Savage Guns

ELEVEN

I hurried over to the courthouse, and found Judge Nippers in his office.

He turned toward me, scowling. “It’s about time you showed up.”

“What was that all about?” I asked.

“Admiral Bragg had some plans for my future,” the judge said. He frowned until his weathered face looked like a creased prune. “But you changed his plans.” He glared at me. “Sit! Why are you standing there like an idiot? What are you, my butler?”

I eased down into one of them oaken swivel chairs, and pushed my holster around some so it wouldn’t jab at my leg. I never much fancied carrying six-guns all over. Them things are so heavy I’ll probably end up with one hip lower than the other.

“A social visit, he said. Lunch at the hotel. When I saw that extra nag tied next to theirs, I knew what’s what, and made sure I had my old pepperbox handy. You ever see one?” He pulled a pepperbox pistol out of his bosom. The thing had five barrels. By yanking on the trigger, one could move a loaded barrel under the hammer and discharge it. “Sprays a lot of lead, sometimes in my face,” he said. “Damn thing. But it’s a croaker, all right.”

He put it away, for which I was grateful because them pepperboxes are famous for going off unexpected.

Nippers adjusted his gold-rimmed spectacles and eyed me like I was some sort of dead fish.

“Admiral Bragg had nefarious designs, Sheriff. He wanted me to vacate the sentence, call off the necktie party, and when I told him the hell with that, he suggested maybe he’d carry me off and then trade me for the boy. Hold me hostage, in case that doesn’t quite sink into your noggin.”

I never heard that word nefarious before, but I sort of figured it out. “How was he gonna do that, Your Honor?”

“The virgin Queen had some artillery aimed at my crotch beneath the white linen tablecloth, he told me, and we’d casually finish our delicious repast, and then the Braggs would cheerfully escort me to the third nag out there, and we would cheerfully ride away.” He studied me to see if I was getting all this, and decided I was. “Only, you came in, which shifted the game a little. It no longer seemed like a good idea to shoot my balls off.”

“What were all his men doing in town?”

“Oh, who knows? Maybe just keeping Ruble’s crowd at bay. Ruble’s gang wants to bust into your lockup and hang the boy just as badly as Bragg’s gang want to bust him out. But I think that what happened today wasn’t what Admiral Bragg had in mind. His first purpose was to spring the boy—arm him and help him get out. But you kept messing him up, Pickens, putting yourself between him and his plans. Now isn’t that a thigh-slapper?”

I never could quite figure Nippers out, but I sort of wished Bragg had taken him hostage, just as an educational experience. Nippers had a lot more smarts than I ever would, but sometimes smarts ain’t the equal of a six-gun.

“I ain’t got much thigh-slappin’ in me, Your Honor.”

He cackled. I’d enjoyed that cackle. Nippers had cackled clear through the trial, mostly at King Bragg’s claim that he didn’t remember anything.

“What you gonna do now?” he asked.

“Arrest the pair of them. They were obstructing justice.”

“Good luck. And who do you want to replace you?”

“King Bragg,” I said, and wondered why I said it.

“Make sure he’s hanged first. And if you value your privates, don’t let Queen point a gun your way.”

“She already has, Your Honor. And she didn’t pull the trigger.”

By the time I got outside and was walking the courthouse square, I could see all them Bragg cowboys were gone. There was hardly a horse hitched on Wyoming Street. I debated whether to ride out to Anchor Ranch right off and drag the pair of them into town. That didn’t seem too bright an idea, but you never know. Hitting ’em when they least expect it is a good idea itself. But I let it pass. I’d toss them behind bars soon enough. I’d put the whole Bragg outfit behind bars if I had to.

I didn’t know what to do. This sheriff business was mostly annoying me, and I wondered how come I wore the star. My ma, she always said, put your thinking cap on. I’ve seen a dunce cap, but never a thinking cap, and I wouldn’t know one if I saw it. In my case, it wouldn’t do me a lick of good anyway. Heating my brain would cook it but not cure it.

It was getting along to drinkin’ time, so I strolled toward Saloon Row again, just to see what pot was boiling over. There was a few T-Bar men sipping suds in the Last Chance, but things were quiet enough for a weeknight.

“Want something, Sheriff?” Upward asked.

“Sarsaparilla,” I replied.

He rolled his eyes like he was a long-suffering saint, and uncorked one for me. I laid a wooden nickel on the bar, which he snatched up.

“Lot of Anchor men over to the Sampling Room this afternoon,” I said.

“That’s a nutless bunch,” Upward replied.

“I wouldn’t want them busting down the door to my jail.”

“That’s what they were up to?”

“Could be,” I said.

“You know what, pal? You worry too much. Why don’t you just take a siesta and let it all work out? You’ve got good deputies. The jail’s well guarded. The gallows go up in a few days, the kid gets a necktie, and it’s all over. So quit worrying.”

“Maybe it’s the wrong necktie,” I said.

“I give up on you. Don’t come in here no more. I don’t want to hear all your worrying.”

Upward, he was polishing the bar something fierce, so I knew he meant it.

“I’m not quitting,” I said.

Upward stopped polishing and stared at me. “All right. I tried to tell you. You’ve been warned. Now I’m warning you again. A certain person told me to tell you to lay off. You did your duty, and that ended when the kid was sentenced. Now leave it lay. If you don’t, well, you’d be pretty dumb.”

