Forty-Four Caliber Justice (6 page)

Jake wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You can be a mighty sudden feller.”

“He spoke ill of my ma. I’ll not abide any man doing that.”

“Understand, rightfully so. But, I’ve gotta tell ya, that six-gun came out of your holster unholy quick. I thought Nestler was dead. I reckon his two partners did too.”

“Pa and Slim taught me. They worked with me when I felt I was too tired to draw another time, but I did. Pa always said this is tough country and I needed to be ready.”

Jake chuckled. “I’d say you were ready. A word of caution: Keep your head. I saw your eyes. You were totally focused on Nestler. If there woulda been other men gunning for you, you’d be dead. ’Course I might’ve taken care of one or two, but the point is, always be aware of your surroundings. That’ll keep you alive, the other won’t.”

Clay took another sip of his sarsaparilla and nodded. “Thanks, Jake. I know I’ve got a lot to learn. I just hope I learn enough before I catch up to the Pinder Gang.”

Hildi had walked up with their food as they were talking. She set the plates out in front of them. “Did I hear you say Pinder Gang?”

“Sure did,” Clay said.

“You know, they were through here a few days ago. Are they the ones who killed your family?”

“Yes, ma’am. They surely are.”

“I never did like Gideon Pinder,” Hildi said. “I don’t think he has a kind bone in his body. Saw him shoot a boy’s dog when the dog didn’t move fast enough to get out of his way. He’s bad clean through, and him always quoting scriptures. But, Clay, I did hear them say they were going to hole up north of San Felipe. That’s all I heard, other than the fact that Birch Hayes is in the infirmary, with a bullet hole in his chest. They said he got it from Apaches. But now I reckon I know where he got it from.”

“Ma’am,” Clay said, “you don’t know how much I appreciate you telling me this. I was concerned they were headed for El Paso. San Felipe is a lot closer.”

“Glad to help,” Hildi said before she headed back to the kitchen.

Jake cut into his steak and took a big bite. After moving it to the side of his mouth, he said, “What are you going to do now?”

“If they’re going to ground in San Felipe, I reckon they’ll be there for a while. I still want to talk to Hayes and get the truth out of him. What with the time I spent with the Tonkawa, I should be pretty persuasive.”

“You be careful. Birch is fast with a gun and knife. Smart too. Even with a bullet through him, he’s a handful. But, Clay, your trouble’s not near over when you finish with him. I wish you were coming with us. A lone man on the trail between here and San Felipe del Rio is a sitting duck for the Apaches. I’m serious, now. There’s word they’re out, and you don’t see Apaches until they’re on you. Keep that shotgun handy.”

“Thanks, Jake. I’ll keep my eyes peeled. Now let’s finish this steak.”

CHAPTER SIX

C
lay watched the
shadowy figure of Hayes approach. The moon was up. It provided very little light, but enough to recognize Hayes. Clay had been hiding in the thick mesquites behind and to the west of the infirmary for the past five nights. Tonight was to be the last night, and he would have to give up and head over to San Felipe. But now he waited, watching as Hayes drew closer.

“This shotgun makes a mighty big hole at this range. Gently unfasten that gunbelt, hang it over the saddle horn, and step away from your horse.”

Hayes froze. Clay didn’t want to kill him—he wanted to question him. He’d never killed a man, but if he went for his gun he would. Clay waited for a few more moments. Then Hayes’s body relaxed, and he slowly unfastened the gunbelt and dropped it to the ground.

“I told you to hang it on the saddle. Pick it up and do what I say.”

Clay was close enough to see Hayes’s right hand go to his belt as he bent over to pick up the gunbelt with his left. “Hayes, you pull that gun and you’re dead. At this range, this buckshot will make a mighty nasty hole. Now, git that right hand up, empty.”

“How’d you know I’d be here?”

“Walk over to me, slowly.”

“They’ll hang me, if you take me back.”

