Tim Curran - Skull Moon

"Sheriff!" Bowes screamed from the door. "Drop it!"

Lauters looked like some wild, insane thing. One of his eyes was swollen nearly closed and his face was painted up with streaks of red. He was puffy and red and panting. He looked from Bowes to Longtree, muttering under his breath.

"For the love of Christ, Sheriff!" Bowes said, pulling his own iron. "Drop it! Drop it now! You can't shoot a man who hasn't drawn…it's murder!"

Lauters grimaced. "I'm gonna kill that redskin bastard!"

Bowes had his pistol on Lauters. "Please, Sheriff… Bill, for goddsake drop it! I don't wanna shoot you!"

"Injun…just a goddamn half-breed-"

"He's a deputy United States Marshal, Sheriff! You'll hang!"

Lauters cursed and spat, dropping his gun. "Look what he did to me, goddammit!" Lauters cried. "Look what he did!"

Longtree moaned and sat up. "I came…to ask him questions…he attacked me…I only defended myself…"

Bowes helped him up. "All right, the both of you, we're going to see the doc. And I don't want any trouble."

"Your time's coming, breed," Lauters said, marching ahead of them.

Longtree swore at him.

"Shut up," Bowes said through clenched teeth. "The both of you."

Later, in the jailhouse, Bowes looked disgusted. "It ain't safe to have you two in the same town together," he said. "I stopped it today, Marshal, but tomorrow…"

Longtree took a drag from his cigarette. "He's out of control and you know it."

"Don't you tell me what I know!" Bowes slapped a hand flat on the desk and ground his teeth together. "I can't have this, Longtree, you know I can't. Goddamn, I've got enough trouble without nursemaiding the two of you. This fucking town is like one big cauldron of shit cooking up hot and filthy. It's gonna boil over, goddammit. See if it don't."

Longtree sighed and placed a hand lightly against his ribs. They hurt considerably, but the wound wasn't serious. Lauters' bullet had cut a trench there, but did no real damage. Longtree had been shot before and knew from experience that flesh wounds were often no less painful than taking a bullet in the belly.

"I'd get the hell out of here if I could," Longtree told him, "but it's not that simple. Not now."

"What are you getting at?"

"Do you really want to know?"

Bowes stared at him. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't."

Longtree butted his smoke and rested his hands in his lap. "All right, I'll tell you. Lauters flew into a rage when I asked him about the rustlers, about the lynching-"

"Do you blame him, man? He took a lot of heat about that." Bowes shook his head. "This town went crazy. It's something we'd all soon as forget."

Longtree nodded. "I understand that, Deputy. But why did he fly off the handle about the rustlers?"

"Same reason," Bowes said as if it was all too evident. "He's taken heat about that, too. He's never been able to stop the Gang of Ten."

"Do you think that's the reason?"

"I do."

Longtree said nothing. Bowes was unflinchingly loyal. You had to respect that in a man even when the loyalty in question was extended to a rat like Lauters.

"Those rustlers have always been a sore spot with the sheriff." Bowes looked unhappy as he said this. "He's did his damnedest to bring them in."

"Has he?"

Bowes lifted an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that?"

"You know damn well what I mean. Lauters is one of them."

"Bullshit!" Bowes cried. "Are you drunk, Marshal? He's a good…was a good lawman."

Longtree showed no emotion. "Even the best of us get corrupted."

"I don't wanna hear that crap, Mister, I just don't. The sheriff is not mixed up with the Gang of Ten."

"Or should you say Gang of Two?"

Bowes just stared across the desk, drumming his fingers.

"Yes, Gang of Two, Deputy. Because I think eight of their number have already been killed off. There's only two left."

Bowes stood up, getting himself a cup of coffee. "You think that all you want, Marshal, but I don't wanna hear it. Understand? If word gets around, Lauters will kill you. And I got enough trouble without the killing of a federal officer and the arrest of a man I've known for years."

"That's fine, Deputy," Longtree said. "Since we're on the subject, I got some more trouble for you."

Bowes sighed. "Yeah, I need that, Longtree. You're just a prize package, ain't you?"

"That bounty the sheriff posted," Longtree said, "it's drawn in someone. A fellow by the name of Jacko Gantz. Bounty hunter. I had a little talk with him earlier. He's camped outside town."

"I don't see that as trouble."

"Ten years ago I was a bounty hunter, Deputy. I took Gantz in. He spent a stretch in prison. He holds a grudge against me." Longtree explained the rest and what had happened in Gantz' camp that afternoon.

"Well, you just got friends everywhere, don't you?"

Longtree smiled thinly. "The point being, Deputy, that if I was to turn up missing, you know where to start looking."

Bowes laughed. "You're wrong there, Marshal. Lots of men want you dead."

Longtree couldn't argue with that. He had a way of making serious enemies whichever way he turned. But Lauters…Christ, he topped the list. Tom Rivers had said he was an ignorant, violent bastard, but that didn't even begin to tell the story. Longtree figured if he somehow managed to get his scrawny ass out of this particular mousetrap, he was going to have something to say to Tom Rivers. And most of it would be of the four-letter variety.

"I'm just making you aware of what could happen," Longtree said. "Gantz is a killer and he's gonna try for me. Believe that."

Bowes looked disgusted. "And let me guess, you're gonna sit on your ass and wait for him."

Longtree smiled.

And outside, Lauters slipped away, his ear cold from being pressed against the seam of the window.

He knew all he needed to know.

It was night by the time Lauters made it out to Jacko Gantz' encampment. He saw much the same things Longtree had-the wagon, the traps and pelts, the rifles, the army tent. There was a smell of coffee and roasted meat in the air. Lauters tethered his horse to the wagon and went to the fire.

"Anyone about?" he called out.

He closed his eyes and winced. Talking above a whisper made him wince. Longtree had put the boot in on him but good. He was sore everywhere. His nose was bandaged. It had been broken and Doc Perry had to twist it back into shape. Lauters had never known such pain. Once, he'd tracked a Cheyenne horse thief up into the Tobacco Root Mountains and had gotten a bullet in his belly out of the deal. He'd had to dig the bullet out with his knife and even that hadn't been quite so painful.

Goddamn Longtree.

Goddamn half-breed sonofabitch.

"Who're you?" a voice called from the darkness.

Lauters didn't turn. "Lauters. Sheriff of Wolf Creek."

"What the hell do you want? I ain't done nothing."

"I know. I just wanna talk a spell with you. That's all."

Gantz sat across from him at the fire. He was a big, bearded man with dark eyes. "There was another lawman here," Gantz spat.

"Longtree?"

Gantz nodded.

"Well, he ain't the law around here-I am. Don't you pay no mind to what that breed says, Gantz."

Gantz smiled. "You know my name?"

"Word travels fast. I heard Longtree talking to my deputy about you."

Gantz spat a stream of tobacco juice into the fire. It sizzled. "Yeah, well, I was just minding my own business, Sheriff. That bastard hit me with his gun for no good reason."

"I don't doubt it a bit. What's the story between you two?"

Gantz, sensing he had an ally here, told the sheriff in detail. His version was a bit different than the one Lauters had heard Longtree tell. "He's a sadistic bastard, Sheriff. I wasn't exactly a law abiding citizen…but he didn't have to shoot me."