“Who says?”

Upward, he just shook his head, and I wasn’t gonna get more out of him.

“Who?” I snapped.

He just shook his head.

“Who?”

He didn’t say nothing.

“I thought so,” I said.

It had to be Crayfish Ruble.

Upward looked like he was about to reach for his sawed-off scattergun, but I just smiled, and he got aholt of himself.

“You tell Crayfish I’ll keep on looking into this, and if he messes with me, he’ll be in the next cell from the kid.”

I was feeling blue, and got out into the fresh air before I did something I might regret. Upward was a friend, and now I was running out of friends. My pa, he didn’t have any ideas about how to be a lawman, but my ma would have told me stick to what I know. And now Upward was in there polishing that bar and I didn’t want to know what he was thinking.

The town was as quiet as a Quaker prayer meeting, so I took time to say hello to Critter. He sure was getting ornery, boxed all day in a stall, but I didn’t have much choice. When I needed him, I needed him, and usually fast. He was lounging in the Turk livery barn down on Medicine Bow Street, so I hiked in there, enjoying the good smell of sunlight and horse apples. I wandered down the aisle, and there was Critter all right. He snarled at me and he plainly was fixing to commit murder if I stepped in there. A month in a stall for him was like life in the pen for other criminals.

But then I saw something that pretty near stopped me cold. Hangin’ over that stall was a noose. It hung down from a rafter, and swayed softly, the noose a little over Critter’s head. It was a well-done noose, neat and clean and the rope was fresh hemp, straight out of the hardware store. Critter, he snapped and snarled, but I didn’t pay no attention. That noose got my attention real good. It was not just tacked on there on the rafter either, but wrapped around and tied down, like it was getting set to be used.

That made me madder than a stack of hornets, so I climbed the gate, pushed Critter back, and tried to untie the knots. But it was up there solid, and wasn’t just stuck there, and I finally had to pull out my jackknife and whittle through that hemp until I could pull it away. It sure was a professional job, and it sure was there to say something to me, though I didn’t quite know what. I didn’t know anyone around the county could tie a noose like that. It was a real hangman’s noose, so orderly and tight it sent a chill right through me.

Critter bit my arm, which got my attention.

“Cut it out!” I yelled. I was ready to bite him back.

I set the noose aside and curried him, but he was being ornery and kept crowding me into a wall, so I snarled at him and quit the currying. He thanked me by pulling my hat off, but I snatched it away. He was so barn-sour I felt bad.

“We’ll go out tomorrow,” I said. “I got stuff to do.”

He sawed his head up and down and would have taken a piece of my shoulder out, but I dodged, and slammed the gate shut. This sure wasn’t my day to make friends.

I hid the noose in the stall a moment, and got aholt of the liveryman.

“Turk, you seen anyone around here with a rope?”

“Everyone’s got a rope,” he said. He sort of slurred his words because he didn’t have many teeth, and all the gaps between them whistled.

“I mean, a big thick hemp rope, not some lariat.”

“Hemp? You mean like the stuff in the Emporium?”

I nodded.

“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you,” he said.

He was a toothless grinning sonofabitch, and I wanted to shove a fist into his gums, but I didn’t.

“Who’s been hanging around here since yesterday?” I asked.

“Oh, the usual. Half of them too broke to pay their bills.”

“Who’s come by to pay you?” I asked, figuring that someone who could buy some hemp rope would have enough to pay the livery stable.

Turk just shrugged and smiled, licking his gums. “I don’t keep any books,” he said.

“How do you know when people owe you?”

“All in my head and on my fingers,” he said.

“Does Admiral Bragg keep horses here?”

“Not regular.”

“How about Crayfish Ruble?”

“Oh, he sometimes buys a week or two.”

“Has he been around?”

“Not since the three killings and the trial.”

“Who else?”

“None of your damn business.”

Turk wheeled away, heading for the pen outside, and I let him go. I collected the noose and headed for Mrs. Gladstone’s Sampling Room.

I found her in there, sweeping sawdust. The Sampling Room was a fancy joint compared to the Last Chance.

She looked up and I handed her the noose. She took it gingerly, staring at me.

“Give it to Admiral Bragg, and tell him I’m tired of nooses,” I said. “Next noose I get, I’ll make sure it fits his neck.”

“Oh, Mr. Sheriff…”

“If we’re going to have nooses around here, I’ll make sure they fit any neck that deserves it,” I said.

She peered at me with real fear in her eyes.

“Tell him that, or maybe I’ll make one for you too,” I said.

She clapped a hand to her mouth.

I was plumb tired of nooses.

“Yes, sir,” she whispered, plainly scairt.

I didn’t care. Doubtful was up to its crotch in nooses.

I left her holding that limp rope, knowing word would soon reach the Anchor Ranch and into the ears of Admiral. I hiked back to the sheriff office and jailhouse, and sure enough, someone had tied a little noose, just a little feller made from cord, onto the door handle. It was hardly six inches long, something someone could stuff in his pocket and not be seen with, but there it was, tied tight around the handle, and dangling there.

I knocked. “It’s me,” I said.

“You all right?” Burtell asked.

“Good as gold,” I said.

He opened. I pointed. That little noose was dangling from the latch.

He stared.

“Guess we ain’t popular,” he said.

At first I thought to cut it loose, but then I decided just to let her hang. That noose sent a message in all directions.