Texas Iron

by Robert J. Randisi

  “Oh.”

  “Sam,” Evan said, “you know that the biggest threat to you isn’t going to come from behind you.”

  “I know that.”

  “You mean Coffin?” Jubal asked.

  “That’s right,” Evan said.

  “We all could take care of Coffin,” Jubal said to Evan.

  “We all could bushwack him the way Burkett’s men tried to bushwack Sam.”

  “I don’t like bushwackers,” Sam said, “I don’t care who they’re bushwacking.”

  “I don’t mean kill him,” Jubal said. “We can just cut him out of action for a while.”

  “Jube may have a point here, Sam,” Evan said.

  “No,” Sam said, “I’ll take care of Coffin.”

  “Or he’ll take care of you,” Evan said.

  Sam looked at his brothers and said, “It’s gonna happen sometime.”

  “Are you resigned to that?” Evan asked.

  “I am.”

  Evan stared at Sam for a few moments and then said, “Maybe I don’t understand you any more than Serena does.”

  “Maybe not,” Sam said, “but if you had a big poker game you wouldn’t let me play in your place, would you?”

  “That’s not the same,” Evan said. “I wouldn’t be playing for my life.”

  Sam shrugged and said, “That’s the nature of the way we both ended up living our lives. The stakes in my life are slightly higher than in yours.”

  It was agreed that Evan would go and meet Serena as planned while Sam and Jubal rode out to the section of the ranch where their father had liked to hunt.

  As they rode out there Jubal said, “Pa never took me hunting.”

  “We took you with us sometimes,” Sam said, “but you were too small to remember.”

  “Really? What did you hunt?”

  “Jackrabbit, mostly,” Sam said. “Once in a while we’d get us a buck. Once we all came across cougar sign and tracked the animal to its lair.”

  “Who got it?”

  “Pa did, on the dead run. He was the best shot I ever saw with a rifle.”

  “Still?”

  “Hell, yes, still.”

  “Better than you?”

  “He was always a better rifle shot than me.”

  “Better than some of your friends?”

  “Friends?”

  “Hickok, Ben Thompson, Bat Masterson.”

  “What makes you think those fellas were friends of mine?”

  “I read…guess I shouldn’t believe everything I read, huh?”

  “I know those fellas, for sure,” Sam said. “Knew Hickok real well, although we never did like each other all that much. Man shouldn’t die the way he did, though, at the hands of a backshootin’ coward.”

  “Is that how you expect to die, Sam?”

  Sam looked over at his little brother.

  “I expect to die from a bullet, Jube. I prefer that it not come from behind, though. I pray it doesn’t.”

  “What’s it like?” Jubal asked.

  “What?”

  “Not being afraid to die,” Jubal said. “When I was up on that scaffold I was so scared I coulda shit, except they woulda liked that.”

  “What makes you think I ain’t afraid to die?”

  “The way you talk about it.”

  “I expect it, Jube,” Sam said. “I expect there ain’t a whole lot I can do about it. That don’t mean I ain’t afraid of it.”

  “I thought you wasn’t afraid of nothing” Jubal said.

  Sam laughed.

  “It’s no shame bein’ afraid, Jubal,” Sam said. “A man who says he’s never been afraid is either a fool or a liar. If you were afraid up on that scaffold, that’s only natural.

  Hell, when I saw you up there with that rope around your neck I was plenty afraid.”

  “Why’s that?” Jubal asked.

  “You’re my brother.”

  “Yeah, but we don’t really know each other, Sam,” Jubal said. “In fact, we’re almost strangers—or we were before this started.”

  “That don’t make no never mind, Jube,” Sam said.

  “You’re still my brother. Fact that we ain’t seen each other in years don’t change that.”

  “Guess I ain’t never had the chance to tell you I was proud to be your brother,” Jubal said. “Anytime I ever heard anyone talking about you I always wanted to tell them you was my brother.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “Naw. For one thing I didn’t figure they’d believe me. Later, I started to figure that maybe I was proud of you for the wrong reasons. Still, from what I seen of you since you and Evan got me off that scaffold, I’m right proud to call both of you my brothers.”

