Frankie sat upon the sandy ground, shivering beneath a gibbous moon, as his rifle lay across his lap. He blew into his hands and rubbed them for warmth, as his breath hung in the air like a fog. His leg was busted up bad and throbbed with pain. Never had he been in a situation this bad before. He thought back at all the times he had hurt himself or been in trouble. He always had people nearby to fix him up, but this was different. He wanted a fire so badly, but he’d lost his tinderbox. 

There was a rustle in the distance. Frankie raised his head and strained his neck, peering into the darkness. The yipping of a coyote just over the rise.“Stay away you bastards!” he said, picking up a rock and lobbing it towards the sound.

The land spread out in all directions, and the highest objects were the black silhouettes of cacti and sagebrush against the starry sky, but they offered little shelter against the cold. He thought of his Ma and younger brother who were likely home safe and warm in their beds, and how at this moment he wished he was there. Anywhere was better than this lonely cold place. 

He nervously chuckled, thinking how stupid he was getting himself into this predicament. Chasing a rabbit on horseback seemed fun at the time. Galloping along behind the poor creature, and it darting back and forth. That’s when his horse went down. Stepped in a gopher hole and broke his leg.  He goes flying over top of his horse smack dab into the dirt with a thud. Lucky for him, he didn’t die right away. However his poor horse limped in agony before Frankie decided it was best to put ole Lula Belle down. He removed his saddle and bags and threw them across his shoulders heading east. He was already more than a day’s ride from ole Mr Carson’s ranch where he once worked.

Frankie walked the rest of that day, and well into the night before his legs gave out. He tried to stand, but his legs ached and spasmed. He regretted his foolishness for losing his bed roll somewhere along the way. He opened his saddlebags and pulled out his extra clothes and draped them over his legs and arms, but it gave him little relief from the bitter cold. He slammed his fist into the sand, yelling, “God damn it to hell!” and “Fucking idiot!”

To take his mind off the cold, Frankie sang old songs his mother used to sing to him to get him to fall asleep. Soon his throat felt dry and he drank the last of his water.

Frankie thought back to the last time he had been to Pecos. He rode to town for a few drinks and to mail his Ma some money. At the local saloon, he took notice of a rough boy around his own age who gave him a wink and glance. At first he watched from a distance as this guy stood at the other end of the bar drinking whiskey. His rough hands caressing the shot glass. Frankie peeked at him through the corner of his eye hoping not to get caught staring. This guy stirred something awake inside that had been kept dormant. His pulse quickened and his palms grew clammy. He looked the boy up and down with a desire to touch. 

After a few drinks, the stranger laid some coins on the bar and called out to the bartender, “I best be head’n out Matt. Leave’n at sun up. Be back around sometime this fall I guess.”

“You stay out of trouble, Red,” the bartender said, taking the change.

“Can’t do that Matt, Trouble follows me, remember?” he said, grabbing his stetson and placing it on his head. As the boy turned towards the door, he caught Frankie’s glance and winked with a sly grin, then tipped his hat and walked out the door. 

Frankie felt the urge to follow him, but froze and remained sitting at the small table. A few moments passed and Frankie darted outside hoping to see which way the young man had gone. He wanted to at least say hello or start some casual conversation, but it was too late. He spent many a night after that, jerking off to the memory of the red headed stranger, wondering what might have happened if he were but a bit more bold.

The night grew bitter cold as Frankie sat shivering. A light frost covered the ground and sparkled in the moonlight. He wanted to sleep, but feared he might freeze to death. If only he could stay awake till dawn. 

Sometime during those wee hours, Frankie saw movement in the distance.  A lone rider approached as a silhouette framed in moonlight. The man dismounted and sauntered towards Frankie who sat uncontrollably shaking on the hard sand as his teeth chattered.

“Howdy friend, are you lost?” he said, tipping his hat.

“Yes, my horse died. I’m alone and cold. Thank God you showed up when you did,” Frankie said, trying to get to his feet.

“Good thing I found you then. Here, let me make a fire and get you warmed up a bit.”

The man gathered some sticks and sagebrush and started a small fire. He knelt down on the ground across the flames from Frankie and stared into his eyes.  

“Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere? You look oddly familiar,” he said, cocking his head to the side.

Frankie rubbed his watery eyes and grinned, “Yes, aren’t you the guy named Red that was in the Pecos saloon last spring? I’m Frankie Tolson,” he said, reaching over to shake hands.

