Gus Page 12
Lou had the horse turned and was beginning to run when the tall owner of the horse exited the store to find out what all the excitement was about. He saw Lou beginning to ride off on his horse and pulled his Colt. He was going to fire, but didn’t want to shoot his own horse, so he holstered his pistol and cursed at the disappearing shadow of Lou Feldman and his horse.
Lou knew the law would be hot on his tail, so he turned on the first road he saw breaking away from the main street. It was headed southeast. He trotted along the road for about two miles before he left the road and went south.
The sheriff and three other men were close behind him. When they hit the first turnoff, two of the men followed Lou’s path. The sheriff and the other man had continued east.
Back in Hendrick, telegrams were being rapidly tapped out to the surrounding towns about an attempted robbery by the now-infamous Louis Feldman.
Infamous or not, Lou was hopping mad. This had turned into a disaster. He finally pulled off into some trees and dismounted to at least adjust his stirrups. He stepped down and tied off the new horse. He was a better animal than the one Lou had stolen from that widow’s farm.
He thought he’d check the saddlebags first. He pulled his bags off and then the set that was on the horse. They were heavy. He hoped he would be lucky. He opened the first one. He found some jerky and some damned set of tools. He tossed the tools aside and checked the other. A box of cartridges! He was lucky at last. He opened the box and was getting ready to load his Colt when he noticed that they felt different. He read the front of the box. Damn! Who uses .45 caliber anymore? Lou threw the box of cartridges as far as he could, scattering them all over. He returned to the bag and found another box and was ready to hurl them also. At the last moment, he saw that they were .44s. But his arm had committed to the motion, and the box left his hand. The cartridges began falling to the ground around him.
Lou began hurriedly scooping up the precious ammunition from the dust and putting it in his pockets. He only put sixteen of the rounds in his pockets, unable to find the other eight. The only other item in the saddlebags was a shirt that was about half again the size of his own shirt. That man was huge. For some reason, it tickled Lou to find such a big man’s clothes.
He quickly adjusted the stirrups and climbed back on the horse and headed south.
The two men trailing Lou weren’t expert trackers, but the road Lou had taken wasn’t as well traveled as the main road, and they followed his horse’s hoofprints easily. When he left the road, they had lost them for a while because Lou had crossed a patch of shale. It slowed them down as they searched for his exit point.
They found it twenty minutes later and then, after another ten minutes, found the cartridges strewn all over the ground. But they were losing their light by now. It was difficult to find his tracks, so they returned.
They found the sheriff returning for the same reason and told him what they had found. When they got back to town, they updated the telegrams to include the fact that Louis Feldman was last seen heading south.
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It was late and time to call it a night. Tomorrow would be chicken-coop day. Rachel had already announced the dinner menu. And it wasn’t a pork roast. It was the other white meat.
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Thirty miles north, Lou was in his bedroll trying to sleep. He had finished the jerky. That had been his damned dinner. Four strips of damned beef jerky. Now he had to figure out where to get some money. It couldn’t be a town. It had to be a ranch or farm, but most of them didn’t have any money. Wait a minute. That ranch that Gus was working. Somebody in Kinnick had said it was good he didn’t work there because they were Jews. They told Gus they didn’t have any money, but they must’ve been lying. Jews always lied, and they always had money. Gold. They had all them gold trinkets they used for their religious rites and things. Just like the Catholics. But they’d have it in the house, not like the Catholics did. He’d just head that way and find the gold and head back down to Texas. He’d load up on food, too. Then he thought about Gus. He might be a problem. He had a Winchester. But Lou had one now, too. If he snuck up on Gus, he could take him out, then get to the house, and get the gold and food. He might have to kill those Jews, too. No great loss. Gus was the only problem with the plan. He’d head that way tomorrow. Going cross-country like this would take all day, so he’d better get an early start.
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It was late. In Kinnick, Joe Miles was meeting with the Reverend Quincy. Joe hadn’t been a regular at the church for years until he found that he and the reverend shared a mutual interest, a deep hatred for Jews. For the reverend, it was based on some twisted interpretation of history. For Joe, it was personal.
When he was young and living in Kansas City, it had been a Jew who had foreclosed on the family house, driving him and his two brothers and parents into the streets. It didn’t matter that the Jew was acting on behalf of the bank and that it was technically the sheriff who had evicted them; it had been that slick Jew who had acted like he was sorry that the bank couldn’t give them another loan. Even though he had only been fifteen at the time, he’d wanted to kill him. The family scattered after that. Then the war erupted, and he was the only one left. He had already made some money in ranching in Kansas before the war, and after the war, he was able to buy cheap in Oklahoma. It had been hard times at first, but now he was well heeled.
