Chapter 9

They got their receipt for Carmichael's body from the Comanche marshal and were ready to leave by noon. They had some lunch at the hotel's restaurant and were on their way to Johns Springs. Both were riding in the buckboard so that conversation would be easier. Rafe commented, "Ya know, Hank, I thunk ya wuz crazy when ya said that ridin' in the buckboard wuz better than ridin' a hoss, but this here cushion has made me change my mind! I used ta hate long trips, but this here way to travel done beat all. Yep, I jus' might switch over."

Hank laughed and said, "Ya see, I ain't as dumb as I looks! Now, ifen ya jus' switch from a hoss ta a mule, I'd think ya finally got as smart as me!"

"Well, I ain't quite ready ta go that far, but Ada's quite a convincer!"

"Ya hear that, Ada. Ya almost got a convert. Keep at it an' ya might git through his thick skull, yet!"

Ada brayed a response that didn't need a translation! It sounded like a snort at the impossibility of that ever happening.

They pulled into Johns Springs just after dark, too late to try to find Otto Smedly. They got rooms in the hotel and ate supper in the hotel restaurant. After the second cup of coffee, they decided to see what the night life of Johns Springs had to offer.

The first saloon they visited was on a par with your average western tavern. The bar ran the length of one wall and had a mirror behind it so the bartender could keep an eye on the clientele while his back was turned. The rest of the barroom contained a few tables with associated chairs, and a line of chairs were strung out along the walls to accommodate those customers who were reluctant to expose their backs to the general public.

There was a piano, a faro table, and a couple of poker tables, all in fairly heavy use. Both Hank and Rafe considered faro a fool's game and looked with curiosity to see who was dumb enough to think that he could win at that. A few men were standing around watching a local cowboy play faro with his "system," a sure way to loose a lot of money real fast. The cowboy was well on his way to being drunk, so nobody was surprised when he lost his last dollar in another foolish bet. However, they were surprised when he drew his gun and blasted 5 holes in the faro table. Nobody was hurt, but the bartender/owner was pissed at the repair bill he was now stuck with. The cowboy calmly reloaded his pistol, stuck it in his holster, settled his hat firmly on his head, and passed out! That last whiskey had finally caught up with him.

The bounty hunters laughed and ordered a beer. Meanwhile, the swamper dragged the unconscious cowboy out to the street to sleep it off. From the looks of things, it was a typical night in a western saloon.

Since they were there, and the bartender was available, they asked if he knew of any business they might be interested in. Other than some sort of dust up in Comanche earlier in the day, the bartender didn't have any news to comment on. Hank and Rafe finished their beers and moved on to the next saloon.

They were finishing up their second beer of the evening when Rafe poked Hank in the ribs and said, "There he is. Otto Smedly's the one leaning'on the end of the bar."

Hank commented, "Shit, there's too many people standin' around 'im fer us ta make a clean pick up. We'll have ta wait 'til the crowd thins out a little."

Two hours later, they were still waiting for their opportunity to arrest Smedly. "Shit, Hank, this is a popular saloon. It looks like it ain't never gonna thin out enough fer us ta git Smedly."

"Yeah, it shore do look that way! But we can't afford to hurt anybody else when we capture Smedly. That could start a riot that would let Smedly git away. We jus' has ta be patient."

Along about midnight, a bunch of cowboys from one ranch decided it was time to head home, so they started to leave. Smedly wormed his way in among the departing cowboys and walked out completely surrounded by innocent bystanders.

Hank saw what was happening and called it to Rafe's attention. They stood up to follow the crowd out of the saloon, but were delayed for a moment. When they finally got to the door, Smedly had disappeared. They walked out onto the boardwalk, and a bullet whizzed by Hank's head. Rafe saw the muzzle flash and pulled Hank in the proper direction.

"He's this way!" Rafe said as he began running toward where he had seen the flash of the shot. Hank was right behind him and got a bullet crease across his left arm for his trouble. "He's in that alley!"

The two men ran toward the mouth of the alley, zig-zagging back and forth to present as little target as possible. "How the hell did he spot us?" asked Rafe.

"I dunno, but he shore is a sharp-eyed bastard the way he kin shoot in this poor light." At that moment, Rafe felt the hot wind of a bullet passing by his cheek and reflexively ducked. It was well that he did, because the next bullet would have caught him in the forehead if he hadn't.

"If that bastard kills me, I haunt him 'til his dying day!" complained Rafe.

Hank said, "Ya stay here an' make shore he don't come out of that alley. I'll try to git behind him from the other end of the alley. I'll use my sawed-off shotgun, soz I'm not likely ta kill ya by mistake."

"Much obliged, Hank. Ya're a thoughtful pardner, " responded Rafe.

"Yeah, jus' don't shoot me!" Hank ran for the corner so he could get behind Smedly from the other end of the alley.

Hank found the other end of the alley he wanted and ducked into it. He was not so foolish as to run down the alley and set himself up as a target. There was a sliver of a moon, so there was some light and shadow, so Hank could see almost as well as he could in daylight. The problem was that the shadows were almost impenetrable. They were as black as the proverbial coal pit, and Smedly could be hiding in any one of them.

Hank began to work his way down the alley, ducking from shadow to shadow. It took nearly half an hour before he reached the end guarded by Rafe. "Rafe, Smedly ain't here. He's got away. Don't shoot, I'm comin' out."

"OK, I won't shoot ya. Where ya reckon he's gone?"

"This here alley is tee-shaped. He musta run down the other way while I wuz tryin' to find the place where I come in. Do ya think there's enough light fer ya ta track 'im? There ain't enough fer me ta do it."

"Naw, he's got clean away as far as I'm concerned. 'Less ya got a better idee, we'll jus' hav to wait 'til mornin' an' try ta find 'im then."

"Shit, let's call it a night. I'm tired and jus' might do sumpthin' stupid ifen I don't git some sleep."

"OK by me. Let's git that scratch looked at an' then hit the sack. Even if I ain't, I'll feel a whole lot smarter in the mornin'."

They ate breakfast in the hotel restaurant and went to the alley to see if there were any clues about Smedly. They were about half way down the alley when a bullet buried itself in the adobe wall beside Rafe's head. They both dropped to the ground and Hank said, "Shit, that bastard was waitin' on us. One, or maybe both, of us would be dead if he wuzn't such a lousy shot."

"Yeah, did ya see where that there shot come from?"

Hank said, "It came from over there near that there woodpile. I seen a puff of powder smoke. He must be usin' a pistol. He woulda gotten one of us ifen he'd been usin' a rifle."

Rafe agreed, "Yeah, an' I wish I had my rifle right now. 'Spose I keep him pinned down while ya go git our rifles?"

"OK, ya got a good idee. I'll be right back." Hank left to get their rifles while Rafe aimed his pistol at the woodpile. Hank was back in a few minutes with both rifles and some extra ammunition. "I figured that there wuz no point in fuckin' around. I brung us enough ammunition to fight a war. I'm tired of this bastard takin' pot shots at us!"

"Same here, pardner. Near as I kin tell, he ain't moved since he took that last shot at us. One of us should stay here an' the other should try to get around behind that there woodpile. You made the last two runs, soz I guess it's my turn to go fer a walk. I'll try to git behind him while ya make shore he don't go nowhere."