“Yeah, I know you now. You were that shy guy sitting all alone at the table.  I’m Dan Struck, but everybody calls me Red. I bet you’re thirsty, probably hungry too. I got some jerky in my saddlebags.”

Frankie sat warming his hands in front of the fire, happy that his luck had changed. Red came back with jerky and a canteen of water and sat down on the ground beside Frankie.

“Here ya go Pardner. Made the jerky myself,” he said, placing the meat in his hands. 

“Thanks Red, If you hadn’t found me here, I’d have surely died,” he said, trying to talk, though his teeth were chattering.

“I noticed you staring at me in the saloon that day. You seemed kinda shy,” he whispered into Frankie’s ear.

“I, uh… I didn’t, I mean I wasn’t trying to…” Frankie mumbled, as Red interrupted.

“Man, you don’t have to explain. You seem like a good guy. Here let’s share this blanket. You need to warm up,” Red scooted next to him and draped a saddle blanket across Frankie’s shoulders.

Their faces were so close that Frankie could feel Red’s breath against his cheek. The two men sat in silence staring into the flames. Frankie felt the desire to kiss Red’s cheek, but simply rested his head against his hero’s shoulder.”

Red spooned Frankie beside the dying embers, lying in his arms, until  both of them fell asleep.

Frankie awoke shivering on the ground curled up in a fetal position as the first rays peered from over the horizon. He looked up and noticed Red was gone and so was his horse. Frankie stumbled to his feet gazing out over the vast barren plains looking for his friend. “Why couldn’t he have waited till morning, at least to say goodbye,” Frankie mumbled to himself. He felt a desperate ache from abandonment deep inside that he had never felt before.  

The sleep had done him good. His ankle felt much better and the swelling had gone down. He sighed, grabbed his saddlebags and proceeded walking east. 

By mid morning the sun had burnt off the frost, and Frankie spotted three men on horseback riding east towards Pecos. He waved his arms and shouted, then whistled.

“Howdy friends, Am I glad to see you. My horse broke his leg miles back and I had to put him down. Could you spare a drink of water and a ride to the nearest town?”

The three young cowboys looked at each other and talked amongst themselves.

“Yeah, I suppose we could give you a ride. Pecos is just a day’s ride from here,” said the dark haired kid with long black hair, as he handed Frankie a canteen of water. “My name’s Bill, and these two scalawags are Clem and Stubby Joe.

“You didn’t happen to see a red headed guy around my age on a black horse, did ya? He must left outta my campsite sometime during the night.”

“No, you is the first person we’ve seen all day,” said the short fat boy with a thick brown moustache called Stubby. He reached down, taking Frankie’s hand and pulled him onto the back of his horse. 

Clem, a burly, rough looking guy, with a missing front tooth, eyed him suspiciously. “What was you doing so far off the main trail? There ain’t nothin down south except rattlesnakes and cactus. 

“I got lost after chasing rabbits.”

“You lucky we came by when we did. Ain’t no water fer miles,” said Clem. 

“I sure appreciate it.”

“You kin buy us a drink once we get to town, yeah?” said Clem, spitting a chaw on the ground.

Where you guys from? I grew up just outside of St Louis. My ma and little brother still live there. I headed out lookin’ for work after my pa died,” said Frankie trying to break the silence.

“I’m from Austin. Been working the ranches ‘round here since I was a kid. I ain’t got no family after my pa ran me off. That’s been like four years come September, huh Clem?” Stubby said.

“Yeah, your pa was a no good drunk. He probably dead now,” Clem said, spitting through the hole in his missing tooth.

“So you guys grew up together?” Frankie said, wiping the sweat from his eyes.

“Yeah, me and Stubby did. My dad was a Baptist preacher. Always talking about the wages of sin and how most of us was headin’ straight for hell. Fuck that shit. I was the youngest of four brother and two sisters. I ran off with Stubby and ain’t been back since.”

“What about you Bill? How did you meet up with these two?” said Frankie.

“I’m from Boston. We just met up last spring on that cattle drive to Abilene. That was a hell of a time. We lost three good men on that job. One got snake bit, one old feller got trampled when the cows got spooked and we found the other guy half eaten by coyotes with a gunshot to the back. I was kinda new to cowboying and these two showed me the ropes. We been palling up ever since,” Bill said, tipping his hat and winking. 

“We’re on our way to Pecos lookin’ for work. What about you, Slick?” Stubby said, nudging me in the chest with his elbow.

“I was headin’ to town to buy some new duds and get a hot bath, but right now what I wouldn’t give for a nice sarsaparilla,” Frankie said, licking his dry lips.

