Red Carson

The thieves struck at dawn. Within minutes fifty head of prime Beef were no longer milling around on the Bar R C. They were being driven as fast as they could walk toward the Northeast border of the range. Five men pushed the cattle, laughing amongst themselves at how easy it had been and they could always go back when they needed more money.

When the ramrod pounded on his door at six, Red knew something bad had happened. He opened the door still wearing only his longjohn's. He didn't even take the time to put on his hat.

"Boss, we've been rustled out of Fifty head of that bunch we were gathering for the sale."

"Anyone hurt, James? Who was riding night herd?"

"Pete and young John. Pete has a crease on his scalp and a bullet in his left arm."

"He'll live from the sound of it. How's young John?"

"Dead. The Peckerwoods dry gulched him. Shotgun in the back. Harry found them when he went to relieve them."

"God Dammit! Saddle my horse and pack me grub for a week. I'll be ready in five minutes."

In ten minutes, I was hot on the trail. Fifty head leave a trail a blind man could follow from the torn-up ground they leave behind. I rode easy in the saddle for you never knew if they would try to ambush me. I had been hoping for a good sale this year and those Fifty head would cut into my profits.

Besides, I hated Rustler's and have hanged a few in my time.

I am sure I could have caught them easily enough, But I wanted them unaware of me being around. The Grey Mustang's ears twitched and pointed off to the left, as they do when danger is near. I headed down into an arroyo, ducking as I did so. The bullet passed overhead with a wicked whine. I rode deeper as fast as the ground would allow. I stopped around a large boulder.

Ground hitching my horse I eased up to the rim and peered out. A faint movement a hundred yards ahead caught my attention. The once Red shirt now faded, stood out bright as sunshine. I sighted my rifle on it and let the lead fly. The bullet dusted the right shoulder and the ambusher dropped the rifle he had in his hands.

Gathering the reins to my horse I climbed aboard and rode in the direction of the shooter. As I rode upon him he was still on the ground in shock. And cussing up a storm. Pain-filled eyes stared at me with malice.

"Are you going to help me? My shoulder is busted and I'm bleeding like a stuck pig."

"Why the hell should I help some Peckerwood who tried to kill me? Cattle rustling does not pay, does it?
I am sure one of your friends will be along soon enough to see what has become of you. You don't mind if I take whatever of yours that I need."

"You Bastard!" He exclaimed with his last breath.

I went through his pockets and took his holster and rifle, Then I tracked down his mount and tied it's reins to my saddle. Afterward, I continued following the tracks of the stolen cattle once again, and though now a few hours old were still easily read. The body was left for the scavengers to feed upon. If they were dumb enough.

By this time, I had been on their trail for almost four hours now. One rustler down and four to go. The wind picked up and I hoped it would not destroy much of the tracks ahead of me. The Sun went behind a cloud and suddenly I felt a chill in the air. If this kept up I would have to dig out my jacket, and hopefully not my slicker as well. I took a long sip from one of my canteens. I always carried three when on the trail. Water is a precious commodity.

Looking at the ground as I paused to rest the horses, the tracks were getting fresher. Soon they would have to make camp for the night. For it is not wise to try to push cattle or horses at night. Too easy for them to step in a hole and break legs. We were climbing up toward Mountains and the going is going to be much rougher than down here on the Plains.

At dusk, I looked for a place to make camp. Mine would be much simpler than theirs. The base of some rocks under a Pine on level ground seemed to be made just for me. A small fire to boil some coffee and Bacon. It would also reflect heat back toward me. After eating I let the fire die down and eventually go out. No use in advertising I was around.

A star-filled sky clouded up the closer to morning it got. Packing up I broke camp to get an early start. Maybe I would be able to catch one or more of them unaware. The horse I took off the dead ambusher tried to get me a little trouble but settled down after a few minutes of spinning around and bucking. A Tan Buckskin. The previous owner could pick horse flesh for sure. Too bad he had to be also stupid as hell. His loss and my gain.

I topped a rise a half hour later and caught them still in camp. Guess they didn't think anyone would be following them so soon. Through a Telescope I could see a couple of empty Whiskey bottles lying next to the fire. I sat there on my saddle with my head just below the peak of the rise and studied them all, each one taking my time. The one who appeared to be their leader I took a special interest in him. I had seen him somewhere before. Maybe mid-thirties with sandy brown hair and a beard. He suddenly turned to face me and I saw the scar on his left cheek.

I know how he got it. I gave it to him years ago in a drunken knife fight in Abilene, Kansas. Dave Madison.

