The Vigilante Trail
A light snow was falling as Charlie
Reardon left the diner and made his way down Madison Street. Looking at the flakes covering the frozen
ground, he knew if he didn’t find his man here, he would have to wait till
spring. Spending the winter on the
prairies of Kansas didn’t appeal to Charlie.
Charlie had only arrived in
Coldwater, Kansas, as the white, fluffy clouds were putting the sun to
bed. This town was no different from the
other towns Charlie and Smokey had visited.
Charlie was hungry and wanted a drink to wet his whistle but his first
job was taking care of Smokey, a gray colored guru. His first stop had been the dilapidated
livery and corral. Flipping the squalid
hostler a coin for extra grain for Smokey, Charlie headed for Pete’s
Diner. He knew that a well cared for
horse could mean the difference between life and death. Pulling the collar of his threadbare coat
upward was more of a gesture than for warmth, as he spied the Lady Gay
Saloon. He wasn’t a hard drinking man,
but he knew he might get a lead on the man he was hunting. Listening to random talk had placed three of
the four men he hunted under his gun. The last robber he killed had given him a
name before taking his last, ragged breath.
Memories of better days came to him as he kept his eyes on the shadows
of Madison Street. The roads he had
traveled left no room for carelessness.
Charlie had left his Crawling R Ranch
in Destin, Texas to ride the vengeance trail after a lone rider leading three
horses had barreled over his father crossing toward the bank. Three men firing shots as they ran from the
bank grabbed their horse's reins from the fourth man. They galloped their mounts out of town
without looking back at the old man lying in the dirt with one hand clutching
his cane. Charlie had caught a glimpse
of the men as he ran to his father’s side.
After burying his father, he left
his cattle and horses to range free. The
horse he chose to ride was a mousy colored guru. Caution was of utmost importance. A light colored mount was hard to hide on the
trail. A dark colored animal would blend
in with the boulders and skyline. His travels had carried him into the Hole in
the Wall territory in Wyoming and Robber’s Roost in Utah. Mingling with outlaws and rowdy cowpunchers
in hideouts, saloons, and on the trail three of the bank robbers had been dealt
a deathblow. The last man to be found
gave a description of the fourth man before he passed into eternity.
Charlie had gotten a reputation as a
fast gun and had been seen mingling with known outlaws. His reputation as an outlaw was preceding him
on the trail.
Loosening the rawhide throng on his
holster containing a Colt Peacemaker, he glanced again at the falling snow as
he pushed through the swinging doors of the Lady Gay Saloon. The smell of alcohol and smoke reached his
nostrils as he paused to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. A painted lady squealed with delight as a
cowboy wearing chaps lightly kissed her leading her toward the bartender.
A squalid looking bartender wiping
glasses glanced at his newest customer.
“What’ll it be?”
“Tangleleg,” Charlie replied, while
looking at the picture of a naked woman hanging behind the bar. Three bullet holes were perfectly placed over
her most luscious parts.
“Don’t get much call for the
homemade stuff,” the bartender snarled as he poured the drink.
“I’m about out of coins. There won’t
be any work in this weather.” Emptying
the glass, Charlie pushed it toward the bartender for another. The sound of the juice going into the glass
was stilled as a younger man wearing a turquoise shirt nudged Charlie’s
arm. Turning toward the man, Charlie
noticed a deep scar on his chin and his buscadero gun belt with two
holsters. Two Colt Dragoons were facing
toward the front.
Turning toward the bar, placing a
dime in front of the bartender for his drink, Charlie knew this was the man he
had on his wanted list. He also knew the
younger man was hunting a reputation. The
sounds in the saloon died as Charlie was told he had better go easy on the
sauce. Ignoring the voice, Charlie
calmly raised his glass. “I’m talking to
you old man.”
Charlie said, “I’ve been hunting
you.” You and three more robbed a bank
in Destin, Texas. The others are pushing
up daisies but the last one told me about you.
The old man you killed was my father.
Hands slapped leather. Only one
shot was heard. Charlie’s hogleg was
smoking as he replaced it in its holster.
Sprawled on the sawdust floor was the last bandit.
Several men entered the saloon. One was the town marshal. After hearing the gunplay was a fair fight,
Marshal Kingley said, “Seems like I have a poster on a man that looks like you. Just leave by sunrise.”
Not speaking Charlie left to go
sleep in the stable with Smokey. During
the night, the snowflakes had turned to slush.
With the first glare of morning, Charlie rode Smokey toward home hoping
a positive identification could not be made of him on the wanted posters. He knew he was now a gunfighter but only
wanted to get his stock back on his range and run the Crawling R. He breathed a sigh saying, “Smokey, we’re on
our way home."
__________________________
Biography: Revia Perrigin was raised
on a poor dirt farm in Louisville, MS.
She now lives in Columbus, MS. Graduating
MSCW (now MUW), she is a life-long learner taking classes in writing,
literature and history. Now retired, she
spends time doing what she always wanted to do-write. She has been published in the MUW literary
magazine, The Dilettanti. Her short
stories have appeared in Dew on the Kudzu and her story, Surprise for Annie,
will appear in So and So (Southern owned and Southern operated) in the
September-October edition. The genre she
prefers is western.