Rio Loco (15 page)

I scratched my head. “We was gone for quite a spell,” I said.

“Yes, sir, I know you was,” said Happy. “But they ain't done nothing but take turns a-looking at us.”

“There was a time I thought they was going to make a move,” said Polly, “but it didn't turn out to be nothing.”

“Well, what did they do?” I ast.

“I was watching out the front winder,” she said, “and four of them come out with rifles in their hands. They walked a few steps thissaway, and then they stopped and just looked. Pretty soon, they turned around and walked back.”

“And that was it?”

“That was it.”

“They were just trying to make us nervous,” said Sly, “which is basically what we were doing out at Chugwater's ranch.”

“But 'cept we done it a little more daring than what they done,” I added.

“What did you do, Barjack?” said Bonnie, and she were just a-frothing at the mouth.

“We just burned his barn down,” I said. “That's all.”

“Burned the whole damn barn down?” said Happy.

“The whole damn thing,” I said.

“That wasn't quite all,” said Sly. “We tossed a stick of dynamite at his house.”

“When that thing blowed,” I said, “Chugwater come a-running out his front door with his eyes as big as bulls' balls and rolling all around in his
head, looking this way and that, and yelling for all he was worth.”

“Well,” said Churkee, who had been quiet up till then, “I'd say of the two exchanges, you got the better of him.”

“Barjack?” said Happy.

“What is it?” I said.

“Why don't some of us go back out there and do some more damage? Like maybe burn his house down?”

“If we was to burn down ever'thing he's got out there and even kill all a' his cattle, he'd still have twenty drunk cowhands in town to wipe us out. I think we done all the damage we can do out there. Or at least, all we need to do.”

“Well, what are we going to do now?”

“Wait for him to make the next move,” I said, looking at Sly, and he nodded. “We just now pissed him off a whole damn bunch. He'll do something.”

Nothing more happened that night, but it were right early the next morning when I heared someone a-hollering outside. I got my ass up and went to my desk to pour me out a glass a' hooch. Then I strapped on my Merwin Hulbert and went to the front winder to look out. There in the middle a' the damn street was ole Chugwater hisself on his big horse. He had six cowhands standing behind him in the street, each one holding a rifle. “Barjack, goddamn you,” he was a-yelling. I opened the door a crack and peeked out.

“What the hell do you want, Chugwater?” I said.

“You sorry son of a bitch,” he said, “you burned my barn last night.”

“So what if I did? You been a-bringing this fight all here to my office. I just figgered I'd bring it back out to you for a change.”

“But my barn. Did you have to burn my barn?”

“I reckon we coulda come a little closter to your house with that there dynamite,” I said.

“Goddamn you.”

“Did you come all the way into town just to set in the street and cuss me?” I ast him.

“No,” he said. He were a little quieter by this time. “I thought we could have us a little talk. See if there ain't some way we could end all this before anyone else gets hurt—or killed maybe.”

“What you got in mind, Chugwater?” I said.

“This ain't no way to talk, Barjack,” he said. “Yelling back and forth across the street.”

“You got another idee?”

“We could get a table at the Hooch House.”

“And have me in there all alone surrounded by your twenty cowhands? Bullshit.”

“I could leave Oscar here inside with your people,” he said. “You and me could go on down to the Hooch House. No one would bother you. I give you my word on that.”

I looked at Sly and he shrugged.

“Okay,” I said, “send Oscar on up here.”

“Go on, Oscar,” Chugwater said over his shoulder, and the cowhand on the far right stepped forward.

“Tell him to leave his guns behind,” I said. Chugwater told him, and Oscar shucked his
weapons, giving them to another of the hands in the lineup out yonder. Then he come a-walking on up to the front door a' the jailhouse. I opened the door wide and stepped aside for him to come through. I give him a look as he walked by me. “Boys,” I said, even though two a' my crew was gals, “look after him real good while I'm out.” I holstered my Merwin Hulbert and walked on outside. I walked right beside a' Chugwater plumb over to the Hooch House.