“Not me, I’m gonna get me a nice steak dinner and then get drunk as hell,” Clem said, slapping his horse on the rump. 

“Well I plan to hook myself up with one of those sweet young senoritas and lie in a nice soft bed,” Bill said.

“Yeah, a good meal and soft bed sounds good to me too,” said Stubby.

The four men arrived in Pecos just before sunset. Two old men sat on the front porch of the general store playing checkers as they rode past. One of the old men looked up and waved.

“Howdy Clem, I see you boys made it back from the cattle drive. Everything go fine?”

“Yeah, for the most part. The cattle got to market on time and we got paid well, but we lost a few men on the trail.”

“Sorry to hear it,” he said, going back to his game.

As the men passed the livery stable, Frankie patted Stubby on the shoulder. “You can drop me off here. I plan to see if’n they have a horse for sale. I’ll meet y’all later fer a drink.”

Frankie hopped down and slung his saddlebags over his shoulder and waved as the three men rode down main street towards the saloon. 

He slid open one of the big wooden doors and walked inside. An older man was doing business with two young rough looking men who turned and eyed Frankie curiously.

“I’ll be with you shortly, young man as soon as I’m finished with these two gentlemen.”

Frankie nodded and stood beside the doorway looking down at his boots as he fidgeted with his moustache. He recognized one of the men as Ray Gantry, a trouble maker with a short temper, who used to work ole Mr Carson a few years back and got let go when he nearly beat a guy to death just for looking at him the wrong way. 

When their business was done, the old man handed Ray a wad of cash and the two men walked past Frankie, out the door.

“What can I do for you, young man?” said the older man in the dirty overalls. 

“I was wondering if’n you might have a horse I can buy. I had to put mine down yesterday, after he broke his leg in a rabbit hole.”

“I have a few horses. How much can you afford to spend?”

“What can I buy for 20 bucks?”

The old man laughed. “The only thing fer that price is an old donkey, but I’ll sell it to you for ten.”

Frankie sighed and shook his head. “I guess that’s what I want then.”

“It’s a deal then. You come back here when you get your business done,” the older man said, reaching up to shake his hand. “My name’s Oscar Levitt, and yours?”

“Frankie, …by the way, did you happen to see a cowboy ‘round my age, red hair, name Dan Struck. He’d be ridin’ a black horse with a white spot on his muzzle.”

“Nope, but I know the guy you’re talkin’ ‘bout, but ain’t seen him in ages. He a friend of yourn?”

“Yeah, you can say that.”

“Well, they been a lot of cowpokes through town this week. Maybe your friend’s at the saloon. Can I leave my saddle and gear here?”

“Sure pardner, I’ll watch it for ya.”

Frankie headed over to the barber to get a bath and hair cut. It had been months since he’d had a hot bath. He needed new duds as well while he was in town.

Frankie entered the barber shop where a bald thin middle aged man with a huge handlebar moustache was busy shaving the face of some older gentleman whose face was lathered up.

“Take a seat young man. Be right with ya.” he said, pointing to the empty chair.

Frankie sat down beside the old man and took off his stetson. 

“When the sheriff gets back, he needs to run those no good ruffians out of town.  Just yesterday those Gantry boys accosted my wife on the street. Called her a whore right to her face and tried to grab her breast,” said the barber, shaving the hair under the man’s neck.

“Did you hear what the older one did to Carson’s dog? The dog was barking at the scoundrel and he shot it dead, right there in the street, laughed and kept walking as if it didn’t mean nothing.” said the old man.

“That’s a damned shame. That dog wouldn’t hurt no one. The sheriff acts like he’s scared or something. I tell you.” he said with a big sigh. He wiped the cream from the man’s face and applied some nice smelling lotion. He held up a small hand mirror to the old man’s face. “Will that do George?”

“Mighty fine work, Harold,” he said, handing over 25 cents to the barber. “You have a good afternoon,” he said, then shook his hand and walked out.

“What will it be, young man?” the barber said, sharpening his razor.

“I needs to have this long mess cut off and a good shave,” Frankie said, leaning back as the barber wrapped a towel around his neck.

“Will do. Any particular style?” he said, pointing at some pictures hanging on his wall.

“Nothing in particular. Then cut it short. It might be a long time till I get another one.”

The barber trimmed away with his scissors. Frankie thought it felt good to have the hair out of his eyes. “So Harold, have you by chance seen a young man around my age who goes by the name of Dan Struck, but people call him Red because of his red hair.”

