#Presidio County | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dudeshusband · 2 years ago

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Title: Must I Live Ever Haunted?

Ship: Mike x Dude (pre-relationship)

Words: 5.6k

Description: A rewrite of R.io Br.avo with my s/i.

Warnings: This is a rewrite of a movie from 1959 so the language or attitudes may be dated. Otherwise, none.

State of Texas: Deputy Sheriff: Presidio County.

It was all impermanent, of course. Once this trouble with the Burdettes was over with, they doubted they would maintain this position. How many deputies did a town as small as this one need?

Still, the badge gave them a sense of pride. They were finally doing something. Something that wasn’t cleaning glasses at the Hotel Alamo bar.

They were one of only three to volunteer to help the sheriff in these troubled times. They had a badge, Stumpy had a badge, and Dude had a badge.

Dude. They’d timed their visit to the jail so that he wouldn’t be there when they were sworn in. They avoided the road leading into town so they wouldn’t see him. It was pointless. They both worked with the sheriff now, seeing each other was inevitable.

They released their badge from their thumb and forefinger. Wiping the sweat off their hands on their pants, they walked up the step. They hollered to Stumpy on their way into the jail, hoping not to be blown full of holes. They still did not quite trust their trigger-happy friend.

They swung the door open and were greeted by the sight of John T. Chance, the sheriff; Stumpy, and the inevitable, Dude.

He looked, there was no way around it, terrible. His clothes were torn, his hair was disheveled, his face was unshaven, and he had a sheen of sweat that seemed to be permanent. They could smell him, even from this distance.

They looked into his eyes. They were brown like melted chocolate and as beautiful as ever. They looked down.

“Dude,” they said curtly.

His eyes widened. “Michaela?”

That name stung. It stung even more in his voice.

“It’s Mike now,” they said. They turned to the sheriff. “Hey, uh, Chance, do you still want me in front of the hotel?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, I’ll go, then.”

They turned and walked out of the jail without another word.

They made it all the way to the doorway of the hotel before they noticed they were crying. They angrily wiped their eyes on their sleeve. It was all so stupid. He shouldn’t have meant anything to them anymore. They were pathetic. One look into his eyes, one word from his lips, and everything rushed back.

They pulled their hat lower on their head.

Focus, they commanded themselves.

Once the bleariness faded from their eyes, they looked out into the street, and toward the front of town. Dude had made quick work of getting to his post. This was very good because eventually a long string of men on wagons and horses were headed into town, and on Dude’s direction, toward the jail.

With a hand mere inches from their gun in its holster, they moved to the front of the line.

Dude rode in on his horse and asked Chance if he'd like to take their guns. He didn’t acknowledge Mike.

The group, it turned out, was led by an old friend of Chance’s, Pat Wheeler. All Chance wanted to know is if anyone new was with him. There was, a young man by the name of Colorado Ryan, the son of a mutual friend of Wheeler and Chance.

“Now, sheriff, if it’s the two guns that bother you, I could give you one of them,” said Colorado. “I could let you have them both. They wouldn’t do me too much good. That fellow in the door there has a shotgun on me.”

Mike fought the urge to laugh.

Chance turned around and told Stumpy off. Stumpy was supposed to be in the cell watching Joe Burdette.

He turned back to Colorado, and told him he could keep his guns.

Colorado had another witty remark: that he wouldn’t cause any trouble, unless he told Chance first.

Pat Wheeler told Chance about some dynamite the group was transporting.

Dude suggested the dynamite be stored by the Burdette warehouse, and Colorado was sent to accompany him.

Mike returned to the jail for a minute, hoping to get something to drink. All there was, was beer mainly for Dude and which Mike had no taste for, and coffee which it was too hot to drink. Mike sighed and waved their hat around to fan themselves off.

Chance and Dude came into the jail a while later. Chance complained about Stumpy being visible through the doorway, and in true Stumpy fashion he replied with a dramatic “what about me? If I’d been picked off? Don’t you ever think of me?”

Mike couldn’t resist the urge to laugh.

Stumpy continued to prattle on dramatically as he went by Joe Burdette’s jail cell. About how he’d be a killer if he stuck around Joe for too long and how he shouldn’t have fixed his cuts.

Mike considered returning to their post, but then Joe called for Dude. Dude, Chance, and Mike went to Joe’s jail cell.

“Why can’t Dude stay back here? I’d rather listen to a drunk than an old fool,” Joe said. Both Mike and Dude noticeably got a little upset at this.