We went inside and I tuck ole Chugwater back to my private table, where I found three a' his cowhands a-setting. “Tell them bastards to get up from my private table,” I said to Chugwater.

“Move it, boys,” he said, and they scattered. We set down and Aubrey come a-bringing our drinks. Of a sudden, there was about eight cowboys all a-standing around me with guns pointed at most ever' part a' my body and hammers cocked.

“Hold it,” said Chugwater. “Get back to your drinks. We have a truce called.”

They put away their weapons and went back to wherever they had come from around the barroom. I tuck a swig a' my drink. Chugwater tasted his.

“Barjack,” he said, “this is crazy. It can't just go on and on like this indefinitely.”

“No, it can't,” I said. “What do you got to suggest?”

“Let Owl Shit go free,” he said. “We'll call it off. No more shooting. No getting even. It'll just all be over with and done.”

“'Cept only you win. Right? You get your way, but what do I get?”

“You and your people get to stay alive,” he said.

“I can't do that, Chugwater,” I tole him. “And you know that. Now here's my offer. You take all a' these cowhands back to the ranch, and just forget about Owl Shit. You get to keep your house and your crew. No more shooting. No getting even.”

“Damn it, Barjack,” he said, “you know I can't do that. I'd lose my baby brother, and I'd lose the respect of all my crew. They could never believe anything I said again. They'd never trust me.”

“I coulda tole you how this conversation was going to end up. So that's all they is to it. They's nothing left for it but for us to fight it out to the last man. And I can tell you, you ain't a-going to win this one.”

“By God, I will,” he said, and he slammed his fist down on the table.

“We'll see about that. We'll see who lives to tell the tale. I reckon it'll be the stuff a' Dingle's next book.”

“Yeah. Barjack's last fight,” he said. “The Burying of Barjack.”

“Just put in Chugwater where you said Barjack,” I told him, “and you'll likely be right close to the truth. So now if this conversation is over with and did, I'll be a-getting my ass back to the jailhouse.”

“I'll kill you before you leave this room,” he said, a-pulling out his pistol.

“And who'll ever be able to believe you again?”
I said. “You told these boys that we had us a truce. Is that any way to end a truce?”

He kept his gun a-pointed at me, but he said, “All right. Get on back down to the jail, then.”

I stood up and looked down at him. “When I leave,” I said, “I want you to move away from my private table, and I want you to keep your men away from it too.”

He stood up then and follered me to the door. I went on outside and headed straight for the jailhouse and marshaling office. Chugwater walked along behint me. I seen nervous-looking Chugwater cowhands all along the way, but they seen their boss with a gun at my back, and they never went for theirs. Whenever I was about six steps away from the front door to the jailhouse, Chugwater said, “Hold it right there.” I stopped, and it tuck ever'thing I had in me to keep from showing how scared I was.

“All right, Barjack,” Chugwater said, “the truce is over right now, and we're going to start shooting at the count of three.”

“Open up for Barjack,” I shouted, and I run for all I was worth for that damn door. Just as I was about to ram my head into it, it come open, and I went to diving headlong through the doorway and into the office. As I dug my old face into the floor, bullets was a-spanging into the door and the floor all around me. I don't know how many bastards was out there a-shooting at me, but it sure as hell sounded like as if there was a small goddamn army out there. Whenever my feet cleared the space, someone slammed the door
shut, and then they went to shooting back through the winders and whoever it was up on the roof was a-shooting too.

I pushed someone aside at the winder and stuck my Merwin Hulbert out and tuck me a shot at that damned Chugwater. Either my aim was high or I jerked the trigger too damn much on account a' I blowed the hat off a' the top a' his head. “Shit. Goddamn,” I said. I went to take aim again, but he run acrost the street and hid hisself in a doorway. I sure did wish I had aimed a bit lower.