“Sorry, haven’t seen anyone like that in here lately, but you should check the saloon. There’ve been some cowboys come through town yesterday. I hope he ain’t hanging out with them Gantry boys.”

“No sir, I know those Gantry’s. Used to work with them on Carson’s ranch. Meaner than snakes they are. 

After a haircut and shave, Frankie got a deluxe bath, which was a rare treat for a cowboy. 

His luck took a turn for the better Frankie thought as he strutted towards the saloon with a spring to his step, hoping to see Red there. He pushed open the door and looked around. At a table near the corner of the room, sat his new friends already drinking whiskey. Stubby tipped his hat and Frankie nodded with a smile. He also noticed Ray Gantry sitting at the poker table with his friend and two other older men. 

Frankie moseyed up to the bar, and asked the bartender if he had a room he could rent for the night. 

“I got one, but you’ll have to share it with some other gents.” The crusty old bartender placed his chin in his hand and raised an eyebrow. Frankie hesitated and the bartender said, “Take it or leave it.”

Frankie sighed and rolled his eyes. “I guess I’ll take it then,” he said, handing over 50 cents.

“It’s up the stairs and to your right.”

Frankie thanked the man and tipped his hat. “Can I get a bottle of whiskey also?”

“That’ll be a buck, sunny.”

Frankie took the bottle and walked over to the table where his friends sat. “Howdy Gentlemen, care for a bottle of whiskey?” he said, raising the bottle and winking.

“Pull up a seat pardner. I never turn down a drink,” Stubby said, slamming his shot glass down on the table.

Frankie sat down and poured them all a drink.

“Down the hatch, boys,” Bill says as he smacks his shot glass against the bottle and downs it in a gulp. “Oh fuck, yeah,” he says slamming the glass down on the table.

Everyone else downed their drinks except Stubby who took a sip.

“The Devil’s drink too strong for ya Stubbs?” Clem said as he slapped him on the back.

“No, I just wants to take my time. No need to rush good whiskey,” Stubby says, taking another sip.

“Fuck that. Hit me up Frankie boy,” Clem grinned and slapped Frankie on the back.

Frankie poured another round, then a third.

“I like using liniment made from kerosine, willow bark, hot peppers, and mint just like my uncle taught me. It worked on your sore back didn’t it Bill?” said Stubby, but Bill ignored him as he sat dreamily eyeing the blonde woman standing beside the piano player. “What are you looking at Bill?”

“I wanna buy me a whore tonight. Wondering how much she might charge me,”  says Bill, counting his money.

“You ain’t never gonna know till ya ask,” Clem said, giving Bill a wink.

“You know what? I think I will.” Bill took another drink and marched over to the blonde woman as the three guys look on.

“I bet you a whole nickel that she says no,” Clem said, smacking Frankie on the back.

“You’re on,” said Frankie.

“Go get ‘er Billy Boy” Clem yelled and then whistled. Bill looked back at Clem and frowned.

“Don’t be saying that stuff, Clem. You gonna ruin it for him,” says Stubby.

The boys watched carefully as Bill tapped her on the shoulder. The woman looked up and smiled, grabbing Bill by the hand leading him towards the stairs. Bill looked back at the boys and grinned.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Clem said.  He dug through his pocket and dropped a nickel into Frankie’s hand.

After the boys finished off the bottle, Clem was noticeably drunk and slurring his words.  

“Frankie, do you know that dude?” Clem said, nodding towards the Gantry boys sitting at the poker table.

“Yeah, I worked with him a few years back on Carson’s ranch. He’s bad news that one. I watched him nearly beat a guy nearly to death. Why do you ask?”

“He’s been eyeing us all night like he knows us. I’m about to go right over there and ask him what he’s staring at.”

“Clem, these ain’t the type of guys you be wantin’ to mess with,” Frankie says shaking his palm in from of Clem’s face.

Stubby got up and walked over to his friend. “Clem, I think we should be heading back to our room. 

As Clem was getting up, he yells out at the Gantry boy. “What the hell are you looking at?”

Ray Gantry stood up. “Looking at you ass hole.”

The bartender yelled out, “I won’t tolerate fighting in my saloon.”

“Come on Clem. You don’t want this fight,” Frankie says, putting his arm around Clem’s shoulder.

“My friend don’t mean nothin’ He just had too much to drink,” Stubby says.

“Fuck, I ain’t scared of him,” Clem yelled back at Ray as he tried to break loose of Frankie’s grip.

