Savage Guns. William W. Johnstone
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you did. Your pa, he must’ve given you the scoop on them three.”
“No.”
“Then someone else did.”
He sighed. “It doesn’t make any difference. When you’ve got a few days left, it doesn’t matter. I don’t know what happened, and that’s how I’ll die.”
“Who else was in the Last Chance?”
“I don’t know, Sheriff. I walked in, asked for a drink from Upward, he hands one to me, and I don’t remember the rest.”
“I guess there’s fellers who blank out, get just enough sauce in them.”
“Maybe I deserve hanging,” he said.
“Not for me to say, King.”
He didn’t reply. I could see he wasn’t standing at the bars any more.
I didn’t like lying there in the same jail room with him, so I took the jail blanket with me and settled into my swivel chair and tried for some shut-eye. It wasn’t far from dawn anyway, and I might as well look a little like I was on duty.
But I didn’t like sitting there in the office with him back in the cell. What he did, he did, but maybe he wasn’t even aware of it. Didn’t give them kilt men a life back, but maybe he didn’t know what he was doing. Maybe they should have shipped him to the asylum instead of hanging him. I couldn’t say. I was as helpless as he was. In a few days I’d have to do stuff I didn’t want to do. I wouldn’t want to tie his hands behind him, lead him out to the courtyard, and up them steps. But I had to do it, just as he had to submit to it.
I quit thinkin’ like that. His pa, Admiral Bragg, he’d tried to scare the bejesus out of me just one morning ago. Pretty near did me in. Let the boy hang. Hang all the Braggs, Queen too, and the world would be a better place.
I got under that blanket in the chair, but pretty quick, there was hammering, and I let DeGraff in. He pitched his hat onto a peg—a trick I never could master.
“How come you’re here, Cotton?”
“How many times do I tell you, don’t Cotton me. Just call me Sheriff. I never liked the name that got hung on me, and hold it against my parents. They were okay in the rest, except Pa never earned nothing, but they hung that name on me and I’d just as soon trade it.”
He grinned. “How come you’re here, Cotton?”
He was bein’ inflammatory, and he knew it.
“I been riding,” I said.
“Story is, you get held up by Queen,” he said.
“Word sure gets around,” I said. “A man can’t take a leak in Doubtful but everyone knows about it.”
DeGraff poured some ancient java from the speckled blue pot, which hadn’t had a fire under it for days, and began sipping. He saw the cell block door was closed, and then settled close.
“I wandered into the Last Chance last night, just to give it the eyeball, and Upward nodded to me sort of strange. It was full of T-Bar men, and they were all sucking beers, one or two sipping red-eye, and mighty quiet. None of them had hung up their artillery either. It was all just dangling from their waists, not on the pegs Upward put in the wall. It was peaceful enough, except that it was all-fired quiet. I just smiled a bit and went out, and hung around under a porch in shadow, and pretty soon they came out of there, got on their nags, and rode out. There was maybe ten of them.”
I waited for more, and sure enough, it was coming.
“I let ’em go. They wasn’t causing trouble, and they was heading out. But I was a little curious, so I slipped back in there later. Just a couple of old soaks in there then, trying to blot out what’s left of themselves. Well, Cotton, I leaned into the bar and asked Upward what it was about, and he just smiled.
“But then he fessed up. Them T-Bar men, they were doing a little practice run. One of these moments they’re going to hit the jail, drag King Bragg out, and lynch him at the nearest cottonwood tree.”
“Upward told you this?”
“He did, while polishing the bar top like he always does when he’s talking. And one more thing. He said word is out that Bragg’s putting some heat on you to free the boy. If you keep poking around, trying to open a closed case, then the T-Bar will settle the case its own way. With its own rope. Just a little warning, was how Upward put it. You quit poking around, and they won’t break down the jail door.”
“That makes two bunches wanting to bust in,” I said. “Bragg wants to spring the boy and get him out of Wyoming. And this Ruble bunch wants to speed up justice a few days. I imagine we got our hands full. You up to it?”
“I always knew I’d get myself kilt,” he said.
EIGHT
I got a little shut-eye, not half enough, and headed back to the office. They was all there when I knocked and got let in. Three ornery deputies. Rusty, who come over from the wild side a year or so earlier and joined up with me. He was the only one in the lot who was cheerful now and then. And them pals of his, DeGraff and Burtell, both a good piece older than me, tough as barbwire, and the sort never to waste a bullet because they always hit their target the first time. Them three made a bunch, all right, and the county was halfway safe because I had good men standing with me. None was married, and none wanted to be. They all had been drifting cowboys once, selling their skills to ranchers for forty and found.
I was glad to see them together, because we had a little talkin’ to do. Rusty, he poured himself some week-old java from the blue speckled pot, took a sip, and managed to get it down his gullet. The others, they were kinda waiting for me, like they had expected a little talkin’ this afternoon. They were right.
“King Bragg is enjoyin’ his visit?” I asked.
“Last I looked,” said Rusty. “He ain’t taking doom easily, and has gotten to pacing. Not any direction you can go in a ten-foot cage.”
“He should of thought about that before he kilt them T-Bar men,” I said.
I got myself some of that coffee, and it was so bad I spit it out. “Make some fresh one of these weeks,” I snapped.
But them deputies, they just lounged around, staring at me.
“All right. We gotta do some thinking. It’s hard enough for me to do any, so maybe you can do better. There may be trouble coming at us any time. Admiral Bragg’s itching to bust his boy outa here, and we can count on it if I don’t come up with something to spare the boy. He’d like to get aholt of his boy and ship him to California or some ugly place like that, outa my grasp. He’s got his own way of putting some heat on me, and it just riles me up some. Now, he ain’t the only one rubbin’ me sore. Crayfish Ruble’s rannies are getting ready to bust in here and hang King Bragg before the execution. They’ve got word that Admiral Bragg’s putting some heat on me to spring his boy, and they’ve warned me to quit looking; it’s over and the boy’s gonna get his neck in the noose. And the word is, if I don’t quit lookin’, they’re gonna bust in here and have their own necktie party.”
“Both sides?” DeGraff said.
“Both sides. Maybe twenty, thirty men on each ranch.”
“And we’re forted up.” Burtell said. He was sort of smilin’, knowing how bad it really was.
“It ain’t easy for them to bust in,” I said. “This here place is made from quarried sandstone. It’s got a slate roof. There’s big wooden shutters for the windows, and they got a few firing ports in them. We got a few scatterguns in here, just in case they bust the door in and try to rush us. I’d hate to try to break through four ten-gauge loaded with double-aught buckshot.”
“Chimney,” Rusty said.
“That’s