He did not age well, but then few of us ever do. They packed up and got underway after one of their herders rode in and gestured with his hands all over the place. They left the fire burning as they spread out behind behind and along the sides of the cattle. Maybe this rider had ridden along their back trail and found the ambusher's body. Hope so! It would give them all something to think about. They were being followed and they did not know when or where the next time I would make my presence known.

The day turned hot and muggy. I laughed at them poor Peckerwoods riding drag behind my cattle. They were eating dust and dealing with the flies. If we kept going in this direction in two days they would be outside of Woodbury. Hoped they tried to sell my cattle. I have made a couple of small drives there in the past and the town knew my brand well. The Sheriff would question their right to sell and would hold up the process until he heard from me.

The day seemed to fly by and Dusk found them in a small tree-covered valley with halfway decent grass and water. Tonight I wanted to shake them up some more. As they sleep I would go amongst them and have some fun. Well, fun for me that is. I tied the reins to my horses to a tree some distance away and waited some fifty yards away from their fire until it got darker and they got careless. Again tonight they drank some Whiskey.

The Mexican got up and staggered to his feet to take a piss. He should have stayed in the firelight, but bless his heart he moved off into the woods. Guess he has a shy bladder.

I moved out to intercept him and though I could be as quiet as need be, as drunk asa he was he would never hear me coming. I left my rifle on my horse. A six-gun would be sufficient if I needed a weapon. I planned to rough him up and tie him to a tree without his clothes, I would later sneak into their camp and put fire to them. Boy would he be surprised.

Coming up behind him I slammed his face into the tree stunning the Hell out of him. He half turned bouncing away from the tree. I hit him in the ribs four or five times and heard a couple of them break loud like a twig snapping in the quiet Forrest. He had trouble sucking in enough air as he puked and pissed all over himself. A right uppercut to the jaw knocked him out cold. In less than three minutes he was stripped down to his dirty, gross longjohns and tied to the tree he had been using as a toilet.

Then I backed off to wait and see how long it would be before someone discovered him missing. To their credit, it only took them an hour. During this time he woke up and started calling out as loud as he could in his drunken state. He was a sight to behold being dragged back into the firelight. All covered in puke and piss. Imagine he smelled some awful as well.

"What the Hell happened to you?"

"Someone snuck up behind me and smashed my face into a tree. After that, your guess is as good as mine as to what happened next."

" Get out there that Bastard has to still be in the area. Find him." Dave Madison stated and the others spread out to find the attacker.

Red Carson watched all of this and wondered what other trouble he could make for these Rustlers. No one seemed to be looking very hard to find him and he took advantage of it. Creeping around he attacked when he found those who did not pay attention. A club upside the head dropped more than one of them. He took whatever they had worthwhile on their person and tied them up afterward. Red ended up with three more gunbelts and Forty-two dollars. Not bad for an evening's work. Smiling and chuckling he went back to his horse and rode a couple miles off to make his camp for the night.

The rustlers took extra time moving out in the morning. Some of them had trouble staying upright in the saddle. For another day and a half Red followed behind them, taking his time and letting them drive his cattle to market. Though they did not know they were helping him out.
All day long they kept searching around to see if they were followed. Maybe they made five miles. Anyway, it was five miles closer to where Red could sell his Beef and still make a halfway decent price per head.

The following night Red heard someone snooping around his camp and he made it at the base of some rocks, near a crick, and under a large Cedar tree. I scooted backward until my back was at the rocks. My six-shooter in my hand should I need it. I was not sure, but I could swear I heard sounds from two different directions. I waited for a few minutes not hearing a thing, then I heard them again. All of a sudden gunfire ripped into my camp hoping to get lead into me. It did nothing but pinpoint their locations.

I wondered if these two were some of those I had roughed up the other night. I did not really care one way or the other. Seeing as how they wanted to play with guns I will accommodate them. I threw two shots in each direction and was awarded with someone screaming out they had been shot. I stayed where I was until I knew if they were going to be throwing any more lead around.

Dawn is only an hour away and I am comfortable, so I will wait until I can see who it was shooting at me. I dozed for an hour. When I woke up the light was steadily growing from gray to bright light. I still waited another ten minutes before I crawled out of my position and stood against the Cedar tree. Which direction do I search first? Since my right led away from my camp, I checked that way first. The man lying on the ground stared up at the blue sky and the whispy clouds floating overhead. His chest had two bullets in it, either one would have killed him. I felt no remorse going through his pockets and taking his weapons. As I turned away from the corpse I heard a large Rattler on the other side of the body. Glad I was not going in that direction.

