Ralph Compton - Bullet for a Bad Man

‘‘I am proud of myself, pard. I remembered you saying your ranch was north, so after I got me a horse I headed north as fast as I could. That horse died and I had to get another. Then it died and I had to get a third.’’

‘‘Where did you get all these horses?’’

‘‘One I bought from some folks with a wagon train and the sorrel here I took out of a corral.’’

‘‘That is stealing, Drub. You could be hung for that.’’

‘‘I don’t care. I was worried sick about you and Sassy and I wasn’t letting anything stop me.’’

‘‘You came quick,’’ Boone marveled.

‘‘I know where north is. I know where south and east and west are too. It is the one thing I have learned that I have never forgot. My pa taught me when I was little so I could always find my way back to him.’’ Drub stopped and looked across the benighted basin. ‘‘But I didn’t know how far I had to come. Or that I was this close. Then I heard shots. And I figured where there were shots, there were people, and I could ask them how to find the Circle V.’’ His gaze shifted to the crumpled forms. ‘‘Thank goodness you were still here. They wouldn’t have been able to tell me.’’

‘‘Would you like some coffee?’’

‘‘Gosh, would I! I have not had a bite to eat or anything to drink since you left me.’’

‘‘That was days ago.’’

‘‘No wonder my belly won’t stop growling. Sometimes when it growls it tickles my belly button.’’

‘‘I have missed you, pard.’’

Drub swelled with happiness. ‘‘And I have missed you. And Sassy. Where is she anyhow?’’

‘‘My brother has her. At first light I am going to pay him a visit and get her back.’’

‘‘I’ll go with you.’’

Boone opened his mouth, then closed it again. ‘‘How about that coffee?’’ He filled a cup and gave it to Drub, who gulped it down.

‘‘That was good. Can I have more?’’

‘‘Help yourself.’’ Boone squatted with his forearms across his knees. ‘‘We will rest until daybreak.’’

‘‘You are the best pard anyone ever had.’’ Drub poured and drank and poured some more. ‘‘You didn’t say what Vance did that you had to put those holes in him.’’

‘‘He tried to kill me.’’

‘‘Vance never did have much manners.’’ Drub tilted the tin cup. ‘‘I have not been this thirsty since that time Pa took me across a desert. I was so hot I thought I would melt.’’

‘‘We need to talk, pard.’’

‘‘Go right ahead. I am so glad to see you, you can talk my ears right off my head and I won’t mind.’’ Drub put down the cup and picked up the pot. ‘‘Say, there is food in this. Can I have some?’’

‘‘Finish it.’’

‘‘For real?’’ Drug laughed and scooped some out with his hand. He slurped and chewed noisily. ‘‘This is the best stew I ever ate. Did you make it?’’

‘‘I don’t know who did.’’

‘‘What do you want to talk about?’’ Drub asked while dipping his big hand in the pot. ‘‘If it is that horse I stole, I am sorry.’’

‘‘It is about tomorrow. I am going to the ranch house alone.’’

Drub’s head jerked up. ‘‘You don’t want me to come? But we’re pards, aren’t we?’’

‘‘That we are.’’

‘‘Then I go with you. A pard always sticks by his pard, no matter what. That is the other thing I learned good.’’ Drub scooped out more stew, but stopped. ‘‘How come you don’t want me to go? Is it you don’t like me anymore?’’

‘‘There will be shooting, Drub. A lot of shooting and a lot of killing.’’

‘‘I know how to shoot. Remember those Mexicans? I point my gun and I thumb back the hammer and I squeeze the trigger. I never hit much but the shooting is easy.’’

‘‘Drub, these will not be vaqueros or rustlers. My brother has likely hired men who are as good with guns as they are at blotting brands.’’

‘‘So? If they try to hurt you, I will hurt them.’’

‘‘I don’t want you hurt, Drub.’’

Drub cocked his head. ‘‘That is why you don’t want me to go? You are afraid I will be shot?’’

‘‘That is why.’’

‘‘Why, that is the nicest thing anyone ever said to me.’’ Drub grinned a huge grin. ‘‘You are a good pard.’’

‘‘Thank you.’’

‘‘And I want to be a good pard too. It is why I killed those two horses getting here. It is why I am going with you in the morning.’’

‘‘Damn it, Drub.’’

‘‘Be mad if you want, but the only way to stop me is to shoot me and you would never do that.’’ Drub slurped and licked his fingers. ‘‘I never ate stew with my fingers before. It’s a lot more fun than with a spoon.’’ He gave the pot a playful shake, then pursed his lips. ‘‘Why have you stopped talking? Are you mad at me? That is what Pa does when he gets mad. He stops talkling.’’

‘‘I am not happy with you, no.’’

‘‘Because I want to go so much?’’

‘‘Do you care for your pa, Drub?’’

‘‘What kind of question is that? He is my pa. I reckon I care for him more than I do anybody.’’

‘‘He might try to kill me tomorrow, Drub. He might try to shoot me like Vance did and I will have to shoot him.’’

‘‘Oh.’’

‘‘I would spare you that, pard. No man should have a part in the killing of his own pa. It would make you no better than my brother. You don’t want that, do you?’’

‘‘I guess not.’’

‘‘Do not take it personal. I am doing this for your own good. You will thank me when this is over.’’

‘‘If you say so.’’

‘‘Give me your word. Promise me here and now that you will wait here for Sassy and me.’’

‘‘All right. If it is what you want.’’ Drub smiled his boyish smile. ‘‘You can count on me.’’

Reckoning

The sun had been up an hour when Blin Hanks rose from the rocking chair on the front porch of the ranch house. He switched the Winchester he was holding from his right hand to his left, and stretched. Moving to the steps, he nodded at the pair of gun sharks he had posted at the stable, and raised his hand to the rifleman in the door of the hay loft.

The rosebushes to the right of the porch rustled and a man’s head popped out.

‘‘What do you think you’re doing, Carns?’’ Hanks demanded.

‘‘You got up so I figured we were done waiting.’’

‘‘You figured wrong. Sit back down. I will tell you when we are done.’’

‘‘Damn it. We have been out here all night and I am hungry.’’

‘‘Do you want me to let Mr. Scott know? I can ask him to bring you a hot breakfast.’’

‘‘God, no,’’ Carns said. ‘‘Are you loco? He might get mad and there is no telling what he will do when he is mad.’’

Boone Scott heard every word. He was on his stomach at the front corner of the house. It had taken him hours to crawl there from the wash where he left his horse, hat and spurs. Now he carefully peered out.

‘‘Smart man.’’ Hanks turned and stepped to the front door. He knocked, waited and knocked again.

Boone couldn’t see who opened it.

‘‘Sorry to bother you but he hasn’t shown. Do you want me to let the men get some rest?’’

‘‘When I do I will say so.’’

At the sound of Eppley’s voice, a flood of fury coursed through Boone.

He felt his face redden and he dug his fingers into the dirt until the knuckles hurt.

‘‘Are all the punchers out on the range?’’

‘‘Yes, sir. I sent everyone away like you wanted. When your brother gets here, it will just be us and the gunnies and that new one you hired last night.’’