Ralph Compton - Bullet for a Bad Man

‘‘Does anyone else suspect?’’

‘‘No one has said anything to me.’’

They used their spurs and soon came on two of the stolen horses. The animals had stopped and the herd had gone on without them. Boone and Galeno reined to either side and drove the pair on. They had not gone far when Vance Radler appeared.

‘‘Where the hell have you two been?’’

‘‘I don’t like your tone,’’ Boone said.

‘‘And my pa won’t like that you two dropped back. You are supposed to be riding drag.’’

‘‘We dropped back after these two.’’ Boone nodded at a pair of horses. ‘‘Or would your pa rather we let them run off?’’

‘‘It took both of you to catch them? What do you use for brains? Didn’t my pa make it clear that one of us must be on drag at all times?’’

Galeno acted sheepish. ‘‘We made a mistake, for which I apologize. We would be grateful if you keep this to yourself. And we promise it will not happen again.’’

‘‘It better not.’’ Vance gazed past them. ‘‘Have you seen any sign of Apaches?’’

‘‘No, senor,’’ Galeno said. ‘‘But you know how Apaches are when they do not want to be found.’’

Vance grunted and turned his mount. ‘‘Remember. One of you always stays on drag no matter what.’’

‘‘Damn,’’ Boone said.

‘‘Your senorita is safe. Vance believed us.’’

‘‘But if he tells his pa—’’

‘‘What if he does? We caught the two horses. They are all Old Man Radler will care about.’’

Boone rode uneasily on. About two in the afternoon Drub trotted back to spell him, but Boone said he was fine.

‘‘You can spell me,’’ Galeno said. ‘‘I have eaten enough dust for one day.’’ He touched his sombrero.

‘‘It is you and me now, Lightning.’’ Drub beamed. ‘‘What would you like to talk about to help pass the time?’’

Boone did not answer right away. When he did, he chose his words with care. ‘‘Do you like this kind of life, Drub?’’

‘‘Like it how? I don’t much care for the heat. Cold is better, but Arizona is short on cold unless you go up in the mountains and play in the snow.’’

‘‘Do you like stealing horses and cattle and being wanted by the law?’’

‘‘It is all I have ever done.’’

‘‘But do you want to do it?’’

Drub rubbed his chin. ‘‘No one has ever asked me that before. Pa decides what I want to do, not me.’’

‘‘If it were yours to choose,’’ Boone persisted, ‘‘would you go on rustling or start a new life?’’

‘‘You mean be on my own? Without Pa? Without Vance? Just me and only me?’’

‘‘Yes.’’

Drub squirmed on his saddle. ‘‘Would you go along, pard? I wouldn’t want to go alone. It would scare me to be on my own.’’

‘‘A big man like you?’’

‘‘Sure, I am big. Bigger than most and stronger than most. But I’m not very smart.’’

‘‘You are smart enough,’’ Boone said.

‘‘That is kind but it is not true. And not just because my pa has always told me how dumb I am. I know I’m not smart. I know it by how I think and how I talk. I am slow as a turtle and other people are rabbits.’’

‘‘Don’t be so hard on yourself.’’

‘‘It is not being hard. It is seeing things as they are. You wouldn’t want me to lie to myself, would you?’’

‘‘No, Drub, a man should never lie.’’

‘‘I would start a new life if we started it together. You and me and no one else? We could go to California. Pa keeps saying it is awful nice out there. There is an ocean and everything. I am not much at swimming, but I think it would be fun.’’ Drub was growing excited. ‘‘What do you say? You and me, pard?’’

‘‘Drub, listen. I would—’’

‘‘We can cut our fingers and mix our blood and be blood brothers. How does that sound? That way you will be my brother and not Vance.’’ Drub chortled. ‘‘It would serve him right. He doesn’t deserve a brother, as mean as he is.’’

‘‘Drub,’’ Boone said again. ‘‘I would like nothing better than to go to California with you. But I can’t.’’

‘‘Why not?’’ Drub was upset and didn’t hide it. ‘‘Was all that talk about being my pard just talk?’’

‘‘You are my pard. But things are complicated. I have plans. Plans that involve someone else.’’

‘‘Oh.’’

‘‘Don’t look like that. You can come with us. We will all go to California. Once we get there you can srike off on your own and live your life as you see fit and not as your pa makes you live it.’’

‘‘No, thanks,’’ Drub said.

‘‘Don’t be so contrary. I wouldn’t ask you to come if I didn’t want you along.’’

‘‘So you say. But you are just like all the rest. You pretend to be nice but deep down you aren’t really my friend. You only say that so I will be nice to you.’’

‘‘You are mistaken.’’

‘‘And here I was so happy. I thought I had a real friend at last. But you want nothing to do with me.’’

‘‘Damn it, Drub. That is not what I said. You are putting words in my mouth.’’

‘‘We are not pards anymore.’’ Drub jabbed his spurs and broke into a gallop, leaving swirls of dust in his wake.

Boone called to him, but Drub did not answer or stop and presently Boone was alone. He almost reined around then and there. Instead, he said to himself, ‘‘Night will be better. We will be far away before they realize I am gone.’’ He patted the palomino. ‘‘Between you and me, I hope I didn’t just make the worst mistake of my life.’’

Accident Prone

The first time was an hour after dawn.

Dan Morgan ate breakfast with the punchers. Most continued to be glum over the deaths of Ned and Lillian, and Dan did what he could to lift their spirits. He talked about how well the ranch was doing. The cattle were fattening nicely and the next bunch they sent to market promised to bring in more money than ever. He talked about how although it was hot, as every summer in Arizona was hot, they weren’t suffering from drought, and for that they should give thanks. Dan had lived through two droughts and he hoped to God he never had to live through another.

Dan talked about Boone Scott. The punchers all liked the boy. His disappearance had affected them as deeply as the deaths. Dan mentioned that they still might hear from him, and that maybe, just maybe, Boone would get homesick and drift back to the Circle V.

It was at that point that a puncher called One Thumb Todd spoke up and said how he hoped Dan was right and Boone came back and put an end to the jinx the Circle V was under.

That got Dan good and mad. He cussed One Thumb and said that all of Todd’s brains had been in the thumb Todd lost when a bull tromped on it and smashed it to pulp. Dan reminded them that a jinx was nothing but superstition. Jinxes did not exist. He had warned them a while back that the next man to mention a jinx would be fired.

At that, One Thumb Todd blanched and said how sorry he was.

Dan forgave him, but he was not in the best of moods as he walked to the stable to saddle his horse. His habit of late had been to spend a couple of hours out on the range right after breakfast. It showed the men he was devoted to his job and to the Circle V. That he was not one of those foremen who sat around doing next to nothing while everyone else did the work.

The stable doors hung open, but that just meant the stable hand had been in to feed the horses and sweep out their stalls. Dan moved down the center aisle to the stall that held his favorite horse, a dun as easy on the backside as an easy chair. He gave it a pat and was turning toward the tack room when something struck him on the shoulder so hard he was sent staggering and nearly fell.