CHAPTER NINETEEN
Fortunately for Dodge, the rain had not only doused the
prairie fire, it’d also kept the Drag-R cowboys out of trouble. They’d kept to
their cards and their beer and stayed out of the rain like sane men. But with
the skies clearing and the day heating up again, and money in their pockets,
the reprieve was going to be a short one.
I went by the Dodge House the next morning. Mr. Green avoided
my eye when I came in, then thought better of it and came over. “Good morning,
Marshal.”
“Mr. Green.”
“I heard about last night’s excitement. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.” It was lucky, Howard’s bullet had barely nicked
me. But still I was wearing a sling. Doc had said I’d be more hurt if he’d
thrown the bullet at me – though that didn’t stop him from talking up the
dangers of infection and the need for rebandaging. I didn’t mind – the United
States government paid Doc’s fees, not me.
“Still, it seems there’s plenty around to keep you busy,”
Green observed.
“Sure,” I said. “Is Shiloh around?”
Green nodded quickly. “He’s out back with that little
runaway. They’re talking about going out hunting again.” Green was clearly glad
I hadn’t stopped by to see him. Maybe he thought I’d come to strong-arm him.
But I had told them – there was only one way for them to learn, and that was to
get what they wanted. Be careful what you wish for – who’d said that?
“Has the kid been any trouble?” I asked.
“No, Marshal,” said Green, “not a bit. He’s always askin’
‘bout you, though. I think there’s a touch of admiration there.”
I nodded. “It’d be real flattering,” I said, “if he didn’t
feel the same way about anyone quick with a gun.”
I didn’t feel like talking with Green for too long. I was
still sore about things. But I was feeling pretty good about life in general as
I walked out back. The Dodge House sits right beside Moss Gremmick’s stables,
and sure enough, Shiloh and the kid were saddling up a pair of Moss’ horses.
I’d met Shiloh a couple of times out on the prairie before
I’d come back to Dodge, and had rode herd with him once from Amarillo up as far
as Wichita. He was a good man, with at least twenty years on me. He’d stopped
riding about a year ago, and had taken a job at the Dodge House last winter to
pay for his grub and give him a bed until he figured out what he was going to
do next. He’d worked hard for Green, so I figured it wasn’t too hard for him to
take a couple days off – as long as he was back in town when the round-up
started in a couple of weeks.
“’Lo, Marshal,” said Shiloh. He had a slow way of talking, as
if he wasn’t in a real hurry to say anything.
“Mornin’, Shiloh,” I said. “Hello, bub.”
“Hey, Mr. Dillon!” The kid saw me and came running over,
leaving the saddle dangling unstrapped on the horse’s back. Shiloh moved over
and finished getting the horse ready.
“Are you hurt, Marshal?” asked the kid, seeing my arm in the
sling.
“It’s nothing,” I said. To prove it I took my arm out and
wiggled my fingers. “Doc insisted on the sling, but I’m gonna take it off this
afternoon.”
“Good thing it’s not your gun-hand,” said the kid.
“Yeah,” I said. “I guess it is.”
“People are saying you blew Howard up!”
“Nope,” I said. “It was just one of those things.”
“You didn’t dynamite him? The body was real burned.”
“Now, bub, where would I get dynamite to blow someone up with?
That’s a pretty fool idea.”
“I bet you could do it, though,” he said. “And with all the
action here in Dodge, I bet it could help.”
“It would sure break up a crowd,” murmured Shiloh.
“Look, bub,” I said, shooting Shiloh a dark look, “the past
couple of days have been a little more – active, than usual. It isn’t regular.”
“By God, I wish I was there with you last night,” said the
kid, his eyes bright with the thought of it. “You coulda made me a deputy, too,
and then I coulda shot all the men I wanted to.”
I looked over at Shiloh, who shrugged at me. “Heading out for
another hunting expedition?” I asked him.
“Yep,” said Shiloh, swinging up into the saddle. “I’m gonna
teach him how to shoot buffalo. If’n we find any,” he added.
I tipped back my hat. “It’s a long way to the nearest buffalo
trail.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” said Shiloh with a wink, “and we’ll
run across some strays. Or, if’n we don’t, maybe I’ll teach him to rope a
steer.”
I nodded. The kid’s obsession with guns was bothering Shiloh
too. If he could teach the kid to do something with his hands, something
useful, maybe we could angle him away from a life as a gunfighter.
“That’s a good idea,” I said. “Maybe I’ll come out and join
you.”
“Really?” asked the kid.
“Sure,” I said. “There’s nothing for me to do in town,
anyway. Which way are you riding?”
“I was thinking of heading over towards the river,” said
Shiloh. “There’re bound to be some cowboys moving across, and maybe they’ll let
us help in exchange for some grub.”
“Be careful,” I said. “They may think you’re a pair of
chicken-hawkers.”
Shiloh nodded. “We’ll be careful.”
“But we’re not gonna hook up with any cowboys,” said the kid.
“Not if’n we see any buffalo.”
I knew that the nearest buffalo trail was almost a day’s ride
away. Shiloh knew it, too. But we let the kid think he was in charge of the
plan.
“Look,” I said, “I’ve got some paperwork back at the office.
When I get that done, I’ll come out after you.”
“Sounds fine, Marshal,” said Shiloh. “Say, kid – whyn’t you
run inside and grab us a hunk of cheese. I’ll be here waitin’.”
“Sure,” said the kid, who dashed inside.
“How’s he doing?” I asked.
“Kid’s a sponge,” said Shiloh. “Soaks up ever’thing an’ then
some. But this thinkin’ ‘bout guns and shootin’ all the time – it ain’t
healthy. I known some fellas like that, Marshal. They was dead before they grew
their first beard.”
“Or else they were hanged.”
“Yeah,” said Shiloh. “Or else they was hanged.”
“Yeah,” I said. “This is a good thing you’re doin’, Shiloh. I
appreciate it.”
“Yeah,” said Shiloh. “I figure I owe you somethin’ for not
comin’ with you and Chester last night.”
“No,” I said, “you don’t owe me anything.”
“I shoulda known you’d pick the right side.”
I shook my head. This was the response I’d gotten from
everybody in town. “It’s not a matter of picking the right side, Shiloh,” I
told him. “It’s a matter of following the law.”
Shiloh looked at me for awhile, then he shook his head.
“Law’s not all it’s cracked up to be, Marshal. We got along fine without it
where I come from.”
“Law’s the only thing that keeps us from being animals,
Shiloh.”
“We are animals, Marshal,” he said. “Look at that kid. All
he’s interested in is killin’.”
“We’re gonna try and break him of that,” I reminded him.
“Yeah,” he said. “Don’t know how much luck we’ll have, but we
can try.”
“And that,” I said, “is what makes us better than animals.
They don’t even know to try.”
Shiloh shrugged. “Or else’n it makes us worse,” he said.
“Since all of us know, but most of us don’t try anyway.”
I had no answer for that.