“How you holding up, borrachon? Got the shakes yet?”

Mike instinctively clenched their fist.

“That beer won’t do you any good. You’re going to need something stronger than that. If you’re still broke-” Joe held up a silver piece.

Mike almost wanted to punch the bastard in the face but before they could move, Dude chucked his beer bottle at Joe’s head. It smashed against the bars of his cell.

Mike wished it could’ve actually hit him. The fuck.

Joe yelled at Chance and Chance said he’d give Dude the key to Joe’s cell if he wanted it.

Dude declined, saying, “Ah. It’d be too easy. No one to back him up.”

“Give me the key, then, ” Mike said. “I can probably take him.”

Joe scowled at them.

Chance told Stumpy to pour water on Joe if he talked out of turn again.

“I’ll throw it in his bed, and he can sleep in it!” Stumpy said.

Just then, a package came for Chance, and he headed off to the jail. Dude followed on his way back to the front of town. Mike returned to the Hotel Alamo.

Later, that night, the group sat around at the jail, wondering when Nathan Burdette might come out of the woodwork.

Chance looked out the window, then back at Dude. Dude’s eyes were teary and he quivered in pain. Angrily, he began to hit his thigh with his fist.

Mike looked away.

It reminded them of times long past when he would have that same teary, pained look over the stage girl. He held them around the torso and buried his face in their neck while in their lap. They could still feel his soft, curly locks between their fingers.

Stumpy demanded to know when Burdette might strike. No one had a good answer for him.

Dude hoped it would be soon.

So he can go and get drunk again, no doubt, Mine thought bitterly.

They met his eyes. Maybe they were too harsh on him.

No. He'd earned it.

Stumpy pointed at Dude, and Chance shook his head. Stumpy offered Dude a bottle of beer.

“I’m full of beer,” Dude said, struggling to stand. “It doesn’t do any good.”

Mike wondered how Dude could have so much beer and still manage not to be drunk.

“It’ll start working on you tomorrow or the next day,” Stumpy said.

Dude neared the door and leaned over, grabbing his stomach.

“Stumpy,” Chance said, with a faint gentle look in his eyes. “We’re going to take a turn around the town.”

Chance gave Mike a look, and they knew that “we” included them also.

When did they sign up to babysit Dude?

“You be alright?” Chance said to Stumpy.

“Of course I’ll be alright,” Stumpy said.

“Then get back in there where you belong!”

“I’m, goin’, I’m goin’.”

Stumpy warned them all to holler before they came back in, or he might shoot them all “just for the heck of it.”

It was a warm night, which made Mike wonder why Chance and Dude were wearing coats. If they had their choice, they’d be patrolling naked.

Chance tried to play it off like he was the one who needed to leave the jail but everybody knew he’d done that for Dude.

“Don’t set yourself up as being so special,” Chance said. “Think you’d invented the hangover.”

“I can take out a patent for this one,” Dude said, and pulled up the collar on his coat.

“Got any particular reason for going out tonight?” Dude asked.

“We always do, and we don't want them thinking we're scared.”

“Well, aren't we?”

The trio shared a glance. No one would admit the truth.

Chance took one side and Dude took the other. Mike figured they’d take the road in the center, as they didn’t really want to be too close to either.

The town was quiet at night, and not too much happened. A man sleeping on a bench, and a man on the balcony getting some air.

The only thing of interest was when Chance got spooked by a horse.

“I’m getting jumpy,” Chance said.

“I’ll walk along with you and hold your hand,” teased Dude.

“Get on the other side, where you belong.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Get a room,” Mike said. “Or get me a room so I can spare my stomach.”

“Oh, shut up!” retorted Chance.

The trio moved toward the Hotel Alamo where Carlos was in something of a frenzy. Apparently, Pat Wheeler had been attempting to recruit everyone and anyone to help Chance with the Burdettes.

Wheeler was at the table playing cards with Colorado and a woman, and two men all of whom Mike was unfamiliar with.

Mike followed Dude to the bar, where Chance and Wheeler soon joined them.

“You two know each other,” Chance said to Wheeler about Dude.

“Yeah.”

“And you know Mike?” Chance asked.

“Used to be the girl at the hotel bar? Sorta.”

Mike tried not to be stung by that.

Wheeler had been wanting to talk to Chance and Chance shut him down. He knew that anyone Wheeler got to help wouldn’t be much of it, just another target for Burdette’s men.

