March 2012 BB Challenge Words: guard, forward, hare, frenzy, basket

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3

Hoss flicked another card into the basket someone had left at the foot of the stairs and then finished off his third mug of beer. “I sure wish we’d stayed home and let Joe head into town like he wanted to in the first place.”

Adam was leaning back in his chair, with his arms crossed in front of him, his legs stretched out under the table and his hat pulled low over his eyes. “Would have served him right.” He spoke slowly, clearly in no rush to get his words out. “The way he was carrying on you’d think his life depended on a poker game, a pretty girl on his knee and a round of beers for every miner in town.”

“Well, he’d a had a short life here tonight. Ain’t a soul comin’ into town with all this rain.”

“Nope. No one but us.”

“Yeah. Lucky us.” Hoss tossed another card into the basket. “If it’d had the decency to start rainin’ before we left home, we’d never have left. We’d be there right now.”

“Yep.”

“Sittin’ beside a nice, warm fire.”

“Yep.”

“Sippin’ on warm brandy.”

“Yep.”

“Instead we got us a cold, empty saloon and warm beer.” A card hit the side of the basket and bounced to the floor.

“Yep.”

“Reckon Joe and Dusty made it home before it got too bad up there?”

“I imagine so.” Adam took a deep breath, nudged his hat up off of his forehead and stretched. Then he leaned into the table and took another drink of his own beer. “Joe’s probably sitting in front of our nice, warm fire and sipping our warm brandy right now.”

“Don’t ya’ mean Pa’s brandy?”

“It’d be ours if we were drinking it, which we’re not.”

“Or maybe Joe didn’t make it home, an’ he’s just sittin’ in that ol’ line shack even more miserable than us.”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s too stubborn to be miserable. If he is in that line shack, he’s probably got the stove all stoked up and has already started roasting whatever they’ve managed to shoot.”

“What sort a’game d’ya think they might find out in this weather? Gotta be ten degrees colder or more up there. Could even be snowin’.”

“Oh, I don’t know. A nice, fat, snowshoe hare would do.”

“Yeah.” Hoss nodded. “I reckon it would at that. A steak would be even better.”

“He’s hardly likely to butcher a steer.”

“I was thinkin’ ’bout us. We could get us some steak over at the International House. Reckon we ought to call it a night?”

Adam sighed. “Might as well. Everyone else has.”

“A meal like that’ll warm us up.”

“I’d settle for a warm bed.”

Hoss started to rise, turning his gaze to the downpour outside. “Trouble is, to get there we got to go through that.”

“Yep.”

“Didn’t even bring my slicker with me.”

“Nope.” Adam buttoned his coat, pulled up the collar, marched over to the swinging doors…and stayed right where he was.

“Well?” Hoss said, coming up behind him, his own coat buttoned up as tight as it would go.

Taking a deep breath, Adam gave his head one slow shake, pulled his hat down lower and resolutely stepped outside.

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The more miserable it is outside, the less likely folks are to pay much attention to one another. Everyone tends to be more interested in just getting where they’re aiming to go. A night like that, with all that rain, there’s sure wasn’t gonna be a whole lot of ‘how do ya’ do’s’ going on. Maybe that’s why Hoss thought it was peculiar to see a small crowd forming out by Mr. Maybourne’s hardware store.

“Hey, Adam. What d’ya think’s goin’ on over there?”

Like Hoss, Adam was curious enough to stop moving despite the rain. “Isn’t Mr. Maybourne still out of town?”

“Last I heard he was.”

“That horse….” Adam’s back straightened in a way that made Hoss’s own spine tingle, as though he already knew something was wrong.

Puzzled by Adam’s mention of a horse, Hoss tried to get a better look. Sure enough, there was a horse mixed up in that crowd. Some of it was as dark as the shadows, but there were patches of white showing through. “Cochise?” he wondered aloud.

Adam took a few steps forward, slow and steady, and Hoss followed right along with him. The closer they came to the crowd, the clearer they could both see that horse. It was Cochise alright.

What was Joe doing to get a crowd all worked up in the middle of a rainy night like that?

Then someone turned and started running right toward them. In a few seconds they could see it was Mr. Avery. That’s when Mr. Avery could see it was them, too. He stopped, shaking his head. “He’s one of yours, Adam. It doesn’t look good.”

“What do you mean one of ours?” Adam asked.

