Back'At'Cha 2016

[Jailhouse Jim, SASS #13104]

Chapter 24

 

BAD MEDICINE

 

Captain Jake and the other men listened intently to Adam as he told of what he learned from the town drunk. Some wanted to dismiss the information but Adam was not going to budge on this one when he said, “Nobody pays no account to the town drunk and usually speaks pretty free around them cause they don’t usually remember nothin’ but his last drink. This old drunk was a top hand in his day and was no fool. Even drunk, he had learned much about the Dooley’s, more than anybody else had and ever bit of it was bad.”

 

Captain Jake spoke up at last, “Adam you’re right of course but this means we have to get a goin’ to beat that bunch to Tombstone. We need to get there before T-Bone finds out what happened here and puts two and two together. Let’ ride boys, we’re going straight through to Tombstone and over any Dooley’s body that might want to get in the way between here and there.”

 

It hadn’t taken more than thirty minutes before the horses were hitched up and the camp rolled up into the back of the wagons. Within the hour, there was a cloud of dust churning off the desert trail as the heavily laden wagons made their way east. The gang rolled steadily southeast through the desert skirting Phoenix and on into Tucson without any more of the Dooley sightings.

 

Chances were the Dooley’s were some distance behind the wagon train and unless they had gotten better mounts, they would probably stay behind. As the throng of Dammit’s and Cowboys neared Tucson, Captain Jake knew they should make one more supply run to town.

 

Captain Jake was certain there would be a prolonged battle once they reached Tombstone and there was no guarantee they would be able to get needed supplies once they got there. Even with the hunters going out every day, it takes a powerful lot of food to keep fifty or sixty adult men, women, and a handful of kids from going hungry. He didn’t want to take a chance by stopping in Benson for there was sure to be Dooley’s waiting there for the Dammit’s to ride in. He didn’t want to start a fight until they got to Tombstone then it was fine to let the devil hang his hat where he may.

 

It was Filthy’s turn to ride into town and Zzyzx was picked to go along to try to keep him out of trouble. Filthy volunteered happily but Captain Jake had his reservations. It was hard to turn Filthy down with him standing there grinning like a jackass in a cactus patch so reluctantly, Captain Jake relented although Zzyzx didn’t act too overly thrilled at the Captain’s choice for the job. Zzyzx had ridden with Filthy before and knew that trouble usually came along with the laughing Limey.

 

Zzyzx said only, “Well, I can’t dance and the ground’s too hard to plow so I might as well chase some rabbits to town.” With that, he moseyed down to the remuda to pick out a team of horses for the trip to town in the wagon while Filthy fretted over the supply list with Captain Jake.

 

Zzyzx drove the wagon around to where Filthy was in the center of camp and waited for him to drag his tired bones over to the wagon seat. Soon enough Filthy came over, stepping up on the wheel then sliding onto the seat as he yelled, “Pip Pip,” and waved to the watching men. Zzyzx cracked the whip over the horse’s heads to get them started as the heavy wagon lumbered down the rock strewn road bouncing and lurching like a buckin’ horse. Filthy was obviously excited about getting to go to town so was saying, “It’s about bloody time I got to got to town to get a little bladdered. This trip is going to be a bodge trip anyways so I won’t have time to get a little Au Fait with the local ladies anyway.”

 

Zzyzx picked a good team of horses that pulled the wagon well with the miles vanishing quickly behind them as they rode bringing them to the outskirts of Tucson in just a few hours. Zzyzx planned on going to the dry goods store, getting the supplies, and leaving town right away before anything could go wrong but unfortunately, Filthy was not thinking the same thing.

 

When Zzyzx stopped at the store, Filthy was heading down the street towards the saloon sayin’, “I’m gonna do some chin waggin to see if our friend has come a traipsing through yet.”

 

Zzyzx looked at Filthy knowing there would be not good end to his chin waggin’ but didn’t say anything cause it would have went in one ear and out the other without soaking in anyway. Zzyzx went on into the store and handed his store list over to the storekeeper and waited quiet like hoping Filthy didn’t get too sloshed to “Stool Off” their hand.

 

Zzyzx started gathering up the tobacco, flour, sugar, beans, hardtack, bacon, jerky, ammunition, and the whiskey as the storekeep set it on the counter to get it loaded into the wagon. After several trips, he had gotten everything loaded, covered up, and tied down but Filthy still had not returned. This had been exactly what Zzyzx was worrying about when they left camp. That barmy Limey couldn’t be let alone for very long or he’ll have the town down on them. Now he had to go and look for him without getting caught up into something himself.

 

Zzyzx asked the storekeeper to watch the wagon while he went down to the saloon to find Filthy before he stirred up too much trouble. It was bad news when Zzyzx found him just like he figured it was gonna be. Filthy was slobbering over a saloon gal like a new born calf. He was setting to a game over in the corner of the bar with this gal settin right on his knee. Mebe he figured since he was old enough to be her dad, he was just babysitting her for a little while cause he was waaaay tooo old to be tryin’ to make time with a youngin’ like that.

 

Filthy saw Zzyzx come into the room and shouted, “Got any Baccy?”

 

Zzyzx replied, “It’s out in the wagon, come on out and we’ll get some.”

 

Filthy laughed, “I’m no Twit, and you’re a little too dodgy to go outside with. Never mind, I can’t be fagged with a Wanker like you. Why don’t you just Belt-Up and wait out yonder. I want to finish up this pub-crawl. I’m starting to get really narked at you for being so blinkered. You must think I’m blooming daft with this little diddle-con going on and just want to filch my gal here. Git on outta here ‘fore you end up on yer arse cause you’re getting me really gutted.”

 

Zzyzx looked at the bartender and asked, “Do you know what he just said?”

 

The bartender laughed and replied, “No I don’t but I don’t think any of it was too flattering.” Zzyzx nodded and set back to watch for a minute while trying to decide what else to do to pry the crazy man loose from the saloon.

 

Before Zzyzx could get a plan together, Filthy had slipped out the back door and was out of sight. Zzyzx noticed Filthy gone when he heard some cackling outside and knew he was up to no good like normal. Zzyzx tried to act nonchalant as he got up to leave only he was very afraid of what he would find outside since that maniacal laughter can only mean TP Dammit is out there with Filthy.

 

Their only chance would be to leave town before anyone else came out of the saloon and saw them. Zzyzx grimaced as he surveyed the damage for Filthy and TP had indeed been busy. Horses, wagons, trees, watering troughs, doors, porches, and anything else one could think of all had their mark on them since there seemed to be no limits for these two when it came to their antics.

 

Zzyzx could only imagine the retribution they would reap if he didn’t get Filthy and himself out of town. TP was on his own as far as Zzyzx was concerned and he would waste no time trying to corral him. So far he didn’t think the townsfolk had connected them and he didn’t want to take a chance so he started for the wagon and got on.

 

He grabbed the traces and coaxed the team into movement without using the whip for he wanted as little attention drawn to them as possible. Zzyzx took a side-street leading behind the rooming house then onto the road out of town.

 

Filthy better be at the edge of town when he got there or there would be h$ll to pay with the Captain. Sure enough, there was Filthy where he was supposed to be so Zzyzx pulled up as he climbed on board, still laughing at what he had done. His little friend TP, well he was still in town hanging around for when the fellas came out of the saloon, he would meet them on the street alone and finish his business with them.

 

On the way back to the Dammit camp, Filthy seemed suddenly somewhat sober and said, “Laylow has been through here and is heading south. There was some strange girl with him. I hadn’t heard any talk about her before, from him anyhow, so I don’t rightly know who she is. They were a sayin’ though, a lot of strangers have been riding through of late too but most have been non-descript. There was only one thing that was the same with all of them, they were all heading south towards Benson and they were all carrying guns in the open.”

 

“There was one cowhand they remembered special though because of the yeller hat, red boots, and red plaid shirt. I think was more than likely ‘Ole Howdy Doody cause there can’t be anyone else dress like that in the territory and live to tell about it. He was leading a string of horses like he was going to meet someone who must have been coming from a different way cause they all had saddles save the two mules that had packs.”

 

The mood amongst the men lightened up the rest of the way back to camp since Filthy actually was a help to the gang this time. When they got to the turn-off where they had left the wagon train, they discovered the camp had been moved a little farther out into the desert. Captain Jake was apprised of the information what they had learned in town but just shook his head at what Filthy and TP had done whilst they were there. Hopefully, Jake thought, TP wasn’t hanging off the back of the wagon leaving a trail back to them.

 

The gang had gotten their supplies sorted out and were resting the horses for a day before heading on to Tombstone. Captain Jake and Bangtail had ridden into Tucson and went into a little cantina for a drink to see if what Zzyzx and Filthy said was true. That was their first mistake for the day. As the two men eased up to the bar, they noticed a big Texan wearin’ some red and black fringe chaps looking like he had been rode hard and put up wet.

 

Jake and Bangtail ordered a bottle of Rye and sat at a table in the back soes they could watch the door when they noticed another Texas hombre over by the piano chatting away with the piano player.

 

“Nuttin’ can’t you shut your trap for just a little while? All you do is bump your gums. Cowtown Billy is laying down there in that desert feeding the worms and you act like it don’t matter at ‘all,” the man at the bar sniped.

 

“Cowhand, don’t start nothing with me. Them Dammit’s will get theirs,” Nuttin’ fired back.

 

Jake and Bangtail knew this could mean trouble cause they had walked in on the Dooley clan and needed to shut of them right away. If they were lucky and the Dooley’s got mad enough, they would just shoot it out with each other while the Dammit’s made a run for it. Cowhand saw the two men watching him and he was in no mood, no mood at ‘all for foolishness him bein’ on the prod for a scrap like he was.

 

“What are you two lookin’ at?” he barked.

 

Now Bangtail couldn’t stand keeping quiet any longer even though Jake kept telling him to let it go the whole time Cowhand was talking. Jake was trying his best to keep the old timer out of it but it looked like they were gonna have to fight the two Texans before they left town.

 

“Well friend, anybody wearin’ such purty chaps out in cattle country ought not be havin’ so much attitude. Oh, I forgot, you’re a Texas man aren’t ya?”

 

The look on Cowhand’s face went from just plain surly to utter unadulterated rage, his face turning nearly purple. “I’ll kill you for that Shorty, skin that smoke wagon!”

 

Bangtail seemed unfazed by Cowhand’s comments as he downed his drink and poured himself another without responding to the man. Nuttin’ had moved over to the other side of the bar spreading out the threat some just in case Jake wanted to get his share of the fun. Bangtail downed the glass of rye then stared at the man without saying another word for what seemed like an eternity.

 

“Partner, not many folks can call me Shorty and live to tell the tale. Your friend over to the bar can help you if’n ya want but I’ll meet you on the street soes we don’t have your blood messing up this cantina.” Bangtail’s eyes pushed from one man to the other with the look of a battle hardened killer until he finally stood, pushed his chair back and keeping an eye on them the whole time, stepped to the batwing doors.

 

“Five minutes friend,” he said then stepped outside.

 

Bangtail walked out into the middle of the street, checked the loads in his gun then thumbed another round into the empty chamber before sliding the big-bore Colt back into its holster. Jake came out of the saloon a moment later and sat down on a pickle barrel next to one of the town loafers to watch the show just in case Bangtail needed help. Cowhand, left standing at the bar, was beyond furious to the point of being totally uncontrollable. His hands were shaking so hard he was spilling his drink on the bar and on himself.

 

When he finally got it to his mouth and downed it, somewhat settling his temper slightly, he looked at Nuttin’ and said, “Stay out of this unless that other hombre butts in. I want his worthless hide to punch holes in for myself.”

 

Cowhand stepped out of the saloon and into the street to face Bangtail. Bangtail had lighted a cigar and was calmly smoking it as he waited. Another Texan had come up on the other side of where Jake was sitting and leaned against the corner of the cantina, watching the events unfold with the rest.

 

Bangtail stood silently for a few seconds then finally spoke up and said, “Friend, you can cut tail and walk away if’n you want to live a few hours longer. I’ll not hold to killin’ ya till later, it’s yer choice.”

 

The look on Cowhand’s face was incredulous. This little man was talking more than Nuttin’ and wasn’t near big enough to stand up to a Texas man talking like that. “Shorty, no man talks to me like that, especially a half a man like you.”

 

Cowhand was mad, really mad as the two men walked to within eight feet of each other before they stopped. Cowhand went for his gun and although pretty fast, his gun was just coming level when he felt a tug at his right hip. His own gun finally blossomed fire and dust jumped from Bangtail’s left shirtsleeve with the old man flinching ever so slightly.

 

Cowhand saw Shorty’s Colt spit fire a second time then he felt the tug of a bullet on his other hip. Suddenly, his chaps fell to the dirt, around his ankles, Bangtail had shot both side-straps apart so they fell from his hips like they were a stone. Cowhand’s gun bucked in his hand again and again yet Bangtail would not go down. Cowhand suddenly felt pain in his hand so he looked down and saw his Colt was gone and there was blood running off his fingers. Bangtail was swaying a little but was still standing as he eared the big .44 back one last time.

 

“Friend, next time you see me, call me Mister Shorty or we can finish this fight.”

 

Bangtail fired again, hitting Cowhand’s left spur, causing his ankle to twist and knocked him down. With Cowhand laid up on the ground, Bangtail shucked the empties from his Colt and thumbed new cartridges into the smoking six-gun. As he turned back towards the saloon, Bangtail saw Jake with a six-gun drawn on the man who had been leaning against the post near him earlier. The man was old and raw boned like many Texas cowhands having spent too many nights sleeping in the saddle and undoubtedly was a cohort to the one Bangtail left in the dirt.

 

“Cowtown Scout, put that shotgun down and loosen that gunbelt,” Jake drawled. “They’ll be in the saloon for when you leave town and head back to Texas. You won’t be needing them till you are ready to leave Arizona unless you plan on bein’ buried with them.”

 

Cowtown Scout looked at Jake, seeing there was no give in this hombre, and slowly loosed his weapons. “You haven’t seen the last of us friend.”

 

“I expect not,” Jake said. “Next time we meet though, I won’t let you set your guns down. You’ll need to use them.”

 

“I’m ready right now you no account bovine fertilizer salesman,” Cowtown Scout said.

 

Jake looked at the big man and his eyes hardened, “You’ll get your chance in Tombstone if you’re not smart enough to ride back to Texas. All you Dooley’s will get yer chance in Tombstone. Fer now, help Cowhand to the Doc soes he can get patched up fer our next meeting.” Cowtown Scout seeing the futility in further conversation did what he was told and helped Cowhand to Doc Isell’s before he bled to death.

 

“Well Bangtail, they know we’re here and coming now!” Captain Jake barked but didn’t seem too fazed by the events.

 

He gathered up Bangtail and to the cantina they went to patch him up before they hit the trail back to camp. The little man had taken a slug through the meaty part of his left shoulder and had been grazed on the left forearm. At least his shooting hand wasn’t hit so after a little señorita had patched up Bangtail’s wounds, they finished their bottle before heading back to the camp. That was their second mistake.

[Jailhouse Jim, SASS #13104]

Chapter 25

 

PAYBACK!

 

Cowtown Scout wasn’t going to let these two California boys shoot up anyone from Texas without settling the score so he slipped into the back of the cantina and retrieved his guns just as the men were finishing their bottle. He would wait for them to get a little more whiskey into them then catch them on the trail back to their camp. He would get these men first then find their camp to finish off the rest of the Dammit’s too if he could.

 

Jake and Bangtail did not know Cowtown Scout knew they were Dammit’s or not but he might have figured it out during their little exchange of lead. What Jake and Bangtail did know is they had just faced down the Dooley clan and they were not going to be able to rest easy until they were in Tombstone with Laylow.

 

They should have had sense enough to leave town right away but Captain Jake had to add this little cantina to his western whiskey tour. ‘Sides, them Texas boys won’t start anything right away, or will they? The two men had gone back into the cantina and sat back down to finish their bottle not knowing they would have a welcoming party waiting along the trail heading back to camp.

 

Cowtown Scout, Nuttin’, and Cowhand waited impatiently on a point overlooking the road out of Tucson with every last one of them having the temper of a wolverine and the meanness of diamondback. They had been on their way to Tombstone from Lucerne Valley when they lost Spur at the mine and had been soundly beaten back at the high desert town of Chimney Rock.

 

Now this skirmish in Tucson was another loss and that was simply too much for their pride to take. How could they go back to T-Bone without at least a little something? This decision would not be one of their best considering everything else that had gone wrong with the Dooley’s plans lately.

 

Weedy had been scouting around and had seen the Dooley men leave town. He knew where they were hiding so he hustled back to camp and got Adam, Solvang Shootist, and Filthy Lurce to ride back towards town with him to meet up with their inebriated friends. As the Dammit’s made their way towards town, they heard the sounds of gunfire coming from over the next hill. From the sounds of things, they might be too late to do any good.

 

They dismounted from the horses and tied them to a scrub oak tree then gathered their rifles to head over the low ridge to the gun battle. As they crested the rise, they could see Captain Jake down under his horse and heard Bangtail cackling in the brush. The Dooley’s were off to their left on a narrow point so they backed down the hill to come around the Dooley’s flank where they wouldn’t be expecting trouble.

 

Captain Jake and Bangtail were feeling little pain when they staggered out of the saloon and poured themselves onto their saddles. Taking a chance on going in the right direction back to camp, they rode the trail west out of town as they laughed and joked about the afternoon’s events.

 

A flare from a muzzle lit up the point above them as Jake felt the bullet hit his horse and heard the muzzle report a second later. The horse dropped like a rock rolling onto Jake’s boot that was still stuck in the stirrup underneath the animal, pinning him to the ground. He couldn’t get to his rifle and bullets were hitting the ground all around him like a handful of gravel being thrown at him.

 

Bangtail’s horse was buckin’ off down the road leaving him sitting in the dirt next to a washed out bank. Bangtail had at least been able to get to his ‘87 shotgun and got it out of the boot before he went airborne out of the saddle so he was stoking it up for all he was worth. They were thoroughly pinned down by these bushwhacking Dooley’s and could not move without getting shot. The two men were sobering up fast and soon realized they were in serious trouble.

 

Bangtail was firing his shotgun up towards some boulders, ricocheting shot into some of the hidden shadows. The Dooley’s were ducking and diving around trying to stay out of range but were getting peppered real good by Bangtail’s indiscriminate firing. Bangtail would cackle away every time he heard one of them cuss knowing he thrilled them again so kept it up to keep them distracted from shooting Jake.

 

Gunfire on the point increased suddenly yet it seemed no bullets were striking the road where the two men were pinned down.

 

“What the h$ll?” Nuttin’ yelled as rock splintered into his face from a bullet that had come far too close for comfort. That bullet came from behind them. How did they get behind them? Nuttin’ yelled, “It’s more from their camp, they got us in a cross-fire.”

 

“You trough-scum lickin’ Dooley vermin are going to get paid in full tonight for being back-shooting Jayhawkers,” Filthy hollered.

 

The Dooley’s had enough of that right off and raced for their horses in an attempt to vacate the place. When they got to where the horses had been tethered, they stopped with a start. The horses were gone, replaced with a gaunt lookin’ galoot who was holding a double-barreled shotgun.

 

“Stop right there boys,” he said with a funny sounding limey accent. “Drop them irons and step back away from them if’n you don’t want to get cut in two.”

 

The Dooley’s paused momentarily, “You only got two barrels and there are three of us. You can’t get us all.”

 

The limey laughed, “Which two want to die first tonight? I don’t much care who wants to go but rest easy, you may get me but two of you are coming with me.”

 

The men glanced at each other with a look of despair for what seemed to be an eternity then unhooked their gunbelts, letting them fall to the ground.

 

“Take off yer boots too!” Filthy ordered.

 

“You can’t leave us out here with no horses, guns, and take our boots too,” Cowtown whined.

 

Filthy stared at the man, “What were you going to leave my friends with? Take them off.”

 

The men grudgingly complied as Solvang picked up the guns and boots and began heading down to where Jake and Bangtail were.

 

“You men start walking back to town. Don’t even think about coming back here or after us,” Filthy snapped at the cowering men.

 

The men growled and started back towards town. They were not happy and as hardheaded as those Texas hands were, Filthy knew they would be back but their feet were gonna be hurting before they did. He smiled to himself then headed down the ridge to the rest of boys.

 

After getting Jake out from under his horse, they pulled the saddle and tack off the dead animal. They got the men and gear onto the Dooley horses and finally got headed to camp. Come daylight, Captain Jake looked pretty well used up but he didn’t complain none, he just rolled out of the blankets and buried his head in a bucket of water. After a fashion he pulled his head out and ran his fingers through his hair, pressing the excess water out. He dragged on his clothes and gunbelt then went to get a horse saddled.

 

Retuning from the remuda, he stopped and poured himself a cup of strong black coffee then downing it quickly, he poured another. He was starting to feel a little better now. Bangtail made his way to the fire looking like he never even had a drink last night. Bangtail grinned at Jake and got his own cup of coffee. The old timer was gimped up some from his wounds alright but had no hangover at all.

