Range War Along the Pecos, by John Theron Crow

Range War Along the Pecos

CHAPTER FIVE

 
After Wyler had left Conchita's house, heading back towards the Boar's Head where he also lived, Jesse scooped up some dirt and was about to begin rubbing it into his hat. He caught himself and laughed aloud. He had intended to dirty it a little to make it look as if it were his old one, and untouched by a bullet. But remembering what he had just said to Bill Wyler, he now reasoned that such a move would be unwise. It would be better to let them know that he HAD been hit, then claim that he had maneuvered HIMSELF out of the room. That would let Wyler off the hook he thought.
Naturally, Bill wouldn't be expected to volunteer that information to anyone, even the sheriff, considering the reputation that Logan had with a gun. Even Tanner's men probably wouldn't hold that against Wyler. A man in Wyler's position would be unlikely to be giving out free information on an injured gunman to that worthy's potential enemies unless absolutely forced to do so. Such behavior was known to be unhealthy. So unless Tanner was willing to risk implicating himself in an attempted back-shooting, Logan doubted he would push the issue. "Besides," Logan mused aloud, "I'm gonna give ole Morgan Tanner a few other things to worry about pretty soon."
Putting off breakfast for the moment, Logan avoided the main street and walked out to the back of the town. He had decided to circle around the back and come up onto the side of the Boar's Head to see what he could find. There was a clearing extending about fifteen feet in front of the side window of the Boar's head with a smattering of greasewood and mesquite after that. There was only one bush, a mesquite, large enough to provide concealment for a gunman, while still affording a clear view of the window to the saloon.
Upon examining the ground around it, Logan found two cigarette butts and one huge spent cartridge belonging to a Sharps fifty caliber rifle. Such a gun was rarely carried by cowboys, and almost never, by gunmen, although Shane Murdoch carried one often. Shane however, was a good friend of Jesse's and carried the gun only on buffalo hunts, or trips up into the Rockies which he frequently took for his own pleasure.
Most likely then, whoever had tried to shoot him was either an ex-buffalo hunter or an old mountain man. The majority of gunmen would have used a Henry 44 caliber repeater, or a Winchester 44-40. The thought brought a name to memory. Jared Ransom!
He was a mountain man who had become a scout for the army after the beaver trapping had gone bad. Ransom had fathered a son through a marriage with a Cheyenne woman. This son, whose name was Abe, had been both a troublemaker and bully. He had tried to bully Jesse around once in a saloon in Santa Fe just a few years back.
At the time, Jesse had only been eighteen, but had already had several gunfights. Abe Ransom hadn't known this though and had proceeded to taunt young Jesse. It wasn't long before the two of them were embroiled in a fist-fight. Jesse had been taught quite a few tricks in hand to hand fighting while growing up. It didn't take him long to defeat Ransom.
After the fight, Jesse had returned to his table and was prepared to forget the whole affair. Unfortunately, Abe Ransom was not about to let his humiliation at the hands of a "shirt-tailed kid" go unavenged. He had told Logan to go for his gun. Jesse had, and Abe Ransom died that day with his boots on.
At that time, several people in town, who knew Jared Ransom, warned Jesse that he would never let his son's death go unanswered. Jesse paid little heed to these warnings until about a month after the killing of Abe. That was the day that Jared had walked into the same saloon. This saloon also served lunch and dinner, and at that time, Jesse was having a lunch of green enchiladas and frijoles. Jared Ransom walked up to Jesse's table, sat down, and ordered the same. Although Jesse had a fairly good idea as to the man's identity, he asked, "Do I smell pretty or somethin', or do you just have a habit of invitin' yourself to other folk's tables for lunch?"
Ransom, seemingly calm and unaffected by Jesse's sarcasm had replied evenly, "I think you know damn well who I am. You want to tell me how my son died?" Logan told him exactly what had transpired. Ransom said nothing and went on to finish his meal which he did before Jesse was even half through with his own. After finishing, he said, "Well, it looks as if you kilt my boy in a fair fight. I reckon he got hisself into it and had it comin'." Jesse was surprised, and somewhat relieved. He hadn't wished to fight that old man.
However, after shaking hands with Jesse, the old man walked up to the bar and ordered a bottle of whiskey. Jesse had gone back to his meal which was now almost finished when someone yelled, "Look out, Logan!" He heard the distinct thunder of the man's Sharps rifle just as he was pushing back his chair and pulling his Colt. The fifty caliber slug shattered Logan's plate just missing him. Jesse's bullet caught the mountain man in the right side of his chest. Not a mortal wound for a younger man, but certainly enough to finish this old rascal (at least, that was what Jesse had thought at that moment).
They took him to a doctor where he lingered near death for many days before finally beginning to recover. By that time however, Logan had grown tired of Santa Fe and decided to head back into Texas. Nevertheless, not before hearing that Jared Ransom had sworn to kill the young gunfighter if it took him the rest of his life.