Checking the other Peckerwood who had shot at me during the night, to my surprise is still alive. His leg was shattered by my bullet. His eyes widened as I came around the bush. He tried to raise his Rifle and I kicked it away. "Trying to finish the job? Your partner did not make it and from the looks of that leg. You will play Hell getting to the nearest town for medical attention. Makes rustling MY CATTLE worth the trouble, huh?"

"Am I going to die? I can't make it."

"Too damned bad." I leaned in to take his gunbelt and he tried to attack me further. A gun stock to the side of his face put him out. His pockets revealed two Gold twenty dollar pieces. He would not need them anymore. The broken watch and pocket knife I left near his body. I stooped to pick up his rifle as I went back to my campfire for some of last night's coffee. Then, I saddled my bronc and went in search of their horses. I found them in a gulley half a mile away. I added them to the growing bunch strung out behind me. That now gave me the horse I was riding, a pack horse, and three rustler's horses as well.

If I remember correctly from the map I had seen recently, we were about ten miles from the town of Jonesville. I have sold cattle there a couple of times, and they knew my brand. From the ridge above them, I noticed there appeared to be only five rustlers left. And after tonight there would be a couple less. I was weary of this chase.

As they camped for the night I crawled close and dusted them with my Henry. The one in the off Yellow shirt went down near the fire, not to move again. A dark-skinned man who could have been either Part Indian or Negro almost made it to his horse before my bullet broke his spine. The other three made it away with the cattle. The way they were pushing that herd they would make Jonesville in about four and a half hours.

From previous cattle dealings, I knew the cattle buyer would not be open for business until Nine A.M. at the earliest. He was kind of a lazy man. I walked back to my horses and stepped aboard, then slowly rode down to the bodies. I drank the coffee and ate the fried Bacon and Biscuits.

As usual, the corpses did not need what they had on them and I took what I could use. Stepping into the saddle I leisurely rode after the herd. Four and a half hours later I sat on the ridge overlooking Jonesville. I could see the cattle pens on the edge of town and the large Barn there for extra horses. Riding near I saw my brand on every one of the critters inside the pen. The hostler gave me a strange look as I left the horses saddled and tied to one of the rails.

"Those fellers who brought the cattle in are over to the Cafe. I noticed your horse is wearing the same brand."

"Hoyt still the Sheriff around these parts?"

"Yes, Sir."

I walked down the street to wait across from the Cafe. It wasn't long before the Rustlers came outside.

They all saw me at the same time. "You!" Shouted out, Dave.

"You should have stayed in Kansas Dave, and you should not have rustled my cattle. What is your choice?"

"Choice?"

"Hung or Bullet? I do not really care which you chose, But you all are going to die." They made their choice and grabbed iron. Six shots rang out from my six-shooter. One into the chest of the two alongside of Dave and Four into him. Stomach and chest."

As I calmly pushed out the spent rounds and loaded back up, the Sherrif ran up huffing and puffing.

"What the Hell is going on here?"

"Howdy Hoyt. Just taking care of some rustlers. Fifty head are down to the pens right now, brought in this morning. Is Wendle still the buyer around here? Is he over to the Cafe?"

"Yes and yes. Someone get the Undertaker and let's get this trash ff the street. Stop by my Office before you leave town, Red."

"Planned on it, Sheriff."

Inside the Cafe, I paused a moment searching out Wendle. I sat down across from him as he fed his fat face, " You in the buying mood?"

"Maybe? You have some cattle to sell?"

"I trailed Fifty head of stolen cattle here and it is easier to sell than drive back home."

"How much?"

"Sixty-five dollars a head."

"Forty. Unseen." He replied.

"Sixty-five and I will forget about your past dealings with Kansas Dave Madison."

"Alright! Sixty-five a head. Now can I finish my breakfast? Sure thing and I'll join you."

Half an hour later we shook hands and he wrote me out a Bank draft for three thousand two hundred and fifty dollars. Satisfied I walked back down to collect my horses. Then I stopped by the Sheriff's Office on my way out of town.

"Get your cattle sold, Red. There was a reward out for Kansas Dave for Five hundred dollars. Take a couple of weeks to collect, but you are due. Where do I send the Bank draft?"

"Hope Valley Bank. I am near there. Anything else?"

"Those men's horses and such. What should I do with them? "

Waslking out the door I paused and looked back. "I'll take them with me. Figured I am owed. NOBODY steals from me!"