 

“You know Captain, it was good to have a drink with you last night,” Bangtail said. “Too bad them Dooley’s didn’t pick up a bottle instead of their six-guns. Their feet would be a mite less sore and their feelings wouldn’t be bent up quite so bad.” Both men laughed as they downed their coffee then went to checking their gear for a long day’s ride.

 

The cook had ridden the Goodnight and Chisholm trails cooking for the trail hands so knew what a hard workin’ man wanted for breakfast. He prepared a hearty breakfast of bacon, beef, beans, and sourdough biscuits for the men in camp. When the grub was ready, he rang the bell and hollered to the men “Come and get it or do without” before returning to his fire. Within a couple of minutes the troop started gathering at the back of the chuck wagon where ‘Cookie’ was dishing up the days ‘Fare’ to some famished cowhands.

 

Bangtail and the Captain were a little worn from the night before but the fresh cooked food and crisp morning air did wonders for their heads. It would be time to hit the trail soon so they spent those few moments enjoying the peace the desert was to offer them. That peace would soon be broken in Tombstone but for the time being all was right in the world.

 

Jake rang the supper bell on the chuck wagon once breakfast was over to gather the gang together. “We’re heading out this morning boys. We’ll be in Tombstone two days from now and we’ll get this fight over with. Them Dooley’s will be smarting a little after last night so I don’t expect any trouble till we get into town so let’s get loaded and hit the road cause we are burning daylight settin’ here jawin’.”

 

The men jumped into action and within minutes, they were ready for the trail. They were all rearin’ for a gunfight and were getting a mite jumpy having to wait so stayin’ busy would be good for them. It was less than a half an hour before the group was one the road and traveling again only this time, Captain Jake headed straight down the main stage road through the Sonoran desert.

 

On the way down the trail, the troop met up with a bunch of folks lighting out of Tombstone who warned them of the troubles there not knowing that they were half of the problem coming to town. There had been a lot of talk about the two gangs riding into town and what might happen once they got there so some of the local residents figured it would be a good time to go to Tucson for a few days on holiday. Mebe when they got back the business would be taken care of.

 

The wagon train stopped some five miles west of Benson that first day. Tomorrow they would ride most of the rest of the way into Tombstone. The camp was quiet that night with the men checking and re-checking their equipment. Sentries were posted with relief scheduled every two hours till dawn just to keep from being surprised while they slept. Two hours before sunup, the camp cook was making breakfast like normal.

 

The men came to the fire one or two at a time to get a hot meal and there was the usual chitchat in camp. No one seemed too concerned they were heading towards a formidable enemy who wanted nothing less than them dead. Concerning some in camp was that they had ridden with T-Bone, Red, Rocky, Nuttin’ Graceful, Nuttin’ Honey, and Ringo Fire under the Dammit Brand in the past.

 

It pained most of the men terribly for this was like the big war, brother against brother, father against son, all for what? Well, they would find that out soon enough. Least all of the bad air between the Dammit’s and Dooley’s will be cleared before this mess is over since all the men knew something had been festerin’ betwixt Laylow and T-Bone for years only neither man would let on about it.

 

Skirting Benson, the gang rode straight up the San Pedro River, turning off near St. David. They would not travel through Cochise’s stronghold in the Dragoon Mountains like the rest of the gang had done so they would not disturb the ghosts haunting those hills.

 

They had other considerations too in that they had wagons that could not make the trip through the rough, open country. Jake kept outriders ahead of the main group as they trailed out of St. David to keep any Dooley surprises to a minimum as well as any visits from the Chiricuahua.

 

Weedy had snuck off into Benson sometime during the night to get a chaw of tobacco and spend a few minutes with a “workin’ girl” before they rode on into Tombstone. He had not returned so Ricochet Roy backtracked his trail into Benson to see where Weedy might have gone to. What he found was not going to make the Captain or Laylow very happy. As Ricochet Roy rode into town, one of the first things he saw was Weedy propped up against the undertaker’s front wall with a sign on him, “NO NAME and slow on the draw.”

 

Weedy was going to get a pauper’s burial if somebody didn’t claim the body. Roy eased over to the undertaker’s and gave the man enough money to put Weedy in a better box and for a grave marker so he could get planted proper. Down and out now, Roy rode swiftly as he made his way out of town and back to the Dammit wagon train with the sad news from Benson.

 

The large group of men, horses, and wagons were traveling fairly quickly along the stage road so it didn’t take long to run into the wagon train once Roy got back onto the trail west. Roy ran up on them as they were starting up the last hill before they would be in sight of the town. First thing Roy did was to go and find Captain Jake right off to tell him of Weedy’s demise.

 

Jake’s mood went instantly to black as Roy told of what he had seen, “Them Dooley’s will pay dear for this killin.’”

 

“Captain, for what it is worth, the undertaker did say Weedy drew first, T-Bone was just too fast for him. He didn’t have a chance but he had sand enough to deal the cards,” Roy said.

 

Captain Jake was silent now as he mulled over the death of his friend but time was wasting so he got the train moving up the trail again. At long last, they crested that last ridge when they could finally see the little boomtown up on top of the hill. They headed on up the ridge with their rifles across their saddles, all eyes scanning the desert on high alert.

 

They would camp two miles from town at the base of the last slope leading into town just east of the Tombstone Livery. Once in camp, Jake broke the news about Weedy to the rest of the gang. They held a silent vigil in his honor before they prepared for the confrontation with the Dooley’s. Jake and the rest of the men would ride into town and find Laylow after the sun had gone down.

 

Once the men were ready to ride, nightfall was about to gather around them. Captain Jake decided to send the men into town a few at a time right at dusk and from different directions so they would draw less attention. The Dooley’s had to know they were coming in but he didn’t want to make a show of force yet. Coming in a few at a time might make them think there were far fewer Dammit's in town than there actually were.

 

It wouldn’t matter, those hardheaded Texans won’t care if they are outnumbered no how since they figger any Texan can handle two or three just plain regular folks. They were fergettin’ the Dammit’s weren’t no kind of regular folks at’ all but they would be reminded about that later on. The men had orders to filter into town and get set-up in all of the saloons, the dry goods store, hotels, and scattered all along the boardwalks and be ready to go to work when the first shot was fired.

 

As the men began occupying the town, that old ominous feeling of dread and the smell of death began to permeate the air. There were Dooley’s waiting and watching in almost all public areas where men would loiter so the Dammit’s would be on precarious ground until they can find Laylow.

 

Captain Jake gave orders for no one to start any kind of trouble until Laylow was located because no one really knew what the problem was yet. To start trouble now might could be suicidal. Everyone was told to stay spread out with their eyes and ears open for any sign of trouble. As soon as any of the Segundo’s riding with Laylow could be found, the gang would get an update. In the meantime, everyone was to be ready for any kind of action whether a gunfight or a ride into hell.

 

Tombstone was filling up fast with Dammit’s and the Dooley’s didn’t even know it ……………….. yet. The rest of the gang would be in town shortly for a battle destined to be in the history books along with the street fight at the OK corral. Just who are these Dooley’s that have put Big Ed in a cross between them and the Dammit’s? Just what was the insult that has old man Dooley on the prod?

 

Are the Dooley’s prepared to reap the wrath of the Dammit’s? Do the Dooley’s know there are Dammit’s lurking in their folds and vice-versa? Where will their allegiance lie when these two giants clash? There are a lot of questions to be asked and as of yet, no answers to any of them.

[Jailhouse Jim, SASS #13104]

Chapter 26

 

ROCKY HITS TOWN

 

The stage ride from Langtry to Dryden and on to Socorro was hot, dusty, and uneventful before arriving in town when the sun came to mid-day. Rocky was happy to be shut of that lousy cattle buyer McCabe at least, if that is what he was anyhow. Something about the man didn’t set right with her and her intuition kept gnawing at her warning her to watch out for the man. Rocky bought a horse and saddle in Socorro and set out to make the last leg of her trip into Tombstone. She was wearing buckskins by now and had her hair pulled up under her hat but there was no denying there was a voluptuous woman pressed against the insides of those skins.

 

Rocky rode as if born on that horse, miles vanishing behind her as if they never were. Before she knew it, Tombstone was looming up on that little hill not far from where she now sat her horse under a lonely scrub oak. She watched as another group of riders drifted into town on the north road. From that distance, one of the riders looked remarkably familiar and it took awhile to figure out who it was. Damn, it was that so called cattle buyer McCabe. She had thought he had been up to no good. No matter, she needed to get to Big Ed’s before anyone else but she would wait until dark to slip into town.

 

Rocky was tired from the long ride in from Socorro and had dozed off and on throughout most of the afternoon as she rested against the gnarled old tree. Through her half conscious brain she noticed a rider on a big southern mule picking his way through the sagebrush as he circled the town.

 

He almost looked like he was just wandering around but something in his manner was strangely familiar. After a fashion, he disappeared into a gulley on the south side of the town and didn’t reappear for a good bit so Rocky dismissed him as just another saddle tramp looking for a place to settle down to sleep off a drunk.

 

Rocky slipped off to sleep again but awakened with a start when her horse nickered at the arrival of another animal. Directly ahead of her was a man dressed in a fringed buckskin jacket settin’ on a mule with his arms crossed, leaning on the pommel.

 

“Howdy Rocky! I couldn’t quite tell who was up here so I figured to come up and have a look-see. I was sure surprised to see it was you but then Wily said you were a comin’” The rider stepped off the mule and in to the waiting arms of this yella haired beauty.

 

“Howdy Doody, how long has it been?” Rocky said as she wrapped her arms around the freckle-faced gunman giving him a big ole kiss and a bear hug that turned his face instantly red. “I see I still can make you blush a little there Howdy,” Rocky snickered.

 

Howdy was embarrassed by the spontaneity of this gal but then he should have expected it after not seeing her for so long. Howdy had been friends with Rocky years ago in Northern California Territory but as lives changed, she had moved on to Texas while he had stayed in the territory south of his home range.

 

“There’s a lot going on in town tonight Rocky. The Dammit’s and the Dooley’s are about to hit head on so you might not want to go down there till it’s over.” Howdy had gotten real serious when he told her, worried she would get caught up in the bloodshed.

 

“Howdy, I am here to stop this mess if I can. You know those two hardheads though, it might take an axe handle along the side of their heads to get anything through their thick skulls,” Rocky replied.

 

Howdy grinned at the prospect then proceeded to bring Rocky up to speed on what was going on in town and who was already there. Rocky and Howdy chatted the afternoon away until the sun was setting low meaning it was about time to ride back into town.

 

“I’ll go on about my wandering Rocky. Mebe if anyone is watching, they will watch me soes you can get into town without anybody noticing,” Howdy offered.

 

Rocky took Howdy’s face in her hands and gave him a kiss on both cheeks. There goes the red face agin’. Howdy got flustered like a newborn calf as he tried to tighten the cinch on the mule. After a fashion, he was able to get it tightened and stepped into a stirrup as he got ready to head north, away from her tree.

 

Turning in his saddle, Howdy waved at her and said, “See ya in town gal. I expect you’ll be down the Crystal Palace for a drink later so I’ll be ready to buy.”

 

Come nightfall, Rocky swung into her saddle and headed across the hill towards town. They would be watching the main road from the north but she should be able to get in unseen if she came from the southeast past the Good Enough Mine. Once there, she tied her horse to a mesquite tree at the edge of town and loosened his cinch in case he got stuck being held there for a while if she got tied up.

 

Rocky wasn’t quite sure who or what might be waiting for her at Big Ed’s so she slipped down the back alleys silently until she had made it to Big Ed’s back door. There was a dim light inside but she could see nothing so she tapped lightly on the door. Hearing no movement, she tapped again until finally someone or something was rustling around inside the building. The door opened a crack, then all the way when he saw who was standing there.

 

“ROCKY GIRL! When did you get to town?” Big Ed whispered happily. “Get on in here before someone sees you. Them Dooley’s are watching the house real close you know. Wily brung me that telegram a while back so I was expecting you anytime. Let me look at you girl, my, my you have grown up.”

 

Rocky beamed at Big Ed, happy to see him too, “I’ve missed you uncle. I am so happy to see you in good health.”

 

Big Ed smiled, “I’m glad you’re here Rocky but you know there’s trouble about between Laylow and T-Bone.”

 

Rocky grinned at Ed, “I know, that’s why I’m here Uncle. Someone has to get between those two so they don’t go and kill each other over a few harsh words.”

 

Big Ed looked at Rocky smiling, “You never could stay out of things, could you girl?” They both laughed at that and talked a little of old times.

 

“Uncle, I have a plan to keep those two hard heads from shooting each other up or killin’ each other,” Rocky said. “I think I know what this whole thing is about. The problem isn’t so much with T-Bone, it’s with Red Dooley and a secret she doesn’t want to get out.”

 

As Rocky explained what had transpired over the last several weeks, Big Ed nodded his understanding and added his own involvement with the T-Bone deal. Rocky told Big Ed of her plan to get the two “Families” together without gunplay when Big Ed started laughing.

 

“Gal, I think you have figured out the whole doggone deal. Neither of them can walk away from a challenge from you and are both smart enough to know this will be a lose or lose deal for everyone if’n they don’t do it your way. Does Red or Catherine know what you got planned?” Ed asked.

 

Rocky hesitated for a minute, “Nope, neither do yet. I figure Catherine is going to be my best ally in this cause Red still doesn’t know a lot about her mother and won’t understand what I am trying to do. I just need to see Catherine as soon as she gets in town so we can get ready before the fireworks get started.”

 

“You’re probably right girl, especially about Red. She has a powerful mean side to her and needs a little time for all this to settle with her before she’ll understand and agree to anything. Girl, I have a man to help you with getting this thing off the ground. He don’t look like much right now but he was a top hand in his day. He knows everybody in town and knows the layout better than anybody else living here. The last couple of years have been real hard on him and his looks show it.”

 

“He has been drowning inside a whiskey bottle since his best friend got killed. I’d gotten a hold of him and he gave me his word he will be ready when you need him. In the meantime, the misses and I are getting him dried out. We have him staying with us in the back room soes we can keep him focused if he starts slipping a little. Hopefully Laylow and T-Bone take a day or two more to get here ‘cause he ain’t quite ready yet. The tremors got him something terrible today and he hasn’t been able to keep any food down.”

 

Rocky raised a skeptical eyebrow towards Big Ed but had learned long ago to trust his judgment when it came to men. ‘Sides, Rocky knew he was talking about Wily. Ed hadn’t known it but Rocky knew Wily from the old days when he was the top hand Ed had mentioned. She also knew what had happened to him and was happy Big Ed was taking care of him to get him back right. She just hoped they had enough time for him to shake loose of the tremors ‘for anything bad happened.

 

Ed turned at a sound from the doorway and shouted, “Laylow, you mangy cur, how long you been standing there?” Big Ed got up and limped over to Laylow shaking his hand like it’s never been shook before. Laylow looked a little surprised to see Rocky sitting there with Big Ed as Rocky grinned back at him thinking to herself, “Surprise!”

[Jailhouse Jim, SASS #13104]

Chapter 27

 

WILY HAS RETURNED TO TOMBSTONE

Wily had been soaking in that tub for a good long while to loosen the scum and scale that had collected on his well used body over the last several months, maybe a year. When he finally crawled out of the tub he looked like a wrinkled up old prune from a settin’ in there too long. His hands still having the shakes real bad.

 

He couldn’t trust himself to shave so he gathered up the clothes Big Ed had saved for him and climbed into them. The clothes smelled good, a smell he hadn’t smelled in a very long time. After getting dressed and pulling on his boots, Wily picked up each of his old Colts, one at a time, and carefully looked them over not trusting his hands all that much to do anything else.

 

An old gunsmith by the name of West Fargo had smoothed those six-guns special for him. Wily spun the cylinder, watching it turn freely. ‘Ole West had made the action butter smooth and had lightened the trigger way up so it didn’t require much effort to squeeze it. The guns had been freshly oiled and were ready to be put to work. Wily slung the custom made, hand-tooled gunbelt around his hips and cinched up the buckle before tying the holsters to each leg with leather strings attached to them.

 

There was a box of shells in the parcel so Wily loaded five chambers of each gun leaving the hammer down on an empty hole. Wily’s hands were shakin’ something fierce but he was finally able to finish loading them after much difficulty then dropped each one into its holster. He slipped the thongs over the hammers because he knew he was in no shape to use them yet by any means.

 

Wily put his hat on and looked into the mirror, grimacing at the reflection of the shell of a man, compared to what he used to be, staring back at him. He took a deep breath, turned, and headed into the saddle shop where Ed would be waiting for him. Big Ed had a huge smile on his face when he saw Wily walk into the shop. Ed’s wife grabbed a razor and started stropping it against a leather strap. She pointed Wily towards a chair and came at him with a lathered up brush.

 

She grabbed his nose and pointed it towards the ceiling so she could get to work. Wily started to protest but thought better of it when he saw that blade coming towards his throat. She made mighty quick work of his whiskers then grabbed a pair of scissors and trimmed up his long overgrown hair. When she got done, Wily had started looking a lot more respectable again.

 

Big Ed poured Wily a cup of hot, black coffee and set it down in front of him while the misses was finishing up with him. Wily drank from the cup slowly at first then downed it completely. By the time the cup hit the table, old Ed was pouring another and by the time Wily downed the second cup, there was a plate of food setting there. Wily began eating with a vengeance. This was the first real meal he had eaten when he was moderately sober in two years and it tasted good.

 

Suddenly, Wily jumped up and ran out of the room towards the outhouse. He didn’t quite make it before he spewed food, or what used to be food, everywhere. Well, at least it would take some of the whiskey out of his stomach too Big Ed thought taking little pity on the man. After a long time of retching, Wily returned. He was starting to look better, except for the DT’s.

 

Wily was still lookin’ a little green around the gills when he made it back into the shop and headed to his plate. This time though he ate much slower allowing his stomach to get used to solid food agin’. It took him a while to get that food down but this time it stayed put. From the looks of his hands though, it was going to be a while longer before he would be able to use his guns. Wily pushed the plate away at last and tried to roll a quirly but his hands were still too shaky so he spilled the tobacco all over the floor.

 

It was pretty clear Wily was starting get frustrated with the sobering up progress and how slow he was at getting rid of the DT’s. He decided to take a turn around town to walk off what alcohol was left in his system. That may not have been his best choice for the Dooley’s were a miserable bunch of free grazers who were known to have taken advantage of Wily before. Be that as it may, Wily headed out on to the boardwalk and headed downtown.

 

‘Bout halfway to the livery, one of them Dooley’s stepped out of an alley, directly in front of Wily. “Well if it isn’t the town drunk. Why aren’t you in there cleaning out spittoons for us real men?” the man taunted. “Hey, whatcha got on yer hips there fella? I know you can’t be wearin’ real guns with hands shakin’ like they’re a doin.’ Mebe you want to try to use them guns or do you want to give them up to somebody who can use them.”

 

Wily couldn’t take any more ridicule so he grabbed for one of the guns and jerked on it, only it didn’t come out. The thong was still holding the gun in its holster. The Dooley man started laughing and backhanded Wily, knocking him to the ground. Wily was trying to get up when the man put his boot to Wily’s chest and pushed him back into a mud hole near the water trough.

 

“You better do better than that next time I see you, you drunken waddie, cause I’m not going to just ‘B*^#ch slap you, I’ll fill you with lead. You want to draw on a man, you better be ready to die.”

 

After the Dooley man left, Wily got up and tried to brush the mud loose from his pants. He had really started shaking now and he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t get back to Big Ed’s fast enough as he nearly fell through the door. Ed knew something had happened by the way Wily came bustin’ in white as a ghost and how he jerked those guns off, throwing them on the table.

 

“I can’t do this Big Ed. I per near got myself kilt just now by makin’ a fool greenhorn mistake. I left the thong on my gun and let my temper get the best of me. I’m no good anymore, no good to anyone.”

 

Big Ed just sat there for a while working on tooling a new holster. “Wily, you can quit if’n ya want to but if you drop those guns and walk out the door, you are destined to be slapped around and be diggin’ in spittoons for a dollar the rest of yer life cause you won’t have no self respect left. You go ahead if you want to, there’s a bottle in the cupboard over yonder. Go ahead and dive back into hell if that’s where you want to be.”

 

Wily was a standin’ there madder than mad. After a bit, he went to the cupboard and pulled out the bottle and a glass, pouring it full. “You don’t care if I do this?” Wily asked.

 

“It’s your life now Wily, you need to make that choice for yerself,” Ed said.

 

Wily lifted the glass and looked at it hard for nearly a minute as he tried to make up his mind on what to do. Making his mind up at last, as if he never shook before, Wily poured that glass of whiskey back into the bottle and replaced the cork.

 

“Ed, did ya see that? I didn’t spill a drop. The shakin’ is gone.”

 

Big Ed turned back towards Wily now, “Yes I saw it Wily. You did just fine.”

 

From the parlor just off of the workshop a sultry voice sounded, “I saw it to Wily, you are going to be just fine.”