Wheeler wanted to know why Chance never got any new deputies other than Mike. Mike had a sneaking suspicion and it had nothing to do with the reason Chance gave.

“And what are you gonna do? All you’ve got for help is that old man down at the jail, some crossdresser, and this-”

“Borrachon’s the name, Mr. Wheeler,” Dude said. “I’ll go outside so you can talk more freely.”

He walked out the door of the hotel into the darkness outside. Mike glanced sideways at Mr. Wheeler and followed Dude. They knew Wheeler was right but that didn’t stop them from resenting it.

They stood in awkward silence until the light from the hotel bounced off Mike’s gun holster.

“You still have the guns I gave you,” Dude said, a hint of surprise in his voice.

Mike shrugged. “Every time I tried to sell them, I couldn’t.”

“Did you ever use them?” he asked.

“Only on bottles.”

Dude smiled softly. “Those were good times.”

“I can’t ever seem to shoot a gun without thinking about you.”

“I remember when you couldn’t shoot a gun without flinching,” Dude said, amused.

Mike fidgeted with their belt buckle. “Well, I’m not the same person I was then.”

“No.”

“Dude? Mike?” Chance said, as he came to the door. “I’ll be out in a couple of minutes.”

Mike glanced into the hotel, and saw Chance going up the stairs with an unfamiliar woman.

They looked at Dude.

“I, uh, wonder what that’s about.”

“Can I ask you something?” he said.

Mike nodded.

“You still mad at me?” he asked. “I know I gave you a lot to be mad about and I-”

“Please don’t,” Mike said. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Alright,” Dude said and turned away.

Mike turned the other direction and looked out into the sky.

They didn’t want to talk to him. They did want to talk to him. Why was everything with him so complicated?

Chance soon came outside again. Mike was grateful to be released from this conversation.

“Dude? Mike? You seen Wheeler?” Chance asked.

“Not since he went up the street,” Dude said. “I think that’s him coming now.”

Wheeler walked up but only came so far. Within minutes he was shot down and Mike had to help drag his lifeless body out of the street.

Chance gave them both the directive to watch the stable.

Colorado came over just as Chance said “Got him in the back. He’s dead.”

Colorado offered to come with them to find the man who got Wheeler.

“You want to get the man who shot your boss?” Chance asked.

“Wouldn’t you?” replied Colorado.

“I wouldn’t have let him get shot. You had a chance to get in this, and you didn’t want it. Stay out, we don’t need you. You wanna do something, get him out of the street.”

“Hey, Chance, that’s not fair,” Mike said.

“We can talk about what’s fair later,” he said. “Are you helping or not?”

He gave Dude and Mike their directives, as Dude tried to cool him down with no success. Dude and Mike were to go around the sides, and Chance would go directly through the front of the barn.

Dude whistled, as was the group’s signal, when he reached the side. Mike followed suit when they reached theirs.

Chance took off at a run and barreled through the front of the barn.

There was a loud thud inside, which prompted Dude to ask “Chance, you alright?”

Then a gunshot followed, making Mike panic. They raced to Dude’s side and saw the man getting away. Dude took a shot and missed entirely. He took another and missed again. Figures, Mike thought bitterly.

“Hey, Chance, Mike! Over here!” Dude called. He glanced at Chance. “You alright?”

“Just dirt in my eyes, did’ya get ‘im?”

“I don’t know. He came out the side door and he was runnin’ fast-”

“He was running fast and you missed him,” Chance said, annoyedly.

“Figures,” Mike repeated, aloud this time.

“I couldn’t get a good shot at him! I might have winged him, I don’t know,” Dude retorted.

“Don’t worry, it’s my fault we missed him.”

“Hm. Right,” Mike said, with a touch of sarcasm.

“Well, he hasn’t got away yet, or I wouldn’t be standing here,” Dude said. “He went in the Burdette saloon. He’s still in there.”

“How do ya know?” asked Chance.

“You can see both doors from here. There ain’t any others. I’m an expert on saloons.”

Dude started to rub his face then stopped.

“Did you see who he was?” asked Chance.

“No but we’ll know. He’d have muddy boots. He stepped in that puddle over there by the trough.”

“You figure we’re going in there after ‘im?”

“Aren’t we?” asked Dude. Mike had figured the same thing themselves.

“We used to,” Chance said. “There’s eight or ten Burdette men in there.”