  “Well, we feel the same, Jube,” Sam said, slapping his brother on the back.

  “Maybe we should stay in closer touch after this is over,” Jubal said.

  “Maybe we should” Sam agreed.

  But they both knew that wouldn’t likely happen. When this was over the three of them would go their own ways—at least Sam and Evan would. Sam was over forty, Evan closing in on it, they were set in their ways. Jubal might very well leave Vengeance Creek with one of them, but Sam would make damned sure it wasn’t him. He didn’t need Jubal around when the lead started flying his way. He didn’t want his brother around when that last piece of lead found its way to his heart. He’d be much better off with Evan, maybe even learning to play cards.

  There was more money in gambling than there was in gunplay, that was for damned sure.

  When they finally reached the part of the ranch Sam wanted he reined in.

  “We used to hunt this section here, for a few miles around.”

  Jubal looked around. It was mostly flat land, rocks, and clay, some Joshua trees, and black chaparral.

  “If he wanted to leave us a note, where would he leave it?” he asked. “We can’t be turning over every rock and looking under every bush.”

  “It would be someplace where the sun and the rain couldn’t get at it,” Sam said.

  “Also somewhere an animal wouldn’t get at it.”

  “A hole, maybe,” Sam said.

  “A chuck hole? Nah…” Jubal said.

  “Let’s ride,” Sam said. “Maybe somethin’ll come to us.”

  So they rode.

  After a couple of hours they reined in and dismounted near a water hole. While the horses drank their fill they each took a drink and topped off their canteens, doused their heads, and wet their bandanas, tying them around their necks.

  “We likely to run into anybody around here?” Jubal asked.

  “No,” Sam said. “Most of this clay is buckshot land, not good for much of anything. Might not even be that many jackrabbits around here any more.”

  “What about cougars?”

  “Maybe,” Sam said. “The big cats know how to survive.

  There’s water, and there’s rattlers, and an occasional rabbit, I guess…”

  Sam’s voice trailed off suddenly, and Jubal noticed a funny look in his eyes.

  “What is it?” Jubal asked. “You just thought of something, didn’t you?”

  “Cougars,” Sam said.

  “What about them?”

  “A cougar’s lair is usually a sort of cave, the inside of a rock formation.”

  “Ain’t no mountains around here, Sam.”

  “No, but there’s that lair Pa and I tracked that cat to,” Sam said. “Pa would know that I’d remember that.”

  “You think that’s where he left us a message? In a cougar’s lair?”

  “It’s as good an idea as any,” Sam said.

  “Do you remember where it was?”

  “Gimme a minute,” Sam said, looking around. He wasn’t really looking around, though, as much as he was looking inside himself.

  “I think I’ve got an idea,” Sam said. “Let’s mount up and try it.”

  “I’m game,” Jubal said, “but what do we do if that cat is there when we get ther
e?”

  Sam grinned and mounted up.

  “We’ll do just what Pa did,” Sam said. “I just hope I’m almost as good a shot as he was.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  John Burkett found Coffin drinking a beer, sitting alone at a table in the saloon.

  Actually, Burkett wasn’t looking for Coffin, but he recognized him as soon as he entered the saloon. He bought himself a beer and carried it over to Coffin’s table.

  “Mind if I sit?”

  Coffin looked up.

  “Burkett, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  Coffin didn’t say anything after that, which John Burkett took as no objection to him sitting.

  “I understand my old man gave you the go-ahead.”

  “What go-ahead is that?”

  “To kill Sam McCall.”

  Coffin smiled a humorless smile.

  “Just like that, huh?” he asked. “Kill Sam McCall.”

  “Well, you can, can’t you?”

  “Sure I can,” Coffins said, “and he can kill me just as easily.”

  “You saying you can’t take McCall?”