 

Now Wily thought he was a dreaming or at least hallucinating again since it didn’t look like anyone else was there when he walked, maybe fell, in. Footsteps sounded in the parlor and out stepped Wily’s idea of an angel dressed in all of her finery, “Rocky! Where did you come from? I didn’t even know you were in town.”

 

“Remember the telegram Wily, I had to come here to stop Laylow and T-Bone from killing each other. I need your help Wily, are you up to it?” Rocky asked.

 

Big Ed was caught flat-footed and was a little shocked that Rocky knew Wily but then he shouldn’t have been. After all, Rocky knew most everyone around the west it seemed, especially the men. Wily stood silently, looking at Rocky, then slowly reached down and picked up his guns, strapping them back on.

 

“You’ll do Wily, you’ll do just fine,” Rocky said as she came over and gave him a big hug.

[Jailhouse Jim, SASS #13104]

Chapter 28

 

NO MORE WAITING, DAMMITT!

 

After a couple of days in the mine, Laylow had become bored and anxious from the waiting. Laylow was not used to the waiting game and figured it was time to stir the pot, a little at least. If he planned it out correctly, the Dooley’s would not even suspect he was in town yet since they hadn’t seen him ride in. The mystery of where Laylow was would have them unnerved somewhat when the rest of the gang got here. If he got everything planned right, they might could hit them before they knew what was happening.

 

Laylow was troubled though, Rocky (Shush Dammit), was said to be riding to Tombstone. Will she align with the Dooley’s or will her allegiance be with her old friends in the Dammit gang. Maybe he should try to meet her on the trail and use his many talents to convince her to ride with him and the Dammit’s. No matter though, it was time to make an appearance in Tombstone.

 

It didn’t seem like there were all that many Dooley’s in town or at least they’re not showin’ themselves around much. If there was that much trouble Big Ed had to lay down the Dammit Chip, it sure wasn’t showin’ its face yet.

 

There is one Dooley however, the voluptuous yellow-haired gal they called Rocky, who moved around town freely and made it known she is a Dooley and she is more Dooley than any one town can handle on their own.

 

Now, sayin’ something like that around Laylow is like inviting him to a party. One thing about Laylow, nobody ever accused him of bein’ skittish around the ladies. He made his mind up all of a sudden and when he started saddling a horse, everyone else knew it was time to ride.

 

His plan was to slip out of the mine, so the hideout wouldn’t be compromised, then ease into town along the back streets through China Town and into the Crystal Palace Saloon. Rocky was in town and he wanted to find her.

 

Youngblood, Double Scotch, and Jittery Jim were a might peeved Laylow planned on going into town by his ownself with the thoughts of cosyin’ up to that there blond gal by hisself. If’n you were to believe what was being spread round town, it might take all four of them to corral that gal and break her to lead.

 

When they protested, Laylow said, “Now boys, I don’t need no help with that gal. There hasn’t been no gal borned I can’t handle by my ownself. If’n ya want to come into town and watch how it’s done, then come ahead. Just watch out for more of that Dooley bunch to be slippin’ in behind ya.” The men nodded in agreement and started saddling their mounts to ride into town with Laylow.

 

Laylow and the boys slipped out of the hideout unseen and rode slowly into town along the south side. Just before they got to Allen Street, they split up and came onto the street separately or in pairs. Laylow pulled rein in front of the Crystal Palace Saloon and tied his horse with a half hitch just in case he had to make a run for it.

 

Looking the street up and down first, he walked up to the doors and peered inside allowing his eyes adjust to the dim light and smoky haze before stepping through. There were the usual drovers, miners, and gamblers in the saloon. Seeing no one he recognized, Laylow pulled his coat up close around his face, eased into the room, and walked back to a table in a the corner partially hidden in the shadows where he finally sat down.

 

Just as he is ready to set down, he hears, “Laylow, is that you Laylow?”

 

The voice was soft, sultry, and had that Come on Big Boy ring to it. Laylow looked around and shore enough, there’s Rocky in a black party dress cut down to …………..….. well you can imagine how that dress fit a gal built like that. The room seemed to part as she flowed through the crowd towards old Laylow with a big cat-eating grin on her face.

 

When she got up to him, she laid the biggest, hottest kiss on him that took everyone by surprise, including Laylow. Laylow’s neck started turning purplish red the longer she hung onto his lips and pressed her black party dress agin’ his riding clothes.

 

“Did ya miss me Laylow?” she crooned.

 

“Yes mam I surely did,” Laylow stuttered. “From the feel of that little kiss, you might have missed this old cowboy just a little bit too gal.”

 

“Oh Laylow, don’t be getting’ sentimental on me, you know I don’t have no time to be fallin’ for some no-account driftin’ cowboy.” The whole saloon roared with laughter as Laylow’s ego was quickly deflated.

 

Laylow was more than a little embarrassed by the way Rocky set him to his place so he sat down at his table to mope. As he looked the saloon over again, he spotted some familiar faces. Captain Jake was at the bar and Bangtail is there with him. Over behind the piano is that crazy limey Filthy Lurce and isn’t that Anaheim Kid hanging onto that dove? Longcolt and Solvang Shootist are restin’ on the other end of the bar while Ricochet Roy, Jonny T., 'an Black Spur are at the gaming table.

 

There was a saloon girl that looked a lot like Caliope Cupcake over next to Bangtail at the bar watchin’ Double Scotch as he came through the batwing doors. She dropped ‘Ole Bangtail like a piece of fried armadillo and started makin’ tracks across the room grabbin’ on to Double Scotch’s arm. She wasted no time in makin’ those google eyes at him like all the gals do when they fall for his good looks, smooth tongue, and pretty hair.

 

Von Dutch was standing there next to Double Scotch but Cupcake wasn’t payin’ him no mind neither like he was a wooden Indian or some other no account drifter standing there in her way. Course VD had been married longer than some men had survived the death march through Tombstone and Miss Cindy wouldn’t have him lookin’ around too much anyway.

 

There was another undercurrent in town too it seemed. Them fellers that just walked into the bar look like Kansas cowboys only they sure are a long ways from Kansas.

 

Laylow pondered the thought they might be Dooley’s but dismissed it quickly. No decent Kansas cowboy would want to associate with a Dooley from Texas. Wait, is that the famous gunfighter Mad Mike from Nevada Territory at the door?

 

Yup, it sure enough is so it looks like the gang’s all here at last. Well, if Old Man Dooley wants trouble now, he’s gonna have a handful of it. Now where did Rocky go, Laylow needed his bruised ego stroked a little.

 

After a long hour of cigar smoke and a drink or two to drown his sorrows, Laylow said, “It’s time to find Big Ed and see what this trouble is with that Dooley crowd that brung us down here.”

 

Laylow had the men spread throughout the town fortifying his defenses if it came down to a street fight while he, Double Scotch, Youngblood, and Jittery Jim headed over to Big Ed’s leather shop to talk to him about the bet. Laylow stepped into his saddle and rode straight from the Crystal Palace, right up to the door of Big Ed’s Leather Shop while the other men spread out along the street to keep an eye on things. He stepped down and walked quickly to the door. Turning the knob, the door opened easily under his grasp and he stepped into the cool interior to let his eyes adjust to the dim light inside.

 

Laylow could hear murmuring in the workshop so he walked silently to the doorway. He stood there for several minutes before anyone even noticed him. Laylow is suddenly taken back. Rocky is setting there in the corner with Big Ed and him eating the whole thing up. Wasn’t she just over at the Crystal Palace? Surely there isn’t two of her.

 

Big Ed was the first to notice him so hollered, “Laylow, you sorry excuse for a cur hound, it is so good to see you. I wish it didn’t have to be this way though.”

 

“It was about time I got down here to see you anyway so this was like a calling,” Laylow said. “What’s going on in this town and what is with the Dooley bunch? I thought you had a problem with the Dooley’s. Now I find you’re a setting with one of most contrary of them all. What gives? I traveled six hundred miles to help you out of a scrape and I see you’ve bedded down with that bunch. Is this a setup Ed?”

 

“Laylow,” Big Ed drawled, “Old man Dooley sent a note down here with some of his men orderin’ me outta town for bilking him on a saddle I made for him. Then they started big shotin’ around town sayin’ the Cowboys are through. The Earp’s have been run out of town on a rail and then were sayin’ T-Bone’s men were gonna take over the town so he could run it his way, Texas style.

 

I done told him that’s not how it was going to be cause the Cowboys will be comin’ back. They didn’t believe it so I laid down that chip and made a bet. I knew Red was behind all of this cause I never built a saddle for T-Bone, I built one for Red and she’s riding with it on her horse this very minute. I didn’t rightly know what she was up to then but she’s been a pullin’ the strings on T-Bone’s chain and he’s a dancin’ to her tune without really knowing why.”

 

“I found out later Red had put T-Bone up to it because of something that happened in Chimney Rock involving another woman and something else from a long time ago. I’m not sure exactly what the deal is there but I called T-Bone a spineless excuse for a Texan hiding behind a girl’s petticoats to blackmail me into getting’ you down here.”

 

“I told them to tell T-Bone what I said. Well, that old cur took offense to me telling everybody he’s a no account having no respect for western women and something about bein’ whipped down like a wiener dog by his own woman into doing her dirty work.”

 

“Laylow,” Big Ed continued, his eyes tearing up, “after what I told them, that bunch of cutthroats, murderers, rustlers, and thieves have gone and kidnapped my granddaughter. Mebe I shouldn’t have told T-Bone off like that knowin’ his cantankerous ways but I won’t have him using a little girl as a tool agin’ me. I might be a crippled up old man but I can still fight when it comes to family.”

 

“So what’s with havin’ the enemy in your house Big Ed?” Laylow asked, admiring Rocky but not expecting an answer. Changing the subject Laylow laughed, “Well Big Ed, you and I know T-Bone pretty good and if’n you told him that, I know why he is some insulted. You probably set Red off too knowin’ her. You done real good at gittin’ a hornet’s nest stirred up there Ed. Guess I need to find T-Bone and get this here thing blowed out into the open.”

 

“He is in town Laylow, came in yesterday on the stage with Red. He’s been spending a lot of time over to the Bird Cage in the basement at that game,” Ed said. “After he saw the riders start coming in with those red sashes, he pulled out of town for a bit then set up down to the hotel. I have more bad news Laylow. Part of the reason Rocky is here is to bring me news from Benson. Weedy had gone into Benson to get some ‘Baccy’ and ran into T-Bone.”

 

“Weedy drew on T-Bone for some foolish reason and was shot to doll rags. It was a straight up gunfight that Weedy started so there were no charges against T-Bone after the inquest.”

 

Laylow’s mood went instantly black, Weedy should have known better than to try T-Bone. Now there is one more reason to settle-up with the Texas gunman, once and for all. “Set up a meeting between just me, T-Bone, Red, and you,” Laylow said. “No sense getting everybody involved, yet anyhow. I’ll be over to the Crystal Palace when you get it all set to meet.” Laylow shook Ed’s hand and headed out the door to his horse. Hmm, there was a feller over next to the dry goods store that took off right quick like he was heading to go tell somebody something.

 

Laylow rode back over to the Crystal Palace and tied his horse to the hitchin’ rail directly in front of the saloon. He stepped to the batwing doors and peered over the top of them noticing there were several more men inside. Some of them he recognized as Dooley’s and some were from his own Dammit gang.

 

Yep! Looks like the gang’s all here so he walked into the saloon and directly over to the bar to order up a rye. A Dooley youngster with more guts than brains stood up to block his pathway like he was gonna stop him or something bold like that.

 

Laylow stopped inches from the boy’s face and said, “Boy, you sit right back down or give your soul to hell in the next minute. T-Bone will be here shortly and you can have your fill of me later if he doesn’t listen to some palaver. If you can’t wait, then shuck that pistol and get to work. I don’t have time for your acting like a big time gunfighter. You’re cuttin’ into my drinking time by standing in my way so you better move.”

 

“Listen to him boy,” someone said from the back of the bar, “or get ready to die.”

 

The boy looked sick as he slunk back to his chair like a dog with his tail tucked between his legs, not too happy with how his first chance at being a real gunfighter turned out but now knowing how close he came to being turned into a worm hotel. Laylow made it the rest of the way to the bar unmolested and ordered his glass of rye.

 

When the bartender brought the whiskey, Laylow said, “Leave the bottle mister, I’m expectin’ company.”

 

“Laylow, there may not be time fer that. Come an’ look!” Adam said as he stood near the doors.

 

Laylow stepped up and looked over the batwings into the street at two gunhands getting ready to face off. On the east end of the street was ‘Ole Dead Eye-Dooley and on the west was Wily Yankee. As he watched, each man began that slow gunfighter’s walk towards the other. How many times had Laylow watched this game play out? How many times had Laylow himself made that very walk?

 

As the men got within about fifteen feet of each other, they stopped as one, staring hard into the eyes of their opponent. It seemed like time had stopped or at least slowed to a crawl as the men stared the other down in an attempt to disconcert the other to get an edge, if there is such a thing in a gunfight.

 

“Dooley, you “B***^#d, you slapped me around like a cheap hooker two days ago and I want an apology,” Wily drawled.

 

‘Ole Dead Eye started laughing, “You want what? You drunken old fool, you weren’t even smart enough to take the thongs offa those guns when you thought you could brace a man before. What makes you think you can do it now? Ya got ’em off now? You better check them cause I’m not gonna let ya off with a slap this time, you’re gonna have to take some lead with you if you can crawl away.”

 

“All right Dooley, you called the ball so you can start it rolling. You had your chance to come out of this business walkin’ so now you can roll out to Boot Hill in a pine box on the back of the Mariah. It don’t much matter to me no how other than I ain’t takin’ no more talking down to me by some no account wannabe gunhand, especially one from Texas. Oh, by the way, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not drunk anymore,” Wily said real slow like.

 

‘Ole Dead Eye wasn’t quite so sure of himself anymore when he took a second look at Wily. Where there was a Delirium shakin’ drunk in clean clothes before, there was a confident, rattlesnake steady gunman who was ready to skin his irons and put them to work.

 

Everyone watching knew Wily could have taken this man easily before he hit the bottle but could he do it now, even sober? It wasn’t going to take long to find out and Laylow knew Wily had to do this thing by himself to regain his self-respect from bein’ labeled the town loafer for so long. Respect in the west was not taken by carrying a gun, it was earned by using one.

 

The seconds seemed to go so slow, tick, …..….. tick, …..…. tick, until Ole Dead Eye grabbed for his Colt. He would regret that move. As ‘Ole Dead Eye’s hand swept down for his gun, Wily’s hands were already filled with iron and coming level. ‘Ole Dead Eye’s hand was just tightening around the grip of his Colt when Wily’s first slug took him low down in the belly knocking him back a step with the second slug hitting him in the middle of his gut. ‘Ole Dead Eye had a sick look in his eyes as he tried to pull his Colt but his hand could not lift the suddenly too heavy weapon from its holster.

 

Wily had already put his Colts back into their holsters and stood watching the man as he looked around in disbelief. No one had ever been able to take him before and no one was fast enough to draw on him before he could get his gun out. How could this be happening to him? The crowd had started to gather behind him as he swayed on his feet. ‘It must be getting close to sundown cause the light is getting pretty dim,’ he thought to himself.

 

‘Ole Dead Eye turned to look behind him and saw T-Bone and the rest of the Dooley gang lining up behind him. He started to smile and wave as he rose onto his toes, falling face first into the dust, dead before he hit the ground. Everyone stood silent for a minute then two of the Dooley men came forward and pulled ‘Ole Dead Eye off the street and over to the undertaker. Wily walked off and into the dry goods store as he replaced the spent shells in his pistols as the Dooley’s looked on, after all, it was a fair fight.

[Jailhouse Jim, SASS #13104]

Chapter 29

 

ROCKY MEETS A LADY

 

Catherine and Jim rode into town in the newly acquired buggy while enjoying the sights of the rough little mining community. As they drove slowly down Allen Street, they could see the Dammit gang had already arrived and were scattered throughout the town loitering in small groups as to not draw too much attention. Here and there they spot men acting like town loafers but the way they are poised and carrying their guns was a dead giveaway they were gunmen waiting for someone or something.

 

The horses, standing three-legged tied to the hitchin’ rail, were not the local cowponies one would expect to see in a mining town but were instead tough little Texas mustangs that looked gaunt and tired from being ridden hard and fast during the days prior to getting to Tombstone. Yep, the Dooley’s were here as well as the Dammit’s and it looks like a showdown is about to go down. Catherine had a couple of errands to do and someone to see so they stopped over to the hotel, checked-in, and got changed from their driving clothes into their town clothes. No sense making the tour through town without being properly dressed for the occasion.

 

Jim found Youngblood and asked what had been goin’ on before they got to town. Youngblood gave Jim a quick rundown of what had happened over the last several days and on the trip to Tombstone. He finally let it out of the bag that the whole shootin’ match is about to come to a head with both gangs in town and T-Bone spoilin’ fer a fight. Jim learned all he could from Youngblood then headed back to the hotel and told his wife of the news but she is only half listening, occupied with her own reasons for being in Tombstone.

 

Her dress for the day is a smart-looking red velvet skirt with a white blouse. The blouse had ruffles from her waist to the high Victorian neckline and around the cuffs. She put on her shoes and the matching cape, looking as comfortable in these pretties as she was in doeskins. She stood before him when she was almost done, listening more carefully now to what Jim was saying without appearing too troubled by the news. Catherine finished dressing, taking that final look at herself in the mirror before presenting herself for the day.

 

“I need to talk to Big Ed”, she said, grabbing her parasol and heading towards the door.

 

“You know Big Ed?” Jim said in disbelief.

 

Catherine grinned at her husband before answering and had that look he’s seen many times before when he’s been outfoxed by this woman. “Why, yes, I know Big Ed, doesn’t everyone?”

 

Jim grinned at the thought then took her arm, heading over to Big Ed’s saddle shop for them to have their meeting. There was a foreboding feeling hanging over the town as they walked into the lobby of the hotel. What few folks were coming into town were quick to take care of their business then were on their way out of the wild mining district without the normal visiting to catch up on the latest news. It was apparent they didn’t want to get caught in the middle of the news as it was happening, especially when the news was coming from the end of a Colt.

 

As they strode over towards Big Ed’s shop, they see Rocky on the balcony of the Grand Hotel. Catherine looked up and gave Rocky that woman’s all knowing glance which can only be interpreted by another woman. Now a normal man, given the totality of circumstances surrounding the opposing lives of these two women, would think this is a catfight waiting to explode but looks are deceiving at times. On one side is the raucous, hard livin’, gunslinging, boisterous Rocky and on the other is the quiet, gentile lady from obvious social registry. Only thing is, Rocky looks at the lady and winks. The lady smiles back as if she had known Rocky for several years.

 

What the H*^^! Catherine’s husband learned a very long time ago not to question the affairs of wimmin’. The only thing that could happen is he will get himself in a corner he can’t cut free from and won’t have a clue as to why or how. It was obvious he wouldn’t have a clue as to what’s goin’ on here either until after it was done and over with and only then if she decided to tell him.

 

They amble over to Big Ed’s, arm in arm, as if on a holiday for the tough little mining town was quiet at this hour giving the pretense there were no problems here. Everyone knew deep down the town was boiling under the surface like a volcano, waiting to spew its guts onto the streets of Tombstone.

 

Jim rapped on the door to the saddle shop and waited knowing Big Ed was pretty stove-up and takes his own sweet time getting to the door. These cold winter months have been givin’ him fits with his arthritis ‘an he hadn’t been getting around good at ‘all. Finally, the door opens with a huge man blocking the entrance to the shop.

 

“Catherine, it is so good to see you,” he said.

 

Big Ed was thrilled to see her. He limped on over to her and wrapped his huge arms around her. She was so tiny compared to Big Ed, almost seeming to disappear in the embrace.

 

“How many years, Uncle Ed, has it been since I’ve been down here?” Catherine asked.

 

Uncle Ed? Wholly cow! Who would have thought that? Well, there is something else new on the table for Jim to chew on.

“Girl”, Big Ed said, “it has been far too long and many things have happened since you were a little girl helping me in this very shop. I knew you’d be along when you heard of this little problem with the Dooley’s. Who’s this with you? You get hitched out west?”

 

“Yes Uncle, this is my husband, Jailhouse Jim.” Big Ed grabbed Jim’s hand squeezing it like a vise and shaking it like a long lost friend but Jim soon began to wonder if Big Ed was going to tear his arm off if he kept shaking it that away.

 

Big Ed started yarnin’ about how Catherine helped him in the old days with his leather workin’ and all those embarrassing things kids do as he showed Jim around his shop. Ed started rummaging around underneath one of the benches pulling out an old box of what looked like leather scraps and primitive works. Catherine’s eyes glistened as she looked on at the box for in it were the things she had made all those years ago.

 

Ed had kept some of Catherine’s first attempts at leather workin’ and was showing Jim some of her work. As Ed was tellin’ Jim about all the different things Catherine had made during those years and of the many good times they had spent together, she managed to slip off to somewhere in the big house. No matter he thought, she wouldn’t go too far.

