A Texas Tall Tale

The Gunman WHN

By

Spots On A Pony

Hoss and Joe decided not to linger after meeting the two Slade brothers and hurried their pack burros to get away from what sounded like the outbreak of a small war behind them. They had only gone a short distance when they heard the thunder of hoofs coming down the trail toward them. The rider nearly ran into them before pulling his gray horse to a halt. They weren't surprised at the resemblance of this rider to their brother Adam. However, Adam wouldn't be caught dead wearing a black and white cowhide vest over a bright yellow shirt, nor a tall hat like Hoss' in brown. Nether would Adam ever wear sideburns that extended to his chin and hung in flowing locks to his shoulders.

"Hey you #$&!," the unknown rider yelled at them. I'm Abel Slade and I'm looking for my #$& brothers, Big Jack and Shorty Jim Slade. Have you seen them?"

Somewhat started by language that he wouldn't use in church, or anywhere else for that matter, and by the blue coloring of the air that increased with every foul word Abel Slade uttered, Hoss hesitated a moment before answering. "Yea, we just saw them a few minutes ago," Hoss jerked his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the direction the other Slades went. "They're most likely in the middle of all of that shooting."

"&$#," Able Slade screamed in fury, causing nearby tree branches to wilt and the leaves to fall off. "I told those $#& brothers of mine to wait for me! If they think I'm going to miss all the &$# fun they've got another thing coming. Out of my way you." With that he whipped up his lop eared gray and pushed on by, slamming into Cochise, causing the pinto to stagger against Chubb before regaining his balance. Able Slade quickly galloped out of sight toward where the shooting continued unabated.

Hoss and Joe exchanged a worried look and silently agreed to leave the area a fast as they could. As he whipped up the pack animals, Joe spared a glance for the trees and wondered if they would recover. He also vowed never to use those sort of words where Cochise could hear them. He suspected those words were what caused the otherwise pretty gray to have lop ears and be missing the top third of both ears. He didn't want Cochise to lose his ears.

Finally, rather than stopping, the gunfire gradually faded away as they put as much distance as quickly as possible between themselves and that strange little town and its feuding citizens.

TTT

"Now," Ben said as they gathered around the fireplace, each with a glass of brandy to celebrate the successful conclusion of Hoss and Joe's Texas cattle drive, "I'd like to know why you two are over a month late with these cattle?"

Hoss and Joe looked at each other and decided that Hoss would be the best one to tell this story. "Well Pa," Hoss began, "ya see, we kinda had to make a detour."

"A detour of over 200 miles," Adam exclaimed sarcastically, "I'd like to hear the story behind this!"
"It's like this," Hoss began. He then told his Pa and brother about their Texas adventure involving their close calls with being mistaken for the notorious Slade brothers. "And that's why we made such a wide detour around that area when we were bringing the cattle back. We didn't want to take any chances of meeting up with those Slades, or any of those loco folks from that town at all."

"Did they really look that much like you boys and Adam," Ben asked.

"They sure did, Pa," Joe replied. "Only they dressed different and looked a lot rougher and scruffier. The one who looked like Hoss looked as if he hadn't shaved for about five days. The one who looked like me had a mustache. Then the one who looked like Adam had" Joe could no longer contain himself and fell off the settee laughing.

"Had what," Adam demanded, annoyed at the length of this unlikely tale.

"He had sideburns," Hoss told his brother with a snicker of his own, as he demonstrated by drawing his fingers from his ears to his chin. "From here to here. And he had them grown out clear to his shoulders. Kept them combed out real nice too."

"Yeah, he was the cleanest looking one of the bunch," Joe added from the floor, having recovered from his fit of laughter. "Though I didn't think much of the color combinations of what he was wearing. Maybe he was color blind, that would explain why he wore that black and white vest over a bright yellow shirt."

At that Adam winced.

Hoss picked up the story, "And that hat didn't help any either. It was a sugar loaf like mine, only his was brown. And I've heard of folks swearing up a blue streak, but I never thought I'd see it. Lordy, such language, I've never heard that kind of talk in a saloon even. You'd need a whole store full of laundry soap to clean that boy's mouth out."

"Ah, come on now," Ben said, "they couldn't have been that bad. Did you try to find out any more about them? How do you know their reputation was nothing but rumors and exaggeration? Surely they would be wanted by the law if they were as bad as you heard."