He happened to be attending church two years earlier and had heard the reverend speak eloquently against the Jews. After that, he had become a regular churchgoer. He and the reverend had become fast friends. No one knew that it was the reverend who had suggested the idea for stealing the Aronson’s herd. Joe had met with some men from Chadwick and arranged for the piecemeal sale of the herd, which would surely have driven them out. They had moved the first batch when that new man showed up. The crew from Chadwick had heard that the plan was busted and fled. Then he had recovered the money from the stolen cattle. Now Miles had failed in his attempt to get him away from the ranch. It was time for more direct action.
“Joe, how do you want to handle this?”
“I don’t want any gunfire. That would be too obvious. Someone might complain to the law. I’m leaning toward the good old-fashioned burnout.”
“I like that. The fires of perdition. When it burns down, it would be a shame if anyone were in the house.”
“Yeah. That would really break my heart. I don’t want to get into any shooting match, though. Wait until dark. If the place is dark, then everyone is asleep. I could just send four of my hands over with torches, and that place would go up like a tinderbox.”
“You’d have to come up with a reason for your hands to do it.”
“I know. I’m working on one. It’d have to be something that would fire them up and make them want to burn them out.”
“There’s only one thing that will do that, Joe. Women. Men are protective of women. If one were to go missing and it was blamed on the Jews, that would do it. Wouldn’t it?”
“Yes. Yes. But I’m not going to let Mary get hurt.”
“Of course, not. But there’s always Libby. She failed you already, and your men rather admire her, isn’t that right?”
“That might work. I’d have to make it seem like that cowboy took her. I’ll work out the details. I think it’ll be ready in a few days.”
“Excellent.”
Chapter 6
Breakfast at the Star A was done, and Gus needed to go out and build the coop.
It didn’t take as long as he expected. He had the large coop completed in three hours.
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Lou had meant to get up early, but he slept until almost seven. He crawled out of his bedroll and saddled his horse. Time to get moving. He thought there might be a posse on his trail, so he moved faster than he had before.
He was right. The same four men who had stopped because of darkness had hit the trail earlier that morning than he did, but they had to travel to where he had left the cart
ridges before continuing after him. They picked up his trail there and had to go more slowly or lose his trail.
Normally, they wouldn’t pursue someone who hadn’t hurt anyone or stolen anything, but there was an added incentive to the hunt. The two savings and loans had put up rewards for his capture, dead or alive. Together, they were $750.
Lou’s quickened pace also meant deeper tracks, which were more easily followed. The posse wasn’t going as fast as Lou, but it wasn’t going to lose him, either.
Lou wasn’t going to stop for lunch. He was going to press right through.
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The chickens were all in their large coop and had been fed and watered. The hutches would be built later. Gus had built the bases for the hutches and filled them with hay so that the chickens would find a soft place to lay their eggs. He had found eleven eggs in the cages earlier. Eight had survived the rush to get out of the cages. There was a pan with water for the chickens, so Gus finished for the morning and went inside to join Rachel and Eli for lunch.
“Are the chickens happy now?” asked Rachel.
“All except for the one I’ll be bringing you in a couple of hours for your pot, Rachel,” answered Gus.
“You bring her in, and I’ll take care of the feathers and gizzards,” Rachel offered.
“That’s the best deal I’ve gotten all day,” he replied.
“After lunch, I’m going to build the hutches and then divide the coop into two parts. It shouldn’t take long. I’ve already got the wood cut.”
“We sure don’t need any alarm clocks. Not with five roosters,” said Eli.
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Lou was eighteen miles north of the ranch. He had slowed the horse down, not because of any design to hide his tracks, it was just that the horse was tiring at the fast pace he had set. He had gained on the posse, which now was eight miles behind him, but it was moving at the same pace.
Then he got his first real break. He came up on a good-size stream. He decided to go downstream rather than up. The running water quickly began melting the hoofprints into the same contours as the muddy bottom. Lou followed the stream for almost a mile, allowing the horse to drink once. He finally exited the stream on rocky ground that didn’t show the hoofprints well. He kept the horse walking across the rocks for another half mile before they petered out and he was on normal dirt again. He continued south.
An hour and a half later the posse reached the stream. Two went upstream and two went down. They looked on the southern shore for hoofprints. They didn’t see any, but one of the downstream riders spotted a few freshly overturned rocks where Lou’s horse had stepped. One fired a pistol shot into the air. The two upstream riders turned and exited the stream and hurried to catch up.
Ten miles ahead, Lou heard the report. He estimated the distance accurately and picked up the pace again.
As Gus was finishing the coop’s hutches and moving them to their new home, Lou was nine miles north.
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Gus had selected a nice fat chicken for dinner and quickly dispatched her. He lopped off her head and drained the blood. He walked into the house. Gus handed the bird to Rachel, who went to work.
“Rachel, I’m gonna take a bath. The pool is callin’. Be back in about forty minutes.”
“You enjoy that cold water.” She smiled.