 

After getting the grand tour of the saddle shop, Jim looked around for Catherine. What’s that? Catherine and Rocky are over in the parlor chatting it up like they were old friends. How can that be? These two were from such wildly different lifestyles and backgrounds it was inconceivable they would have any real common ground between them.

 

Big Ed seemed a little astonished himself when he saw the two wimmin’ together but said nothing as he looked on. Jailhouse Jim watched Big Ed’s confusion and grinned to himself knowing the answer is this uncommon woman he married knows no strangers. She is able to strike up a conversation with anyone as if she had known them a lifetime.

 

Now Rocky is, as a general rule, somewhat subdued (as subdued as she can be given her raucous personality) when in the presence of the ladies from town for Rocky’s manner usually draws disdain from the usual stuck-up socialites. Not the case here. Rocky is acting absolutely normal for it seems Rocky was able to see Catherine’s non-judgmental quality and immediately liked her, perhaps feeling a kindred spirit. Or mebe they have met before. Hell, they could even be related for all Jim knew seeing what else was going on around here.

 

As Big Ed and Jailhouse Jim entered the parlor, the women look up and smile at them then the chatter seems to change directions from what they were talking about privately. Hummm! Ed’s wife brought tea to the quartet as they reminisced about old times and old friends. Big Ed, Rocky, and Catherine appeared as if they have been friends for years and Jim wondered why that fact has never been brought up in the twenty-seven years he has been with this woman. Well, another secret revealed among many more probably still hidden away within the mystery of these wimmin’.

 

After a fashion, they bid each other goodbye and headed out onto the street. Jim thinks to himself, “I thought she needed to talk about something serious with Big Ed. They didn’t talk about nothing serious soooo, "What’s the deal?”

 

Suddenly Jim felt that ominous feeling of dread he sometimes got when things were about to turn off real sour. Dammit! The ends of Allen Street are lined with Dammit’s on one side and Dooley’s on the other.

 

“Catherine, wait at Big Ed’s, this thing is about to go down and go down hard,” Jim barked.

 

Jim grabbed his gunbelt, quickly strapping it on, and checked the loads in his old fashioned Navy Colts before he stepped out into the street. He needed to get over there and get set for this mess. Catherine rushed back into Big Ed’s where she whispered something to Rocky. They turn suddenly and head towards the back room with Big Ed. Even Big Ed is moving quick now, heading into the back of the saddle shop, grabbing up a rifle as he was leaving the room.

 

Jim is worried that Catherine might get caught up into this mess before she could get out of the way but no matter now, she’ll be safe with Big Ed. There was no time to waste so Jim headed out of the shop walking down to 4^th Street where he would come up through a side street and on to Allen, directly into the doorway to hell.

[Jailhouse Jim, SASS #13104]

Chapter 30

 

GUNS OR CARDS

Laylow stepped out of the Crystal Palace Saloon and onto the boardwalk. This was bad and not how he wanted it to go down. This town had already been through the OK Corral street fight and it was still fresh in everyone’s memories. Marshall Law was almost declared the last time by the President of the United States as the only way to stop the lawlessness and killing in the mining district. This time it was going to be worse, far worse.

 

Standing out on the east end of Allen Street, dead in the middle, was that same strapping Texan wearing a big black hat, batwing chaps and big Texas spurs who brought fear to the hearts of god fearing men. Next to him was a right purty gal wearing a red hat, vest, and leather riding skirt. T-Bone and Red Dooley, flanked by Nuttin’ Graceful, Gunz Brokus, Cowhand, Spur Roberts, Knifemaker, Ben Scalped, Cowtown Scout, and some others were stretched across Allen and 6^th Street near the Bird Cage Theater.

 

All those memories that had long since passed into obscurity during the takeover of the Double I Ranch, came flooding back to haunt Laylow. T-Bone had run roughshod over the entire area, along with parts of Mexico, in his greedy quest for land and power during those early years. Few knew it at the time but T-Bone wanted all the water rights of the soon to be railroad land to have complete control of southwest Texas as well as his holdings in East Texas. T-Bone was land hungry and ruthless but he usually didn’t abide by the killing of innocent people.

 

Now T-Bone wasn’t agin’ killin’, he just wanted it to be done more or less legal like soes to keep his name out of it. Unfortunately for Laylow, no one ever told the true story about some of the purported land takeovers by the Dooley brothers when T-Bone wasn’t around or how some of the ranchers were “convinced” to sell out dirt cheap with the dirt being shoveled into their faces if they refused.

 

The only story T-Bone ever knew was Laylow was carried back to the ranch tied across his saddle and had packed his traps, leavin’ out shortly afterwards without a word. Laylow didn’t know it but T-Bone was deeply hurt by the silent abandonment by one of his brothers. Laylow did know T-Bone carried grudges forever and suspected there was one pushing at him now, one that had been festering for years.

 

Laylow couldn’t tell T-Bone the truth as to what happened to Hermijillo at the time cause Nuttin’ promised to see him blamed and hanged for the murders if he talked. Laylow had little choice because there were four of them telling their version of the truth against him. When the true stories came out, he had no way of knowing if T-Bone would believe him or the others.

 

When Laylow finally told T-Bone the truth, naturally he didn’t believe it. Then, as the rift between Laylow and the Dooley brothers grew, the four men who had traveled into Mexico with him eventually turned on Laylow to cover their own guilty implication, which helped T-Bone in the end with his scheme to get Laylow’s ranch.

 

T-Bone set Laylow up so he was arrested for the murder of Hermijillo with the Dooley brothers testifying against him. President Diaz, the Verutas Negras, and Captain Beaumont had gotten Laylow off the -3 and safely into Mexico where he would meet Pepper at Rancho Lalo. President Diaz had gotten to the truth behind the scheme to hang Laylow and was one step ahead of T-Bone’s plan.

 

It had been a good thing for Laylow to run because his neck was destined for a rope if he was to stay in Texas. After Laylow was across the border and safe in Mexico, the Verutas Negras and Captain Beaumont headed off to other duties while Laylow considered what to do next as he prepared to ride south to meet up with Pepper.

 

Laylow checked his tack and saddlebags. Everything was there and ready for the trail. After a long time he mounted, his mind made up at last, and turned the animal into the darkness heading south into Mexico towards his wife and his ranch where he could be safe for a time at least.

 

His horse was a knot-headed little Texas mustang that had no give up to him. Many sleepless nights and little rest was all that lay ahead of this man and horse. Laylow rode mostly at night, resting during the day, fearful of showing movement or raising any dust to alert anyone, especially the Apache, who might be following him. He was able to get word to Pepper who would meet him at the Rancho Lalo where they could live in peace, or so they had thought.

 

Life on Rancho Lalo was good for Laylow and Pepper. The ranch was prospering and they had little trouble with the Apache or with T-Bone. Laylow had gotten word his ranch in Texas had been seized by the government and turned over to T-Bone but there was nothing he could do about it now for he was a wanted man in the US Territory so he concentrated on Rancho Lalo until something could be done about the murder accusations.

 

On one lazy afternoon, Laylow and Enrique were working some breaks near the ranch headquarters trying to get some ornery steers out of the brush to brand them. Laylow had stopped to get a branding fire started while Enrique continued gathering those miserable, brush-wise steers into the makeshift corral they had thrown together.

 

As Laylow stood near the fire adding some sticks to get a good bed of coals for the irons to rest in, a voice behind him barked, “Laylow Curly, you are wanted in Texas and there is a price on your head.”

 

Laylow froze in place. There was bounty hunter behind him and he was bracing for a fight. Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later he thought, there was no sense in letting him be because he knew far too much about T-Bone to be left alive. Laylow turned slowly to face the man. He was a rough looking hombre wearing two tied-down guns with one leveled at Laylow’s belly. The man had a curious grin on his face as he dropped the gun back into its holster.

 

The seconds ticked by ever so slowly as the men looked each other over. Laylow’s hand flashed for his Colt and as if in slow motion, Laylow knew he was going to be too slow. His Colt was just coming level when the Bounty Hunter’s pistol spouted the flames of death.

 

Laylow felt the bullet tear into his chest as his own gun barked. The sounds of gunfire rolled down the draw alerting Enrique who came a runnin’ as fast as his stallion would carry him. The Bounty Hunter had taken a slug low down, bouncing off his hipbone, which knocked him to the ground. He brought his gun level towards Laylow when the big Colt barked again showing its death blossom.

 

Laylow’s slug tore into the man’s throat blowing out the back of his neck. He teetered on his elbow for a few seconds then fell back dead. Laylow was on his knees as Enrique raced into the clearing, catching him before his face landed in the dirt. Blackness came over Laylow and then there was quiet.

 

When Laylow came out of the blackness, Pepper was there caring for him, the look of grave concern carved into her face. He had been unconscious for eight days and they didn’t know if he was going to survive the loss of blood. Pepper almost never left his side and only Enrique could get her to rest at all during those first few days.

 

It was nearly eight weeks later before Laylow could ride again and both dreaded that day. Laylow needed to leave the ranch now because the bounty hunters would be coming again. When the day for him to leave finally came, Enrique had saddled his favorite horse and had prepared a packhorse for his trip to California.

 

Perhaps out west in California he could get lost in some little no account cowtown where no one knew him and hopefully that Texas stuff would not follow him there. Pepper would stay on the ranch under the watchful eye of Enrique and Manny. Laylow knew they would care for her as if he were there himself and would lay their lives down for her if it was needed.

 

Contact between them would be sparse and had to be carefully coded so not to give any inkling as to where Laylow had disappeared. Months went by with no more bounty hunters and no word from T-Bone so they thought perhaps the trouble was over. Pepper rode to meet Laylow in California and the new life he had created for them there. They lived quietly were content with their lives until the telegraph from Big Ed arrived.

 

Now came time for the showdown with those same men who had lied and nearly got him hanged in Texas. They were backing their brother T-Bone and all of them with a chip on their shoulder fer him getting away from the -3 alive.

 

Laylow was sure the story of his departure from the Dooley’s hadn’t been told right and T-Bone still didn’t know what the real story was that caused him to cut loose from his “family. Maybe now would be a good time to tell the truth as to what happened out in those mountains those few short years ago.

 

They were all here for a different reason but the old feud needed to be handled too. If’n there was going to be gunplay, there was going to be a good reason for it. An insult would not be good enough for Laylow to kill a man although it might be enough to whip one over.

 

The murder of Hermijillo would be enough though, if T-Bone wanted to go down that road. T-Bone and his brood were standing silently, pompous, and arrogant like, waiting for Laylow to make the next move. T-Bone rarely had men stand up against him and wasn’t expecting Laylow to do it now.
T-Bone was going to get a surprise.

 

Looking west down Allen Street, Laylow grimaced while he muttered, “Dammit to H^**.” Two-Gun Sam, Solvang Shootist, Cloe Star, Daisy Mae Hart, Bangtail, Anaheim Kid, Captain Jake, and several others were stretched across Allen Street at 3^rd Street. Double Scotch was near the OK Corral with Filthy Lurce. Jittery Jim was on the other side of the street with Youngblood, both sporting double-barreled shotguns.

 

Laylow’s mind was racing. This was going to get bloody and there was nothing he could do about it. These two unstoppable forces were faced off and neither would show the other any mercy.

 

Laylow knew and T-Bone knew they had ridden for the same brand not that long ago and were brothers ‘cept for that old thing. Much as he hated it, Laylow stepped out into the street. Maybe if he started talking something would come to him. Leastways if it didn’t, he could stall the inevitable for at least a little while.

 

“T-Bone! Is this how you want it? You already have one dead Dooley.” Laylow hollered.

 

T-Bone took a couple of steps forward. “Laylow, you and I were old friends a long time ago that have ridden the river together but if you are backin’ Big Ed in this, then that cuts it with us. I won’t have no two-bit saddle maker talk down to me or my misses’ fer nothin’.”

 

“T-Bone, the way I hear it,” Laylow said, “it was your woman who started this mess in the first place. Now maybe Big Ed had no right to dress you or her down but there is something else going on here. Red Dooley, do you have anything to say about this?”

 

“Laylow,” T-Bone barked, “leave her out of this. She’s my woman and I’ll stand up for her.” Red was a standin’ behind her man smug as the cat that ate the canary but she was about to get a surprise too.

 

“All right then T-Bone if that’s the way you want it. They’ll be killin’ on both sides with only half the story bein’ let out and the consequences will rest with you and Red.” T-Bone was not happy about this bein’ Red’s mess but was standing true to his word and by his woman.

 

“T-Bone,” Laylow said, “mebe there is something more here than what you are sayin’. I think my leavin the -3 and what caused me to leave the ranch is why you are being so fool-headed. You can claim to want to vindicate yer woman but I think you want to vindicate yourself for having an innocent man’s blood on your hands and you are afraid that someday it will come out.”

 

“Mebe you’re feelin’ more than guilty for stealing my ranch over in Texas or maybe it’s something else all together. Killin’ me would silence the only one who has the guts to speak up only what you don’t know is someone else saw what happened out there on the prairie. Pepper and I tried to let it go as one of those things that happen on the frontier when men fought for land and power. You and Red brought it back to me when you pulled Big Ed into it. Now this is going to end up in more killin’ with more of the family bein’ buried in Boot Hill.”

 

The two men stared at each other for a full two minutes before either spoke again. “Well T-Bone, if we could hurry this thing up a bit, I hear they eat dinner in hell at 6:00 pm sharp and I don’t want to miss it. I figger you’ll be comin’ along with me along with a bunch of the gang.”

 

Laylow suddenly felt a calm come over him as he stood staring into the burning eyes of T-Bone Dooley. He would end the agony of his past now and be done with it, no more dread, no more shame, no more worry.

 

T-Bone and Laylow stepped back into line with their followers standing fast when suddenly, Catherine and Rocky stepped out of the Oriental with shotguns pointed at both gangs as they walked to the center of the street, stopping back to back.

 

“I have had enough of this stupidity from you two fools,” Catherine yelled. “There is going to be no shootin’ up of our families and Big Ed’s granddaughter is going to be freed.”

 

T-Bone, Laylow, Red and the rest were startled by this latest dressin’ down both the Dammit’s and Dooley’s were getting’. What in the world were these two women doing in the middle of this man business?

 

Rocky started, “You bunch of fools have put me in a position to make me to choose a side. Dammit, I will not go against either of you because I am a DammDooley. If I have to go against one family, I will be going against both of you like I am right now. Furthermore, Catherine and I won’t let you do this to yourselves over something so trivial.”

 

Red was mad clear through and was fuming but had to be careful with what she said now or she would be spilling the beans on herself. “It may be trivial to you, Rocky Meadows, but this is real to me and I will do what I have to do to get it straightened out,” Red yelled back.

 

This was beginning to look like a real Mexican standoff when Rocky and Catherine shifted positions so Catherine could face Red. “Red, why don’t you tell them what you want from me? If you don’t, I’m going to.” Catherine yelled.

 

Red was exasperated now, not able to take control of the situation. “You wouldn’t dare. You don’t want that out in the open neither cause it’ll hurt you as much or more than me, ‘specially with that socialite registry standing you have over to Tehachapi like you do.”

 

“Red, it isn’t worth killing your family or your brothers over. It was bound to come out someday anyway cause someone else probably knows or has figured it out,” Catherine snapped back.

 

Catherine was not about to back down and certainly had everyone’s attention. It was real clear Red didn’t know what to do and was against the wall on this one. What did Catherine know about Red that was sooo damning? About then, Big Ed limped into the street lining up with the two women carryin’ a Colt’s revolving carbine. From the other side of the street came Wily Yankee to stand alongside the wimmin’. Wily was sporting two tied-down guns and this time, the thongs were definitely off of the hammers of his shooters.

 

The thundering of horse’s hooves could be heard in the distance coming up the road to Tombstone. No one in either group knew why a group of riders that size would be coming to town without pushing a herd ahead of them but there they were, at least a dozen men riding fine, jet-black stallions and they were coming to Allen Street.

 

The men were dressed in black dusters, black boots, black shirts, and black trousers, each wearing a black sombrero with a silver band. On the left lapel of each man was a black medallion resembling a poker chip with a silver nugget implanted in the center. Verutas Negras! The men entered the town riding slowly, turning their horses in behind the Dammit gang. Among the riders was none other than Presidente Diaz.

 

Señor Diaz began talking once all the riders had found a place behind the Dammit’s, “I have been invited to this town to watch a game of Texas Hold-um. This game is said to be retribution for all the bad blood spilled between two families.”

 

T-Bone looked sick as he gazed down the street at the now more than formidable force lining the street behind the Dammit’s. Laylow, somewhat confused by this new event pitched in, “Presidente Diaz, this fight is my own with the owner of the Badlands -3. My only request from you is to keep everyone else out of the fight.” Laylow returned his gaze to Rocky and waited for her to proceed.

 

Time seemed to tick by at a snail’s pace as the two gangs faced off against the two more than determined women until Rocky began to speak once again, “Red, T-Bone, Laylow! There is a way to settle this thing with Red once and for all without killing your brothers or sisters.”

 

Up until then, the two families appeared to be without choices but ………….. “What’s the deal Rocky?” Laylow shot back, although unsure of where this mess was heading.

 

“First, none of it will happen until Big Ed’s Granddaughter is released. Second, all of this can be settled with a game of poker between T-Bone and you Laylow. If T-Bone wins, Red gets what she’s looking for. If Laylow wins, he gets his ranches back, T-Bone takes Red back to Texas, and this issue is never brought up again.”

 

Red started to protest but T-Bone flashes a look at her that instantly backs her up.

 

“A card game huh! Who is the dealer Rocky?” T-Bone flashed back, already suspecting the answer.

 

“Why T-Bone, it’s gonna be me,” Rocky said grinin’ ear to ear. “If I win, I choose what happens to both sides and there won’t be any argument from either of you.”

 

T-Bone stood there, caught flatfooted again, with his mouth gaping’ wide. Laylow started laughing that belly roll kind of laugh that was so contagious and everyone started laughing with him.

 

“Well T-Bone, I guess we’re playing a game cause she ain’t gonna let it go any other way from here is she?” Laylow stuttered trying not to laugh anymore.

 

T-Bone was trapped in a corner by a wildcat and there was only one way out. Old T-Bone started showing some sense at last and knows this is just the way to keep from killing his friends and his family. He grins to himself as he thinks of how clever Rocky was when she thought of this plan. Course she always had been pretty good at getting men to do what she wanted them to.

 

Both men were acutely aware they were facing two very determined women who had two more than capable men supporting their play so there was really no other decision for them other than to go along.

 

“Let that girl go now,” Big Ed barked at T-Bone.

T-Bone waived his hat then from out of the Bird Cage came Big Ed’s granddaughter running as fast as she could to the safety of the big man’s arms.

 

“Meet me in the Crystal Palace when you’re ready T-Bone,” Laylow snickered as he headed into the saloon where he was going to get another bottle before the game started.

 

Laylow headed straight for the bar and ordered a rye. A couple of drinks later, the batwing doors were pushed open into the saloon and held there. There was suddenly total silence in the place as Laylow looked up and saw that T-Bone and Red Dooley had arrived at the Crystal Palace at last. They looked the bar over a bit to size the occupants up then made their way to where Laylow was a standin’. “You ready to play Laylow?” T-Bone asked.

 

“Come on into the back room, they have a table set up for us back there,” Laylow said. Once sitting down in the back room, Laylow quizzed, “What is this T-Bone? Big Ed here tells me he called you a couple of well deserved names and you took offense.”

 

T-Bone shot a glance at Red and said, “It’s something that needed to be done and I knew you would come if Big Ed called. Soooo, here we are and everything is riding on this here game so let’s git to it.”

 

There was a rumble in the outer saloon as Rocky made her way though the growing crowd to her chair at the gaming table. “Now boys, isn’t this a whole lot more civilized than a gunfight?” Neither man commented but stood and helped Rocky git seated before they took to their seats again.

 

GAME ON, DAMMIT!

 

“Looks like she’s got the cards set up over at the table in the back room Laylow, are you in?” Youngblood asked.

 

Laylow’s eyes twinkled a little at Youngblood as he walked to the table. Jittery Jim shot Laylow that “Watch it fella” look cause even if Laylow didn’t know it yet, Jim knew this gal could play any kind of game and play it well.

 

Laylow sat down, grinnin’ at Rocky, “Are you going to be the GRAND prize when this game is over gal?”

 

Rocky smiled in that woman’s all knowing way thinking to herself, “Laylow, if you only knew what is about to happen to you. You have already lost and you don’t even know it or at least don’t want to admit it.”

 

“Well Laylow,” Rocky said, “I might could be but you are going to have to play your cards real close to your vest to beat me.”

 

Jailhouse Jim was escorting Catherine to the game when someone outside asked, “Who’s Laylow playing against?”

 

“It looks like he’s playin’ agin’ Miss Rocky and T-Bone Dooley,” someone shouted.

 

Catherine smiled to herself and Jim knows that smile all too well. She knows Rocky has already won the game whether the men want to admit it or not. This whole thing was a setup and the boys were just pawns in the game.

