Confessions of a Gunfighter (9 page)

Chapter twenty-two

We left two weeks later.

I noticed a change in Kinrich. Out here he was a salty character with no nonsense about him, and he withdrew into that hard shell of his often.  

I found out real quick that Kinrich’s mood had changed for the worse. We were riding down a long, winding ol’ trail, and somehow I accidentally got in front of Kinrich. 

Kinrich’s anger built up fast.

“Stay outta my way, Button!” Kinrich snapped.

Kinrich jobbed his horse hard with his spurs, and he forced me off the trail as he retook the lead. 

Kinrich stayed sore at me for the rest of the day, and it wasn’t until breakfast the next morning that he finally spoke to me again. 

After that I learned real fast to stay out of his way, and I also tried real hard not to irritate him because I sure didn’t like it when he got mad at me. 

Before we left Kinrich told me that this job was going to be a close one, and that we’d be holding up a stagecoach. There was usually a Union payroll on that stage, and that’s what we were after. 

We rode for three days, and that third night we arrived at the designated hideout. 

There were four men sitting round a campfire. 

Kinrich had never ridden in with anyone before, and they all looked at me curiously.

Kinrich stepped down off his horse and looked over at everybody. 

“This here’s Button,” he said. “He’s riding with us.”

That was all he said, and I got down stiffly and unsaddled Slim next to Kinrich’s horse.

While I worked I felt everybody watching me, and it made me clumsy and nervous. Twice I dropped my saddle, and when I picketed Slim I tripped over the lead rope.

I walked over to the fire and sat down next to Kinrich. Supper was ready, and while we ate Kinrich finally made a round of introductions. 

Besides Harris, there were five other men that rode with Kinrich.

The four fellers that had already arrived were named Brian Clark, Cliff Curtis, Luis Valdez, and Ryan Palmer.

All four were tough, seasoned gunmen, and by themselves anyone of them could be a handful. But together, with Kinrich leading them, they were really something to be scared of. 

And here I was, right in the middle of them.

Brian Clark was an older man, probably in his mid-fifties. He had been an outlaw nearly all his life, and he was wanted for at least one felony in nearly every territory or state there was. He was always careful; he never took any chances unless he had to.

I eventually came to like Brian Clark more than the rest. He was quiet, and he had a gentle way about him that the others didn’t have. Everybody else always seemed real eager to kill, and the only thing that held them back was Kinrich.

Cliff Curtis was a very big man. He was in his mid-thirties, and he was built like an ox.

Kinrich told me later that Cliff once killed a man with his bare hands, and that he could also kill men just as easily with his guns. During the war he had ridden with Quantrill’s raiders, and he joined up with Kinrich soon afterwards.

As for Luis Valdez, he was a quiet, little Mexican with quick, observant eyes. Kinrich told me that his gun skills were very good, and that he was also real handy with a knife.

Then there was Ryan Palmer. 

Tall and lean with curly, blond hair, he was only a couple years older than me.

I could tell that he had a very high opinion of himself, and he also thought that he was
some
hand with a gun. And of course, he was just itching for an opportunity to show everybody. 

I could tell that me and Palmer were going to have trouble. As for the others, they might not have liked me being there, but Kinrich was the leader, and they grudgingly accepted me. 

But Palmer wasn’t going to let it go. I could tell that he wanted to start something, but with Kinrich being there he didn’t have the nerve. 

When we finished supper Brian Clark started cleaning up, and I jumped in to help. 

Nobody said anything, but I could tell from the looks on their faces that me helping out went over real good. 

That is, everybody but Palmer. He just sat there, twirling his six-shooter playfully as he sneered at me.

After we cleaned things up we all sat round the fire, and it was real quiet as we stared back and forth.  

Brian Clark finally broke the silence. 

“I’ve got some bad news, Ben.” 

Kinrich looked up. 

“Oh?”

“It’s about Frank.”

“Yeah, I was wondering where he was. It’s not like him to be late,” Kinrich remarked.

“He’s dead, Ben,” Brian Clark said matter-of-factly. 

Kinrich took the news without even a frown. In this line of work you had to leave your feelings out of it, and I was learning that fact real fast.  

“I figured as much,” Kinrich muttered. “How’d it happen?”

“He was over in Abilene ’bout two months ago, and he got caught cheating at cards,” Brian Clark explained. “A feller shot him dead right at the table.”

“Figured I taught him better than that,” Kinrich said softly.

Cliff spoke up. 

“I wonder what’s keeping Harris. Hope he’s not laid up drunk somewhere.”

Kinrich was rolling himself a smoke. He finished it, and as he lit up he looked up at everybody.

“No, Harris ain’t drunk, and he ain’t riding with us no more neither. He’s dead.”