  “I’ll tell you what I told your father, boy,” Coffin said, “that’s what we’re going to find out.”

  “What about his brothers?”

  “Secondary concern.”

  “Huh?”

  “They are only a concern of mine if I kill McCall. If he kills me…” Coffin’s voice trailed off and he shrugged.

  “What happens if Sam McCall won’t fight you?”

  “He will.”

  “But what if you won’t? Will you shoot him in cold blood?”

  “I have never shot a man in cold blood in my life, kid.”

  “I didn’t say you did,” Burkett said, “but if McCall won’t draw, that’s what it will be. If that happens you’ll go to jail.”

  “I thought your old man owned the law in this town,”

  Coffin said.

  “Hah!” Burkett said. “My old man will be the one to insist that the sheriff arrest you. He won’t be able to let you go free after you’ve shot Sam McCall down like a dog.”

  Coffin frowned at John Burkett. He knew the kid was playing a game, but he couldn’t figure out what it was.

  “What’s your angle, kid?”

  “I know how to make sure Sam McCall fights you.”

  “How?”

  “Kill one of his brothers,” John Burkett said, “preferably the gambler, Evan.”

  “Why him?”

  “Because I want the other one.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s between him and me,” Jubal said. “Meanwhile, if you kill the other one Sam McCall will come after you.

  Then when you kill him you can claim self-defense, for sure.”

  Coffin stared at his beer. He knew McCall would fight him if he called him out, but there was a chance that he wouldn’t, especially since McCall knew he was working for Burkett. Refusing to fight him would be a way for the man to give Lincoln Burkett another headache.

  “I’ll tell you what,” John Burkett said. “I’ll make it easy for you. You kill for money, right?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “I have some money,” Burkett said. “I’ll pay you to kill Evan McCall.”

  “What?”

  “How much do you want?” Burkett asked. “A hundred? Two hundred? No, a man like you would charge more than that, wouldn’t he? What’s my father paying you for Sam McCall?”

  “That’s between him and me.”

  “All right,” John Burkett said, “A thousand. I’ll pay you a thousand dollars to kill Evan McCall.”

  Coffin studied the young man for a few moments and then said, “Pay me up front and you have a deal.”

  Burkett smiled and stood up.

  “I’ll go to the bank right now.”

  “I’ll be waiting right here.”

  John Burkett left the saloon, happy as a kid on Christmas morning.

  Sam reined in his horse, and Jubal looked at him eagerly.

  “Is it near here?”

  “I think so,” Sam said. “Come on, it can’t be much farther.” Jubal hoped not. Sweat was running down his back, and his shirt was sticking to him.

  “I hope there’s water near this cat’s lair,” he said, half to himself.

  When John Burkett returned to the saloon he was happy to find Coffin still sitting there. It looked like he was even working on the same beer.

  Burkett approached the table and dropped a white envelope down on it. Some of the other men in the place looked over curiously, but when they saw that whatever was taking place was happening at Coffin’s table they quickly averted their eyes.

  “There’s your money,” Burkett said. “Do it…now.”

  “Sam McCall’s out of town.”

  “Evan McCall is over at Dude Miller’s store, mooning over Miller’s daughter.”

  “She’s pretty enough to moon over,” Coffin said. “Tell me, what will you do if Evan McCall kills me?”

  “That can’t happen,” John Burkett said, and then stared at Coffin and asked, “Can it?”

  Coffin laughed softly and said, “Not hardly.”

  “When Sam McCall comes back to town and hears that you killed his brother, he’ll come looking for you for sure.”

  Coffin picked up the money, stood up and stuffed the envelope into his shirt.

  “I won’t be hard to find.”

  “Just a few minutes more, Evan,” Serena said, apologetically. “I’m just helping Pa with his inventory.”

  “Take your time, Serena,” Evan said. “I’m not in a hurry.”

  Evan was looking over some of the items on Dude Miller’s shelves when Coffin entered.