 

“Do you want to watch the game?” Jim asked already knowing the answer.

 

“Well I didn’t come down her to just set and do nothing,” she said with a little sarcasm to her voice.

 

Rocky shuffled the cards effortlessly and began to deal. Laylow piped up and said, “Let’s play along real slow until I get something to work with.”

 

The game seemed to go on for hours with no one ever getting ahead. Red was over in the corner pacing as nervously as a caged mountain lion wanting to get the game over with once and for all. Is Rocky, T-Bone, or Laylow just toying with the others until they are tired? The three card players take a breather, finally, so Laylow could use the outhouse and T-Bone could get another drink.

 

T-Bone looked at Rocky during the break, “Girl I could get rich just playing your discards. When are you going to get serious about this game?”

 

Rocky smiled back at T-Bone but said nothing, yet everything, in the look she gave. The referee called for the players to come back to the table when Laylow returned and the play began again in earnest this time with many hands going back and forth between Laylow and T-Bone.

 

Now old T-Bone was starting to get a little restless so tells Laylow, “If’n’ you can’t play cards any better ‘n that, then you should stop headin’ upstream cause you aren’t going to find any good cards there either.”

 

Laylow fired right back, “T-Bone, when you find yerself getting into a hole that keeps getting deeper and deeper to where it don’t look like you can get out, STOP DIGGING.”

 

The crowd roared with laughter as the bantering between the two men parried back and forth and to think a few hours ago they were set to kill each other on Allen Street. The men finally got serious and settled in to what was looking to become the final hand.

 

Soon there is a huge pot and table stakes are announced to bring the game to a final conclusion. The pot is getting larger and larger until no player has any chips left to play, stalemate. It was Rocky’s turn to fold or play but she hesitated to add to the anticipation of the game. Finally, she reached into a hidden recess next to her bosom and pulled out one more chip, a Dammit Chip! The jig is up Laylow thought.

 

It had all come down to this last hand so there is nothing left he can do but put down his own Dammit Chip and say “CALL!” Is T-Bone out? No, wait, he has a Dammit Chip too. Does that mean he is a Dammit? The crowd has gathered around the table knowing this was the showdown. None of the players appeared overly concerned about the outcome as if already knowing what the cards would bring. Laylow is the first to show his hand: two eights, a 10, and two Jacks, two pair. The fervor of the room was intense.

 

T-Bone is next, three 5’s a 10 and a jack, three of a kind. Rocky, as if relishing the moment, slowly spreads her cards on the table. One, two, three, four Queens, winner! The crowd roars in congratulations for Rocky.

 

Laylow and T-Bone are both beaten and should have been dejected yet neither look all that upset for they and Rocky knew this is what they had expected. They were able to save face for both the Dooley’s and the Dammit’s without any more killing.

 

Rocky stood up and said with authority, “This is how it is going to be fellas, I won the game fair and square and you both agreed to the outcome when we started playing. One, T-Bone Dooley, you are going to give Laylow and Pepper their ranches, if they want them, back. Two, you’re going to get Laylow’s name cleared of the Hermijillo murder. Three, Laylow Curly, you have a life in California now so you are going to sell T-Bone your ranch at a fair price. Pepper can keep hers if she wants since it belongs to her family. Four, Red and Catherine are going to meet over at the hotel to decide what their future is going to be. They are also going to decide what is to become of the family bible Red wants so bad. When we leave this town, there will be no more said about it.”

 

Rocky and Catherine smile at each other and nod. What’s with the nod? What just happened here? This looks suspiciously like a set-up by Rocky and Catherine. The wimmin’ both knew the men had no chance of winning since they had been pulling the strings from the beginning. The wimmin’ knew they were in control of the outcome and the two men knew it so that is why neither man will dispute the result for they were in no position to overrule anything.

 

After the Dooley’s left the room, there was an eerie silence while everyone considered what had gone on here tonight. Was it finally over? Or not? Nothing was really settled with Red but maybe she and Catherine can work that issue out between the two of them like Rocky asked them to do.

 

“Laylow darlin’,” Rocky said, “you know I planned this set-up. I didn’t want a hair on your handsome head hurt so I’ve been workin’ the Dooley’s from the inside and you from the outside,” Rocky sighed. “You know I’m a Dammit and I am a Dooley, hell I’m a DammDooley. I had to pick my side in order to save both of you from each other. Your ‘man pride’ wouldn’t have let you talk this out and there would have been more killing. You know a girl can never have too many suitors, I want you all to get through this alive.”

 

“Were you in on this little scam Big Ed?” Laylow asked.

 

“Yes sir, I was,” Ed replied. That Rocky gal is powerful convincing when sets her mind to it. Then when Catherine got here and got involved, I had no choice but to go along. There’s no sense getting the town tore up and friends hurt or killed when it can be done fair and square at the card table. When Rocky laid out this little scheme, I thought it was just nutty enough to work. I knew neither you nor T-Bone’s pride would let you turn down a challenge from Rocky and Red would have to go along with T-Bone in the end. You didn’t have any chance at’ all with all that goin’ against you Laylow”

 

Laylow kinda shrugged his shoulders after thinking about it for a second then poured himself another drink, one of many he planned to have tonight to celebrate his losing the game, HUH? Laylow was happy that no blood was spilled over the old feud with T-Bone. Surely Catherine and Red would be able to work through the problem they had with each other. After all, they were sisters.

 

T-Bone was pretty well lit out in the main saloon and was over to the piano singing up a storm. That half bottle of rye he drank during the game helped him along in loosening up his tonsils some so he was havin’ a grand old time.

 

Captain Jake was over to the bar trying to finish this whistle stop in his whirlwind drinking tour of the southwest and was feeling no pain. Next thing you know, Jake might try making a stab at being a Snake Oil Salesman, or a preacher with all the life experience he was a getting’ hangin’ out with Laylow and Youngblood.

 

Youngblood had Rocky on his arm and had a grin pasted on his face along with the rosy glow from the bourbon, or was it Rocky being too close for comfort. No, Youngblood couldn’t get no more comfort than he was a gettin’ from Rocky right now. Double Scotch was setting over to the corner just a moping. Youngblood had Rocky and she wasn’t giving him no attention at ‘all. Now Double Scotch wasn’t used to getting ignored by the women folk so his feelin’s were bent just a mite.

 

When Cloe Star saw Double Scotch over in the corner a moppin’, she thought she would try to cheer him up a bit so she moseyed over to where he was a setting and sat down next to him.

Great! Double Scotch thought, now the onliest gal he can get is eleven years old. Was he losing his touch or is this just a bad town for him? Oh well he thought, Cloe was awful cute and she could dance quite a jig, course he had to watch out fer her momma and daddy an’ keep everything proper.

 

While Cloe danced with Double Scotch, Jittery Jim was a watchin’ from behind the batwings. Everybody was having such a grand time of it he didn’t want to rain on their parade. Big Ed had gotten a telegram from Texas that was going to set everybody on their ear. Well, there wasn’t nothing in the telegram that couldn’t wait till morning so Jittery Jim walked in and ordered himself a single malt.

[Jailhouse Jim, SASS #13104]

Chapter 32

 

SISTERS RE-UNITE

 

While the gangs were all celebrating the events of the evening at the Crystal Palace, there were two women meeting in the side parlor of the hotel. Catherine and Red were sitting near the window on a settee where they could hear the party goin’ on across the street in the saloon. Neither woman quite knew how to get the conversation started so they sat in silence for a few minutes as they listened to the party goin’ on just a short distance from them. The laughter and the sounds of the out of tune piano drifted into the night which was far better than the sounds of gunfire and of men dying.

 

“The boys seem to be having a good time of it over to the saloon,” Catherine said trying to break the ice with her sister. She was silent again for a few minutes before saying, “Red, you know it didn’t have to go like this. No one knows what’s in that bible, including you. You only know our mother’s name and where she died.”

 

“That’s enough to know Catherine. I thought if the bible was destroyed, I could make up a past so no one would know Mother was a prostitute. You, of all people, should be more worried about it getting out than me,” Red related.

 

Catherine was quiet for a while then pulled out a tattered package, slowly removing the binding. “Red, I’m going to show you something you never knew. This bible was our great-grandmother’s so that is why I couldn’t let you destroy it. This is the only documented history of our family left, both good and bad. Rocky brought it to me when mother died. Rocky was one of mother’s best friends when she came to Texas only you wouldn’t have known that either.”

 

Red had a look of shock on her face disbelieving Rocky could have been one of her mother’s best friends without telling her. Catherine carefully opened the bible from the rear to show the historical record of marriages and births for their family.

 

She glanced at each page and then began to read, “Born 1858 to Elizabeth and Moshulatubbee, a girl child, Catherine.” Red’s mouth dropped open and she gasped. “Yes Red, mother was kidnapped by the Choctaw when she was about ten years old. When she became of age, she was married by Indian ceremony to the chief’s son.”

 

Catherine continued, “Born 1870 to Elizabeth and John Henry, a girl child, Red. Your father, Red, was the cavalry officer who rode into the Indian camp and rescued me and mother from the Choctaw. He and mother became very close because the other women in the fort always steered clear of her for living with the so called savages and marrying a brave even though he was the Chief’s son. Mother wanted to go back to the Choctaw initially but was not allowed to by Grandmother because by then, the Choctaw may not have taken her back either since she had stayed with the whites for a time. Because of everything that happened, she was a prisoner of circumstance.”

 

“John Henry and mother were married in a military ceremony and they lived happily for a time. In 1874, your father was killed in an Indian campaign so mother was left destitute on the frontier with no way to feed two growing girls having no real saleable skills being raised by the Indians like she was. No one would have much to do with her because she had been an Indian’s squaw but she was proud.”

 

“Mother refused to take charity so did odd jobs to be able to feed us. Since you were a white girl and her not being able to care for both of us, she found a family who had lost their child to cholera and wanted to adopt you. After a heart-wrenching decision, she let you go with them to Texas. She cried every night for months after they took you away and I don’t think she ever forgave herself for letting you go. You probably don’t remember but she came to Texas and visited you once when you were about twelve.”

 

“I stayed with mother the whole time after she turned to being a prostitute to survive. She was not just an ordinary whore, you should know that. Only the fancy men were allowed in her room and never was there a time when I was there to see any of it. She wasn’t abused like so many of the other doves for the men appreciated who she was not just what she was.”

 

“You would probably be surprised at just who came to visit her and what was done to protect her from the seedy element of the territory to preserve what they could of her reputation. When she caught the consumption, she wrote me and told of her letter to you and her hope to make amends for her perceived failure as a mother to us. When I was attacked on the Fort Tejon Trail and my home was trashed by the Dooley’s, I knew you hadn’t taken to the letter well and wanted to travel our history in a different direction.”

 

Red was a long time silent, tears bulging in her eyes, her trying to keep them from running. “I never knew. All these years I thought mother didn’t want me and then when I found out she was a whore, I couldn’t take it if it was to be found out. I didn’t really know where I had come from and with that news, I thought how could it get any worse? I am a bastard child of a frontier whore. It was just too much for me to bear so I sent my men out to burn the evidence.”

 

“What about Chimney Rock and my horses in Tehachapi?” Catherine asked.

 

“Big Ed had a map to a silver mine I’d been trying to get on the sly but he sold it to a gambler named Dutch because he had come on hard times over in Tombstone. Business had been slow like it is and him bein’ stove up, he wasn’t able to work the leather like he used to so kept falling further and further behind. Then, if that wasn’t bad enough, Dutch went and lost the map in a poker game to Adam Cartwright when he was supposed to sell it to me. I sent five men to Tombstone to find Adam and to get the map from him. I had the men brace Big Ed on the way with a made up insult supposedly from T-Bone to get him to lay down the Dammit Chip.”

 

“I knew Big Ed’s laying down of the Dammit Chip would get Laylow and his gang to Tombstone, away from the mine, and away from California. The men following Adam, ended up at Apache Leap and were killed there. Knowing how hard it was going to be to cover it up for T-Bone, I wanted to try to fleece some locals at Chimney Rock to make up for the losses from not getting the map or the mine so I had some men set up that game to make some money. I figured if the Dammit Chip didn’t draw Laylow to Tombstone soon enough, maybe a crooked game in Chimney Rock would keep him busy while I rode to your cabin.”

 

“You see Catherine, I knew your husband was a Dammit and I know how clannish they can be so I wanted Laylow as far away from Tehachapi as I could since I knew he runs cows up in the Tejon’s. The men kind-of overstepped their orders and I let them do it when they stole those horses but we wanted to go back to Texas with something, not just dead bodies. It almost worked out but I under-estimated you and your husband’s wherewithal. I am truly sorry it turned out like this and hope you can forgive me. I will understand too if you choose to turn me over to the Marshal for takin’ those horses.”

 

The two women looked at each other then hugged. They had not seen each other in so many years and none of this should have ever even happened. Their mother, had she lived, would have been proud of both of these young frontier women and how they had grown up. In the end though, she had succeeded in reuniting her family, albeit after she had died.

 

There was a scuffle at the night clerk’s desk breaking up their moment causing the two women to look that way. Four men were coming through the doorway in their direction with guns drawn. They grabbed the women and quickly shuffled them out through the back door to a waiting wagon where they forced them to get in.

 

The women were tied and gagged then the driver started out of town on the old road to the mines. The night clerk had been stabbed to death and left behind his desk with a ransom note pinned to his coat, pinned with a knife that was buried to its hilt into the man’s chest.

 

“IF YOU WANT YOUR THREE WIMMIN’ BACK SAFE, DON’T TRY TO FOLLOW US. WE WILL CONTACT YOU FOR MORE DETAILS FOR THIER RELEASE”

 

Jailhouse Jim had been over to the Crystal Palace with the rest of the gang celebrating the outcome of the game. After a couple of beers, he headed back to the hotel to check on Catherine and Red. As he stepped up on the boardwalk in front of the hotel, he knew something was bad wrong. The night man was not at his desk like always before and the parlor was empty. Jim hit the staircase at a dead run leaping two steps at a time until he got to the top of the stairs. He ran down the short hallway to their room finding it empty so he checked Red’s room and found it the same.

 

This was all wrong, they were just in the parlor a short time ago and wouldn’t have gone anywhere without telling someone. He raced back to their room and strapped on his two Colts. He had to find Catherine and now. He had a foreboding feeling about this and would waste no more time but first he would have to find the night clerk to see why he wasn’t on his post. As he hopped down the stairs to find Laylow, Jim glanced towards the night clerk’s desk.

 

What he saw stopped him in his tracks. There were two feet sticking out from behind the desk he hadn’t seen when he first came in. Racing to the desk, he looked behind to see the night clerk and the note pinned on his coat. His breath was taken away. After all this, now there was something else? Jim walked to the door and fired three quick shots into the air to bring the Sheriff and the town a runnin’.

 

Jim went back to the body and looked it over carefully without disturbing anything. The man was on his back with his eyes frozen wide open. Death had come quickly to the slight built man with horn-rimmed glasses. The cause of death was plainly obvious. There was a hunting knife driven into his chest completely to the hilt. It must have severed the heart muscles for there appeared to be no struggle at all.

 

The blood had started to pool with steam still rising into the cool night air. This murder had just happened. The knife was unique in that it had a stag handle with a pearl inlayed in the center of one side. Why would the murderer have left a knife like this? Had he disturbed them as the clerk was being murdered? Why was this man murdered? He certainly had no money and was too timid to have started anything with another man. Where were the women? That was the most important question now.

 

Western men simply did not molest women on the frontier for women were scarce and held in high regard by even the worst of the lot. This whole incident was turning into a spider web of questions with no answers. Finally, the men from the Crystal Palace started filtering in with Laylow and T-Bone leading the charge. Jim’s grim face told them much of what had happened as he relayed everything he had discovered so far about the kidnapping.

 

There were some serious looks being passed around when someone yelled, “Let’s get a rope and hang the lousy scum who would kidnap any woman on the frontier.” The crowd cheered him on as Laylow, T-Bone and the rest of both gangs exchanged a plan.

[Jailhouse Jim, SASS #13104]

Chapter 33

 

WILDCATS

 

The carpetbaggers had gathered the women into the wagon then headed over to Big Ed’s before heading out of town on the old road. Men had gone to Ed’s to get Catalina and were supposed to be ready and waiting for the wagon when it got there. When the wagon got to Big Ed’s, two men were fighting with a slip of a girl out in front of the shop with the girl looking like she was getting the best of them.

 

The two men on horseback jumped down and tried to help the others but it wasn’t until the fifth man got there that they were able to get Catalina tied up and gagged. The men were way overmatched with that wildcat it seemed but were finally able to get her into the wagon so they could get on down the road before someone noticed what was going on.

 

Red and Catherine hadn’t put up a fight for it would have been foolish to go against four men with guns. They would wait and act defenseless so they might be left untied for a while to give them the opportunity to make a run for it. Now they would have to get Catalina calmed down a bit so she would be an asset to them, not just a problem. It was pretty clear she had enough spirit and could fight like a wolverine when she put her mind to it.

 

The two men who had captured her right off were scratched up and bruised showing the signs of being in one hell of a battle. Hats besheveled, shirts torn, and an' having an all around haggard look showed agin’ the features of the two men as they got to their horses. The looks on their faces was more than annoyance, they looked at Catalina with hatred as she looked back at them with triumph in her eyes.

 

The wagon followed a rough trail towards the old mines southwest of town. They hadn’t been gone too long when they rounded a bend and stopped. The man, acting like he was in charge, said something indiscernible to one of the other riders who rode off suddenly as soon as the conversation was over. It appeared he had ridden up into some rocks above the trail to lay in ambush for anyone following them. The wagon lurched to a start again. They rode for another few miles until they came upon an old brush corral. There were horses in the corral with saddles already in place.

 

The women were untied and led one by one to the corral where they were each put on a horse and tied to the saddle horn. The wagon was unhitched and the team led into the now vacant corral. The men finally got mounted and led the little cavalcade off to the north now, away from the main trail.

 

Little effort was being made to cover their tracks so they weren’t too fearful of any one following them. With their hands tied in front of them, it wouldn’t be too difficult to ride quickly if they could catch a break from their captors. Red and Catherine hatched a plan to make a break for it if the outlaws got sloppy. They would have to get Catalina in on it so everyone broke and ran at the same time or none of their plan would work since they couldn’t or wouldn’t leave her with those men by herself.

 

The raggedy group topped a low rise and started down into a shallow draw leading towards the Tombstone Livery. The women knew it was to be now or never if they had a chance at all for escape. The outlaws had fallen behind about a horse length and were lazing in their saddles obviously unconcerned their charges would try to run since they were ONLY women.

 

Red was the first to take off, spurring her horse and charging down the draw at a dead run. Catalina tried to get her horse moving but it spooked when Red took off with a flurry of hooves. She was having a terrible time of it trying to get the horse under control. Catherine wasn’t going to leave Catalina alone so she turned her horse into the nearest rider knocking him from his mount to give her more time.

 

Two men had taken off after Red so there was only one who was left on a horse. Catalina’s horse had begun to buck and had spit her to the ground but she was up in an instant and had started to run down the draw on foot. The lone man on horseback chased after her and caught up to her after only a few steps so he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her over to his mount.

 

Catherine couldn’t charge his horse without endangering Catalina so she ran up alongside him then leaped from her saddle onto him, throwing her arms around his next neck to choke him as she hung on. The momentum of her assault caused him to let go of Catalina as Catherine and the rider tumbled from the horse and onto the ground with all three of them in a heap.

 

Catalina had gotten up quickly with her hands free at last but Catherine’s hands were still tied. The man had gotten on top of her and began hitting her repeatedly in the face. Catherine was nearly unconscious when Catalina made it to them. She grabbed a piece of driftwood and laid into the man striking him across the head and back again and again until he let her go.

 

Catalina had lifted the piece of wood to hit the now defenseless man over the head one last time when dust kicked into her face. The man Catherine had knocked from his horse was up and holding a Colt pointed directly at Catalina’s chest.

 

“You sure played hobb on us girl but the game is over. Put that stick down and back away from him.”

 

Catalina dropped the stick and ran to where Catherine lay. She had just started to regain her senses as Catalina got to her.

 

“I’m sorry,” Catalina cried, I tried to get that blamed horse to move but he spooked instead.”

 

“It’s not your fault sweetheart, the horse just got scared is all, there was nothing you could do. I hope Red made it through,” Catherine answered quietly.

 

Their hopes of Red escaping were dashed as the other two riders came back up the draw with Red in tow. Red had taken to the draw towards the livery and had just turned east to turn back towards Tombstone when the two men caught up to her.

 

One the men had shaken out a loop and had it in the air just as she turned her horse. She had tried to duck it but the loop had already settled around her so when the outlaw put a dally around his saddle horn, Red was jerked from her saddle, landing soundly on the ground in a cloud of dust. Her derriere was bruised a bit but she came up kickin’ and a clawin’ at the men coming towards her.

 

One man had grabbed her from behind as she raked the other man’s shins with the heel full of sharp spurs. As he screamed in pain, Red turned her fury against the man holding her. She kicked her feet up and came down onto the man’s toes with both heels.