Hayes walked to Clay with his hands up. Clay shoved the shotgun barrel against the man’s throat, then reached under Hayes’s belt and pulled out a double-barrel derringer. He stuffed it behind his belt, and with the shotgun still tight against Hayes’s throat, he pulled out the piggin’ string. “Lay down, face-first,” Clay said. He remembered how Pa talked about tying a man up when he was alone.

“There’s goat heads, grass burrs, and mesquite thorns, not to mention cactus. Why, I just ain’t—”

“Fine, I’ll just knock you in the head.”

Hayes laid down, carefully, face-first.

“Now spread your feet and stick your hands in front of you as far as you can.”

Clay walked around in front of Hayes. He wasn’t afraid of Hayes overpowering him. Hayes was still a sick man, but he could have another hideout gun or knife. He laid the shotgun down and quickly tied both of Hayes’s hands together.

“That’s too tight.”

“Get up.”

Clay picked up the other gun and pulled the gunbelt off the other man’s horse. He moved back to Blue, who had been standing quietly a few feet from the two men, and slipped the three guns and holster into his saddlebags. While keeping his eyes on the shadowy figure of Hayes, he mounted Blue.

“Mount up.”

Clay picked up the reins of Hayes’s horse and handed them to him.

“Ride slow and quiet into that little dry creek. It’ll take us away from the fort and Brackett. Take it nice and easy. My trigger finger is gettin’ tired.”

The two men rode into the dry creek bed and headed southwest. After a mile, Clay motioned Hayes out of the branch and pointed west. The two men turned west, and Clay prodded Hayes to pick up the pace. The two horses picked up a lope for the next two miles. Clay slowed them down to a fast walk, and they continued their journey west.

“Where you takin’ me?”

“Why’d you kill my ma and pa?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. This bullet came from an Apache. I’ve never been near your ma.”

“Mister, I know who you are. I know who you were riding with. I can take you back to the army and you’ll end up getting hanged. Speakin’ of the army, how’d you get away? You sure didn’t tie out your own horse, for yourself, with all your gear.”

“I had help.”

“I reckon. Go on.”

“An orderly. He got my gear and horse and tied them out behind the hospital. I paid him.”

“Guess he’ll be in some trouble.”

“Reckon not. After we got outside the hospital, he kind of stumbled and fell on my knife.”

Keep an eye on this guy. He’s as dangerous as a
rattler.

They hit Maverick Creek and turned southwest, riding until they found a thick grove of oak along the creek.

“Git down.”

Clay had found the perfect limb he was looking for. “Come over here.”

Hayes walked over. Clay could tell the ride had exhausted the man. He was still not in good shape. Clay took the end of the rope, pulling Hayes’s hands up, and tied him to an oak limb that paralleled the ground. The limb was high enough where Hayes’s arms were stretched above him.

Clay rode back to the horse, picked up the reins, and took both horses to the creek. There, they drank their fill. Then he rode back and ground-reined them both on some good grass. Hayes had turned and was watching him.

“What are you going to do with me?”

“Up to you.”

“I need to sit down. I’m tired.”

“Why’d you kill my ma?”

“I told you, I didn’t—”

The sound of the slap was like a pistol shot. It caught Hayes fully on his left cheek and sent him spinning on the rope.

“Why’d you kill my ma?”

Hayes had regained his footing. Light was beginning to break in the east and slip through the maze of trees.

“I’m telling you, I—”

This time the slap caught him on the right cheek and knocked him spinning like a top in the opposite direction, flopping on the tree limb.

“I’ve been shot. I could die. You can’t do this.”

“Mister, I’ve got a lot more time than you. Did I tell you that I was raised by the Tonkawa? I spent nearly as much time with them as I did with my folks. They have truly fascinating ways to help people speak the truth. I’m bettin’ you’d like me to show you.” Clay pulled out his bowie knife, the blade glinting in the early morning daylight. He knelt down and pulled off the boot from Hayes’s right foot. When he did, the slim dagger on the inside of the boot came into view.

“You’ve been holding out on me. Here I thought I had all of your weapons.” He quickly checked the other boot. Nothing.