Ray stood up and swaggered towards Clem. “So you wanna fight, tough guy?”

Frankie held Clem back. “Dude you don’t want this.” Frankie put his arm around Clem’s shoulder and led him away. 

Stubby put his hands up as he passed by Ray and said, “Dude, we don’t want no trouble here.” He ran over and took Clem’s other arm and helped walk him up the stairs to the room they had rented.

They got him to the room and laid him out on the bed, where he promptly passed out. Stubby pulled his boots off and thanked Frankie.

“So where are you staying?”

“I got a room with other guys down the hall. Not sure who is there,” Frankie said nervously.

“I have a feeling it might be that guy that wanted to pick a fight with Clem. You can stay with us if you like.”

“You sure? I’d hate to be in your way.”

“We can share this other bed. Bill can sleep with Clem once he gets back,” Stubby said lying back on the bed.

Frankie laid down beside him and blew out the lantern.

Sometime during the night, Clem woke up to the sound of banging, then a shot, followed by a scream. Footsteps running up the stairs. Clem nudged Frankie who moaned. “Wake up, somethings happening outside,” he whispered. As he was grabbing his gun, there was a knock at the door. He ran to the door, and called out. “Who’s there?”  

A female voice answered, “Penelope”. Clem opened the door and found one of the whores shaking in the doorway, all out of breath. “That friend of yours, the one with the long black hair and moustache, well he done got himself shot in the gut. Doc Murphy’s stitchin him up now. Best come down and see for yourselves.” 

“Thanks, ma’am,” Stubby closed the door as she ran back down the stairs.

Clem stumbled out of bed and fell to the floor. “What the fuck’s happening?” He grabbed the chamber pot and retched up part of dinner. “What happened to Bill, and who’s that in your bed?”

“Bill got shot and that’s Frankie. He rented a room with that ruffian that wanted to beat the snot out of you. I told him he could sleep here for helping me to drag you back to the room.”

The three of them put on their clothes and hurried down the stairs. Herman Lecoste, the bartender’s brother, was sweeping up broken glass. Chairs were knocked over and a pool of blood was beside one of the tables.

“What happened here?” Clem yelled, slurring his words.

“That friend of yours came back looking for you guys. Somehow that Gantry boy decided he was gonna start trouble by picking on your friend. Got up in his face. Some heated words got exchanged then Gantry shot him right in the gut,” Herman said leaning on his broom.

“I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch! Where is he?” Clem shook his fist and stumbed, grabbing the edge of a table.

“He ran off with his no account brother. I hope I never see that bastard again.”

“Stubby, we can’t let that bastard get away with this. You’re coming with me, aren’t you?” 

“We should find the sheriff first,” Stubby said.

“Good luck with that. The Sheriff took a prisoner to Dallas just two days ago. He ain’t expected to be back until three more days,” said Herman.

“We need to find him ourselves. You comin’ with?”

“Uh, yeah sure. But you can barely stand up, let alone going after some gunslinger. Maybe you should sober up first.”

“Nonsense, That bastard will be long gone by then. What about you, Frankie? You gonna help us?”

Frankie stood with his mouth open looking at Clem and then over at Stubby who frowned and shook his head no.

“Clem, listen, we should wait until morning. Neither one of us is good with a gun. You’ll just get yourself killed as drunk as you are,” Stubby pleaded.

“I know that Gantry boy. I worked a cattle drive with him and his brother two years ago on the Peterson ranch just outside of El Paso. He got in a brawl with one of the cowhands and shot him dead before the guy could lay his hand on his pistol. That guy is mean and dangerous. I don’t know of many guys that could shoot that good.” 

“Herman, did you happen to see which way he rode out?” said Clem.

“It looked to me like they was heading south, but I can’t say for sure.”

“You guys coming? I’m going with or without you. Your choice.”

Stubby rolled his eyes, put on his hat and said, “Oh, fuck it!” as he followed him out the door. Frankie knew better not to go, but he had developed a sense of loyalty to these guys who rescued him. He called back, “Wait up guys, I’m coming too.”

Clem rode ahead of them, fuming and cursing for the whole town to hear. Stubby leaned over and whispered to Frankie. “Clem’s really a good guy, he means well, but when he gets drunk he doesn’t think things over. He’s hasty for revenge without a plan.”

“Well, I’m not wanting to go out and get myself killed tonight,” Frankie said.

“I’ll have a talk with him once he starts to sober up,” Stubby assured Frankie that Clem would come to his senses once he realized that they were all powerless against an actual gunslinger.