Dude rubbed his face. “Maybe more.”

Mike fidgeted with their belt buckle.

“You and Mike take the back door, I’ll go in the front.”

“I’d- I’d like to try to-” Dude hesitated.

“You’d like to try what?” asked Chance.

Dude’s eyes twinkled. “I’ve been going in the back door. They haven’t been letting me in the front.”

Mike felt a pang of sympathy for him.

“Think you’re good enough?” asked Chance.

“I’d like to find out.”

“So would I,” said Chance.

“I would too,” Mike said, and smiled gently at him.

Dude half-smiled back.

“I’ll let you know when we get around back,” Chance said to Dude.

Mike followed Chance to the back door. Chance whistled as soon as they reached it.

Mike and Chance came silently through the back door. All eyes were on Dude until Chance slammed the door.

“We’ll begin with you, Charlie,” Dude said to the bartender. “The shotgun you keep under the bar, pick it up by the barrel. Easy.”

“Thought you were going to ask for a drink,” Charlie said, teasingly. “Been a long dry spell.”

Mike gripped their gun in its holster a little tighter.

“The shotgun first. Set it down.”

Charlie placed his shotgun on the bar.

“Back up.”

Dude took the gun.

“Jim, Pedro,” Dude said to the two guys nearest the bar. “Get over there.”

“Alright, the rest of ya, I’m not gonna tell you twice, You’re gonna stand up, stand real still. Now!”

Dude’s voice had become demanding and confident. Mike couldn’t help but acknowledge that they liked it.

Burdette’s men rose from their seats, exactly as asked.

“Now, one by one- we’ll start with you,” Dude said, pointing the shotgun in the direction of the man furthest left. “Unbuckle your guns, drop ‘em, and step back.”

Each man did so as Dude walked the line.

Charlie the bartender moved about a foot. Mike and Chance lifted their guns at him.

Still looking at Burdette’s men and away from the bar, Dude said “There’s no reason for you to move, Charlie.”

Charlie moved back, and Chance and Mike shared a smile. They were both reminded of the way Dude used to be.

“What’s this all about?” asked one of the men.

“We’re looking for a man who ran in here,” Dude answered.

“Nobody’s run in here,” asserted the man furthest right.

“We’ll remember you said that,” Chance said, taking a step forward.

“The man we’re looking for has muddy boots. Now, one by one, hold up your feet,” Dude directed.

Each man lifted his feet and not one had muddy boots.

Dude rubbed his face nervously as he walked in front of the line.

“Who saw a man run in here?” Charlie asked.

“I did,” Dude said with a great deal of conviction. Mike was surprised he still had it in him. “Almost forgot about you, Charlie.” Dude motioned with his fingers for Charlie to lift his feet. “Come on out.”

Charlie lifted his foot, “Clean as a whistle.”

“Dude, you’ve been seeing things again.” Mike gripped their gun harder as they started to feel heat rising in them. “You better have a drink.”

The men laughed.

Dude was clearly shaken. Mike could see on Chance’s face that he was worried, as they were, that he’d break here and now.

“Dude,” a deep voiced man called out. “Maybe this’ll help.” He held up a silver piece, then threw it into the spit bucket. It landed with a clang.

Dude looked at Chance and Mike with eyes that were beginning to water.

You’ve got this, Dude, Mike thought. They hadn’t thought that in a long time.

Dude emptied the shotgun and laid it on the bar. He started to walk, but stopped at a glass on the bar.

“Guess I’ll take that drink now, Charlie,” Dude said, and walked forward.

“I thought you would.”

Before Mike could start to panic, Dude turned abruptly and shot a man who was hiding in the rafters. He tumbled onto the floor.

A man leaned and reached for his gun.

“You want that gun?” Pick it up. I wish you would,” said Chance, with a rifle pointed at him.

Mike gripped their gun.

Dude nudged the dead guy’s leg with his foot. “He stepped in a puddle alright. This is the fella we wanted. I guess this is his” - Dude held up a large gold coin - “Nice, fresh, fifty dollar gold piece. It’s just about what Burdette’d figure a man’s life is worth. That’s earnin’ money the hard way.”

He tossed the coin on the ground.

“Paid killer,” Chance said suddenly. “Nice, fresh fifity dollar gold piece.”

He walked past the man from earlier. “You, mister, you got one in your pocket?”

“Nobody paid me. Nobody.”

“And nobody run in here either, huh?” Chance asked, and hit the man with the barrel of his gun.