Well, now, ever'one was shooting outta some nook or cranny, so I reckoned as how they didn't need me a-shooting too. I walked back to my desk and around it to set down, and I seen that Oscar a-setting on the floor with his knees all pulled up a-hiding from all the flying lead. I grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him up onto his feet. “Come on, Oscar,” I said. “Chugwater sent me home, so I reckon it's your time to go on back as well.” I walked him over to the door. I opened it a crack, and I yelled out, “Chugwater. I'm a-coming out after you.” Then I jerked the door full open and shoved Oscar out. He were shot plumb to pieces before any a' the shooters tuck notice a' who it was they was a-killing.

Chugwater called off his boys right after that, and he called out to see would we let them pick up what was left a' Oscar. I told them to come on ahead, and I told all a' my people to not bother them whilst they was a-doing it. I knowed that Oscar would commence to stinking before too much longer, and that he would commence to calling up flies around the front door. I sure didn't envy them none, the ones what ole Chugwater made to pick up the carcass on account a' it was sure enough a mess from all a' them bullets what had hit it.

“How many of them did we kill?” I ast.

“Nary a one that I could tell,” said Happy. “Just that one that they theyselfs kilt.”

“Well, hell,” I said. “They's still nineteen of them out there. And Chugwater.”

“That means that there's still twenty that we got to fight,” said Happy.

“I'm glad you passed third-grade arithmetic, Happy,” I said.

“We can still handle them,” said Sly.

I was glad a' his confidence. He had fought in many a range war and such, and if he had confidence in our chance, it give me some. Some but not too much. I was thinking about them twenty men out there. But ole Sly, the great widdamaker, he was sure a good one to have on our side. I couldn't think a' no one else I would rather have with me in a fight, especial a big one like this here was. I was amazed that we hadn't had no one hurt or kilt yet, and I was afraid a' what might be yet to come of it. And then I got to thinking a' how much it pissed me off to have all a' them twenty bastards over in my own Hooch House a-drinking my booze, and I betted my own self that they wasn't even paying for it neither. I was losing a fortune on this deal.

Well, by God, I would make up for it. Whenever the fight was over and did with, and ole Chugwater was deader'n hell, I would attach all a' his cattle and move them over onto my own ranch. That thought made me feel some better, but 'cept he weren't dead yet, and he still had nineteen cowboys a-backing up his play. I poured myself a glass a' whiskey and had a long drink. Then I went and offered it around. Happy tuck one and so did Polly and Churkee. My sweet tits Bonnie had one too. But Sly abstained. Dingle never even answered me. He just set in the corner with his pad and pencil a-scribbling. Owl Shit stood at the bars a-drooling, but I just let him drool. I weren't feeling none too kindly toward none a' Chugwater's family just then.

Happy finished his drink and said it were about time for him to relieve Butcher up on the roof, and so he went out the back door, and in another minute Butcher come in. I give him a drink.

“Thanks, Barjack,” he said. “Say. I didn't see any cowboys fall a while ago in that shoot-out. Did we get any of them?”

“No, we never,” I said. “They got one a' their own, is all.”

Then I got to feeling real drowsy all over, and so I put my feet up on the desk and leaned back to catch a nap. It come over me then that I was getting a little old for this kinda life. It didn't take too much anymore to make my muscles commence to hurting, and I had to get to sleep earlier in the evening. I couldn't eat quite as much as I was used to eating. There was only a few things what I could still do that I used to do, and some of them hurt me whenever I done them. It come to me that I could just drop dead any ole time, and I didn't like that thought. At least not till I had won this fight with Chugwater. I would hate to drop dead and have him get ole Owl Shit outta my jail and gloat about it over my grave. Hell, they would probably even put the word out that they had kilt me instead a' me just dropping over dead for no real reason. I decided then that I would have to stay alive for a while yet. There just wasn't no choice in the matter.

I wondered as I was a-dropping off to sleep if I would be a ghost after I was dead. And I thought that if I was, I would damn sure ha'nt
ole Chugwater and his baby brother, Owl Shit. If I knowed for sure that was what would happen, I wouldn't mind it so much. I dranked up the rest a' my whiskey outta my glass, and then my head dropped onto my chest, and I brung it back up with a jerk. I was fixing to drop off to sleep no matter what, so I just kinda eased my head down and relaxed.