They stopped by Doc Steven’s office on the way out of town. Bill was lying in bed covered in blood biting down on a towel.

“Hold still young man. I gotta find that bullet before I sew you up.” Doc said, pulling the lamp closer and adjusting his glasses.

“How’s he doing, Doc?” Stubby said, holding his hat in his hands.

“It’s too soon to tell yet. There’s nothing you boys can do for him here, so you best leave. I’ll send Penelope over to find you once I’m done.”

“You hang in there Bill. We’re gonna get that bastard for what he did to you,” Clem said, rushing out the door. “Come on guys.”

The boys were headin’ south for a few hours. Frankie rode on Bill’s mount, a chestnut colored mare. She was a gentle horse and didn’t give him much trouble for not being her owner. Clem fell off his horse twice and stopped once to throw up his supper. 

Stubby argued with Clem trying to get him to stop the chase. Clem was stubborn though. And they weren’t sure if they were even following the right trail. It was dark, but Clem claimed he knew how to follow the stars. Frankie thought he was full of shit.

The sky to the east had just a hint of red, after ridin’ by starlight, the boys stopped to take a piss.

Suddenly, Clem pulled up his britches, raised a closed fist, and shushed them. “There’s a campfire off in the distance to the right,” he whispered. 

Frankie’s heart beat rapidly as they dropped to the ground. 

Stubby grabbed Clem by the arm. “Dude, think about this will you? Neither one of us is a good shot. This Ray Gantry is a known killer. He’s killed professional gun slingers and lived to tell about it. Please reconsider.”

“You can leave if you want, but I’m doing this.” 

“Oh fuck it you hard headed bastard. I ain’t leaving you,” Stubby sighed. Clem pulled his revolver from his holster and motioned them to do the same as they crept slowly on their hands and knees down into a gully. 

Stubby whispered to Frankie, “I think this is a terrible idea.” He was visibly shaking. Frankie thought about his mother and brother back home and how they would wonder what had become of him. He wasn’t a religious man but it put the fear of God into him. It just didn’t make much sense, but at that moment, he started to wonder, what if…

As they crept forward through the sage brush, Frankie could just make out two figures lying on the ground beside dying embers. The silhouettes of two horses were tied to a lone stump of a tree. 

Frankie wasn’t sure which happened first. It could have been the crunch of gravel, the rustle of leaves, but one of the horses got spooked. The smaller man sat up drawing his pistol.

“Ray, wake up. Something’s riling the horses.” He stood up scanning the area. Ray sprang awake and sat up in his bed roll with his pistol already in his hand. 

“Do you see anything?” Ray said, crawling on his hands and knees to put out the fire.

“No, but I thought I heard something in the brush”

“Ray put an index finger to his lips to shush him and crouched down as he walked towards the boys, occasionally peering back towards his friend  with the bowler hat.

The boys lay frozen in the sand, hidden in the shadows of sagebrush cast by a crescent moon. Suddenly a startled jack rabbit ran out from beneath a cactus. Ray shot and missed. Frankie jumped when he heard the shot. Stubby turned to Frankie and gasped.

“Ah, it was just an ole jack rabbit. Go back to sleep Jimmy boy.”

Ray layed back down and we crawled closer. Clem got into a crouch and crept closer. Suddenly a shot rang out, echoing in the darkness. Clem fell to his knees clutching his stomach.

“So you thought you’d just sneak up on me huh?” Ray said, sitting up in his bed roll.

Stubby crawled over to Clem as he groaned in pain. “He got me in the gut,” Clem mumbled.

“You’re gonna be okay, Clem. Hang on, buddy.” Stubby sat up on his knees and took aim at Ray, Ker pow and missed. 

Gunfire exploded all around them. Jim got hit in the leg and Stubby was grazed in the shoulder.  

Jim let out a groan, “Dammit, they got me good! Fuck! Fuck!”

Stubby dropped two bullets attempting to reload.  Ray got to his feet and walked towards Clem as he lay moaning on his back trying to hold his guts from falling out.

Ray towered above Clem. “You gonna die tonight fucker.” With one clean shot between the eyes, he silenced him with blood and brain splattering his two friends.

“Fuck you bastard!” Stubby yelled, taking aim once again, but Ray shot the pistol from his hand, taking two fingers that went flying. Stubby yelped and rolled behind a sagebrush, holding his bleeding hand.

