Free Webb's Posse by Ralph Cotton

chuckled, handing the boy the bandanna. “When he catches up to the Peltrys, they won’t know what hit them.”
    Abner Webb just stared at Will Summers through swollen eyes.
    Seeing his son, Eddie, run to the water trough and back with the wet bandanna, Wild Joe Duvall cut away from the rest of the posse and circled back to Summers and Webb. “Son, you finish up what you’re doing and get on back to the house,” Wild Joe told young Eddie. “You look after your ma and your sister like I told you to.”
    â€œYes sir, Pa,” Eddie said, wringing out the bandanna and passing it up to Will Summers’ hand. “Mr. Summers asked me to fetch this back to him, so I did. Golly, Pa! Did you see the fight? I never saw nothing like it!” Eddie exclaimed.
    â€œYeah,” said Wild Joe grudgingly. “It was all right, as fights go. I’ve been in worse and not come out looking so bad.” He gave Abner Webb the once-over, then looked back down at his son. “You still here?”
    â€œNo sir, Pa. I’m gone,” said Eddie. Turning and bolting away, he called back over his shoulder. “Don’t forget—you said you’d bring me back one of the Peltrys’ shooting fingers!”
    â€œHope you brought yourself a sharp knife,” Summers said to Wild Joe Duvall.
    Wild Joe’s face reddened as he saw the amused look in Will Summers’ eyes. “That son of mine thinks I’m some kind of hero. I don’t know why,” Wild Joe said, looking away and adjusting his wide-brimmed hat. When Summers didn’t answer, Wild Joe looked at Abner Webb again. “Come to think of it, that was one hell of a fight, Deputy. I couldn’t have done much better myself to be honest about it.”
    â€œThe roof…fell on him,” Webb said across thick blue lips, wiping the wet bandanna carefully across the welt on his jaw.
    â€œCall it how you want to,” said Wild Joe, passing a glance over Edmund Daniels lying draped across his saddle. “But I think you’re just being modest. Daniels is a big piece of work, roof or no roof.”
    Abner Webb looked at Will Summers. Summers only shrugged. “Wild Joe’s right, Deputy. You’re in a saddle. Daniels is across one. That’s how simple it plays in my book.” He turned his horse and heeled it toward the rear of the posse as the horsemen made their way out of town.
    â€œWhat do you think Goose and Moses Peltry is up to about now, Deputy?” asked Wild Joe Duvall, stepping his horse alongside Webb’s. Abner Webb noted the nervousness in the man’s voice as he continued. “Think there’s a chance we might miss them altogether? Maybe they’ll cut for the border and get away from us.”
    Leading Edmund Daniels’ gray by its reins, Abner Webb heeled his horse forward, one hand holding the wet bandanna to his throbbing jaw. “If they want to keep their shooting fingers, I reckon they ought to,” said Webb.
    Lieutenant Freeman Goff stood up in his stirrups and gazed ahead at the lopsided wagon sitting sideways in the middle of the high pass trail. “Dagblast it!” the lieutenant said. “This just rips it for me. First the big gun jams. Now this!” He noted the wagon was heavily loaded and sitting up on an axle jack. A front wheel was off, leaning against the side of the wagon where the driver sat with an open tin of grease, slowly smearing the inside of the hub.
    â€œSergeant Teasdale!” Lieutenant Goff demanded.“Take two men up there and see if you can help that fool get under way. He’s blocking the whole confounded trail!”
    â€œIndeed he is, sir,” said the big rawboned sergeant as his eyes went warily along the ridgeline above them. “And if you don’t mind my saying so, sir, we best keep a close lookout for some sort of—”
    â€œYes, I do mind you saying so, Sergeant!”