Mike went to draw their guns, in case anyone made any sudden moves.

“Chance,” Dude warned.

“Ah, I’m not gonna hurt ‘im.”

Mike slipped their guns back in their holster.

“Get up!” Chance demanded. “You’re all in it. The whole lot of ya. You’re gonna get out of town. Take your boy here with ya. You can tell Burdette you got Wheeler. You can tell him anybody else he sends, he better pay them more. ‘Cause they’re gonna earn it.”

“Charlie, I want you to-” Chance cut himself short as met eyes with the man who taunted Dude earlier. “You finished yet, Dude?”

“You in a hurry?”

“Not especially.”

Mike smiled mischievously. “Nope.”

Dude walked to the man. “You threw the silver dollar didn’t ya?”

The man suddenly became nervous. “Well, yeah, Dude I-”

“You want it back?”

“S-sure.”

“You know how to get it?”

“Yeah,” the man mumbled. He walked over and reached into the spit bucket.

Dude watched him carefully and smiled in a satisfied sort of way. “That’s all for me, Chance. Mike.”

“Charlie, come here,” Chance said.

If Mike had their way, they’d have some choice words for Charlie, too.

“Yes, sheriff,” said Charlie.

“You’re goin’ with us.”

“Why pick on me? Why choose me?” Charlie asked.

“You’re carrying these guns down to the jail for us.”

“Alright, back up. Give him some room.”

Charlie moved forward and took all of the guns.

“Guess they’ll let you in the front door from now on,” Chance said.

Dude looked at him softly.

“You mean to tell me, you followed him into the Burdette saloon?” Stumpy asked Dude later.

“Why, you’re crazy!” he said to Dude. And he added to Chance and Mike, “And you are too! What happened?”

“He was hiding in the loft,” Dude said, putting tobacco into a cigarette.

“Who got him?”

“Dude did,” said Chance. “One shot.”

“Pretty amazing, if you ask me,” Mike said.

“Wish I coulda seen that,” Stumpy said, with a dreamlike gleam in his eyes. “I wish Wheeler could’ve too. Wheeler didn’t think Dude, Mike, and me was much good. Least-wise it woulda shown him he was wrong about Dude anyways.”

“He was wrong about Dude alright,” Chance said. “You were good in there tonight. Good as you’ve ever been. But you know one reason why you got by with it? They were laughin’ at ya. Borrachon talking big. You surprised ‘em. But next time, they’ll be ready for ya. Next time they’ll shoot first and laugh after.”

Dude looked uncomfortable as Chance said all this.

“Don’t listen to him!” said Stumpy.

“You did well, Dude,” Mike said. “You surprised them, sure. Keep on like this and…” Mike trailed off.

“You’re too cocksure.”

“What a stinker!” shouted Stumpy. “Spit in his eye, Dude.”

“Ah, never mind him, he’s always been a stinker,” Dude said. “If he changed, that would worry me.”

He snapped the cigarette he was trying to make.

Chance handed him one and asked Mike, “You want one too? You know how to roll one?”

“Nah,” Mike said. “I still don’t smoke.”

“Think I’d get one out of a whole sack,” Dude complained.

“How’d you know that fella was in the loft?” asked Chance.

“He was losin’ blood. It was dripping into a drink on the bar. Just when I couldn’t find anybody with muddy boots. Sure coulda used a drink then.”

“Well, if he was bleeding, that means you hit him on the run. On the side.”

“You did, Dude?” Stumpy asked excitedly. “That ain’t bad. That ain’t bad at all.”

“It ain’t good either,” Chance said. “We still had to go after him.”

Stumpy dramatically waved his arms so much that he burned himself with the match he was holding. “Well can’t nobody- eugh- please you no how?”

“It’s alright, Stumpy,” Mike said. “He’d find something to complain about if it was the best day of his life.”

“You got a light, Stumpy?” asked Dude with a cigarette balanced between his lips.

Stumpy looked in his pockets.

“Hey, in the jail,” someone called out. “It’s me, Colorado.”

“Let ‘im in,” said Chance.

Stumpy moved to the door, opened it, nodded, and let Colorado in.

Colorado looked around the jail, before saying, “I heard you got the man who shot Wheeler.”

“Dude did,” said Chance.

“Thanks, Dude.”

“Gonna bury him in the morning,” Colorado said as he approached Chance. “I’ve just been to the undertaker’s with him. Here’s the money and the papers he had on him. I took out sixty dollars he owed me.”