  “There you are,” Coffin said.

  “You looking for me?”

  “I’m looking for a McCall,” Coffin said, “and I guess you’re it”

  “I’m…what?”

  “I’ve decided to kill a McCall today,” Coffin said, just as Serena came through the storeroom door.

  “Are you crazy?” Serena asked him.

  Coffin turned to her and touched his hat.

  “No, ma’am,” Coffin said, “I’m just doing what has to be done.” Coffin looked at Evan and said, “I’ll be waiting for you outside, McCall.”

  “And if I don’t come out?”

  “If you don’t come out,” Coffin said, “I’ll come in here and get you. If I do that, the place might get damaged. Heck, the little lady might even get hurt.”

  With that Coffin turned and walked outside. Evan took out his gun, checked the loads, and slid it back into the holster. He eased it in and out a few times, just to be sure it wouldn’t stick.

  “My God,” Serena said, “you’re not going to do it, are you?”

  “Do what?” Dude Miller asked, entering the room.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Coffin has called Evan out,” Serena said. She looked at Evan and said, “Isn’t that what they say, he ‘called you out—?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “And he’s going,” Serena said to her father.

  “Dude,” Evan said, “keep her inside.”

  “Evan—”

  “Just keep her inside. All right?”

  Dude Miller nodded and said, “All right.”

  Evan eased his gun in and out of his holster one more time and then walked to the door. His heart was beating so hard it sounded like thunder in his ears.

  “There it is!” Sam said. “That’s the cat’s lair.”

  “Are you sure that’s it?” Jubal asked.

  “Yep,” Sam said, “I recognize the rock formation.”

  They both stared at the formation of rocks that amounted to a small hill. Halfway up there was a wide crack between two rocks.

  “That’s where it was,” Sam said, pointing. “Halfway up.

  See it?”

  “I see it.”

  Sam dismounted and started walk
ing toward it.

  “Sam!” Jubal called.

  “What?”

  “What if there’s a cat in there?”

  Sam stopped short and turned to face his brother.

  “You’re gettin’ smart in your old age, little brother.”

  The townspeople already knew that something was happening. Coffin was standing in the street, waiting, and that was a sure tip-off. They didn’t know who he was waiting for, but they were lining up to watch.

  Evan McCall stepped out of the store onto the boardwalk and looked at Coffin. The way the town was built, neither man would have the sun directly in his eyes when they were facing each other.

  Small consolation, Evan thought. This is crazy. I can’t outdraw him. He was convinced his only chance was to draw sure and easy and make his first shot count. He knew that Coffin would get off the first shot, he just had to hope that it wouldn’t be a fatal one. He needed time to get off one shot.

  It was his only chance.

  Sam and Jubal gathered up as much brush as they could find, and then they climbed the rocks together. Jubal held the brush while Sam lit it, and when it was flaring well he tossed it into the lair, and they scrambled back down to the ground.

  Sam grabbed his rifle from his saddle and they settled down to watch. If there was a big cat in there the smoke would drive him out eventually.

  “This is the way Pa did it,” Sam said, holding the rifle in both hands. When the cat came out he’d come out fast, and Sam was going to have to be just a fraction of a second faster.

  Evan walked out into the street and faced Coffin. Dude and Serena Miller moved to the window to look out.

  “I thought he was gonna kill Sam McCall,” somebody said.

  “When McCall finds out about this,” someone else said, “he’s gonna have to.”

  Evan had never been in quite this situation before. He knew Sam had, many times, but most of the gunplay Evan had been involved with had either been in saloons and gambling houses, or long distance, like the telegraph office incident. He’d never faced a man this way before.

  Hell of a time to try.

  “Be ready,” Jube said.

  “Shhh.”

  “Just be ready—”

  “I’m ready,” Sam said, “no, be quiet’there!”

  They saw a streak of brown as a big cougar came shooting out of the cave. He leaped into the air in panic, trying to get down to the ground as quickly as possible.