Clay checked the edge of the dagger. “Why, I believe your knife is sharper than mine.” With that, he slid his bowie knife back into the scabbard.

“Now where was I? Oh yeah.” Clay reached down and pulled the man’s sock off.

Most folks Hayes had met would think he was a brave man. He was fast with a gun and knife, and wouldn’t hesitate to use them. Now, though, he was sweating. The cool morning breeze was little comfort to him. His eyes, wide with fear, tracked the knife with the intensity of the damned.

“Ever seen a man’s foot split? You can make a man’s toes as long as you want. Why, I could slice between, say your big toe and the next one, all the way to your ankle. It’d make it mighty difficult to walk.”

“Why do you want to do that? I’ve been shot. I’m a sick man!”

“Mister, I’m through funnin’ with you. You either start talking right now, or I start slicing.” Clay reached down and grabbed the man’s foot. Hayes tried to kick him with the other foot, but was too weak to lift his foot high enough.

Clay made a slight nick between his toes.

“All right, all right,” Hayes sobbed. “I’ll tell you, just please don’t cut me. Don’t cut me.”

Clay dropped the man’s foot, threw the dagger into the dirt, and stepped back. He was sick to his stomach with what he’d done. That seventeen-year-old boy who loved his ma and pa would never have done this to a man. But he was afraid, deep down, that if the man had not broken, he might have cut him until he did.

“Tell me quick, Mister. It’d better be true. If I catch you lying, I’ll start again and won’t stop.”

“It was Gideon. He’d been going on how he was going to get your pa for killing Emmett and Micah. All he could do was quote scriptures and curse. So that was going to be our first job after getting together.

“Gideon said we’d kill two birds with one stone, cause your pa had money. Can you please cut me down? I swear my arms are about to pull out of their sockets, and this bullet hole, I think it may be bleeding again.”

Clay turned Hayes around till his back was to him and sliced the rope, letting the man fall in a heap at his feet.

“Keep talking.”

“Quint suggested to Gideon that he put Milo on the ridge overlooking the front of the house. That way if anybody went for a gun, Milo could drop them. Milo’s a dead shot with that Sharps.

“So we come riding up, your pa walks out on the porch, recognizes Gideon, and goes for his gun. He didn’t stand a chance. Milo was already zeroed in, and it just took a squeeze of the trigger. That hunk of lead caught him right in the side of his head, though Milo was off a little. It hit just a tad low, but tore a mighty hole in him. Knocked him across the porch. What was amazing, he was still alive.”

Clay’s hands shook. He could feel the rage building. Never had he killed a man, but this man was treading close.

“Go on.”

“Well, right after Milo shot, this tall drink of water—”

“Slim.”

“Slim steps out of the barn, and before Milo can shoot, he puts one in me. Then we all opened up and shot him to dishrags.

“While that was happening, your ma comes running to your pa. Gideon, he’s off his horse faster’n a jackrabbit and grabs her. Funny to see a man that big move so fast. She got a shot off from her little pistol, but didn’t hit anyone. Gideon, he just wrenched that gun from her hand.

“Gideon’s never been good with women. He’s mean.”

Clay didn’t know if he could listen to this. It was all he could do to keep from beating Hayes to an unrecognizable piece of meat. He held himself in.
I’ve got to hear this so I’ll know. Just let me be strong.
It was all he could do to keep the tears from flowing. He didn’t know if it was from love or rage.

“Gideon, he drags her into the house. We heard her screaming. By now, I can barely keep the saddle. I was bleeding pretty bad. I sure figured I was a goner.

“Quint yells and leaps out of the saddle. Your pa had managed to get his gun out, but couldn’t quite lift it. I could see his eyes. He wanted to kill us all. Quint kicked the gun out of his hand and kicked him in the head. Then he ran back to his horse and got his rope. He tossed a loop around your pa’s neck and dragged him over to that big oak tree and strung him up. There weren’t much life left in him and he died quick.