 

He let her go for an instant but she was caught again by the other man and forced to the ground. He held her there until her feet could be tied together before they would release her. The men caught up the horses and untied Red’s feet just long enough to get her into the saddle then tied her there. They wouldn’t be taking any more chances with this one.

 

Once everyone was securely back into their saddles at last, the men started down the draw to the stables ready to be shut of those contrary wimmin’. They wouldn’t be letting their guard down this time, with these gals at least, until they got them locked into the livery barn.

 

As they rode into the lot in front of the stable, two men came out from behind the tack building. They got the women off of the horses and led them into the barn where they would be held until they got what they wanted from the men in town.

 

“Don’t take no chances with those she devils,” one of the beat up men said.

 

One of the men from the livery laughed and said, “Can’t you handle a couple of gals by your ownself. They don’t look all that tough to me.”

 

The first man spoke again, “You’ll see if’n you don’t want to listen to me.”

 

Just about that time, one man had taken Catalina into the barn and had begun to untie her. He started to say something clever to her and brushed her hair with his fingers when all h*## broke loose.

 

“Don’t you ever touch me you piece of buffalo dung. I will gnaw off your hand to the elbow or just let my hands loose and I will fistfight you like a man.”

 

The man had started backing up as soon as Catalina started to come after him. Having seen what she had done to his partners already, the man cut tail and ran out of the barn with Catalina in hot pursuit. The other men were rolling with laughter as they watched their not so tough partner run from that little slip of a girl. She was sure givin’ him a go for his money.

 

Once everything had settled down, Catherine spoke to the other two women quietly in the corner, “I have a derringer in a thigh holster and I will use it if need be should those lousy pieces of guano come back and touch any of us. It only has two shots though so if I get it out, you’ all need to get out of here and make for the brush to hide out until the gang gets here.

 

I know they will be coming because that’s how they are and they are going to be coming with retribution in mind. These blamed carpetbaggers have opened the doors to hell and the Dammit’s were going to push them through it with the Dooley’s in tow. This bunch of worthless carpetbaggers is going to regret ever taking us or buttin’ heads with our men folk.”

 

The women nodded in response to Catherine’s advice and set about to make themselves as comfortable as they could for the time being since they didn’t know how long they would have to wait before the boys would get there. They had no way of knowing but the boys were already on the way and Howdy Doody was watching from the brush even now, making a plan to get them out. It wouldn’t be long now and they needed to be ready when the time came.

[Jailhouse Jim, SASS #13104]

Chapter 34

 

BAD ELEMENT

Just when things looked like they were starting to get better in Tombstone, three women are kidnapped from the hotel making matters worse than ever. Now the two gangs will be working together and there was going to be hell to pay. The Marshal arrived after the gangs had gathered and quickly surveyed the scene.

 

Great, the Marshal thought, they had barely averted a war between the Dammit’s and the Dooley’s now three of their wimmin’ had been kidnapped. But only two women were in the hotel. Who was the third the note spoke to? This was going to get both groups riled up again only this time, it would not end so peaceable. No woman was to be molested in the west, especially when their men could back it up like these men could.

 

What many outsiders never knew is Laylow and many of the original Dammit’s including Jittery Jim, Double Scotch, and Youngblood are Dooley’s so in a nutshell, were all family. Another little known fact is Rocky, T-Bone, Red, Nuttin’ Graceful, Nuttin’ Honey, and Ringo Fire are Dammit’s as well so whoever took those women was going to have the devil to pay when they had to face all of these men. This family could fight amongst itself all they wanted but no outsider better ever touch any one of them without the retribution of the rest of the gang or in this case, both gangs.

 

Before the news of the kidnapping, Laylow and T-Bone’s eyes had started getting that liquor glazed look to them as they celebrated the end of the card game but they were far from being drunk, YET. Neither had seen the note left pinned to the clerk’s coat so the Sheriff walked over to where they were standing with Jailhouse Jim to show it to them.

 

“Fellas, I have some bad news for you. Your two gals got kidnapped right out of the hotel parlor without anyone seeing who did it. The onliest thing is, the kidnappers left a note on the night clerk’s coats saying they had three wimmin’.”

 

Laylow’s eyes flashed totally clear of whiskey now, “Who is the third woman? Youngblood, Double Scotch, get down to Big Ed’s and check on Catalina!”

 

The two men ran out of the saloon and over to Big Ed’s where Catalina had been staying. As they rushed through the door they saw Big Ed and his wife tied up in the corner.

 

Youngblood simply asked, “Who?”

 

As they got the gags loosened and out of their mouths, Big Ed said, “Tell the boys it was them blasted carpetbaggers from Texas. I had gotten word they were up to something back in Texas and now I know what it is. They are trying to take over the -3 and have lawyers there right now workin’ on getting the title. I have the telegram right over there. I had just gotten it and was heading over to the saloon to tell T-Bone when two men bum rushed us with Colts and took Catalina.”

 

“I think they are trying to keep T-Bone here in Arizona till they finish the takeover so when he gets back, there would be nothing he could do. They are trying some kind of legal wrangling and need more time to finish it. It sounded like there’s even more going on with T-Bone’s ranch than just the carpetbaggers too, something coming out of Mexico. T-Bone might just end up on the run along with Laylow by the time this is all over and done with.”

 

“They obviously don’t know T-Bone’s land is titled off an old Spanish Land Grant and other legally deeded property he had bought over the years. The land can’t be taken without him signing the deeds off unless T-Bone is dead or the government gets involved. Wait, they might be setting up a trap to try to kill T-Bone. Get to them Youngblood and tell them all to be careful.”

 

Youngblood was already heading out the door as Big Ed finished talking while Double Scotch untied Ed and his wife before heading out behind the rest himself. Laylow was not going to go for this at’ all and there would be no stopping him when he found out who to go after. By the time Double Scotch got back to the Crystal Palace, men were milling around outside checking their guns while others were gathering up horses from the OK corral and getting them saddled up.

 

T-Bone and Laylow were near the hitching rail making plans with Youngblood who was telling them what Big Ed had learned about the land takeover. Neither man was happy with what was being said and it showed on their faces. Both men knew the kind of cutthroats those carpetbaggers were and knew what they were heading up against but it didn’t matter none, they were going after their wimmin’.

 

One of the local townsmen who had been hanging out with the carpetbaggers looked at the knife that had killed the clerk then back over at Youngblood all the time knowing who killed that clerk.

 

Suddenly he shouted, “There’s the man who killed the night clerk,” pointing at Youngblood. “I saw him with that knife over to the Crystal Palace cutting a squid of tobacco off his plug. There can’t be two of those knives anywhere.”

 

The crowd suddenly turned towards Youngblood with a vicious look and a low grumble. “Let’s get a rope and hang him,” someone yelled.

 

It was almost instantaneous as the crowd moved as one surrounding the old cowhand pushing his friends to the side. He tried to protest but the shouting got far too loud for anyone to hear, not that anyone would be listening anyway for now they were in a vigilante frenzy and wanted blood to be spilled for the death of the clerk. When this happened to a town, it didn’t much matter whose blood was spilled as long as someone’s was soaking into the dry desert sands.

 

Laylow and the gang were helpless against the mob as they carried Youngblood to the hanging tree where there was already a rope hung over the heavy limb. Youngblood was a kickin’ and a twisting like his old horse during the morning buckfest but had no luck against all those men as they tied him fast to a dun horse having the rope slid over his head, tightened around his neck with the knot just behind his ear.

 

There looked to be no way out and ‘Ole Youngblood was praying hard for some kind of miracle before they slapped the rump of that old cayuse to keep his tired old bones from bleaching out in the morning sun. Try as he might, there were too many of them and no way to get loose from the bloodthirsty mob’s clutches.

 

The jig was just about up and it looked like Youngblood had just thrown his last loop when there was a shotgun blast from behind the crowd. It stopped the crowd from moving but that danged old horse jumped right out from under Youngblood. Fortunately, or maybe not, there was no slack in the rope as Youngblood slid off the back of the horse and started swinging, strangling as the rope tightened around his neck.

 

Youngblood was in dire straits with none of the gang being able to get close enough to cut him down when suddenly a rifle shot rang out from atop the roof of the dry goods store. The bullet cut the rope and dropped Youngblood to the ground where Zilar Craven got to him with a knife, cutting him free from the noose.

 

“Youngblood didn’t kill that man, he was with me and Rocky the entire time,” shouted Caliope Cupcake. “Zilar Craven has Youngblood’s knife and while it looks like the murder weapon, it is not.”

 

Youngblood was still on the ground with Mississippi Rose rubbing his neck to try to get the circulation flowing back into his brain soes he wouldn’t have any kind of brain damage. The crowd had gotten silent hearing for the first time what Youngblood had been saying all along.

 

Rocky walked up to the group with a grim look on her face and said, “Boys, I know whose knife that is. The man carrying it was posing as a cattle buyer who came in from Houston on the stage with me by the name of McCabe. He had that exact knife on him. I would know the knife and him anywhere. It doesn’t surprise me either that he would be running with a pack of no account carpetbaggers neither. He is a piece of sh*t, if you’ll pardon my language.”

 

T-Bone was the next one to talk, “A Texas man kidnapping three women. That don’t hold with me Laylow. Are you in this with me?”

 

Laylow didn’t even bat an eye knowing the problems of the past are now behind them. “Now T-Bone, did you think I would walk away from something like this. Remember, there are Dammit women being held too. You know I’m coming and hell is comin’ with me as soon as their butts can find a saddle to plant themselves into.”

 

The two old friends shook hands heartily and were busy getting’ everybody in place so they didn’t even notice when an old cowhand began slipping out of town on that big “Ole mule. Rocky and Big Ed saw him but none of the others seemed to be aware of anything else but to get a posse organized. Howdy Doody was going to find where the kidnappers had ridden off to before that herd of gunslingers destroyed what little sign there was.

 

It took Howdy about thirty minutes to worry out their trail leading off towards the old mines. He’d almost missed it because the wimmin’ had been carried most of the way to the wagon but one of them was set down on the ground and left two small footprints in the soft desert sand. The wagon was heading out into the badlands and it seemed a little odd to Howdy they were a going that way.

 

There was no easy way out of those hills unless they were planning on holin’ up down there in the mines as some kind of stalling tactic or to set up some kind of trap. They could be headed for Mexico but Howdy didn’t seem to think so since they weren’t high-tailing it to get across the border. Howdy was going to have to be real careful following this trail cause it looked like they wanted to be followed.

 

Riding along the grassy side of the road so as not to raise any dust, Howdy slowly worked out the trail. There was a wagon leading a horse and three outriders working along the sides of the road. They were traveling fast but not making any attempt to cover the trail at all. Was it on purpose they were leaving a good trail or were they in too big a hurry to meet someone else?

 

Howdy knew the ore road would round a narrow point then turn north for a short distance so he decided to cross a hogback through a grove of stunted trees to come onto the trail behind anyone who might be waiting to ambush a posse coming around that curve. Howdy’s guess about the ambush had been right on. There was a man with a Winchester waiting behind a bunch of boulders watching the trail where it came around the point.

 

Howdy tied his mule where he was out of sight in a thick patch of brush where the animal could get a little shade. He unlimbered his six-guns and made sure they were capped. Howdy wasn’t too fond of the new-fangled cartridges so he kept on using the old style cap and ball Army he had so much success with during the war.

 

He took his spurs off and hung them on the saddle horn, no sense making any more noise than necessary. Howdy worked his way down the steep side-hill as he tried to get in close behind the bushwhacking rifleman before he was discovered so he could use his short guns.

 

Howdy had almost gotten within short gun distance when the rifleman got up, turning towards Howdy. The bushwhacker had seen him by now and was levering the rifle before bringing it around towards him as Howdy began his draw. The rifle butt just touched the man’s shoulder when smoke and fire blossomed from the muzzle.

 

The bullet whizzed just past Howdy’s ear as he tripped over a half-buried root. Howdy had hit the ground rolling and came up with his six-gun blazing. The rifleman took Howdy’s slug low down in his belly and was writhing in agony on the ground. As Howdy walked up, he kicked the Winchester out of the man’s reach while bringing his sixgun to bear on the man’s belly to finish him off. Howdy used his boot toe to nudge the man’s short gun from its holster then gave it a kick with it landing over by the rifle.

 

“Where are the wimmin’?” Howdy snarled.

 

“I ain’t telling you nothing you back shooter.” The man was still trying to hold his mud but Howdy wasn’t takin’ no for an answer so Howdy eared his big gun back and promptly shot the man in the left shoulder.

 

The man screamed in pain, “Why did you do that? I’m a dyin’ anyway. You didn’t need to shoot me again.”

 

“How much do you want to suffer before you die pilgrim?” Howdy asked as he pressed his boot toe against the shoulder wound causing the man to scream in pain again.

 

The man wouldn’t be able to stand much of this and Howdy was going to get an answer no matter what he had to do to the man to get it, even if it was to torture him like an Apache.

 

Taking all he could, the man started blabbering, “I’ll talk if you stop torturing me. They went to the Tombstone Livery to hole up. I was supposed to keep the posse held back here while they got the extra horses and went overland through the breaks to the livery.”

 

The man’s breathing had gotten raspy and he couldn’t talk anymore but he had already told Howdy what he needed to know. Howdy did what he could for the man but he wasn’t going to last much longer. He hated to torture a man like that but he needed answers and needed them fast.

 

There was way too much at stake to pussy foot around with these men. Howdy hiked back up the ridge to get the mule then came back down to the outlaw. The man’s eyes were open but his raspy breathing had stopped. Howdy put the man’s vest over his face to keep his eyes from being picked out by the crows cause he didn’t have time to bury him right now.

 

Howdy swung back into the saddle and continued to follow the trail to make sure the rifleman had told him the truth. Sure enough, about two miles further on, Howdy found the abandoned wagon near an old brush corral. There had been horses held there and the tracks were leading south over the hill towards the Livery.

 

Howdy stepped back into the stirrups and headed out. The mule he was on didn’t even act a little tired and seemed like he could go all day. His long legs ate up ground quickly so Howdy kept him to a good pace to make up time.

 

Soon Howdy was in a shallow draw leading up to the Tombstone Livery. He pulled up behind a stunted oak and got off the mule. He worked his way slowly through the brush on foot until he could see the Livery clearly.

 

Howdy could see there was a man in the loft with a Henry and another setting by the tack room with a Winchester across his legs. Howdy needed to know if the women were in the barn before he could do anything else. The only thing was, Howdy didn’t know how to get much closer without being seen. Suddenly the barn door flew open and there was a young girl kickin’, bitin’, scratchin’, and screaming at a puncher as she chased him out of the barn.

 

“That must be Catalina,” Howdy thought to himself as he grinned at the events he was witnessing. Old Youngblood was right about her being a she-devil when you made her mad. The gal went back into the livery barn as Howdy surveyed the area as to the best way to approach it unseen. It looked like a couple of men could follow the draw he was hiding in, almost to the corner of the building where there was a window and a small door. If the rest of the gang could hit them from the front, they may not be covering the back and the women could be rescued without the outlaws knowing it.

 

Howdy slipped back to the mule and backtracked out of the draw soes he wouldn’t be seen. He would have little time to bury the dead outlaw on the way back for it was nearing dark. They would hit the Livery in the morning and had a good chance at getting the women back unharmed. From the fight that girl was putting up, the men wouldn’t be bothering them anymore today.

 

Red and Catherine could take care of themselves as well so there was little enough to worry about with them, at least for now. As Howdy made the corner leading to the point where he and the rifleman had their gunfight, he saw a large gathering of men. It was Laylow and T-Bone with the gang. Howdy came up to the group in an ambling trot stopping near where the body laid silently in death.

 

“Didn’t want it like that but he didn’t give me a choice.”

 

Laylow walked over to Howdy, “You sure played hobb with him Howdy, did he talk first?”

 

“You bet he did cause I wasn’t gonna let him not. The gals are being held at the Tombstone Livery.”

 

The men started towards their horses with one pulling out his rope. “Now hold on there fellas. You go a charging in there like a stampeding buffalo herd and they will kill those gals fer sure or they could get us caught in a crossfire. Laylow, I figure me and one more rider can get down to the Livery and get those gals out whilst you and the gang run interference in front. Leastways we’d have a chance at getting them out before the lead starts flying.”

 

Laylow looked at T-Bone and asked, “What do you think Bone?”

 

T-Bone was a kicking at the dirt showing his impatience, “Much as I hate to say it, I think Howdy may be right although I would like to just ride in there and kill them all.”

 

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Laylow said, “come tomorrow morning we’re heading for the Livery and hell is coming with us. Howdy, pick your rider and get back out there quick like.”

[Bramble Mountain Buzzard]

#500

[Yusta B.]

Soooooooo close .......

[Jailhouse Jim, SASS #13104]

Chapter 35

 

HOWDY DOODY TIME

 

Early Saturday morning, Laylow, Rocky, Howdy, T-Bone, Ringo, Ben Scalped, and the rest of the gang got ready to ride to the Tombstone Livery where the Dammit’s and Dooley’s would hit the carpetbaggers, writing them a ticket to HELL.

 

“Laylow,” Howdy said, “I’ll be taking one rider with me around their flank and get in behind. I’ll need about an hour to get into place.”

 

Laylow looked up and asked, “Who are you taking Howdy?”

 

“I’m going to take one of our most capable gunfighters and one who can handle those gals too Laylow …….…, Rocky Meadows.”

 

Laylow smiled and nodded his approval, as did T-Bone and Big Ed. Howdy and Rocky mounted up right away then headed southwest out of town a mile or so before turning north towards the Livery. They cut through the brush then followed the same draw Howdy had discovered the day before so were able to get within about four hundred yards of the Livery on horseback undetected.

 

“Rocky,” Howdy said, “we are going to put the sneak on to get up to the barn and see if we can get a peek through the window at where the gals are. If we can do that, then when the gang hits the front, we’ll go in the back to get the womenfolk.”

 

Rocky for once didn’t have too much to say for she knew her friend’s lives were held in their hands until they got them out of there safely.

 

Keeping low, Howdy and Rocky wormed their way through the sagebrush until they made it to the edge of the Livery Stable corrals. There was still a man in the loft but the man by the tack building was nowhere in sight.

 

“Howdy, I have an idea,” Rocky said, “how’s about I go out there with my guns hid out and kind of distract them some? You could get in close to the window or even inside the barn to see where the gals are.”

 

“How are you going to do that Rocky?” Howdy asked innocently.

 

Rocky gave Howdy that all-knowing, raised eyebrow look like ‘Now how do you think I’m gonna do it Howdy?’

 

Suddenly Howdy gets it and says, “Ohhhhhhh, I know, duh. That will work Rocky, I know you can pull it off.”

 

Rocky pulled her deerskin jacket over the top of her six-shooters and stumbled out of the brush acting as if she was a little tipsy. She was completely in the middle of the lot before the man in the loft saw her and came to the loading window, hanging onto the rope so he could lean out a bit to see better.

 

“How do,” Rocky slurred. “I seem to have lost my way to Benson. Do you know how to get there?”

 

Another man had come out of the tack building and yet another had appeared from behind the corral. There were about a dozen horses in the corrals but there was no way of knowing how many animals actually carried the carpetbaggers into town.

 

Now these fellers weren’t expecting no other gals out to the Livery and fer sure were a mite surprised when this buxom beauty came strolling into their lot. Course that didn’t stop them none from putting on a show of fools for her once she got there.

 

None of them had seen her in town obviously or didn’t recognize her in those tight-fittin’ buckskins so they were more than accommodating in trying to give her directions, although some would be suspect as to where they were trying to send this here gal. There was no doubt though they were completely pre-occupied with Rocky so Howdy had no trouble getting up to the barn undetected.

 

Howdy had a clear path to the window and was already looking inside. The gals were huddled in the northwest corner under a blanket trying to stay warm for it was getting down right nipply this time of year with temps ranging into the mid-twenties at night. The women were not unaccustomed to cold weather dressed only in town attire that was not well suited to staying warm in a barn.

 

There was little doubt they would be in no mood for foolishness today for if these carpetbaggers chose to start something, those women would be ready to finish it and them at the same time. There was one man setting to a table at Howdy’s right and another asleep just under the window Howdy was watching through. Catherine looked up, seeing Howdy’s face in the window, and smiled ever so slightly.

 

This was the second time in as many weeks that Howdy had come to her rescue and she was almighty grateful for it. The guard at the table got up to see who was makin’ the commotion in the lot. He went to the door then stepped outside when he saw it was a woman, a mighty pretty woman at that.

 

Being a man, he wasn’t about to be up-staged by his partners when it came to sparkin’ a pretty woman so he eased out into the lot to get his act into play. None of these men had a clue the game that was being played was so heavily stacked in Rocky’s favor for they were simply her man-toys for a few minutes while Howdy got to her “sisters” to get them set free before the gunplay began.