Frankie’s hands shook as he tried desperately to reload his rifle. Ray laughed as Frankie dropped another bullet in the sand. Ray calmly raised the pistol and placed the barrel against Frankie’s forehead. There was a sound of crunching gravel as Frankie caught a glimpse of a dark figure approaching from the east. He closed his eyes tightly waiting for the shot that would soon take his life. He shook like a leaf and pissed his drawers. Ray turned and faced the sound. A shot rang out and Ray dropped to his knees, falling forward, landing on his face. 

Frankie opened his eyes as the first rays of the sun peeked above the distant hills. He felt his body for a wound, but he wasn’t hit. He crawled to his feet and saw Ray lying in a pool of blood. Stubby was about 15 feet away, lying in a ditch clutching his bloody hand. He looked over at Stubby with an astonished look on his face.

“What happened? How bad are ya hurt?” Frankie said, staring into Stubby’s wide frightened eyes.

“He shot my god damned fingers off! Stubby screamed, clutching his bloody right hand with his left. “Oh god it hurts like hell. The bastard killed my best friend in the whole goddamn world,” Stubby sobbed.

“Did you see that other guy?” Frankie said, peering off into the distance.

“What guy?”

“I thought I saw something. It looked like a person for a second,” Frankie called out. “The light must have been playing tricks with my eyes. I was preparing to die. Ray was going to shoot me dead, but I heard the click of a trigger coming from another direction. I opened my eyes and thought I saw a figure, and then it just vanished as the first rays of light came over the rise. The next thing I know, bang, Ray is lying face down in a pool of blood.”

“Nah, fuck no. Clem must have shot him before he died.”

Frankie reached down and pulled Stubby to his feet. “Gotta find something to stop that bleeding.” Frankie took off his shirt and tore it into long strips. He made a bandage for his hand and told Stubby to hold the rest of the shirt against the wound on his shoulder.

Frankie walked over to the smaller guy named Jim, who sat propped up against his saddle gasping for breath. Blood was gushing from a large gaping wound in his upper thigh. He hung his head rocking side to side. 

“I told Ray not to mess with that boy, but he don’t listen. Ray don’t listen to nobody.” He looked up at Frankie with tears in his eyes. “I’m gonna die, ain’t I?”  His eyes darted rapidly back and forth. His breathing was rapid and shallow. Beneath him was a huge pool of blood already clotting. Frankie bent down on one knee and pulled the gun from the man’s hand. He watched as blood was still oozing from the wound. Frankie got up and ran to the man’s campsite grabbing an old shirt. He tied it tightly around Jim’s leg, but soon the shirt was soaked.

“Fuck dude, I think I’m dying.” The guy sat crying. “Could you give me a sip of water?”

Frankie pulled out his canteen and held it near his face. “Did you see who shot Ray?”

 Jim looked at him with glazed eyes. “No, the sun was in my eyes. I think he had red hair.”

Frankie stood up and looked in all directions, but saw no one except Stubby. 

He knelt and held the canteen to the man’s lips. The man tried to sip the water, but he threw up instead. He slung his head back and started to shake. When the shaking stopped, the man’s eyes focused on Frankie. He was trying to mouth the words, but nothing came out but garbled mumbling. His muscles tensed one last time and then relaxed. Frankie stared into the glazed eyes that grew into a blank stare. 

Stubby walked towards me clutching his ruined hand. “We shouldn’t have come out this way. They killed Clem. Blew his brains out?” He looked at Jim who was lying in a pool of blood. “Is he dead?”

“I’m afraid so.” Frankie sighed, and got to his feet.  “I suppose we need to get you back to town before that hand gets infected.”

Frankie dug three shallow holes while stubby sat on the dirt trying to stop the bleeding to his injured hand. Frankie was drenched with sweat by the time he finally rolled the bodies into the depressions and covered them the best he could with rocks and dirt. 

“I guess it’s only proper that we say a few words over poor Clem, don’t you think?” Frankie said. 

The two men took off their hats and held them over their hearts and bowed their heads staring down at the mounds of dirt and rocks.

“Clem was my best friend and we grew up together. He could be a little hardheaded and mean at times, but he was a good man and I’m gonna miss him, so God, I hope you can find his body and take him to heaven to be with his Mama.” 

Frankie helped Stubby onto his horse. They rode single file heading back north towards Pecos leading the other horses. Along the way, Frankie scanned the horizon and would turn back occasionally.

“Who are you looking for?”

“The guy that shot Ray. He has to be somewhere close.” 

They never encountered a soul as they rode through the hot sun, except for a roadrunner and a few rabbits.