Lou went out to the bunkhouse and grabbed his saddlebags. He left his Stetson on the peg and headed out. He was going to call out to Belle but decided to let her rest. It was only a half mile to the pond. He started walking. He reached the pool and took off his Colt and laid it on the inside of the small wall as he usually did. He stripped quickly and put his boots next to the gun belt. He dove in, went back to the saddlebags, and took out the soap.
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On the northwestern edge, Lou had lucked out. He hadn’t been sure where he was going but had found the spot. He recognized the ranch, although it was much cleaner. Must be Gus’s work. First, he reached into his pocket and pulled out six fresh rounds. He emptied the current empties and even the full loads onto the ground and hurriedly reloaded without looking. His eyes were on the ranch, scanning for Gus, but he didn’t see any motion on the ranch. He wondered where Gus was. No time to waste. He cut the wire with his knife and got back on board the horse. He rode past the cut and trotted toward the house.
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Gus was underwater rinsing his hair when Lou rode by, a half mile to the west. He came out of the water and stepped on shore. He dried himself and put on his pants. He had just slipped on his boots when it was quiet enough to hear distant hooves. He looked for the source and saw a man dismounting behind the house. Damn! Gus didn’t know who it was, but he didn’t take time to worry about it. He grabbed his gun belt and started running.
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Lou pulled his pistol and cocked the hammer as he opened the kitchen door. Rachel looked up, expecting Gus.
“Who are you?” she said loudly, not recognizing him under his ragged beard.
“Doesn’t matter. Where is everybody?”
She pointed to the main room.
He waved her in that direction and followed with the gun pointed at her back.
Eli had heard Rachel’s question and had stood to go find out what was happening. He saw Rachel’s terrified face and a man walking behind her with a gun cocked.
“What do you want?” he said loudly.
“Sit down, old man,” Lou growled.
He sat down.
Rachel entered the room, and Lou pointed at an empty chair. “Sit!”
“Where’s Gus?” he asked.
“It’s you!” said Eli. “You’re that Feldman bastard that’s been causing all the problems around here.”
“Yeah. I am. Now, where’s Gus?”
“He’s behind the barn with the chickens,” lied Rachel.
“Chickens? The big cattle wrangler is herding chickens?” Lou found it intensely amusing. “Well, I ain’t got much time for jawin’. You can make it easy on yourselves if you just give me the gold.”
Eli replied, “Gold? What gold? I don’t have any gold.”
“You are a lyin’ Jew. Everybody knows Jews all have lotsa gold for rituals an’ things. So, give it up, or I start shootin’. I’ve already killed three men, and I don’t mind doin’ a few more. Women don’ bother me none, especially not Jew women.”
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Outside, a winded Gus had reached the back of the house. He still didn’t know who was inside, but he knew it wasn’t good. He kicked off his boots and stepped onto the back porch. He slowly opened the door, grateful for his decision to grease the hinges on all the doors two weeks ago.
He stepped into the kitchen and heard a voice. It was Feldman! That bastard was threatening to kill the Aronsons! He pulled out his Colt and slowly pulled back the hammer. Lou was talking so loudly, Gus could do it without attracting attention. He began to walk slowly forward. He could see Lou from the side. Gus had a problem. Lou had his cocked revolver pointed at the sitting area, right at Rachel. If Gus shot him, more than likely, Lou’s gun would discharge, and Rachel would be hurt and possibly killed.
“All right, who’s gonna give me the gold? I’m gonna count to three, and the first one that’s gonna get it is the lady. Now, she’s your wife, so you don’t wanna let that happen, do ya? Or do Jews not care about such things?”
Lou started to count when he heard a familiar voice growling at him, “They care, Lou.”
Lou whipped his Colt around and fired at the same time that Gus squeezed his trigger. The resulting booms echoed through the room as smoke clouded everywhere. Lou fell backward, out of the main room, onto the porch. Gus stood there with his Colt still smoking.
Rachel reacted first. She jumped up and ran to Gus.
“Gus! Did he hit you?”
“No. I don’t know how he coulda missed from six feet.”
Eli walked over to Lou and looked down. “You didn’t, Gus. Right between the eyes.”
All Gus could say
was, “How could he have missed?”
He walked up to Lou’s body, and bent over to pick up Lou’s revolver.
He examined the pistol. It was in desperate need of a good cleaning, but that wouldn’t have caused it to miss.
He opened the cylinder and tried to empty the spent shell. It wouldn’t come out. He rotated the cylinder. None of the bullets would come out. He finally pushed one of the rounds out of the cylinder. It was caked with dust and dirt.
“How did he even get those cartridges into the cylinder?”
Gus stood up and looked at Eli and Rachel.
“Are you both all right?”
“We’re fine, Gus. Why didn’t you just shoot him? Why did you say something? You must have known he was going to shoot you,” said Eli.