 

Howdy opened the window ever so gently and looked at the man on the bunk. He was sound asleep, nothing was going to wake him up, especially after he got done with him. Howdy picked up a broken axe handle that was leaning agin’ the wall and gave the sleeping man a good whack on his head. He was out cold now so Howdy could get through the window without waking him up. Rocky had all the other men’s attention outside so it was easy enough for Howdy to get in through the window undetected even if he made a little sound.

 

He quickly hog-tied the unconscious man and put a gag in his mouth to keep him quiet if he woke up. He sprinted over to where the girls were and untied Catalina then asked her to call for the guard to come back in as soon as she finished untying the other women. Howdy bounded back over to the door and waited for the man to walk through where he had a big surprise waiting for him.

 

The guard came reluctantly at Catalina’s call but was met with the barrel of Howdy’s sixgun across the bridge of his nose dropping him like a sack of wheat as soon as he cleared the doorway. Howdy threw an arm around the man and dragged him further into barn where he tied him up then stuffed a filthy kerchief into his mouth as a gag. The only man left in the building was the man in the loft who Rocky was entertaining at that very moment.

 

Howdy figured the best time to make a run for the brush trail would be when the gang hit the Livery from the north because there was no way he could get into the loft without the man hearing him. All they had to do now was to wait for the frontal attack. Howdy had already signaled Laylow that the wimmin’ were safe and ready to move whenever he opened the ball at the front of the Livery.

 

Howdy knew he wasn’t going to have to wait too long so he got everyone over to the window and through to the outside of the barn. Rocky was working herself nearer to the barn soes she could make the dash with the other women while Howdy covered their back trail.

 

Suddenly the first shot rang out followed by a barrage of gunfire. Both the Dammit’s and the Dooley’s had spread out along the edge of the wash, every man jack of them carryin’ a Winchester and a shotgun.

 

T-Bone and Laylow looked up and down the battle lines then shook hands, “Laylow, it’s time to give them what they asked for, lead first.”

 

Laylow stood up on the bank of the wash and hallooed the Livery, “Hey there in the Livery! You Damn Yankees. Set Those Gals Free, Dammit!”

 

With that, the signal was given and the men and women opened up on the Livery sending a hailstorm of death carried on the back of a slug. The firestorm from the wash turned the Livery into a living hell with white-hot bullets raining into the building. The gang had already seen Howdy’s signal that the gals were free so they laid it to those carpetbaggers for all they had in ‘em.

 

The man upstairs had been leaning out the door while hanging onto the hay hook used to lift hay through the door into the loft and was trying his best to make an impression on Rocky. When the first shot rang out, he tried to turn to see what was happening when his feet slipped on the hay launching him through the door while he was still holding onto the hay hook. The man started to scream but there was no time. He tried to hold on to the hook but it had gotten behind him. Bein’ the hook was in such an awkward position, it slipped from his grasp, sliding up his back and hooked underneath his knotted kerchief.

 

The hay rope had been tied off at ground level so it wouldn’t have to be rethreaded later. The slack came out of the rope at the same time as the hook slipped under the kerchief. A resounding “SNAP!” could be heard as the man’s neck broke cleanly, his legs kicking in mid-air from the nerveless spasms during the last throws of a brutal death. Watching all of that play out in a matter of seconds, Howdy rushed the women into the brush. Rocky was following a little further behind not wanting to telegraph their movement had any hidden man been watching her.

 

Once all of the wimmin’ were on the brush-choked trail back to the horses, Howdy stopped and checked their back trail. The man in the tack room had rushed forward at the first sound of gunfire allowing Rocky to get to Howdy’s position unseen. She had taken charge now and was leading the wimmin’ south, back to the horses while Howdy waited for anyone to follow them.

 

Howdy chose not to start firing to keep their position from being spotted since no one had noticed the missing women yet or weren’t trying to locate them if they had because of the gunfight out front. Had they discovered the wimmin’ missing and tried to follow them, Howdy was ready to dust them if they found his trail leading away from the barn. Laylow and T-Bone were leading the gangs into the breaks north of the Livery, rooting out these wantabe carpetbaggers and had made for a perfect diversion for their wimmin’ to escape.

 

After Howdy had waited several minutes, he began working his way back to the women to get them back into Tombstone safely. To his utter surprise, he was met part way by the women coming back down the trail loaded for bear. They were all heeled now but were still wearing their dresses from town. Even Catalina was carrying a double-barreled shotgun and had a bandoleer of shells strapped across her shoulders. ‘Ole Howdy knew these women could and would fight in a heartbeat, although he figured they would want to change clothes before they did. Catherine just smiled at Howdy as she slipped by while Rocky just shrugged her shoulders.

 

It was time they gave a little ‘git back’ to the carpetbaggers only T-Bone would start the action this time around, “You want my land Dammit, well come and get it, you can have the lead first!”

 

With that, another hailstorm of lead was driven into the Livery. If they hadn’t figured it out by now, the carpetbaggers had opened the door straight into the devils lair by manhandling those women and now they were going to pay dear for it. If they were lucky, Laylow would let them leave with their miserable lives. If they weren’t, well it wouldn’t matter no more no how cause their shot-apart bodies would be laying up there in Boot Hill for eternity whilst their souls headed deep into the bowels of the devils own den.

 

The women had caught up to their men folk as they attacked the carpetbaggers who had moved into the breaks south of the big barn. The two gangs were unleashing HELL into the breaks in the form of bullets and shot.

 

The carpetbaggers were holding their own though having dug into some pretty solid breastworks in those breaks. The Dammit’s and Dooley’s were giving them all they had. The carpetbaggers were taking it and more but giving plenty enough of it back.

 

Old man Dooley did a good picking his Texas men and did a good job teaching these men how to fight. The Dammit's were doing their part too, led by Laylow Curly. Being a rough and tumble bunch like they were, they charged repeatedly against the death flower of the carpetbagger guns. Anyone watching from a distance could see men and women running from one spot to the next as they fought bravely for their lives and family.

 

The battle had turned into guerrilla fighting with every bit of cover being used as well as many of the civil war tactics being put into play by these semi-retired warriors. The battle raged on until after 4:00 pm when the gangs broke off from the battle. The carpetbaggers had put up a fierce defense with the battle waging all day long without an advantage going to either side.

[Jailhouse Jim, SASS #13104]

Chapter 36

 

HELL COMES TO THE LIVERY

 

By February of 1882, a carefully orchestrated takeover of several ranches in Texas was coming to a head. The takeover had been in the making for months with Civil War Carpetbaggers taking advantage of the land war between Laylow Curly and T-Bone Dooley to do their work.

 

With monies they had made after the war, the carpetbaggers were able to wield a lot of influence with local authorities and were able to “buy favors” from many of the frontier jurists in Texas at the time. They used that influence to obtain legal looking papers to fool the uneducated ranchers in the taking of their land legally.

 

Having made considerable money off of the misfortunes of others, these “Damn Yankees” thought this Dooley/Dammit range war would be the perfect opportunity to increase their land holdings in Texas and even into northern Mexico.

 

The carpetbaggers thought that if the two ranchers were totally engrossed in their personal battle, no one would notice the backdoor tactics employed by the shyster lawyers in making fake titles to the land and getting them recorded as legal documents. Little did the carpetbaggers know there were men from Mexico crossing into Texas with the same thing in mind only they weren’t worried about legalities or the carpetbaggers little games.

 

Many political strings were getting pulled from behind the scenes as legal wrangling led the attempt to get T-Bone’s Badlands Bar –3 wrenched away from him, both in Texas and in Mexico. President Diaz was having his own political troubles, partially as a result of the undercover land takeovers by his enemies. He was trying to keep his followers loyal under his leadership but the other political parties were making promises to the peones they couldn’t or had no intention to keep yet the people were believing the lies anyway.

 

It seemed only the Verutas Negras were staying loyal to Presidente Diaz as he pursued the issue with Laylow’s trial, vindication, and citizenship reinstatement along with fighting the treachery of his own demons within the Mexican government. The carpetbaggers didn’t know it but they too were nothing more than pawns in this huge game of chess between Mexico and the United States.

 

Part of the carpetbagger’s hopefully well thought-out plan was to send men to Tombstone to antagonize the two giants in hopes they would end up killing each other or at least delaying them from returning to Texas long enough so their shyster lawyers could get the new “Legal” titles recorded. If all that failed, then they would need to kill T-Bone at minimum and if they got Laylow in the process, they wouldn’t have to do it later on.

 

Everything had gone along according to plan but when all of their plans ended up in shambles when the families called a truce, the carpetbaggers became desperate and kidnapped the three women not knowing what they would leash upon themselves when the gangs came for them.

 

Now, the kidnapping or otherwise molestation of any proper woman in the West was not going to be left unanswered much less the taking of a Dammit or Dooley woman. These misguided carpetbaggers had opened a can of worms they had no idea how to close because rather than keep the two gangs at odds against each other, they had united them as one against the carpetbaggers. T-Bone and Laylow were brothers at odds with each other but now they were shoulder to shoulder against this new bunch when their people were kidnapped.

 

There was going to be hell to pay and blood was going to be spilled into the dry sands of the Tombstone hills before the gangs were done with these men. Perhaps the warning given to Ed Schieffelin about finding his tombstone in those hills would finally ring true only it would be the carpetbaggers who would be finding their tombstones long before Ed found his. It was sure looking like Boot Hill was going to be getting some fresh graves and soon.

 

The carpetbaggers had chosen to hole-up in a little place called the Tombstone Livery to make their last stand. They had hoped the ruse of the kidnappers heading towards the old mines would keep the men off their trail for a while but they hadn’t counted on Howdy being able to track a rattler across a flat rock being part of the gang. The carpetbaggers were against the wall and this was looking to be their last days alive.

 

The well-known Tombstone Livery was situated a couple of miles northwest of the now infamous Tombstone, AT. in a depression where several small draws emptied into a wide swale. There was a narrow wash on the north side forming a natural boundary that also allowed for the gangs to approach the Livery easily and unseen.

 

Howdy had located the gals and had gotten them out of the barn during the day battle when the gang hit the Livery from the north so now it was time to teach them a lesson. Laylow urged everyone into a huddle where they discussed the options to finish that bunch off.

 

Well, there were no options, it was time to do some night fighting. The gang would hit the Livery that night cause it was kinda fun for them and the carpetbaggers would not be expecting it. Seems like the gang does some of its best work at night and tonight wouldn’t be any different. They would ride in, hit the carpetbaggers hard ‘n fast, then ride out just as fast, back to the Crystal Palace where they would celebrate the night’s adventure. It seemed the Dammit’s were always celebrating something.

 

Hopefully there were no Area 51 hunters out for Howdy’s shotgun might bring some to runnin’ to see what was causing the pyrotechnics near the tough little mining town. The men and women regrouped just north of the wash while waiting for dark. The moon would not be coming to light the nighttime sky any time soon so they would be operating in almost total darkness.

 

When Howdy started with his Doodymite loads, the gang could easily slip into the breaks catching the carpetbaggers totally unaware. This night would separate the men, or the women, from the boys though for the Dammit’s are experts at night fighting. Since time was a wastin’, Howdy cut loose with the first loads of Doodymite and brought hell riding into the Livery through the front door.

 

As the Dammit’s hit the carpetbagger camp, men could be seen scrambling for their weapons, many not taking the time to put on their drawers. The laughing limey could be heard cackling every time Howdy touched off his “Special” pyrotechnic loads. Each time Howdy unleashed hell from his shotgun, the carpetbagger positions would be exposed so the rest of the gang could riddle their new hiding places with a barrage of white-hot lead.

 

The carpetbaggers were not used to this kind of attack, leaving them virtually defenseless and without a clear plan for holding their position. It seemed there was no place for them to hide from those damn flares someone kept sending after them. The gang would keep it up for some time before they would call it a night. A couple of hours later, the gang regrouped at the Crystal Palace to relive the night’s fun. It was pretty apparent they had accomplished their goal in destroying the carpetbagger camp and now it was time to have a drink.

 

The carpetbaggers would not be able to go back to their beds for a good while and it was looking to be getting pretty chilly out in the brush without clothes or blankets. It was going to be a long cold night for them but the Dammit’s and Dooley’s had a far better plan. Once the night battle was over, the battle weary men challenged each other in a drinkin’ contest.

 

They had their women back and they were going to hang out in a nice warm saloon having a few or several drinks to finish the celebration they had started the day before. Tomorrow would be soon enough to clean up the rest of the carpetbaggers and the gang would handle that with a vengeance. What would happen next took Laylow, T-Bone, and Rocky completely by surprise.

 

The party had just gotten started when three men walked into the saloon, three carpetbaggers, one of which was McCabe, the so-called cattle buyer off the westbound stage. Apparently the carpetbaggers had a “Night Attack” of their own planned against the gangs. Mebe they figured they could throw old man Dooley off track while they regrouped.

 

“T-Bone Dooley,” McCabe exclaimed, “I have here a court order here ordering you to vacate the Bar -3.”

 

McCabe had a look of triumph on his face as he made the announcement, looking around at the crowd for a sign of approval. T-Bone walked over to the man and took the papers, looking them over closely. Rocky had come around the bar and was standing directly in front of the carpetbagger, staring into his black eyes. The carpetbagger didn’t know it yet but it was time to settle his debt with the yella-haired gal for his comments on the stage. This time though, there would be no one else to think about, just Rocky and the man with a big mouth.

 

T-Bone threw the papers on the bar and turned to McCabe with that crazy eye look on his face, “Friend, that court order is no good in Texas or anywhere else. You see, my land is deeded land off an old Spanish Land Grant and other legally deeded property legally recorded at each County Recorder’s Office. My land wasn’t squatted land like much of the other properties around the west. I knew slime like you would be coming along some day to try to take my land from me after I’ve put all the work and sweat into it to make it prosperous and grow. You should have checked the land offices a little closer for now you not only have problems with me, you have problems with the judge for lying on counterfeited documents. Add that to the kidnapping of our women and you have a hand to play that won’t win you nothing but a plot of ground six feet deep in Boot Hill.”

 

McCabe was set back on his heels and appeared to be in shock so couldn’t come up with a reply for what T-Bone had said. His bluff did not work as it had in the past and now he was left holding an empty sack in front of a man who wanted to fill it with ……………………………..… lead.

 

T-Bone was talking again but it took a few seconds for it to register with McCabe. “You made a big mistake coming in here friend for now you are to be held to answer for your deeds.”

 

“T-Bone,” Rocky said, “I want this belly scum from a horned toad for myself. I would take it as a special favor to me if you would let me handle this.”

 

T-Bone grinned, knowing she wasn’t going to take no for an answer and was more than capable in handling herself in a gunfight so naturally said, “He is all yours Rocky.”

 

McCabe’s look was one of conquest, there was no way this woman could beat him in a stand-up gunfight. Even if he didn’t get the land back, he could get even with her for the stagecoach incident. “If that is how you want to play it Dooley, I heard you had women fighting your battles for you,” McCabe said snidely.

 

T-Bone’s face went cold, “Be glad I’m letting her kill you friend. If I was to face you, you would die hard and slow. She has a little more heart and will end it quickly for you.”

 

Jittery Jim and Wily had moved off to each side of Rocky to cover the other men. They would make sure the fight was totally on the up and up and there would no kind of interference. T-Bone and Laylow moved to the other side of the bar where they could see the fight easily as Rocky slipped the loops off her six-guns and limbered them up in their holsters. The Carpetbagger slipped off his jacket revealing a shoulder holster containing a small-framed handgun. The rig was unusual for not many men wore that kind of rig in the west.

 

Seconds ticked by as onlookers scrambled out of the line of fire. Most folks had never even seen a standup gunfight, much less one between a man and woman, of which many never would see again. Frontier justice was about to be dealt in the card room of the Crystal Palace with death waiting a few scant seconds longer for a new soul, albeit a black one.

 

“Ladies first,” McCabe said smart-alec like. The man hadn’t a clue he had signed his own death warrant.

 

McCabe saw her hands moving ever so slowly towards her guns as his own hand went flashing for his. Wily and Jittery Jim had their guns drawn and were covering the other men, freezing them in their tracks. Suddenly McCabe felt a tug low down on his side then another like a hot burning poker driving into his chest. He looked directly into the eyes of his murderer as Rocky’s Colts spoke again.

 

McCabe’s body lurched but he could feel nothing as his soon to be lifeless hulk jumped from the impact of two more slugs tearing into his chest as they blew holes through both lungs. Where is his gun? How did both her guns get out before his? McCabe’s fingers were weakening as his revolver tilted sideways, falling out of the holster and his hand, landing on the floor without ever really clearing leather.

 

McCabe was looking up now at the lanterns suspended from the ceiling. The flame was turning into a starburst and growing dimmer as each second passed. His knees could no longer hold his weight, buckling as if under an immense pressure. He felt himself falling, falling, and unable to see the lanterns any longer. Rocky shucked the empties from her Colt and replaced them before dropping the six-guns back into their holsters.

 

Only then did Rocky look down at the crumpled man on the floor. McCabe had hit the floor dead with lifeless, unseeing eyes locked wide open. Blood had started to form in a large pool from underneath the body, dripping through the floorboards and into the dry Tombstone sand underneath. The life blood and spirit of this man heading home, straight to the bowels of hell at the hands of the woman who had learned him to respect the abilities of one far better than he. He wouldn’t be talking down to or mistreating any other women in the west.

 

Before long, the undertaker was there with his wagon so the other two men lifted the lifeless man into the back and then skulked away into the night like the cowards they were. It was time to get back to the party now because it was time to celebrate a birthday, Rocky “Shush Dammit” Meadows birthday. There were plenty of cowboys, Dammit’s and Dooley’s alike, who were plenty proud she had been born when she was and were more than happy to celebrate that happy day.

 

The party had really gotten started once the gunsmoke had cleared with gallons of Old Overholt being spilled into glasses held tight-fisted by the gang. Captain Jake Cutter was pleasantly polluted and was over to the side mumbling something about an inner monkey. Jake had spilled good whiskey all over himself so now smelled like a brewery but considering he had gotten plenty into his mouth, he didn’t even care.

 

T-Bone had made his way to the piano by now and had begun to sing while the rest of the boys were doing their level best at making a play at spinning Rocky around the dance floor a few times before they fell victim to the whiskey. The drinking had gone on for a good while when half the crowd headed out onto the street in front of the Grand Hotel.

 

Yup, there was something going on out there for sure. Rocky had made her way to her room and had come out onto the balcony. Laylow, Youngblood, Jittery Jim, and a host of others were standing down on the street looking up at what they figured heaven might be like with Rocky dead in their sights. Course Rocky bein’ a woman of desire wasn’t too ashamed at taking in all that attention so hammed it up a bit for her cowboy admirers.

 

Somewhere along the way, Rocky had come up with some beads like were usually seen at Marti Gras in New Orleans so she was puttin’ on a show for the boys and tossing those beads offa there like she had done all this before. Tombstone was jumping but one by one, the men had to find their bedrolls cause they had to be ready for the carpetbaggers come morning.

 

The Dooley Gang headed back for camp late that night although they mistakenly neglected to tell T-Bone and Knifemaker. After a fashion, they figured out that the rest of their family had left them so bein’ big brave Texans like they were, T-Bone picked up a box of Captain Crunch so he would have some “supplies” for the desert travel and began to walk towards camp.

 

It wasn’t long before T-Bone began to thinkin’ this might not have been a real good idea. They were out in the desert in the middle of the night in Apache country with no water, no moon, and only a faint idea which direction camp was. There were coyotes howling in the brush, that is if they were really coyotes, and hundreds of other sounds he had not remembered as being of the desert.

 

Fortunately for T-Bone, several of his brothers had discovered he wasn’t with them and had come back in a wagon to find them and bring them back to camp before they perished of thirst, were killed by the apaches, or lost in the desolation of the Tombstone Hills forever.

[Jailhouse Jim, SASS #13104]

Chapter 37

 

IT’S OVER?

 

After the party was over at the Crystal Palace Saloon, there was some unusual or perhaps subversive activity goin’ on in the Dammit/Dooley encampment to let off a little extra steam before the battle at the Livery was over. It seems there was a little feller by the name of TP Dammit who had been making the rounds through the camp tagging along after Filthy Lurce or was it Laylow Curly.

 

Now this feller had a reputation for bein’ quite mischievous in the past, blaming many of his antics on the above reproachable Miss Will, pasting himself on and around the sleeping quarters of several of the gang as a calling card of his presence. Rumor had it he has been seen down scoping out the Bird Cage Theater to leave his calling cards on some of the cribs or perhaps Double Scotch’s new hotel. TP was a brave little guy but someday, he was gonna run up against someone who didn’t appreciate his little games.

 

Double Scotch had set up a new hotel franchise (bench) in front of Youngblood’s game at the Crystal Palace Saloon where Captain Jake is continuing his world saloon whiskey drinking tour. Jittery Jim is again the subject of an escape attempt from Area 51 with Mad Mike trying to take a linotype of the incident. There is also suspicion surrounding the laughing Brit. It seems his inebriation released moderate degrees of inhibition to where he was now capable of heinous acts of incivility and borderline incorrigible behavior.

