hang the bastard in Laramie, you’re gonna hang the bastard in Laramie. And if the merchants whine, I’ll tell them to elect someone else next time. I’m tired of being a magistrate anyway.”
“Well, don’t do that until I see whether we can get the scaffold up. I’m going out there and escort the Cleggs next time they’re hauling wood.”
“You do that,” Nippers said. He’d found his flask, and was losing interest in me.
I abandoned the Puma County courthouse and headed back to my jail, only to run into Crayfish Ruble, standing right there with Plug Parsons at his side, grinning at me like he wanted to spill a little blood.
“Hold up there, Sheriff,” Ruble said.
“I got no business with you,” I said.
“We got word that the Cleggs got held up by Admiral Bragg’s men, and they made off with the gallows timbers.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“From Old Man Clegg. He was on his way out of Doubtful.”
“I’m on it. And it’s not going to happen again. I’ve sent a deputy to tell Admiral Bragg that ain’t gonna stop a thing and he’s obstructing justice.”
Ruble just laughed. “Fat lot of good that’ll do.”
He riled me some, and Plug was itching for me to take a swing at his boss, but I just stood real quiet.
“Here’s the deal, Sheriff. We’re going to escort Clegg and his boys and those timbers into town, and if Admiral Bragg’s men try anything, they’ll be leaking blood into the ground.”
“No, you won’t,” I said. “You’re not going to do that. I’m a peace officer, and I’m not going to let a gang war start in Puma County. If you try that, I’ll throw your ass in jail.”
Plug, he just wheezed happily, like he could hardly wait for me to try it.
Truth was, the odds were pretty bad, but I was the law, and I wasn’t gonna let a bunch of gunslicks shoot it out.
That evening, Barter Clegg slipped into Doubtful and told me his old man was ready to haul wood in the morning. He said they’d worked real hard out there, and got the timbers ready, and wanted to leave before dawn, figuring they could get the timbers into town before anyone was up for the day. I told him I’d be there, and the kid slid away. I hoped no one was looking, but in Doubtful these days I never knew who was spying on me.
I found Rusty and DeGraff inside. “I’m going out to Clegg’s lumber mill, and I’m escorting the wagon in. They’ve cut some new wood. We’re driving back here before dawn.”
I stared real hard at them both. “Now you’re going to take care of the prisoner, feed him, and do it proper, because if he ain’t fed and cared for, you’re going to be looking for some other job.”
DeGraff got riled up. “Don’t blame me,” he said.
“I’m not blaming anyone. I’m just warning you that anyone fails to treat that boy proper, he’ll answer to me.”
“I don’t know why you bother when he’s gonna be cold meat in three days.”
“He’s gonna be taken care of proper until he hangs,” I said.
In fact, I think DeGraff was the one who wasn’t feeding the boy or cleaning his slop bucket when he was on duty, and I was thinking maybe I’d get a new deputy if he didn’t shape up real fast.
I went to the gun cabinet and looked things over, and finally selected a double-barrel twelve-gauge shotgun and some shells loaded with buckshot. The one I took with me had an eighteen-inch barrel, just right for making a good cone, but not so short it sprayed lead all over. I never thought much of shotguns, but that’s what I wanted this time. With my revolver I could put a pill through the ace of hearts at ten paces. That took some practice, and I took some pride in it, but this time I’d be alone against three, four, five of Admiral Bragg’s best. I respected all of them, especially Big Nose George and Spitting Sam, and I’d carry whatever advantage I could.
I got up in the middle of the night, when it was quiet and cold, and went to get Critter. He was dozing and had a fit, kicking his stall hard until I quieted him down.
“We’re going for a night ride,” I said, “so cut it out.”
He got the message, and didn’t even try to break my ribs by squeezing me into the wall, and pretty soon I got him saddled and bridled, and led him into the quiet night. He sniffed the air, snorted, and decided he was going to enjoy the trip.
Lemuel Clegg’s mill was about two hours away, so I started out there around three and rode in about five. There was enough moon so I could make them out. They had a draft horse hooked to the wagon, and on the bed were two more uprights, a crosspiece, and support timbers. They was loaded and ready, and we set out. None of them was armed, and that was good. I didn’t want some amateurs getting themselves kilt just because they was hauling metal.
It sure was a nice night. I didn’t try to talk none with the Cleggs, because I wanted to listen to all the night sounds. But we made two, three miles without trouble, until we come to a narrow place where the hills cramped the road some, and there was room enough for the road and the dry gulch running alongside.
I felt Critter tighten, and could just make out his ears rotating off to the left some. I didn’t wait for anything to unfold. I put my spurs to him, and he bolted left so hard it pretty near pitched me off the saddle, and sure enough, there was three or four horsemen waiting up ahead. I pulled the shotgun and barreled right in, and by the time they got wind of me I was on them, and I aimed one barrel at a knot of them. The shot must’ve caught men and horses too, because some of them nags, probably good blooded stock belonging to Admiral Bragg, were bucking and screeching and pitching their riders. I sure was curious to see who might show up in town wearing a few bandages.
It only took that one shot. One rider picked up a downed rider, and the mess of them hightailed away. I had my shotgun at the ready, but that bunch was gone. I pulled the empty shell and reloaded, and rode back.