“The man back there. Barely made it to town as it is. Half froze, all cut up. Fell right off his horse. I was goin’ for the sheriff.”

“What about the doc?” Hoss asked.

“I don’t know that there’s much point.” Mr. Avery looked behind him for a moment, and then continued on his way.

“It ain’t Joe,” Hoss told Adam. “Can’t be Joe. If it was Joe, Mr. Avery would have told us it was him.”

“If it’s not Joe, why was he riding Joe’s horse?”

In an instant they were both running over slick mud through the icy rain, all thoughts of warm fires, brandy, snowshoe hares and juicy steaks forgotten.

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“What I can tell so far….” Doc Martin started talking without looking up from his patient, a ranch hand who went by the name of Dusty McGraw. “He’s been shot at at least seven times.”

“Shot seven times?” Hoss questioned from the other side of the table. “How’s that possible? He’d a never made it—”

“I said shot at, Hoss. Bullets just skimmed him. Enough to hurt and slow him down, but not really enough to bring him down.”

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing whoever done it had bad aim and worse luck.”

“No!” Dusty called out suddenly. He started rolling his head back and forth across the pillow, and then tried to push himself up.

“Easy there, fella,” Hoss said, pressing him back. “Ya’ gotta let the doc take care of you afore you go runnin’ off anywhere.”

“Wasn’t bad aim, Hoss!” he said, breathless and weak. “Not bad aim. They…had good aim. Perfect aim.” He blinked a few times and then tried to focus on Hoss; there was a glassy look to his eyes. “Didn’t want to kill me. Not that way. Too…too easy. Too quick.” He closed his eyes again.

“What do you mean ‘too quick’?”

“Couldn’t…couldn’t be an easy death. That’s what they said. Couldn’t be…. They’re animals, Hoss. Monsters. Worse’n Indians. I never seen…I ain’t never….”

“Who are you talkin’ about?” Sheriff Coffee asked then.

“They thought I was Joe. Called me…called me Cartwright. Said I…I killed him.”

“They thought you killed Joe?” Adam asked then.

“No. Thought I was Joe. Said Joe killed…killed their pa.”

“Where is he?” Adam asked. “Where’s Joe?”

Hoss met his older brother’s gaze while something awful started churning up his insides; it looked to him like Adam felt it, too.

“Don’t know,” Dusty went on. “Couldn’t…couldn’t find him. Just his horse. Mine…. Had to shoot mine. Had to…had to put him down. Legs were broke. Those…monsters.”

“What can ya’ tell us about these fellas, Dusty?” Sheriff Coffee asked next. “Tell us about the men who shot at you.”

“They…they wasn’t like men. More like…like animals. I found…found Cochise. Started lookin’ for Joe…and those…those monsters…They come after me. Just saw me…or maybe…maybe Cochise. Maybe it was Cochise they saw…but it was…was like seein’ that horse worked ’em into some kind’a…a frenzy. Like a pack’a rabid wolves. No. Worse’n wolves. Worse. I’d rather…rather face a wolf. Rather….” His voice softened to a whisper, and then to nothing at all, his last word expelled in a single, long exhalation.

Hoss never did see him breathe in again after that.

Doc must’ve noticed that, too. He listened to Dusty’s heart and then shook his head. “Sorry boys. He’s dead.”

Hoss was the first one to speak up. “I don’t like it,” he said, looking pointedly at Adam, at the sheriff and then at his brother again. “We gotta go up there, Adam. We gotta find Joe.”

Doc Martin answered instead. “All you’re likely to find tonight is your death of cold!”

Hoss glared back at him, his decision solidified thanks to the doc’s own words. “That’s what I want to make sure don’t happen to Joe.”

“Or worse,” Adam said, looking over to Sheriff Coffee.

“It’d be wiser to wait ’til mornin’.” Roy said it more like he felt it was something he had to say than like he believed it was what they needed to do.

“Yeah, but,” Hoss said, “I got a feelin’ mornin’ll be too late.”

Roy nodded. “I’ll go with you, but I gotta tell you boys, you be on your guard up there. I sure don’t think we’re lookin’ for monsters. We can’t hardly believe everything Dusty just told us. He was half out of his mind, an’ we all know that. But….” He scrunched up his forehead and shook his head again. “Somethin’ bad happened up there. And somethin’ bad might still be happenin’, and—”

“And whatever it is,” Hoss cut in, “Joe’s right in the middle of it.”

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