Horrible Harvest

He turnt to the rooftops of the buildings on either side of us, and then turnt back to us. “You’re full of shit.”

“I am that – Most the time, but not on this. Six on each side of the street. Scattered down the line. Keen shots furthest away. One handed fella up on that roof there.” I pointed to the building closest to us on our right. “His aim’s good, but he’ll hit wide every now and then.”

He give my claim some thought before shaking his head. “Nah, sir. No. It just ain’t possible. I don’t believe a word of what you’re saying.”

I frowned and give a shrug. “Well, I’m gonna be real honest with you. I don’t give a care if you believe me or not. Your men there – Jones, Saddler and the other fella – Francis or Fred or some shit or another – ”

“Franks,” Tate said.

“Thank you – That would’ve bugged the shit out of me all the way to Sioux City.”

“You ain’t gonna make it to Sioux City,” Landry said.

“As I was saying, your men there, they get within four feet of us, they’ll catch a bullet.”

“We’ll see,” Landry said. “Confiscate their weapons, boys.”

The three he’d volunteered to take our pistolas didn’t move.

“On with it.” He clapped.

The one called Franks was the first to protest. “Fuck that, Thomas. You take their guns you want ‘em.”

“Goddamn it. He’s lying. There ain’t no one on the rooftops.”

“Says you.”

Another one barked. “Franks is right. I ain’t getting no closer to ‘em. You get yourself shot if you want, but I’m of the mind we rethink this whole business.”

A voice from behind us cried, “You men didn’t bring trouble to my town, did you?”

We all turnt to it. There stood a heavily mustached man, wearing a forage police cap atop his head, a blue wool coat with two rows of brass buttons that run from navel to neck with a badge pinned to his chest, blue wool pants, and shoes that was losing their shine to the dirt caked streets.

“Just having a chat,” I said.

“Doesn’t have the appearance of a friendly chat.”

“Oh, it’s not,” I said. I pointed to Landry. “That there is Thomas Landry. His brother’s dead, and he’s mad at the world for it.”

“I ain’t mad at the world. I’m mad at you.”

“Why you mad at him? He kill your brother?”

“No – ”

“Then why are you mad at him.”

Landry give the officer’s question some thought. “I got my reasons.”

“Well, don’t bring your reasons to Kansas City.”

The train give out three tugs of its whistle. The signal that the repairs was done, and they was ready to depart.

“Mr. Police Officer,” I said. “We meant no disrespect, and if you’ll allow it, we’re gonna be on our way. That train sounding off? We’re due to board it quick as we can.”

He give a nod. “I’ll allow it.”

“Hold on now,” Landry said. “I got business with them.”

“Not here, you don’t.”

Me, Tate and Douglas pushed our way through the four clansman. Before we ducked around the corner to cross the street to the train station. I turnt back and yelled after Landry. “Next time give attention to the high ground.”

We traveled a few more feet before Douglas asked, “Was there really fellas on the rooftops?”

“Not a one,” I said. “A trick I learned from Bobby. You stall long enough, luck’ll find you, may be good. May be bad. But either way, your predicament ends.”