Nobody seemed disturbed. Instead, everybody waited silently for an explanation.

But Kinrich didn’t offer one. Instead, he looked over at Brian Clark. 

“Clark, come morning I want you to ride into town. You know a lot of folks. I want you to look around, and see if you can find us another man. And I don’t want no hotheaded Yankee . If you can’t find us a good, dependable man, then come on back alone.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Brian Clark nodded.

“And be careful that you don’t draw no attention to yourself,” Kinrich continued. “We’ve enough troubles as it is. We don’t want somebody recognizing you and getting yourself thrown in jail.”

“I’ll be careful.”

We bedded down after that.

I rolled my bed out next to Kinrich’s, and as I was pulling my boots off Kinrich rolled over and spoke real low. 

“Button, you’re doing just fine. It’ll take the rest of the boys a while to warm up to you, so don’t you let ’em bother you none. One thing though; you’d best stay clear of that Palmer kid. He’s out to make a name for himself, and if you two were to tangle you’d end up killing him, and then we’d be short another man.”

“I don’t want any trouble,” I replied.

“Good boy. Come morning I’ll have a talk with Palmer, and that should end it. But you just watch yourself.”

Those were the first kind words that Kinrich had said to me since we’d left the valley, and I was sure relieved to hear them.

I crawled into bed, and it wasn’t until then that I realized what Kinrich had just said, about me killing Palmer instead of the other way around. It gave me an odd feeling knowing that Kinrich had that much confidence in me.

I just hoped I wouldn’t let him down.

***

We woke early. After breakfast, Brian Clark saddled up and rode out going towards town. 

Kinrich saddled up too, but before he left he went over and gave Palmer a good talking to.

Palmer sure didn’t like it, but he stood there and took Kinrich’s lecture without saying a word. Obviously, this wasn’t the first time this had happened.

“Button, I’m riding on out to look the stage route over,” Kinrich said as he walked back over to me. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Can I go with you?” I asked quickly. 

“No, you stay here and rest up. Tomorrow’s the big day, and I want you ready.”

With that Kinrich mounted up and rode out.

I was nervous, but after a while I made myself relax. Valdez and Cliff acted like I wasn’t even there, and Palmer kept his distance.   

But Palmer finally just couldn’t take it anymore. He walked up and grinned crudely.

“Sure is a mighty fancy gun you’ve got there,” Palmer sneered. “Where’d you get it?”

If anybody else had asked me that, I would have probably answered. But the way that Palmer was sneering down at me suddenly made me mad, and I felt the feeling start to grab a-hold of me.

“None of your business,” I replied curtly.

“What do you mean?” Palmer narrowed his eyes.

I saw where this conversation was headed, and I sure didn’t want to have to kill him.

I wasn’t scared of Palmer. But I was very scared of Kinrich, and if I killed Palmer I wasn’t sure how Kinrich would react. So I had to end this little situation right now before it got out of hand.

I clenched my fists and looked up at Palmer.

Palmer was still standing over me, waiting for a reply.

But I didn’t answer. Instead, I sprang up suddenly, and I swung my fist with all the strength I could muster.

Chapter twenty-three

Palmer was caught by surprise, and my punch hit home. Palmer dropped instantly and was out cold.

Valdez and Cliff saw the whole thing, but neither one of them even flinched. Their faces were expressionless; they just went about their business as if nothing had happened. 

I had split my knuckle, so I walked out of camp a ways so they wouldn’t see me in pain. 

When I returned Kinrich was back. He was standing over Palmer, who was still out cold. 

I reckon either Cliff or Valdez told him what had happened, because as I walked up Kinrich turned sharply.

“I told you to leave him alone,” he snapped.

“I tried to,” I objected. “Besides, he started it, not me.”

Kinrich ignored my remark as he knelt beside Palmer and slapped his face. 

“Wake up, boy!” He said. 

Suddenly, Palmer jerked wildly. 

“I can’t see!” Palmer moaned.

“You got hit in the head, that’s all,” Kinrich replied with disgust. 

Kinrich yanked Palmer to his feet, and he grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him violently.

Palmer’s head bobbled back and forth. 

“There, you’ll be all right now,” Kinrich said.

Whether he was or not, Palmer shoved himself away and started to stumble off. 

But Kinrich stopped him. He then proceeded to give me and Palmer a severe tongue thrashing, and he told us very forcefully to leave each other alone. 

I agreed wholeheartedly, because I sure didn’t want any more trouble. 

But I could tell that Palmer was real sore. When Kinrich finally left Palmer turned and stared at me, and his eyes were filled with hate.

***

Brian Clark rode back in along towards sundown, and trailing behind him was another man. They unsaddled in the dark and walked up to the fire.

“Kinrich, this here is Lee Mattingly,” Brian Clark said.

