Savage Guns

THIRTY-FOUR

I didn’t want that skunk Admiral Bragg stinking up my jail, so I let him out. I hardly got the cell door open, but he lunged at me in a rage.

“I’ll have you strung up in a week,” he said. “Abusing prisoners.”

I pushed him aside. He stomped into the office, where King and Queen were waiting for him.

“How come he’s out?” Bragg asked. “How come he’s not hanging?”

“Because one of the lying witnesses squealed. Crayfish did the shooting and tried to pin it on King.”

“What took you so long? How come you haven’t shot the whole lot?”

I was tired of this. “Get your ass out of here,” I said.

“You’re in trouble with me, Pickens. You’ll be out of the county in a week.”

“Father, shut up,” Queen said.

“Where are my weapons? I want my derringer,” Admiral said.

“Come back in a month and I’ll give it to you,” I said.

“You expect me to go out there unarmed?”

“Our men are waiting behind the hotel,” Queen said. “They’re ready to ride. There are horses for you and King and me. Come along, Father.”

“You telling me what to do, girl?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Come on,” King said. “Let’s get out of here.”

“You telling me what to do, boy?”

“Don’t come then,” King said. “Stay here.”

“Get out right now or I’ll lock you up,” I said.

He paused, his face purpling with rage. “I strung you up once, Pickens, and next time it’ll be for real.”

I didn’t have nothing more to say to the turkey, so I just stood there.

The Bragg girl and boy finally hustled Admiral out the door. I wondered whether he’d soon be bossing those two children of his around again, but it didn’t look like it. They’d growed up overnight. They headed straight for the hotel, which was wise. I was glad to see King outside the jailhouse, alive and free. There sure would be some explaining to do when the mayor and all them people caught up with me, but I had Judge Nippers’ document in my pocket, and that’s all that mattered.

I slid out the door after locking up. I had missing deputies to hunt for and some people to invite to a hanging.

It sure was quiet. Over on the square, a rope hung from the gallows, with no noose on it. I could see Plug Parsons lying near there. A few puffball clouds were steering across a blue sky. I hardly knew where to go first, but the Last Chance Saloon seemed likely. It was funny how empty Doubtful was. The hardware was closed. So was the mercantile. So was the milliner. So was the blacksmith. The whole place looked like a ghost town. There were people peering from windows. I could see that. But there wasn’t even a dog sniffing along the street. I carried my shotgun cradled on my arm, but I didn’t see any sign of trouble. It looked like everyone in Doubtful was scared and hiding.

I got to Saloon Row, and came to the Sampling Room first, but Mrs. Gladstone had locked the door. There wasn’t any Anchor Ranch men in there. I wanted to tell them to get out, and go back to the ranch.

So I headed for the Last Chance. The double doors were shut tight. I wondered what might be on the other side. Maybe the whole T-Bar outfit, ready to blow away anyone come through there. But I didn’t see no horses at the hitch rails. When an outfit’s in town, you see the horses. I knew half of them and had ridden a few and I knew the brand, but there wasn’t no horses around Wyoming Street on this hangman’s morning. I rattled the doors, but nothing happened. I booted the door a couple of times, but no one opened. I trotted down a piss-soaked space between the two saloons and tried the alley door, but it was shut tight. So I reared back and cut loose, and smacked it open with my shoulder, and ducked to the right, expecting some flying lead. But none came at me, and I raced into that dark, stinking place where men had died and swung my muzzles around, but there wasn’t anyone to shoot.

I could have sworn someone was in there, but I didn’t see no one. I shoved the back room door open. There wasn’t any light back there, but enough come through the door so I could see bodies on the floor. One of them was twisting around some, so I dragged him by the feet into the light, and it was Rusty. I pulled the gag off his mouth and cut him loose of all that cord they’d wrapped around him.

“Knocked us cold,” he said.

“Knockout drops?”

He nodded. “You hang the boy yet?”

“I let him go. Judge Nippers—”

“Let him go? I’ll be damned.”

Rusty looked like he couldn’t make any sense of it.

