wouldn’t be saying that,” Tussle objected.
“I did, remember? You were my prisoner.”
“That wasn’t my fault, and you know it!” Tussle scowled. “Besides, that doesn’t have anything to do with this. I’m coming with you, Yancy, or else I’ll go on alone.”
Yancy frowned, but he didn’t say anything more as 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.
“Have you always been this stubborn?”
“Pretty much.”
“No wonder your family doesn’t like you none,” Yancy declared.
Chapter three
They had only ridden about fifty yards when Cliff heard a noise from behind.
He turned in the saddle and spotted the shotgun rider taking aim. He started to yell a warning, but the man fired before he could. There was a loud thump as the bullet hit flesh, 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 maneuvered his horse up next to Rusty. He was about to fall off, but Cliff reached out and steadied him.
“Hang on!” Cliff yelled.
Rusty’s face was pale, but he managed to nod as they loped along.
They kept up the brisk pace for a few miles. 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 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 knelt beside him.
“Your body’s in shock,” Brian explained.
“Am I dying?”
“Course not. You’ll be just fine!” Cliff reassured.
“I’m feeling weak,” Rusty said, and his voice was fading.
“We’ve got to turn you over, Rusty, and see how bad you’re hit,” Brian told him.
Rusty didn’t answer.
“Rusty?” Cliff asked, concerned.
“He just passed out,” Brian explained. “He’s probably better off. We’ve got to dig that bullet out, and that’ll be painful.”
“Ever done it before?”
“I ain’t no doctor, but I reckon I’m qualified,” he replied. “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 examined the wound Cliff asked him, “What do you need?”
“I’ll use my knife to dig it out, and afterwards 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. 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 spoke up. “We were just wondering how long this will take.”
“Why do you care?”
“The law from Midway will be coming after us, Cliff,” Stew explained. “We’ll need 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.”
“Would you now?” Cliff snorted sarcastically. “Well, you ain’t giving the orders. I am, and we’re going to stay here until Brian 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.”
“This is all your fault,” Cliff said irritably. “If you had killed that shotgun rider then 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!”
The Taylor brothers 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 on a log and rolled himself a smoke.
Cliff frowned. He breathed deeply and gathered himself, and then he walked slowly toward Stew. His gun hand hung ready by his side.
Stew ignored him 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.
“I ain’t being paid to gather firewood.”
It fell silent, and the tension was thick. Cliff glared at Stew, and he returned the glare with a confident smirk.
Cliff started to say something, but Brian spoke urgently before he could.
“I hate to break up the argument, but I need thos
e bandages. Rusty’s bleeding all over the place!”
Cliff’s hard look softened, and Stew’s smirk grew wider.
“Clark needs those bandages,” Stew mimicked. “You’d best go get ’em.”
Cliff eyed Stew as he backed away.
“This ain’t over,” he muttered, and he turned and walked over to his saddlebags.
“Sure.”
The Taylor brothers had stopped working while they watched the confrontation, 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.
Brian used both hands as he immediately applied pressure to the wound. Meanwhile, the Taylor brothers built a fire, and soon as it got hot Cliff stuck Brian’s knife blade deep into the coals.
After that there was nothing to do but wait.
Stew rolled himself another smoke while the Taylor brothers sat down in some nearby shade.
Cliff rubbed his shoulder gingerly as he sat next to Brian. Using his knife, he cut the rest of his shirt into long strips.
“Is your shoulder bothering you?” Brian asked curiously.
Cliff didn’t realize that it was obvious, and he frowned irritably.
“Some.”
Brian nodded as he adjusted his hands, and then he lowered his voice.
“Stew has a point, Cliff. 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. 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 announced. “And, they’re both just as tough as Rondo is.”
“I remember them,” Cliff recalled. “Yancy and Cooper Landon.”
“That’s right.”
Cliff thought on that and shrugged.
“I reckon I can handle them.”
“Don’t be too sure,” Brian warned.
“You don’t think I’m good enough?”
“Listen Cliff, you’re better than most. But you ain’t as good as those Landons. Nobody is. Remember what happened the last time you tangled with a Landon,” he nodded at Cliff’s shoulder.
Cliff wanted to disagree, but he knew that Brian was right. He frowned thoughtfully, and then scrambled to his feet.
“You’re right, Brian. I’d best do something.”
Cliff walked over to the Taylor brothers and talked to them in low tones.
Afterwards, Clyde and Clay jumped to their feet. They hurried over to their horses, and as they rode out Cliff walked back over to Brian.
“What was that all about?” Brian 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 frowned thoughtfully and nodded.
“All right. You’d better get ahold of Rusty and hold him down. 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?”
“’Bout half a mile.”
“Any ideas?”
“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 sourly at Cooper.
“Well, go fetch him.”
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,” he said.
“What are you doing here, Jed?” Yancy asked bluntly.
“I was just checking on my traps.”
“You did that earlier,” Yancy reminded.
“But I didn’t get to check on all of them. Soon as I heard that shooting, I headed for town.”
“Then you ain’t following us?”
“I wouldn’t say I was following you, Yancy. More like backing you up.”
“If I needed help, I would have asked for it back in town.”
“But I know how you are, Yancy. You don’t ever ask for anything,” Jed replied. “But, now that I’m here, I reckon I should come along. I used to fight Injuns, you know. I could be helpful.”
“That’s the second time I’ve heard that today,” Yancy commented as he glanced at Tussle.
It fell silent, and Yancy sighed as he thought on it.
“All right, Jed. I don’t have the time to argue, so you can come with us. But only if you do what I say, understand?”
“Sure, Yancy,” Jed’s eyes twinkled. “I’ll do anything you ask, as long as I agree with it.”
Yancy grunted as he took his hands out of his pockets. He grabbed his reins and kicked up his horse, and everybody else fell in behind.
They rode in silence. After a while, Yancy turned in the saddle and looked hard at Tussle and Jed.
Yancy scowled and muttered something, and then he turned back around.
Behind Yancy, Cooper grinned.
Available now from Solstice Publishing
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