“You got yours,” said Chance. “How about the rest? Did he owe them too?”

“Probably did,” Colorado said, taking the money out of his breast pocket. “Didn’t think about that.”

“I can’t turn anything over to you until I get a court order.”

“Does that mean you hold the wagons too?”

“That’s right.”

“Meantime, I’m broke.”

“If you or any of the rest are short eating money, I’ll go good for it,” Chance said. “I’ll tell them at the hotel.”

“I wish you’d do that soon, before anything happens to you. No offense again, sheriff.”

“Shoot, he’s as sharp as a tack,” Mike commented once Colorado had left.

“It’s nice to see a smart kid for a change.”

“Yeah, he ain’t like the usual kid with a gun,” agreed Stumpy.

“I like him,” Mike said.

“I wonder if he’s as good as Wheeler said,” said Dude.

“I’d say he is,” said Chance. “I’d say he’s so good he doesn’t feel he has to prove it.”

The next day, Nathan Burdette rode into town to see his brother. Mike watched him at Dude’s checkpoint from the front of the hotel. Mike couldn’t hear anything from this distance, but based on the fact that Dude shot one of the men’s reins, Mike figured it couldn’t be going well.

Burdette and his men passed them on the way to the jail.

Mike could vaguely hear Chance tell him he could come into the jail when he approached.

He came out after a while and didn’t seem too phased.

Later on, Mike heard a fight between Carlos, their old boss, and the woman Chance had followed upstairs the night Wheeler died, who Mike learned was calling herself Feathers. They walked in, hoping to break it up.

Carlos seemed to be trying to force Feathers onto the stage coach. He lifted her up and tried to carry her.

“¿Señor Robante, que pasó?” Mike called out.

Consuelo walked in and asked, “Carlos, what are you doing with that woman?”

“I’m taking her to the stage!” Carlos said.

“I don’t want to go,” asserted Feathers.

“I’m taking her to the stage,” Carlos repeated. “Chance told me I am responsible.”

Consuelo turned red and punched Carlos in the face. Immediately, Carlos drops the woman on the floor.

“Oh, no,” Mike said, then attempted to diffuse the situation. “Responsible, señora, responsable.”

Feathers got up, and asserted, “You tried to kill me!”

Jesus Christ, Mike said to themselves.

The stage driver, Jake, walked up to the bickering group and said, “I have to go. Are any of you getting on?”

The stagecoach left, Feathers stayed, and Consuelo continued to fume. Carlos had run off to tell Chance.

When Chance arrived, Mike returned to their post at the front of the hotel.

After Burdette left, an odd tune plagued the town. Whoever was playing it wouldn’t let up. It bugged Mike that they didn’t know what it was.

After sunset, Dude returned from the front of the town to the jail on horseback. Mike and Chance were standing out front. Chance was lighting the lantern in front of the jail.

He dismounted and tied his horse to the post.

“Hi, Chance, Mike,” Dude said. “It’s gettin’ too dark to do any good out there. I’d just be a sitting duck.

“Anything happen when Burdette left?” Chance asked.

“Nice as pie. Didn’t say a word.”

“What was the shot when they came in?”

“That gunslinger of his was on the prod,” Dude said.

“What did he do?”

“Nothin’, just grunted and growled, made a few faces. I took care of that. What happened here?”

“Not much,” Chance replied. He turned and pointed to a man. “That tune, he’s been playing it all day. What is it?”

“Oh, it’s some Mexican piece. I heard it farther south,” Dude said.

“No idea,” Mike said.

Just then, Colorado walked towards the jail.

“Evenin’, sheriff,” he said.

“Colorado, what do you want?” Chance asked him.

“Just curious again,” Colorado said. Mike had come to realize this is what he’d say before he said something smart. “How’d you come out with Burdette?”

“He wanted to talk to his brother.”

“What’d he have to say?”

“Nothing.”

“You mean he didn’t say anything?” Colorado asked.

“Why are you so interested?”

“Because he’s talking now. Hear that music? He told the man to play it.”

“What is it?”

“They call it ‘The Deguello.’ ‘The Cutthroat Song. The Mexicans played it for those Texas boys when they had them bottled up in the Alamo.”

“Yeah.”

“Played it day and night til it was all over. Now you know what he means by it?”

He wasn’t about to give up. This fight was going to be a fierce one.

