Range War Along the Pecos, by John Theron Crow

Range War Along the Pecos

CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

 
Scurlock, Terrell and Tyree caught up with Slade, Lomax and Hawk, just as the three Fogg riders were approaching the livery to retrieve their horses and ride out. All six men knew each other by sight, and by now, the Fogg riders knew that the Concho River men before them, were in the employ of Tanner. Not a word was spoken as the men casually stepped sideways into the street, three on either side, standing abreast. Scurlock moved first then the street was filled with the sound of rapid gunfire. Scurlock, who had moved first, also died first, with a bullet through the head from the gun of Slinger Hawk. Almost simultaneously, Terrell and Tyree went down from the guns of Blackjack Slade and Tuck Lomax in that order. Tyree was still moving and Slinger remarked jokingly, as though he were bowled over with astonishment, "Why Lomax, you must be gettin' rusty. Your's is still a movin'."
Lomax walked up and casually fired a bullet point blank between Tyree's eyes then said, "I reckon your eyes are gettin' bad, Slinger. He don't appear ta me ta be movin' around a tall!"
The two burst out laughing just as Blackjack hushed them saying, "Come on. Let's get to them horses. Hellfire, there maybe more MT men around." They did, and soon were thundering out of town. * * *
The sounds of the shots were heard back in the sheriff's office, and Duke Collins said, "Well, lads, that's it I expect. The three Fogg lads are dead now, so I'll leave you two here ta make love or whatever it is you western cretans do to pass the time, whilst I go help Captain Fogg cross over the great divide."
"Hell Collins, you're men are good, but I know the Fogg gunmen, and I don't know of anyone faster, and I seen 'em in action. I reckon I'd sure like ta be there ta see the look on your face when you find your men dead." Lancer said, attempting to plant the seeds of doubt in the confident Collins, although he more than halfway believed it would be true.
"We shall see, gentlemen. Be back in a jiffy."
"Alright, now that he's gone, time to bust out." Lancer said. He then produced a set of lock picks from his jeans' pocket.
"Hell, where did ya come up with them?" Ballard asked.
"Met a Ranger once who owned em. Well, I did him a favor once and he offered me this set of picks, said they'd fit any lock anywhere. So far, he's been right. He said he'd never found a jail yet anywhere what that one of these wouldn't fit the lock. Anyhow, out west, generally, they're all the same. Back east is where it gets tricky and ya really have ta hunt around on this thing ta find the right one. This one here usually works on most all western cell locks." Lancer said as he produced the desired pick. Sure enough, the door opened right up.
"Well I'll be dipped in shit! I guess you've been in quite a few jails then." Ballard exclaimed excitedly.
"Yep, but if I'd had these afore I met that ranger, none of them would've held me near as long as they did!" Lancer replied grinning as they stepped through the cell door.
"You really think Fogg's men won? Hell, them Concho River Gunmen were supposedly some of the fastest. I'd heard that Fogg was afraid to mess with them." Ballard commented.
"They were fast, and Fogg probably just figured it was more trouble than it was worth, what with easier pickings around." We'll find out soon enough. How's your gun hand, you may be needing it."
Ballard cracked his knuckles. "No offense Lancer, but I'm the best, and my reflexes are greased lightnin'. Worry 'bout yer own." Ballard said grinning adding, "Now let's go clean up this town like the respectable lawmen were supposed to be!"
"I want Collins, if his men are dead." Lancer said.
"You'll get 'em, if ya find 'em afore I do. We'll be splitting up. Remember, I'm the sheriff, yer just a lowly deputy." Ballard said grinning as the two stepped out onto the street. "Anyhow, if either of us find that by some chance all three of the MT hands won the shootout, we gotta come back and find the other. To much firepower for either of us alone, maybe even both together, unless we can get the drop on 'em." Ballard continued. * * *
Collins, had been astounded to find the Concho River gunslingers dead, and the crowd which had gathered round them had insisted that it had been a straight up gunfight. He was shocked, simply because he had in the past, worked with the three for Abe Brockman. With the possible exception of himself, he'd never seen any men faster. Nevertheless, he was glad he had not yet pinned any badges on them. They'd find someone else. Perhaps, even he might enjoy the role as sheriff or marshal for a while. It was an intriguing thought. Another adventure, which after all, was what he lived for. He relished the idea of personally hunting the rest of the Fogg's down and facing them one at a time if possible, or with a posse--- barring that. Nevertheless, he had to first chop off the head of the serpent. Thus, he casually, with counterfeit legal papers in hand, strode over and into Doctor Anders' office.