I cut the rest loose, but them three were still mostly knocked out still, and Rusty didn’t look exactly useful.

“Rusty, the Bragg boy’s innocent and the judge turned him loose. Crayfish is the guilty party, just like we figured. So they hanged the judge.”

“Say that again,” he said.

That stuff was still wearing off, and he was slower than I am. I thought I wouldn’t have me any working deputies for a few more hours, and maybe not until the next day. But I sure was glad to find them alive, even if they couldn’t add two and two.

“Look, you help these fellers get themselves awake and then get out of here. Go on down to the jail and fort up. I’ve got a job to do.”

“I don’t get it,” said Rusty.

“You’ll get the whole story soon enough. I’ve got some business to do. But first tell me how you got here.”

“T-Bar men pulled us out of bed, hauled us over here, every gun pointing our way. Upward pushed some tumblers of whiskey in front of us and told us to drink up. That’s the last I knew.”

“It’s that stuff Upward’s been using,” I said. “You get back to the jail and be real careful.”

Rusty was still pretty dazed-looking, but he nodded. I hated to leave them in there unarmed, so I poked around and found Sammy’s shotgun under his bar. I didn’t see any blue bottles this time, but Sammy had a stash of that stuff somewhere. I took the shotgun back to Rusty and gave it to him. He was pretty groggy, and maybe it wasn’t the smartest move.

“This here’s some protection. It’s Sammy’s.”

Rusty nodded. “It’ll serve,” he said. “I couldn’t hit a barn with a revolver.”

“I’ve got work to do,” I said, and left them there.

Out in the alley, there wasn’t no one stirring. I wanted three men: Sammy Upward, Carter Bell, and Crayfish Ruble. Him most of all. They might still be in Doubtful. There wasn’t any reason for them to git out, what with all the deputies knocked flat and me alone. I tried to figure what Crayfish knew. He knew that Judge Nippers had stopped the execution, but he didn’t know why. Or maybe he did. If he knew someone had sung a song or two, it would have to be one of three people: Sammy, Plug Parsons, or Carter Bell, them that testified in the trial that King Bragg had shot and killed them T-Bar men. Plug was lying in the dirt at the gallows, and wouldn’t be singing any songs.

I was pretty slow to come to it, but when I did it hit me hard. If them other two witnesses got kilt, Crayfish would be home free. There’d be no one around to point the finger at him. There’d be no reason to worry about anything. I had to find them two, Sammy or Carter, and get them out of harm’s way.

I started toward Red Light Row, and sure enough, there was all them T-Bar horses tied to the hitch rails, slapping flies with their tails, yawning, and dropping green piles on the clay. At first I thought to storm into Rosie’s place, but that might not be so bright. Especially if they was all in there waiting for me to walk through the door. I thought maybe to see what I could find at Big Lulu’s house first. I eyed the windows at Rosie’s, and saw a few faces duck away, so I knew I was being watched real hard. There wasn’t going to be any surprises, and I wasn’t going to collar Crayfish unannounced. I sure wished I had some deputies handy, but that bunch was so hung over it’d be a week before they’d be back on their feet.

Lulu’s then. I eyed the windows. It was midday, not a time for much business in that trade, and most of the ladies were snoring away in there. But I pushed the door open and slid to one side. No shots met me. I got in there and took a hard look at the parlor, and all the horsehair furniture with the doilies pinned on it. It sure was quiet.

I was about to ring that bell they keep when a customer wants service, when Lulu herself showed up in her gray wrapper with the purple petunias on it.

“You got any T-Bar men in here?”

“Why, Sheriff, I wouldn’t think of violating the privacy of my patrons.”

“You got T-Bar men? You tell me right now or I’ll shut you down real quick.”

She eyed me like I had just broken all the china. “We might have one or two,” she said.

“Where are they?”

“They are pleasuring their temporary wives, Sheriff.”

“Who are they?”

“I couldn’t possibly—well, you must be discreet.”

“If you don’t tell me real quick, I’m gonna start opening doors here and having a look-see.”