The two boys arrived back in Pecos late that afternoon, weary from the long ride. The store keeper walked out into the street and greeted the boys as they rode into town.

“That looks like Ray Gantry’s horse,” the man said curiously.

“You’re right. There was a gunfight half a day’s ride south of here. Ray shot Clem, but we got them two scoundrels who shot Bill.” Stubby said.

“Yeah, your friend pulled through, but he’ll be laid up in bed for a while. Doc said he lost a lot of blood. Those Gantry boys were nothin’ but trouble around here. Good riddance to them. both.”

“When is the sheriff due back?” Frankie asked.

“Who knows, it can be days or weeks.”

Stubby headed over to the doctor to treat his wounds while Frankie took the horses to the livery stables.

Frankie rode into the stables leading two horses. Oscar Levitt, was shoeing a horse and looked up at Frankie with a surprised look on his face. 

“You’re the guy I sold my donkey to just yesterday and now here you show up with four horses. I know that two of these horses belong to those Gantry boys. How’d you get a hold of ‘em?”

“I’m afraid they won’t be needin’ them any more. There was a gunfight and they lost. That other horse belongs to my friend who they done kilt. This one is Bill’s horse, the man they shot last night.

“Those Gantry boys were as bad as they come. You’d have to be a good shot to take out Ray.”

Frankie sighed, “It weren’t me. Some dude showed up and shot Ray right between the eyes. if it weren’t for him, I’d be the one dead. So you lookin’ to buy some horses?”

“Well, let’s see what you got here.” Mr Levitt said, looking them over.

Ray rode a White Arabian mare, and his brother rode a brown Morgan stallion. 

“I wouldn’t mind taking that Morgan stallion off your hands,” he said, leading it to a stall. He was looking the saddle over carefully. “I know the person who owns this saddle. Here are the initials DS, for Dan Struck.”

“Yeah, that was the friend I was telling you about. Have you seen him around here?”

“No, the last time I saw that boy was last spring. Ain’t seen hide nor hair of him since.”

“That’s the guy that shot Ray. I’m sure of it.”

Frankie decided to keep Ray’s Arabian mare and sold Oscar the Morgan. He put the other horses up in the stable for the night and walked towards Doc Stevens office with a few extra bucks in his pocket.

When he opened the door, he saw Bill lying in bed. Doc Stevens was busy stitchin’ up what was left of Stubby’s right hand.

“How’s he doing Doc?” Frankie said, standing at his bedside.

“It could be worse. It nicked his colon, but I think I cleaned it out good. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“How you doing, Stubby?”

“Doc says I’m lucky that I don’t have to lose my hand, huh Doc?”

“Yeah, it should heal up fine. Ain’t nothing I can do about the missing fingers, but you should be able to shoot.”

“Good, let’s head over to the saloon. I need to get good and drunk after this,” Stubby said, walking out the door.

“Doc, I’ll be back later to check up on Bill.”

“Don’t rush. Your friend needs bed rest. Come back in the morning.”

Frankie followed Stubby to the saloon and bought a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. The two of them sat at a small table. Stubby bent over and held his head in his hands 

“Fuck! I can’t believe Clem’s dead. We’ve been best friends since as long as I can remember and now he’s gone.”

Frankie leaned over and placed his arm around his shoulder. “I’m sorry Stubby. We should’ve talked him out of it.”

“No, once Clem had his mind set on something, they ain’t no talkin’ him outta it. It was bound to happen sooner or later,” he said with a long sigh.

The front door of the saloon swung open and Frankie glanced up excitedly, hoping it might be his friend. He sighed and looked back at his mug. 

“You lookin’ fer somebody?” said Stubby.

“Yeah, that guy I’ve been telling you about, Dan Struck. I think he was the one who killed Ray.”

Stubby sat up and the color drained from his face. “No, you gotta be wrong. Dan Struck was one of the guys on our cattle drive last spring. He disappeared one night. We found his body the next day half eaten by coyotes. He’d been shot in the back and left for dead. We buried his body beside the trail in some unmarked grave. I don’t know who you met  out in the desert, but it wasn’t Dan Struck.”

“I swear to God the man I met said that was his name. Had bright orange hair and called himself Red.”

Stubby downed his drink and shook his head. His eyes grew wide. “The dead don’t come back. The dead don’t fuckin’ come back.”

“But who was it that I saw?” That gleam that was once shown in Frankie’s eyes dimmed that day. He slunk in his seat and sighed. Stubby reached over and patted his shoulder. 

“Buddy, I think we need another drink.”