“Say, could I get a drink of water? I’m mighty dry from all this talking. I surely am.”

“You keep talking,” Clay said, “and I might not leave you out here for the buzzards.”

Hayes looked up. Hate seeped from every pore.

“I said, keep talking.”

“You’re hard, boy. If you live long enough, you’ll be a mean
hombre
.

“The screams from the house stopped. A few minutes later, Gideon comes out, looking pleased as punch and spouting scriptures. He sees your pa in the tree and smiles like it’s Christmas time. Then he turns to us and says to git into the house and find the money. I’m just hanging onto my horse, but the other boys, including Milo, who’s just come riding up, jump off their horses and start searching the house.

“We found nothing. Boy, can you help me lean against this here tree? It ain’t far, and I’m mighty tired.”

Clay grabbed Hayes’s hands and dragged him over to the tree and dropped him. He kept an eye on him as Hayes painfully pushed himself into a sitting position against the tree. Then Hayes looked down at the blood on his bare foot and wiggled his toes. “You’re mean, boy, mighty mean.

“We couldn’t find anything in the house or barn. By now, everybody’s mad and Mad Dog is almost foaming at the mouth. ‘There ain’t no money here, Gideon,’ Mad Dog yells. ‘There ain’t a cent.’ He turns to your pa hangin in the tree. ‘We oughta burn ya, that’s what we oughta do.’ He turns back to Gideon and Gideon nodded. Mad Dog raced back into the house and got a lamp full of kerosene and doused your pa with it. He pulled out a store-bought match and struck it, stuck it up to your pa’s leg, and cackled like a hen when your pa started burning. That’s about it, boy. I told you true. The least you could do is get me some water.”

Clay walked to Blue and untied the canteen. He turned back to Hayes. As he neared him, something didn’t look right. What was wrong, what had he missed? His hands. They were above his head.

Hayes struck like a viper. He whipped the knife out of the holster hanging between his shoulder blades and threw it with all of his remaining strength. The blade buried to the hilt in Clay’s neck, the point sticking out below and behind his right ear.

Clay’s hands flew up to the knife, but he couldn’t pull it out. It was tight and he was bleeding—bleeding bad. He felt his legs going and he crumpled to his knees. He tried desperately to get out his gun, but his hands weren’t working. Clay watched as Hayes stood up, his face covered with an evil smirk.

Hayes sauntered over to Clay, looked down at him for a moment, and kicked him as hard as he could in the chest. Clay sprawled back on the grass under the big oak trees. He looked up at the blue sky. The sun was up, and the woods were busy, birds singing, squirrels barking, and armadillos rooting. A beautiful Texas day.
But I’m dying. I’m sorry, Ma. I promised, but I’m
dying.

“How’s it feel, kid? Tide’s turned, hasn’t it?” Hayes stripped the guns from Clay, then reached up to pull his knife out of Clay’s neck. He pulled and tugged. The knife wouldn’t budge. He put his heel against Clay’s throat and pulled. No knife. “Boy, I’m gonna make a trade with you. All your gear for my knife. I’ll just leave it there while you bleed to death. Ain’t life great? I just knew it’d work out good for me. It always does.” He searched Clay’s pocket and found his twenty-five dollars. “Yes, sir, it always works out for me.”

Hayes picked up the knife Clay had found and slipped it into his neck scabbard. “Boy, you’re just too green. You should’ve searched me better. Good for me you didn’t.” He slipped his sock and his boot on, gathered up the reins, and pulled himself up into the saddle. “You had me going, boy. I’ve got to tell you, I knew you were going to split my foot from toe to ankle. But you didn’t, and I win. I always win, boy. I always win.”

Clay watched him cross the creek. He hated to lose Blue. Blue was a good horse and friend. They’d been together for a long time. But it didn’t matter, he thought. Time for him was about to end. He could feel the blood coursing from his neck. He wondered how long it would take him to die. It was getting darker, but he knew it still wasn’t noon yet. Why was it getting dark?