“No quarter,” Chance said. “No mercy for the losers.”

“You’ll be hearing a lot of it,” Colorado said.

“I guess we made him talk after all.”

“Just thought you’d like to know, sheriff.”

With that, Colorado walked off. Mike shook their head. What a smartass kid.

Mike, Chance, and Dude walked into the jail.

They all sat around for a long while, taking in the sound of The Deguello. Eventually Stumpy joined in on harmonica.

Chance sat on his desk and rolled a cigarette.

“Stumpy!” he shouted eventually.

“What?”

“They don’t need any help with that tune.”

“What’s the matter, is it getting through to you?”��

Mike chuckled. “A little but you’re good on that harmonica, Stumpy.”

“See! Somebody appreciates me!”

Chance rolled his eyes.

Dude closed the window, and the song couldn’t be heard anymore.

“By the way, the stage got off alright,” Dude said suddenly. “I watched it clear through the valley. In about six days, the marshall will get here.”

Dude picked up the bag of tobacco and tried to roll himself a cigarette.

“Oh, the girl wasn’t on the stage.”

Not for a lack of Carlos trying, Mike thought to themselves.

“I know that,” said Chance.

“Tell her she could stay?”

“No, she…” Chance began to say, then thought better of it. “Yes, I did, what about it?”

“Oh, nothin’, nothing at all. “

“Well, you were going to say something.”

“Well, I remembered in time,” Dude said. He’d broken another cigarette, and Chance handed one to him. “I remembered another girl came through on a stage that stopped over. I remember you told me that she was no good.”

Mike remembered that girl too, vaguely, like one remembers a bad case of the flu.

He licked the paper to seal his cigarette before he continued. “I didn’t believe you, but you were right. So, naturally I figured you’re an expert. And you know just what you’re doing all the time.”

Chance threw a book at him and he ducked. Mike couldn’t contain their laughter.

Neither could Dude. He was grinning from ear to ear.

It suits him, Mike thought.

“I just hope you have better luck than I had,” Dude said, fixing his hat. “You know, that’s the first time I’ve been able to laugh about that? Maybe there’s some hope for me yet.”

“Maybe. But I doubt it.”

“That’s what I like about you John T., you’re such an encouraging man,” Dude said sarcastically.

Mike looked at Dude, and was still somewhat conflicted.

They almost hoped there was hope for him.

“Hey Chance,” said Stumpy. “If’n you go by the hotel, pick up some coffee and sugar, would you?”

“Joe complaining?” Chance asked.

“Him? He don’t get no sugar. His coffee’s just water poured over the old grounds.I’ll learn him to talk out of turn.”

Mike laughed.

“Stumpy, uh, before I forget, your gun’s a little stiff. You mind if I file the action a bit?” Dude asked.

“No! I don’t want you to file no action on my gun!” Stumpy protested. “I don’t want no easy pull! I might shoot myself. Get someone else’s.”

Stumpy tapped Chance on the shoulder. “Why don’t you give him his own guns?”

Mike’s eyes widened. They hadn’t realized Chance still had Dude’s guns.

“I forgot all about them,” Chance said. Chance walked over to a locked cupboard and pulled out Dude’s guns, holster and all.

“Your memory is no better than mine,” Stumpy commented. “They’ve been locked up over a year except when you took them out to clean ‘em and oil ‘em.”

Chance presented Dude with his guns.

“Where’d you get these?” Dude asked.

“Bought them off the fellow you sold them to.”

That must have been after Mike kicked him out. After he’d almost run them dry…

“I didn’t-” Dude got very quiet. “I don’t know how to…”

“Let’s take a turn around the town. Get Stumpy his coffee,” Chance suggested.

“Do you mind if I don’t go?” Mike asked. They had some things they wanted to work out in their mind.

Chance shrugged. “Stay with Stumpy if you want.”

“Ain’t you gonna tell me to get back in there?” Stumpy asked.

“No, stay out here and get shot,” Chance said sarcastically.

“I might just do that just for spite. Might get a laugh out of you. What I put up with for $30 a month,” Stumpy grumbled.

Mike stayed outside the jail cells, just in case someone did start shooting.

Stumpy continued to grumble as Chance and Dude left.

Mike sighed and looked at the ceiling. Maybe Dude was more of a headache than he was worth.

#part two will be out as soon as i decide everybody's had time to get through this chonker #self shipping community #self ship #safeshipping #dude #typewriter dings

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