 

Most members of the Dammit hierarchy retaliated swiftly to the unseen attacks by the TP Dammit although sometimes misdirected towards innocent or unintended targets. The Blue Palm Tree of Death had been seen flourishing in the Dammit camp with more than one cowboy lying motionless underneath before the night is over.

 

Sunday morning broke cleanly in Tombstone with the Dammit’s and Dooley’s sharing a cup of Arbuckle’s at the campfire. Clean up was all but uneventful for the carpetbaggers mostly lit out during the night leaving the dead for the buzzards to feast upon. What few carpetbaggers were left alive after the morning battle were surrounded by the Verutas Negras and were being escorted out of town. Whether the men were left to live or not was of no concern to Laylow and T-Bone. They had been dealt a hand of poker and they had lost, many paying with their lives.

 

There was one last issue left to be settled between some of the townspeople who had sided with the carpetbaggers against Youngblood. The old cowhand had not let go the attempt to let him swing from a gnarled old oak at the hands of a few of the less reputable members of town. Youngblood was looking for the man who had pointed him out as a murderer for the man owed him retribution for what he had done. A simple apology was not going to be sufficient either for Youngblood would wear a scar now from the burns caused by the rope around his neck.

 

Youngblood was lazing around near to the OK Corral, waiting, watching for someone or something. As if on command, three men came walking into the rear entrance of the OK corral lot from Fremont Street as if it was once again October 26, 1881. Jittery Jim Jonah, sparkling in the afternoon’s fading light, was following the men with two six-guns steering them.

 

The men were the same ones who were so eager to string Youngblood up to cover for the carpetbaggers to give them more time to get away from town with the kidnapped wimmin’. Youngblood turned to face the men head-on as they walked towards him. Once the men realized who he was, they stopped dead in their tracks, now terrified at the realization it was time for them to settle up in front of the muzzle of a Smith and Wesson Schofield.

 

“Boys,” Youngblood started, “you got into bed with the wrong bunch when you thought you could make a dollar offa few drifting cowhands and played hobb with my neck in particular. It’s time to answer up for what you done so how do you want to do it? I don’t mind Bowies or six-guns, it’s gonna be your choice whether you want to fight me together with six-guns or separately with a Bowie, which will it be? That same lumber yard where the Clanton’s and the Earp’s had at it will work just fine for me as well for it will be a fitting place for you to die.”

 

The men were disbelieving of what the cowhand had just said. He wanted to go against the both of them at the same time with six-guns. How crazy could this old fool be? They were starting to get their confidence back now. They were all wantabe gunfighters so that would be their choice. They had seen what a Bowie could do to a man and didn’t have the stomach to fight mano y mano with a man such as was facing them albeit an older man but one who looked like he could handle a bowie.

 

They started to spread out towards C.S. Fly’s picture parlor as if a replay of the events of only a few months ago. Jittery Jim had come alongside Youngblood and stood facing the now spread-out group of men. There would be no question about who started this fight for it was started when one man made a knowingly false claim that could have cost an innocent man his life. The man that made that claim would be the first to die at the hands of the man he had so callously chosen to be a pawn in their game.

Time was frozen still as the men faced off in that vacant lot behind the OK Corral waiting for the march of death to begin. Beads of sweat began to glisten on the guilty men’s brows for they knew that even if they got both of these gunmen, there was no doubt some or all of them were going down as well, maybe for eternity.

 

Youngblood spat into the dirt, “I’ll be your Huckleberry.”

The man who had so easily given Youngblood to the mob was the first to draw. While he may have thought he was a gunfighter and was surprisingly fast, he fired too quickly, not aiming, as Youngblood brought his pistols to bear.

 

The slug took Youngblood in the leg but he did not go down. Instead, the old gunman kept cocking his Smith’s as the bullet tore through the fleshy part of his leg. Youngblood’s guns spoke next sending a red-hot slug into the man’s belly then another through his forehead, blowing out the back of his skull.

 

The man stood as if realizing he was already dead and had yet to fall for his eyes were wide open, frozen in a blank stare directly at Youngblood. He was no longer showing contempt for the man, no longer showing anything at all. Youngblood was vaguely aware of the desperate fight going on next to him but did not avert his eyes from the dying man still standing in front of him. At long last, the man twisted slowly then fell to the dirt, rolling over, and facing the sky.

 

“Get a good look friend cause you aren’t headed that a way. Satan has a special spot chosen for you right next to him at the fire with Billy,” Youngblood said silently to himself.

 

Guns had been firing in front and alongside the disassociated Youngblood as Jittery Jim took on the other man. These men were not gunmen at all and were paying the price for it. Jim had taken a slug just above his hipbone that was a painful flesh wound but he didn’t go down and was sending the man to hell with pounds of lead to the brisket as he fired then fired again at the man in front of him.

 

The first to go down was the fastest as well and who had gotten the slug into Jittery Jim. Another man showed up from somewhere only was markedly slower and fumbled his Colt as it came loose from his holster then fell back in, obviously do to a nerveless condition caused by Jim’s slug splitting his spine as it tore through his body just under the shoulder blades. Neither man would walk away from this lot and would soon find their place in Boot Hill.

 

Magically, Rocky had appeared next to Youngblood, catching him before he fell face first into the dirt in pain from his wounded leg. The pain had finally reached his brain and brought him back to reality. Youngblood turned towards Rocky with a silly smile as if he thought an angel had rescued him.

 

He probably thought heaven wouldn’t be so bad if all the angels looked like this one. Rocky gave Youngblood a kiss on the cheek as she wrapped his arm over her shoulder soes she could help him over to the Doctor’s office perking him up big time for the short walk.

 

“I guess you’re going to need a nurse for a while until you get on the mend aren’t you fella?” Rocky said smiling at the old cowhand.

 

Youngblood stuttered at first but was finally able to spit it out, “Yes’m, and I think it might take a good long while to get that leg healed up, do you have enough clothes with you to stay a good bit to help a cowboy out?” They both laughed as Youngblood winced with pain as they limped over to the doctor’s office to get his leg patched up, yep, it was going to take a while to get him healed up.

 

The carpetbagger takeover attempt against T-Bone was thwarted, the feud between T-Bone and Laylow was finally settled, Laylow would soon be cleared of the Hermijillo murder charges, and the Damn-Dooley Gang was victorious in their battle against the Texas carpetbaggers. Can anything stop this bunch?

 

Laylow and the gang were triumphant as they saddled their horses and hooked up the wagons for the long trip home. The gang had fought hard, played hard, and partied extra hard during their short visit to Tombstone. It had been good to see the old pards from Texas and even better to get the old feud between Laylow and T-Bone settled. Laylow could stop looking over his shoulder every time he saw a stranger ride into town and wouldn’t have to worry about Pepper getting caught up in his old problems. The gang could finally head for home and have some peace for it seemed they had been on the fighting trail for months now and needed a break.

 

As the wagons were pulled into a line getting set for the trail, the mood became a little somber for Laylow and the Dammit gang had made many new friends in Tombstone. They were a little sad to be leaving them all so soon. A bottle was passed around for all the pards to raise one last toast to their old and new friends as everyone started loading into the wagons. Glasses held high, a toast to all the fond memories both good and bad, the Dammit and Dooley Gangs would return to Tombstone one day to do it all over again.

 

The whip of the lead wagon driven by Captain Jake cracked in the still morning air like a rifle shot causing the team to jerk the wagon in movement. As he rolled towards the edge of town, more whips were cracking over the heads of the horses as the train began rolling, wheels and hooves kicking the dry desert dust into the air. The long trail back to California Territory would take several days but at least this time it would not be a forced march. The folks could take their time and actually enjoy all the beauty the Sonoran Desert had to offer them. For once, they would not have to watch for ambushes, horse thieves, Indians, or any other problems that could rear its ugly head on the trail.

 

They had said goodbye to their many new friends vowing to meet again for a reunion of their friendships but for now, their own ranches needed attending as well as their responsibilities to their families. Within a few days the gang would be home and things could return to normal or at least as normal as it could be for Laylow and his band. This time though, heading home was not as difficult for Laylow had a bank draft from the sale of his ranch to T-Bone in his pocket and was, for a change, somewhat financially comfortable with some serious jingle in his jeans.

 

On the trail out of town, Laylow saw President Diaz and two Verutas Negras soldiers sitting their horses on a low knob a short distance off the main trail. Laylow was grateful for their assistance in the fight with the Dooley’s and President Diaz’s help in protecting Pepper along with getting him safely into Mexico when T-Bone had him pointed towards a rope. Laylow nudged his horse into a canter and rode quickly to where they were waiting so that he may thank him personally for all of his effort.

 

Laylow raised his hand in greeting as he slowed his horse to a stop near the three men, “Hola mis amigos. Es un buen dia, Si?”

 

“Si, Señor Lalo, pero es una dia muy malo en México y en Tejas,” Presidente Diaz replied. “Senor Lalo, many things have happened since I left you that night on the trip to Ranch Lalo and into Mexico. I didn’t want to say anything about these problems in town in front of the other men for I don’t know who I can trust in this town other than my men and you.”

 

“I came here personally to let you know you have been acquitted of all charges filed against you in the murder of Hermijillo and your citizenship in the Estados Unidos has been restored along with your credibility after the trial in Mexico. I had made a promise to you that I wanted to follow through with personally for I don’t know how much longer I will be in a position to help you.

 

There are the usual political problems in Mexico with a man trying to unseat me only I fear he may be successful this time for the people are being fooled by his lies. I know you have legally sold your ranches to T-Bone but there in lies another problem. This man who is about to have me removed from office has seized Rancho Lalo as his headquarters and is sending men across the border to “encourage” the settlers to move out of Texas.”

 

“Once they move out, he claims the land for Mexico in an attempt to expand the borders of Mexico deep into Texas. If this man is not stopped, T-Bone will end up short and in the middle of a hornet’s nest for he cannot own land in Mexico without being a citizen under the new federal rules. Your Texas ranch already has his men on it and their intent is to claim all the land up to the Oklahoma state line, taking back the entire territory of Texas if they can. T-Bone will have nothing left when the Mexican government gets to the Badlands -3 but a fight for his life.” Laylow grimaced sharply at the sound of this news.

 

“There is even more bad news ‘Compa’, there has been a new governor elected in Texas and he is not a friend to the Texas landowners. Worse yet, his Attorney General has re-filed the murder charges against you in Texas in the Hermijillo case although you have been acquitted of all charges in Mexico. I don’t know why this has happened but I hope T-Bone will stand by his word to get your name cleared with the new government. As I said, the new Governor is no friend to the big pioneer landowners. He thinks the pioneers got their land illegally and should not be allowed to keep it.”

 

Laylow sat his saddle silently for a bit while digesting all Señor Diaz had told him. He was clearly unsettled by the news but knew T-Bone could take care of himself and if he couldn’t, all he needed to do would be to send Laylow a message:

 

LAYLOW DAMMIT!

 

THE DAMMITT CHIP IS DOWN IN ENGLISH

 

PLAYERS ARE ALL IN

 

CALL!

 

Laylow bid Señor Diaz a good day and rode along behind the slow moving wagon train. He contemplated all that had occurred in the last few days and what kind of problems the news Señor Diaz had brought him would create in the future. He had established a new life in California and was happy there with Pepper in that sleepy little cowtown. He would not be able to go back to Texas because of the re-filed charges but then he hadn’t been able go there anyway.

 

One haunting thought that kept gnawing at the back of Laylow’s thinkin’ was the fact T-Bone was riding into a stampede of trouble and would need help to get out of it in one piece. Laylow knew deep down he might be making that long ride to English, Texas, bounty on his head or not, only it would be sooner than anyone had thought if T-Bone laid down the Dammit chip.

 

The land takeover by the Mexican government was progressing far faster than even Señor Diaz was aware of and by late fall, there would be a showdown at the Badlands -3 where Laylow would be up to his armpits in a showdown alongside T-Bone and the rest of the gang.

 

In the meantime, Laylow and his merry band were ready to settle down for a nice quiet spring while getting ready for the roundup. Good things had come out of the fight many thought would be the end of the gang so naturally everyone actually thought things would settle down for Laylow and the gang so they could lead a semblance of a normal life. What possibly could go wrong?

 

Well, anytime Laylow is part of the equation, meadow muffins are sucked into the oscillator and pitched everywhere. The future would not change and Laylow would get pulled into yet another range war. In the meantime, they had a round up and branding to get completed before the drive into the high country so they could move the cattle onto their summer range.

 

Not too far away and without many having a clue, trouble was brewing in a little inland valley known as Chorro where local Dammit members might soon be fighting for their lives against one of the earliest pioneers of the area. Laylow would be calling the gang into service once again to back up one of their own. Then there was that Texas thing, waiting, festering, ready to burst with trouble only sooner than later.

 

Life (Ghosts) could return to normal in Tombstone now that the feud has been settled and the women returned home safely. The town was given back to the townspeople as the Dammit’s and Dooley’s again ride for home. Where will the Dammit’s and Dooley’s ride for their next adventure? Chorro Valley, Five Dogs Creek, Mill Creek, or will it be someplace far away like the Badlands -3?

 

Be there when they ride, wherever they ride for there is something for everyone who rides for the Dammit Brand. As is in many conflicts, unseen forces choose an ending to an event without the players even knowing their destiny was drawn out for them with their role to simply dance to the given tune. What is left for them to do?

 

Weeeell, Old Youngblood was showing some sense again. He pulls a cork and passes a bottle around the group. Soon there is no one in camp feeling any pain. They would ride for home once again, some tonight, some tomorrow, to wait for Laylow’s call to arms to ride again under the flag of the DAMMIT’S!

 

The End of a Saga.

 

(Not as long as the Dammit’s or the Dooley’s ride the west)

 

 

And there you have it Cowboys, Dammits, and Dooleys. The first ride to Tombstone with Laylow Curly, T-Bone Dooley, and a bunch of the gang :-)

[T-Bone SASS #36388]

Only a few months left. Range work has slowed down for the winter. Watch out spring time we are Coming At Cha. Merry Christmas y'all.

[Blackwater 53393]

Thanks JJ!!

 

Christmas is this coming weekend. Got the presents and the Christmas cards and long distance packages all on their way.

 

To T-Bone and Miss Ellie and the family down at Bar3, the most Merry Christmas and wishes for a Happy New Year!!

 

Now I'm back to anticipatin' BAC like a six year old kid waitin' on ol' Santa on Christmas Eve!!

[Chickasaw Bill SASS #70001]

T Bone

 

crank up the hurry up time machine , even though I am slow , the waiting to shoot is slower

 

fun times at the Bar 3 , time there goes by real fast ,

 

greatest show on earth ,

 

Chickasaw Bill

 

is it time to shoot yet ?

[T-Bone SASS #36388]

Don't forget to bring your trusty horse or motorized gas powered horse for the mounted shooting horse/gas power. Sign up early wehave limited time frame to finish up before something else starts. I have always said,,,, You better rest up before you get here because you'll be tired when you leave.

[Blackwater 53393]

DANG!! Still forty weeks 'til BAC!!

 

Will someone get the calendar moving!!

[Waimea]

DANG!! Still forty weeks 'til BAC!!

 

Will someone get the calendar moving!!

 

Blackwater

 

Lots of good stuff betwixt now and then.

Hope to see you again at Black Gold.

 

 

Waimea

[Titus A. Gnatsass, SASS #71705]

 

Blackwater

 

Lots of good stuff betwixt now and then.

Hope to see you again at Black Gold.

 

 

Waimea

 

Waimea

 

Fannie just talked to Copperhead Joe, Whiskey Creek and Iron Maiden yesterday....seems they're down there in yer neck of the woods....sure wish we were! Y'all have fun. As far as Black Gold, I'll be there with bells on...ding'a'ling! Hope to see you there again as well. And I know Blackwater will be there. Then Back'At'Cha a couple of months after that...2016 is gonna be a GOOD'UN!

 

Titus

[Blackwater 53393]

I just got a pair of pistols back from Boomstick Jay. They're made for shootin' Outlaw and they're ugly enough to shoot Black Powder out of!! An unmatched pair of 1875s that are somewhat distressed in the finish department. If I can get me back into shooting shape and if I can do a little grip work on 'em, y'all may see some of the old Blackwater from a few years ago. I don't ever plan to go back to the full on competitive , "ain't no fun if I don't win", "one miss will ruin my match", "I'm out to win it all" way that I was for a while, but you may see some of those "Where did that come from?" moments now and then!!

 

My main goal this year is to get out to a few matches with friends I don't get to shoot with often enough, and to get Schoolmarm back to shooting and traveling with me!!

 

I have her signed up to shoot BAC and I'm hoping she'll be ready to join in and have the kind of fun we've come to expect at Bar3!!

 

Any help y'all can lend is greatly appreciated!!!

[Chickasaw Bill SASS #70001]

tick .................................................................

 

tock ..........................................................

 

tick ............

 

tock ..................

 

DANG , time be moving SLOW

 

is it time to shoot YET ?

[T-Bone SASS #36388]

40 more weeks !!! We better get ta work. Winter caught us and rain has held us up a bit. We have a workday the first weekend of April. Subject to change of course... Y'all come on out and help with the new projects. BAC is full of paid entries BUT we might give one away???? Never know until ya show up at the Bar 3 Ranch.

[Krazy Kajun]

Tbone, did ya brang any frozen chickens back with you?

[Chicken Scratch]

So T-Bone, I'm bringing the motorized horse, and I also want to do the outlaw match and main match (I'm a gluttin fer punishment)

now you have my main entry. what do I need to do to sign up for the extra curricular stuff.

 

Scratch

[Waimea]

 

Waimea

 

Fannie just talked to Copperhead Joe, Whiskey Creek and Iron Maiden yesterday....seems they're down there in yer neck of the woods....sure wish we were! Y'all have fun. As far as Black Gold, I'll be there with bells on...ding'a'ling! Hope to see you there again as well. And I know Blackwater will be there. Then Back'At'Cha a couple of months after that...2016 is gonna be a GOOD'UN!

 

Titus

 

Black Gold is a NOT TO MISS match for Waimea.

If I ever do miss it and you haven't heard I died you better come see what's wrong.

I missed seeing you both at the Siege but I get you can't make 'em all.

Ain't enough time or money.

 

 

I just got a pair of pistols back from Boomstick Jay. They're made for shootin' Outlaw and they're ugly enough to shoot Black Powder out of!! An unmatched pair of 1875s that are somewhat distressed in the finish department. If I can get me back into shooting shape and if I can do a little grip work on 'em, y'all may see some of the old Blackwater from a few years ago. I don't ever plan to go back to the full on competitive , "ain't no fun if I don't win", "one miss will ruin my match", "I'm out to win it all" way that I was for a while, but you may see some of those "Where did that come from?" moments now and then!!

 

My main goal this year is to get out to a few matches with friends I don't get to shoot with often enough, and to get Schoolmarm back to shooting and traveling with me!!

 

I have her signed up to shoot BAC and I'm hoping she'll be ready to join in and have the kind of fun we've come to expect at Bar3!!

 

Any help y'all can lend is greatly appreciated!!!

 

Blackwater - if'n you want a real hoot come to Florida in March for the SE Regional Black Powder match.

 

Nothing like shooting BP Outlaw style.

 

AND/OR there's a little match a couple weeks later that they say rivals the Siege called Ides of March.

Be a couple of our country cousins coming on down from your neck of the woods.

Widder, and maybe a couple of Outlaws that haven't quite made up their minds yet.

 

Love to see you at either one or both of them.

 

 

Waimea

 

[Copperhead Joe, SASS # 39162]

Black Powder Outlaw at Black Gold?

 

Well now it just so happens there could be something special in the works .

 

Y'all stay tuned!!

[Blackwater 53393]

JOE!! You gonna' let it out here or can we expect a Black Gold thread soon??

 

Black Gold and BAC!! Can it get much better??

 

 

C'mon calendar!!

[Titus A. Gnatsass, SASS #71705]

Black Powder Outlaw at Black Gold?

 

Well now it just so happens there could be something special in the works .

 

Y'all stay tuned!!

 

Well, Joe, just so ya know, I shot BPGFO (that would be Black Powder Gunfighter Outlaw) at the '13 and '14 Black Gold. Now I know it weren't a recognized category, so I guess you could say that I'm a pioneer of sorts. I was just practicin' for whut I knew was comin'. So as to throw off my competition, I switched back to Frontier Cartridge in '15. Wouldn't want anybody gettin' any ideas on gamin' the category!

 

And Blackwater, to answer yer question...Black Gold and BAC!! Can it get much better??....If it was possible, most of us wouldn't survive! CYA in Kentucky! You too, Waimea!

[Blackwater 53393]

Talked to Judge 'em all Duncan today!! Black Powder Outlaw seems to get him all 'cited!!

 

Seems like he's 'bout to have a knee replacement and he's scheduled it just so's he can be ready for Black Gold and BAC!!!

[Blackwater 53393]

For those of you not aware of it, the shooters' list is up!

[Korupt Karl]

Dag nabit....it appears I was too late to make the list....or my eyesight is bad...lol. Hope to see you all down the road.

 

KK

[Noz]

I count 73 women? Way to go girls!