Collins, had entered without knocking, and much to his satisfaction, found both Doctor Anders and Dancing Jack Haylock in the anteroom, attending to Captain Fogg. No one had been near the office when he entered so he quickly pulled his pistol, and shot the astonished Haylock in the heart, and then Doctor Anders, through the skull. He then moved swiftly. Extracting the pillow from beneath Captain Fogg's head, he held it forcefully over his face. It took less than a moment as the weakened remaining lung, struggled futilely for air. The body shuddered violently then was still. Quickly replacing the pillow, he stepped out of the office.
Several people were already running toward the door. Feeling smugly satisfied with a job well done, he put on a puzzled look and slowly began shaking his head in wonder. He began to explain how he had walked in as Haylock was arguing heatedly with the Doctor. Just as he had stepped in, Haylock had shot the doctor. Of course, he had then shot Haylock. His purpose for the visit had been to make Fogg an offer on the land, and he even had the papers for him to sign, should he have accepted. All that he had been able to ascertain from the little he had overheard of the argument, was that Haylock somehow, had blamed the death of Fogg on the doctor's incompetence. The crowd listened dubiously and a few began asking questions which he handled adroitly until, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a tall, blond figure wearing a badge, striding cockily yet purposefully toward him. It was Colt Ballard an unmistakable look of amusement on his face.
"Howdy, Mr. Lyin' son-of-a-bitch of an Englishman." Ballard exclaimed cheerfully.
"He's escaped! The prisoner has escaped!" Collins began. He then started to explain to the crowd the story he had concocted concerning the duplicity of Murdoch and Fogg in hiring the Esperanzas, and how Ballard, Duane and Lancer had been part of the scheme all along, but Ballard cut him off.
"Cut the horse-shit, Collins. I reckon if I was to check the cylinder of yer pistol, I'd find two bullets missin'. And I reckon that if someone was to check Haylock's cylinder, they'd find it fully loaded. Wanna hand me yer pistol?" Ballard asked, grinning ear to ear.
"I'll be double damned before I'll hand my gun over to an outlaw!" Collins replied heatedly.
"Oh, you probably will be damned, Duke. Whatever. The game's over Collins, and you've lost. Are you comin' to jail peacefully or do I shoot ya and call the undertaker instead?"
"He's lying folks. And since that is the case, I will not submit to incarceration at the hands of a common outlaw." Collins said haughtily, still feeling that he could once again, win over the crowd, just as soon as he had gunned down Ballard. However, where was Lancer? It didn't matter, Collins concluded, wherever Lancer might be, the difficulty at hand was Ballard. Lancer, well, he'd get the same--- as soon as Collins found him. He went for his gun.
Collins was shocked once again, as he felt a powerful blow to his chest and as a terrifying numbness began spreading throughout his body. How could this be? There was Ballard, standing calmly, smoking pistol in hand. Could it be, that he had been beaten by a lowly cowboy? Had he not even been able to get off a shot? No, it was merely a dream. No one was that fast, his mind told him as it ceased to function and an all-encompassing darkness engulfed him as he slumped to the ground dead.
Ballard quickly explained his own side of the story to the people, who almost to a man, believed him, especially after checking the loads in the cylinders of both Collins' and Haylock's pistols. Sure enough, there were two bullets missing from Collins' gun, and none missing in Haylock's. Moments later, Lancer was by his side. "I see you found 'em first. Lucky break fer you."
"Hell Johnny, I've always been a lucky cuss, you oughta have figured that out by now."
"Yeah, and I see you didn't even get a scratch." Lancer noted.
