Louis L'Amour - The Lonely Men

"Look who's givin' orders!" somebody said. "Get that lock open and let's get him out of here!"

Now, there's a time for talk and a time for action, and I never was much gifted with oratory. I picked up the long pipe, and when I heard them trying to get the key into the lock I gripped that pipe with both hands shoulder high and, holding it tight, I jammed it between the bars. At close quarters and in the dark it was a terrible weapon. The passage outside the cells was narrow and they were packed in tight.

With all the power that was in me, I jammed that pipe into the crowd beyond the bars. I heard the crunch, then a horrible, choking scream.

"What was it? What happened?" somebody yelled, and there was panic in the voice.

Drawing back on the pipe, I held it waist high and jammed it through again, further into them.

Another scream, then a cry, "Back! For God's sake, let us out of here!"

Somebody else yelled, "What's the matter? You gone crazy? Let's get him!"

Jerking the pipe back, I smashed hard at the voice and heard a scream. Then came a shout, "Get out! Get out!"

Men were fighting and struggling to get out of the narrow passageway. Thrusting my pipe through the bars this tune at ankle height, I heard several of them go sprawling. Somebody jerked a gun and fired blindly through the bars, the shot missing me by several feet. I drove my bar at the flash and heard a grunt, then anguished cries of pain, and stampeding feet. Suddenly the passage was empty except for somebody who lay groaning on the floor.

"Serves you right," I said calmly. "Whoever you are, you got what you had coming."

"Help! For God's sake, help me!"

"How am I going to do that?" I said. "I'm behind bars. You just crawl outside and get some of those murdering friends of yours to help."

There was another shuddering groan and I heard the sound of dragging. I stood my pipe against the cell wall, and waited. If they came again it would be to shoot, but I had a hunch they wouldn't come.

Now I heard angry questions outside in the street, and then the outer door opened. A match scratched and somebody lit the lamp. Men appeared in the passageway. One of them was Oury, whom I knew to be a reputable man.

"What's happened? What's going on here?" he said.

A man was lying on the floor, and a trail of blood showed where another had dragged himself. A loose coil of rope and a six-shooter lay just outside the cell.

"Seems I had visitors," I said, leaning on the bars. "They wanted me for a necktie party. Only I didn't think it ought to go on without some sort of official plannin', so those folks, they taken off."

Oury's face was grim. "I am sorry, young man. Those were a bunch of drunken teamsters and drifters, not citizens of Tucson."

"I figured as much," I said. "Mr. Oury, do you reckon you could get somebody to bring me a pot of coffee from the Shoo-Fly, and something to eat? I'm getting almighty hungry."

"I will do more than that. Jim" -- he turned to one of the others -- "get me the keys. I am taking this young man to dinner."

He looked around again. The man lying on the floor was being examined. The doctor looked up. "This man has three broken ribs and a punctured lung," he said quietly.

"That's his problem," I said harshly. "Anybody who fools around with the bandwagon is likely to get hit with a horn."

"Those are my sentiments," Oury said crisply. The keys jangled, the door swung wide. "Come, Mr. Sackett, you are my guest."

"I don't mind if I do," I said, "but I warn you, I'm an eating man, just getting my appetite back."

The Shoo-Fly was almost empty when we went in, but a few minutes afterward it was crowded to the doors.

When I'd eaten, I sat back in my chair. One of the Tucson citizens came in with my Winchester and gun belt. "If you're staying in town," he said, "you'd better go armed."

"I am staying," I replied, "until this matter is cleared up. I did nothing wrong out there. I killed a good man, a tough man. He might have lived for hours in that boiling hot sun with those slivers burning into him. He was not a man to die easy."

"I might have asked for the same thing," somebody said.

I was quiet after that. I'd eaten well, and I had my guns on again, and all I wanted was to get this affair cleared up and pull out for Tyrel's outfit in New Mexico. As for this town, it was no place for me until my enemies had drifted, and being drifters, I knew they'd soon be gone.

The doctor came in and gave me a hard look. "I'll say this for you," he said, "you're a bad man to corner. You've put four men in bed. One of them has a smashed cheekbone, his face is ripped open, and he's lost nine teeth. One has a torn shoulder muscle, another has a dent in his skull and his scalp is ripped right across the top, laid open for five inches. The one with the punctured lung will live if he's lucky. All said and done, you put four men out of action, and injured six or seven more."

"They came after me," I said. The outer door opened then and two men came in.

One was Captain Lewiston, the other was Toclani, the Apache scout. They looked around until their eyes spotted me, and they came over to my table.

"Sackett," Lewiston said, "Toclani has talked to Kahtenny. They verify your story. Kahtenny told us in detail, as did several other Apaches, what was happening out there during the attack when you shot Higgins."

"You talked to Kahtenny?" I asked Toclani.

"He, too." He indicated Lewiston. "We ride together to Apache camp."

I looked at Lewiston. "You taken a long chance, man."

"It was simple justice. I knew that the people who would surely know what happened were the Apaches. I did not know they would talk, but Toclani came with me, and Kahtenny had much to say of you, Sackett. He said you were a brave man, a strong man, and a warrior."

"Did he get his squaw back?"

"Yes, and he thanks you." Lewiston looked at me. "He may come in. All because of that, he may come in."

"I hope he does," I said. "He's a good Indian."

And so it was over. Nobody wanted me back in jail any longer, but I figured to stay around until the sheriff came back so as there'd be no argument. Around town folks stopped to speak to me on the street, and several thanked me for bringing the youngsters back.

But I saw nothing of Laura ... had she left town? Or was she still there, waiting, planning?

My mind kept turning to Dorset Although it was in my thoughts, I'd no right to go a-courting, for I'd no money and no prospects worth counting on. Mr.

Rockfellow, who had a herd he wanted pushed over into the Sulphur Springs Valley, hired me and some other hands, but it was a short job, and left me with nothing more than eating money.

The sheriff came back to town, and after hearing what had happened he gave me a clean bill on the charges against me, so I figured to saddle up and show some dust, only I hadn't enough cash to lay in supplies to take me anywhere.

Then at the Shoo-Fly I heard that Pete Kitchen had located himself a mining claim down in the Pajaritos, so I rode down. When he found out I was a hand with a pick and shovel, as well as with a cutting horse and a rope, he hired me for the job.

When he was laying out the grub for me to take along he put in a couple of hundred rounds of .44's. "With your kind of luck, and that being Injun country, you're liable to need them."

Well, I almost backed out. I'd had my fill of Apache fighting, and wanted nothing so much as a spell of setting and contemplating.

The Pajaritos are not much when it comes to mountains. They are named for an odd birdlike formation on the butte. I rode down there, leading a jack mule, and I found the mining claim.

There was a wash where run-off water had cut down among the rocks and laid bare some ore. It wasn't of much account, but gave promise of growing richer as it went deeper.