Ralph Compton - Bullet for a Bad Man

Drub spent a lot of time in their company. Now that he had made up with Boone, he tried to show he was the best pard a man could be.

One afternoon Old Man Radler came back to ride with Boone and Sassy. The land around was stark and dry. Radler took off his hat and moped his brow with his sleeve, saying, ‘‘This infernal heat. At least I will be used to it when I get there.’’

‘‘Get where?’’ Boone asked.

‘‘Hell. They say it is as hot as this if not hotter. A preacher told me there is a lake of fire. That will be something, swimming in fire.’’

‘‘I never have understood that,’’ Sassy said. ‘‘Hell, I mean. How can God make such a place?’’

‘‘Don’t ask me, girl. This world makes no kind of sense that I can see. We are born just to grow old and die. And along the way we sweat and struggle and suffer. If you ask me, the Almighty was drunk when he made all this. Either that, or he had a headache and wanted everyone else to have one too.’’

Boone chuckled. ‘‘I have never thought of it like that.’’

‘‘It is worse when you are a parent. Look at Drub. He will never be any smarter than he is right now. I will never forgive God for him being born a tree stump.’’

‘‘That isn’t God’s fault,’’ Sassy said.

‘‘If not his, then whose? All of this is his, not ours. We are flies to him. Any time he wants, he swats us down and crushes us underfoot.’’

‘‘Goodness gracious, that is an awful way to look at life. A body would go around glum all the time.’’

‘‘You don’t see me smiling much except when I am drunk.’’ Old Man Radler jammed his hat back on. ‘‘But I did not join you to talk about how loco this world is.’’ He looked at Boone. ‘‘I wanted to thank you.’’

‘‘Me? What did I do?’’

‘‘For what you have done with Drub.’’

‘‘I haven’t done much except be his friend.’’

‘‘That is more than enough right there.’’ Old Man Radler rubbed the stubble on his chin. ‘‘He has never had one before. He is so big and so dumb that no one ever wants anything to do with him.’’

Sassy said, ‘‘I think he is sweet.’’

‘‘You are female and do not count. Females are as fond of simpletons as they are of kittens and puppies.’’

‘‘I wish you would not talk about your own son like that. Drub is neither dumb nor a simpleton.’’

‘‘Don’t sugarcoat him, girl. You do him no favors.’’ Old Man Radler swatted at a fly. ‘‘I first noticed it when he was four or five. He would not learn his words. Vance had been frisky at that age, waddling around and poking his nose into everything. But Drub just sat there with a stupid smile on his face.’’

‘‘You did good raising him,’’ Sassy said. ‘‘Some parents would not have stuck with him, but you did.’’

‘‘It was my wife’s doing more than mine. And when she died, she asked me to go on taking care of him.’’ Old Man Radler looked at Boone. ‘‘So I thank you. It has made him happy having you as his friend. He told me last night that he wants to go off to California with you two.’’

‘‘We do not mind him coming along.’’

‘‘Then you are fools, girl. What will you do? Hold his hand every hour of the day? That is what it will take to keep him out of trouble.’’ Old Man Radler shook his head. ‘‘No. I can’t allow him to go. I will hold off telling him to spare his feelings.’’

Boone said, ‘‘He is big enough to make up his own mind.’’

‘‘An ox is big too. But you don’t let it do what it wants. You lead it around by the nose and show it where to eat and drink and keep it penned up at night so it doesn’t wander off and get lost. That is Drub. He is an ox. He needs constant looking after. One day you will have a family of your own and Drub will be nothing but a nuisance.’’

‘‘Do not put words in our mouths,’’ Sassy said. ‘‘I think he is sweet and I will stick by him if he comes.’’

‘‘That is the female in you. And like I just said, he isn’t going. But I am grateful for you treating him so nice.’’ Old Man Radler lifted his reins. ‘‘I also hate the both of you.’’

Boone was startled. ‘‘Wait. Why?’’

‘‘Because you bring out a part of me I have kept buried for so long, I almost forgot it is there. I do not like being reminded. I am not Skelman.’’

‘‘Skelman?’’

‘‘Haven’t you noticed, Lightning? He is the only one of us who never lets his feelings show. Not ever. He can kill anyone at any time and not bat an eye.’’

‘‘It is nothing to brag about,’’ Sassy said.

‘‘It is when you ride the owl-hoot trail. I cannot afford scruples. Skelman has none and is the better for it.’’

‘‘He gave me a flower once.’’

‘‘And I thought for sure the world would come to an end. But that only shows that you females can ruin even the best of us.’’

‘‘Honestly, now.’’

‘‘Don’t use that tone on me, missy. Even if I am wrong I am right. You can say I have blinders on, but I would rather see the world my way than let life trample me worse than it already has.’’ Old Man Radler gigged his mount and moved up the line.

‘‘I feel sorry for him.’’

‘‘I feel sorry for Drub.’’

Their winding course from spring to tank continued. Around the campfire one evening Old Man Radler tapped his tin cup to get their attention.

‘‘We are close enough to Ranson to pay it a visit. I know some of you would like to. I would too. But we will keep the herd hid, and three of us will stay with the horses at all times. I wouldn’t put it past some of those bastards to try and take the herd away from us.’’

‘‘We should keep on going,’’ Sassy said. ‘‘Ranson is a wretched place.’’

Vance snickered. ‘‘Wretched to some is fun to others.’’

Wagner grinned and nodded. ‘‘Me, I can’t wait to have a dove in my lap, a bottle in one hand and cards in the other.’’

‘‘We have earned the treat,’’ Old Man Radler agreed. ‘‘Besides, Ranson is where I am to meet with the man who wants to buy the rest of the horses.’’

Boone sat up.

‘‘He is supposed to meet me at the Acey-Deucey any of the next three nights. We could not set an exact date because I had to allow for delays in getting here.’’

‘‘Is there a dress shop in Ranson?’’ Sassy asked.

All eyes swung toward her, twinkling in amusement.

‘‘How in hell would we know?’’ Vance said. ‘‘Do any of us wear dresses?’’

‘‘There’s one,’’ Skelman said. ‘‘On the outskirts to the north.’’

All eyes shifted to him, and many of them grinned.

Skelman patted his mother-of-pearl Colts. ‘‘There are twelve beans in these wheels. Enough for all of you with some left over.’’

The eyes found somewhere else to look.

‘‘Be on your guard,’’ Old Man Radler told them. ‘‘More people die of lead poisoning in Ranson than anything else.’’ He turned to Drub. ‘‘You especially. They eat babies like you for breakfast.’’

‘‘Ahh, Pa. I am a growed man.’’

‘‘Listen to me. Their cemetery is filled with sheep they have sheared and roasted.’’

‘‘People don’t eat people, Pa. Even I know that.’’

‘‘In some parts of the world they do, boy. Cannibals, they are called. They would tie you to a pole and roast you slow and easy over a fire like you would a suckling pig.’’

‘‘You are making that up, Pa.’’

‘‘Suit yourself, boy. But don’t blame me if they take a bite out of you.’’

A wide-open town like Ranson wasn’t like other towns. It didn’t roll up the boardwalks at sunset. People didn’t file to their homes after a long day of toil and quietly eat their suppers and then turn in early so they could be up with the crow of the cock. In a wide-open town like Ranson, the boardwalks were never rolled up. Sunset was when its inhabitants came out of their burrows and dens to partake anew of the raw and lusty delights dangled before them like so many tempting sweetmeats.