I had heard of Lee Mattingly, and so had everybody else. His gun skills were legendary, and there were all sorts of stories about him. During the war he had been a loyal soldier for the South, and after the war he had drifted out west.

Over the next couple of years I would get to know Lee better than the rest. In a way I came to respect him, and I stayed around Lee the most. Unlike Kinrich, he was always pretty much the same, and I appreciated that.

Lee was what you could call a ‘professional’ gunfighter. He had a gentleman-like way about him, and while he was still an outlaw he just had a different set of ethics than all the others had. He was soft spoken, and he was also very loyal to his friends.

During supper Brian Clark introduced Lee to everybody, and when he got to me he introduced me as ‘Button’.

Lee nodded at everybody, and then he went back and carefully studied each man.

His gaze finally came to me, and he narrowed his eyes a bit. He studied me long and hard, and only when I looked up at him did he look away.

“You’ve got quite the reputation, Lee,” Kinrich told him while we were eating. “I’m glad you’re with us.”

Lee smiled and spoke with a rich, southern drawl.  

“You have a pretty big reputation yourself. Matter of fact, that’s mainly why I decided to join up.”

“Oh? How’s that?” Kinrich asked.

“Wanted to see for myself if everything I’d heard ’bout you was true or not,” Lee explained.

Kinrich smiled that boyish smile of his. 

“Well, I sure hope I don’t disappoint you none.” 

“We’ll see, won’t we,” Lee replied dryly.

Kinrich nodded thoughtfully.

“Yes, we will.”

We finished supper, and after I’d helped Brian Clark clean up things I sat down next to the fire across from Lee.

Lee and Kinrich were telling each other about where they had been, and who all they both knew. They talked on and on, but suddenly the talking stopped. 

I looked up and saw that Lee was studying me again.

“Tell me,” Lee said to me. “Is your name just ‘Button’, or do you have another name you go by?”

Everybody was curious to know who I really was; even Palmer was quiet as everybody waited for an answer. 

“I have another name,” I told him. “It’s Landon. Rondo Landon is my name.”

“Figured you was a Landon,” Lee said, pleased with himself. “I rode with several Landons during the war. Matter of fact, I even fought against a couple of ’em too. Good fighting men they were too. Tell me, what’s your Pa’s name?”

“Noley Landon,” I replied.

“Yep, I remember Noley all right,” Lee nodded. “We were both prisoners once. Matter of fact, it was one of your cousins that was fighting for the North that helped us escape.”

“Pa’s dead,” I said quietly. “He was killed by Injuns a while back.”

“That’s too bad,” Lee commented, and his face looked genuinely remorseful. “He was a good man, your Pa.”

Suddenly, Brian Clark snapped his fingers. 

“I know who you are now. You’re that kid with a fancy gun that killed Tom Benson down south a few months ago!”

Everybody shot me a surprised look, and then Kinrich laughed.  

“Tom Benson ain’t the only man Button has killed,” Kinrich said. “You boys have been wondering what happened to Glen Harris. Well, Button outdrew and killed him, and I saw it with my own two eyes.”

Everybody was really surprised then, because Glen Harris was well-known for his speed. But Kinrich sat there and told them the whole story, and he told it as violently as possible.

“I would have said something ’bout it before, but I wanted to see for myself if any of you were in with Harris or not,” Kinrich declared as he finished telling the story.  

After that it was very quiet. Everybody was taking in everything that Kinrich had just said, and from time to time they would look at me strangely, as if they were sizing me up or something. 

Suddenly, in just a few short minutes, I went from being a nobody to being a somebody you had to reckon with. Respect was in all their faces, ’cept for Palmer. He was real jealous of all the attention I was receiving.  

I wasn’t happy about all this talk. I didn’t like being measured by the men I’d killed, but that’s just the way it was among men like these.

I didn’t know it then, but my name had traveled around quite a bit during the four months I had spent with Ben Kinrich. The story of me killing Tom Benson had really gotten around, and even folks back east had heard about it. 

Course, the story most folks heard was that a kid with a mighty fancy gun rode up and for no reason shot Benson down in cold blood.

After a while everybody got ready to turn in. I rolled my bed out next to Kinrich’s, and Kinrich looked at me and chuckled. 

“The boys respect you now, Button. But come tomorrow, you’re going to have to prove yourself all over again. They’ll be watching you, to see how you do.”

I didn’t reply. Instead, I crawled deep inside my bedroll. 

Morning came early, and nobody talked much as we sat around and ate breakfast. I didn’t feel like eating, but I forced down some biscuits anyhow. 

We moved out at daybreak. Kinrich led us down an old, winding cow trail, and my heart beat wildly. 

There were seven of us total, and six of us were hard faced, veteran outlaws. 

As for me— I didn’t know what I was yet.