Brodie by McKendree Long

Author:McKendree Long
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gale, Cengage Learning
Published: 2017-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

We almost made it out of that cow camp clean.

See, most of Mister Chisum’s cowpunchers was teenage boys. Tough as nails, but by and large they was shy. Scared of most women but especially pretty ones.

Still, though, there was one older rowdy in Chisum’s crew that was determined to show his younger trail-buddies what a stud horse he was. Maybe thirty years old and well fed, leastways for a New Mexico wrangler.

He caught Emmalee coming from the privy and made a rude comment that I won’t repeat. Me and three of the young cowboys was nearby. One giggled, one laughed, one muttered “Butt-head,” and Emmalee got all red-faced.

I had a Schofield in my belt, so I drew and covered the scoundrel. When he heard the “click-clack” of that revolver locking up he froze first and then turned to me right slow-like.

“Say you’re sorry,” I said, “Or say goodbye.”

“I ain’t holding,” he said.

“Well, that makes you stupid and rude. I ain’t heard that apology.”

He said, “You’d shoot an unarmed man? Whyn’t you put that hogleg down and let’s fight.”

He had me by thirty pounds and six inches in height and reach. And one hand.

I said, “Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll shoot off your left hand and then we’ll go at it.”

I pointed that Smith and Wesson at his hand and he jerked it around behind him.

“Whoa!” he said.

“If I shoot your hand right now, I’m gonna ruin your belly and back end,” I said. “Whyn’t you hold it out to the side?”

The marshal had come up by then. He must of asked somebody what happened, because he took his rifle and slammed that trash-talker in the side of his head with the butt-end. Big Mouth folded like a empty potato sack.

“I had it under control, Curly,” I said.

“Naw, you didn’t, either, Brodie. You was about to fire off another gun, maybe start a stampede and get us hung by these cowpokes.”

Pitser Chisum walked up at that point and asked what happened. After the marshal told him, he stopped a cowpoke riding out to the herd and took his canteen. Took about half that cold water to bring Big Mouth around.

When he sat up, Chisum said, “Listen up, Jerkwad, you’re a fair bronc buster, but not good enough for me to tolerate no such talk to no married woman. You want to go apologize now, or pack your gear and ride?”

Big Mouth was kind of cross-eyed from that lick Curly gave him. He said, “I’m truly sorry, Mister Chisum.”

“Look at me if you’re gonna talk to me, you wall-eyed dumbass. Now take your butt over to Byden’s wagon and speak your ‘sorrys’ to Miz Byden. And if Mister Byden chooses to whip your butt sixteen ways from Sunday, don’t be looking for no help.”

He stopped and glared around. “Leastways not from nobody who aims to work for me tomorrow.”

An hour later we were crossing the river and cutting east for Tascosa.

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