“Oh, sir, don’t do that. We don’t want to violate the sacrament.”

“Sacrament?”

“Why, their sacramental union. It’s sacred. It is a private matter between a man and a woman.”

“Well, if you don’t tell me who, and where, I’m gonna start looking in on a lot of them sacraments.”

“Surely, Mr. Pickens, you wouldn’t do anything so, so, so…distasteful?”

“I sure would. You can distaste me all you want, but I’m about to go hunting if you don’t steer me fast.”

She sighed, and I thought she would tell me she had a headache or something. She wiped her eyes with her soft hand and sighed again.

“Mr. Upward is in room seven with Mrs. Cardwell. And Mr. Bell is in room five with Mrs. Boyd.”

“Mrs. who? How come they’re married?”

“We offer experience, Sheriff. What can an inexperienced temporary wife offer? A perfect sacrament requires deep experience, and then the result is sacred. So all my ladies have been married, or may say they have.”

“All right, I’m gonna bust in on them. I want both of them fellers, and if I can catch them with their pants off, all the better.”

I headed down the hallway while she stared at me and plucked at her purple petunias.

Room seven was silent. I pressed my ear to the door and heard nothing at all. I tried the door knob, and it opened the door, and no lead blew past me. So I looked in there. There was no girl in sight. Sammy Upward lay on his back, staring open-eyed at the ceiling. He was wearin’ all his clothes, including his boots. I slapped him once or twice, but he wasn’t moving, and his lungs weren’t working, and I figured out that Sammy was history, and he’d been dosed to death with that knockout juice. Just to make sure, I looked for any bullet holes and blood, but there were none. There wasn’t a mark on him. Poor old Sammy had bought the farm this time.

“So long, Sammy,” I said. “You can pour me one in hell.”

I was pretty sure Carter Bell would be in the same boat, but first I went back to the parlor and got aholt of Big Lulu.

“He’s croaked. How’d he get put in there? You tell me fast and true.”

She looked frightened out of her wits. “Oh, sir, Mr. Ruble brought them in, Mr. Upward and Mr. Bell, and said he wanted two private rooms for them to sleep off a drunk, and they shouldn’t be disturbed, and for me to say they were enjoying the company of my temporary wives.”

“How long ago?”

“Just a little while ago, sir.”

“Were Upward and Bell on their feet?”

“Oh, yes, sir. They were joking with Mr. Ruble. It was all very jolly. He told them it was time to celebrate, and he’d foot the bill.”

“Where’s Ruble?”

“I wouldn’t know, sir. He left here a little later, in a very good mood.”

“Did he say anything?”

“Yes. He said, ‘Let them sleep. They need rest.’ And he said if they wanted one of my wives after they woke up, I should provide one.”

“Did he pay you?”

“I always expect a gratuity, Sheriff. I’m in the temporary marriage business.”

I headed down the hall to room five, found the knob, and pushed in real quick. There was Carter Bell, faceup, eyes closed, fully clad, and dead as a mackerel. I shook him a few times. I slapped his rat-face a few times. I found a hand mirror on the dresser and held it to his nostrils and found no moisture on it. I felt his hand, which was still warm but not like he was alive. There was a half-filled tumbler of booze on the dresser. I knew what was in that booze and I knew who poured it into Bell and Upward. Just to make sure, I checked him for bullet wounds. There were none, no blood, no cuts or bruises, nothing busted.

He sure looked natty, clean shaven, dressed real nice. “Look what you bought when you got to telling the judge a few things, Carter,” I said. “A dose of that stuff. Chloral hydrate, that’s what Crayfish served up for you. Guess you’ll be visiting the devil.”

I closed the door and got out of there. I’d collect the bodies later.

I knew that Crayfish Ruble was scot-free. All them witnesses that testified that King Bragg shot them T-Bar men were dead. There wasn’t nobody left to take back the court testimony, and not only was Ruble free, but King Bragg was still in trouble, and once they got some new judge in here, the boy might still be hanged for a crime he didn’t do.