"Nope. Course not! Like I said earlier, all modesty aside, I'm the best!" Ballard chided, then added, I've taken a likin' to ya Johnny, and I'd shore a hated seein' that Limey skunk gun ya down.
"Yeah, well I reckon you're just sayin' that 'cause I wasn't there to see just how slow he was. Hell, I'll bet he was slower'n molasses in the winter time. I reckon one a these days we'll have ta set up some targets and find out who's faster." Lancer challenged.
"Hell pardner, I'd shore hate to have to humiliate ya, but just let me know when you're feelin' brave and foolish." Ballard said laughingly.
As the two were walking down the street, a huge figure upon horseback approached them. It was Nighthawk.
"Howdy Nighthawk. You comin' into town as friend or foe?" Ballard asked cautiously.
"Depends. Just met up with Slade, Lomax and Hawk. They told me what happened, how they shot it out with Tanner's best gunmen, and how they were ordered out of town by you two just before. They said they left figurin' ya'll may have double-crossed them, and that there might be more MT gunnies in town. I just came back from the direction of the Tanner ranch, or what's left of it, and I happen to know that he's headin' toward the Murdoch spread. So I thought I'd ride in and ask you two personal, just exactly, what the hell's goin' on!? Sure hope I like the answer."
"You won't pardner, but we didn't double cross 'em." Lancer told him. Then Ballard went on to fill in the details."
"Shit!" Nighthawk cursed bitterly under his breath. "So the Captain and Billy are dead."
"Yep, but I killed the man that got the Captain, at least, and ya can ask anyone in town. 'Course in Billy's case, I reckon he had it comin'." Ballard added.
"Hell, that means Dain's gonna be gunnin' for Logan, and the other three will be after you two. Better be careful." Nighthawk warned.
"Hell, Nighthawk, since I'm the sheriff a this territory, I reckon I'm gonna have to go and put a stop to whatever Tanner's up to. Course, I cain't do it with only my deputy here. I reckon I'll ride over ta the Murdoch ranch and round up a posse. Wanna tag along? Might get a shot at Tanner." Ballard added enticingly.
"Hell, why not. I got no use for Dain or the other three. I reckon they'll go back into bank and stage robbing or something. Not my style. I'll tag along and see this one through. My only allegiance was to Captain Fogg anyhow."
With that, the three men prepared to leave town. Before he could leave however, Ballard had to break up a lynch mob that had been forming in honor of the mayor and Simon Greenbaum, the bank president. By now, the town had become convinced of Tanner's guilt, and were ready to hang anyone who had any close ties to him. Several other members of the town council had already left town. Ballard addressed the mob who had apprehended both Greenbaum and Samuel Irvins, both of whom had already soiled their britches in their fear.
"Folks, I reckon I agree that these two snakes deserve a hangin', but not while I'm sheriff. Now I know, that me, and my deputies here, Lancer and Nighthawk, cain't stop all of ya. But I guarantee we'll take down a hell of a lot of ya before we go under. Now, these two, are going straight to jail to await a trial by a circuit judge who ought to be here in a few days. Our Constitution guarantees them that right, and this badge I'm wearing, makes it my duty to see to it they get it, whether I like it or not. Now, If I have to stay here and guard the jail, I'm gonna have one hell of a hard time catching the real culprit, I mean Tanner hisself. What I hear, he's up to somethin' and headin' out to the Murdoch spread. I aim to bring 'em in dead or alive. Now, do you folks still want me for your sheriff?"
Grudgingly, the crowd murmured "Yes."
"Alright then, it's too late to change yer mind. Now, am I gonna have to fight all of you, or are ya gonna leave the prisoners alone, and let me do my job, and go catch that Yankee son-of-a-bitch Morgan Tanner?"
To that, the crowd agreed unanimously. "Go catch that Yankee son-of-a-bitch!!"
With that, Ballard appointed Bill Wyler as a deputy and ordered him to escort Greenbaum and Irvins to the jail, and to watch over them until he got back. Then, Ballard, Lancer and Nighthawk left for the Murdoch ranchhouse at a gallop.

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