The incident had gradually slipped to the back of Logan's mind and had not re-emerged until just now, as he was gazing at the spent fifty caliber cartridge he was holding. He glanced around some more, looking for footprints. When he found a clear one he examined it more closely. It certainly appeared to be a moccasin track, but he wasn't positive. He searched for more and found them, leading away from the mesquite bush and the window of the Boar's Head. There was no mistaking it now, these were definitely moccasin tracks. "Well, Jesse mused aloud, doesn't prove it was Ransom, could have been an Indian." But, Jesse knew better.
There were no hostilities between any of the tribes-- in the surrounding area and the Whites at that time. Even if there had been, the Indians would have limited their raiding to homesteaders or very small settlements and ranches. "No, he thought, it has to be Jared Ransom or some mountain man friend of his." No one around Olsen's Falls wore moccasins or carried big-bore Sharps rifles. At least, no one who would make an attempt on Logan's life.
Logan knew about mountain men, and had actually lived with one as a boy for the better part of a year, along with the two Murdoch Boys, Shane and Brazos. He knew enough to know that he had certainly better watch carefully wherever he went, or at least until Ransom or whoever shot him, was put out of commission permanently. A man like Ransom was far more dangerous out in the countryside, but as Logan had seen first hand, twice now, the man might attack from anywhere. There were however, more puzzling questions to ponder.
For one thing, true, Jared ransom had sworn vengeance upon Jesse. But years had passed and he had made no attempts before last night. Why would he be coordinating his efforts to kill Logan, with Tanner's men? That definitely wasn't Ransom's style.
From all Logan had managed to gather about the old Mountain man, he was strictly a loner. Most white men didn't like him, and he didn't care much for white men either, by and large. He had only worked for the army because he had needed the money. "Could Tanner have looked into my past and found out about Ransom, then sought him out and offered to pay him to kill me?" Logan wondered. It seemed unlikely.
Although at this time, Jesse worked for Moose Murdoch, Tanner was not yet openly at odds with him. But then there was little doubt that Tanner planned to be going up against Murdoch in the near future. Perhaps he had wanted to whittle down the odds a bit before things got out into the open. Jesse didn't know for sure. Whatever the case, he would have to be careful. Jared Ransom was no gunfighter, and would not fight like one. He was a back-shooter.
Around these parts, a back-shooter was regarded as despicable. Almost as low as a man who would sell guns and ammunition to Indians who were on the warpath. However, to a Northerner like Tanner, it would make little difference unless the fact that he had hired a back-shooter became generally known. THAT would affect public opinion adversely for him, and he couldn't afford such a thing, right now at least.
Jesse followed the moccasin tracks farther back into the brush where they stopped not too far from the main road leading in and out of town. Here, Jesse found where a horse had been tied, and also, a set of tracks from a pair of cowboy boots heading to and from the road. The boot tracks showed evidence of a missing boot-heel on the left boot. He'd remember that. No doubt this was where Ransom (or whoever) was to wait for information concerning the shot he had fired through the window of the Boar's Head saloon. Probably, it was also where he was to collect whatever payment he was to receive for his services. Whoever had shot at Logan was bound to be somewhat disappointed on the latter score.
Since he had left the saloon shortly after the fight, Logan surmised that it was probably Bucktooth Wilson who brought the news to Ransom or whoever, that he had failed to earn his pay.
Logan noticed that the tracks of the horse led into the brush, away from town. In fact, they led in the direction of the Tanner ranch-house. So then, whoever it was, had decided not to go into town for another attempt right away, opting instead, to hole up somewhere on Morgan Tanner's MT range. At least, that is what the signs indicated.
Whoever it was, had made no effort thus far to hide the fact that he had been here. That meant that he hadn't expected anyone to be searching overly hard for clues as to his identity.
Had he taken the time to attempt to obliterate his tracks, and other evidences of his recent presence, Jesse might have wondered if he would have taken the time to circle out a ways and then back to town, entering at a different spot in order to try again as soon as he knew of Logan's whereabouts. Whoever had worn the moccasins had ridden off, and the wearer of the boots had returned to the main road. Thus, Jesse decided he would be safe from Ransom's Sharps for a day or two at least. Maybe longer, if he were to complain openly about the attempt on his life. That would probably force the shooter to lay low for a few days.
His stomach reminded him that it was long since past time for breakfast, so he circled back the way he came, then strolled out onto the main street, heading for Ma Cunningham's Cafe and boardinghouse.

Top of This Page | Front Page | Next Chapter