"They are," Joe told them as he picked himself off the floor and settled back on the settee. "We saw several wanted posters on them, but fortunately for us, they didn't have any pictures. Once we bought the cattle and hired a trail crew, we stayed out of the towns until we got out of Texas. We didn't want to be mistaken for them again."

"We did ask around," Hoss added, "and we was told that those boys' pa was the worse one of the bunch. They said Bart Slade was real nice and sweet looking, kinda like Saint Nick, but was meaner than a rattlesnake and would kill you as soon as look at yea. Everyone we talked to was afraid of them. We just stayed with the herd. We didn't want to get mistaken for them again, that's for sure. I don't think I even want to go back to Texas until I know that them Slades are dead or in jail."

"That goes for me too," Joe told them, a sober expression on his face. "We couldn't convince those townsfolk that we weren't them. If we went back, we might not be so lucky. I don't think it would be a good idea for any of us to go back. If we really need more Texas cattle, hire someone to go after them. Because I'm certainly not going back."

Ben and Adam exchanged glances. They weren't buying Hoss and Joe's story.

TTT

A few weeks later, Ben and Adam met up with Sheriff Roy Coffee in Virginia City as he was waiting for the stage to come in.

"It's a good thing Hoss and Little Joe told me about those troublemakers they met up with in Texas," Roy informed them grumpily. "Or I'd be wondering what in tarnation got into you lot trying to rob the bank."

Ben and Adam exchanged mystified glances.

"What are you talking about Roy," Ben demanded.

"I'm talking about those fellers Hoss and Joe met up with in Texas," Roy replied. "The Slades. The ones that look like all of you Cartwrights. I've got all four of them locked up in my jail waiting for the judge to get here and give the go ahead for Pinkertons to take them off my hands and get them back to Texas. Apparently there are enough charges against them there to keep each in jail for two hundred years and be hung a dozen times each. The sooner they're gone the better."

"We thought Hoss and Joe were making up that story about the Slades," Adam said. "Are you telling us that they are here? And do they really look that much like us?"

"You're darn right, they're here and they look enough like you to be your twins," Roy said. "Iffen they were cleaned up, with a hair cut and a shave and clean clothes, no one would think twice about greeting any of them as a Cartwright. That is until that oldest boy opens his mouth. Never in all my years have I heard such language. I'll sure be glad to see their backs and the sooner the better."
Just then the stage pulled in. Roy was relieved when Territorial Judge Samuel McDonald stepped off.

After greeting the Sheriff and the Cartwrights, he said, "Well, Roy, I understand that there are some criminals that you want me to authorize the transfer of custody from yourself to the Pinkertons?"

"That's right, Judge," Roy replied. "The sooner they're out of my jail the happier I'll be. The Pinkertons are ready to go as soon as you sign off for them."

The Judge nodded and all four headed for the jail.

"By the way Roy," Ben said, "how did you manage to capture them? Hoss and Joe said that they were really hard cases and the law in Texas pretty much couldn't do anything about them."

"Actually it was easy once I knew who they were," Roy told them. "Remember that time jest about everyone thought I was too old for this job, and you set Adam on me to help me out?"

The Judge looked interested in the story, while Ben nodded in resignation, and Adam just rolled his eyes and looked intently at something in the sky.

"Well they tried to rob the bank we fixed up for the Wagner gang," Roy continued. "It was almost closing time, and Josh Taylor was about to lock up when the Slades came busting in. They got him started on getting the money out of the vault, but when he dropped a couple of bags of coin and spilled them all over the place, they went about picking up the coin and kinda forgot about him. He was able to slip out and bar the door. Then he came and got me."

"Very good work, Sheriff," Judge McDonald said as Ben smiled in approval and Adam applauded.

"From Josh's description," Roy told them, "if Hoss and Joe wouldn't have told me about how much the Slades looked like you Cartwrights, I'd of handled things differently and maybe got myself and a bunch of good people killed. I got Clem and a few others and went down to the bank and told the Slades what the deal was and what they had to do. It took them a couple of hours to make up their minds. Though I think the smell of the food being cooked in the café down the street helped them come to a decision. I had them throw out their guns and line up in front of the window where I had a half a dozen riflemen ready to cut them down if they tried anything. Then had them come out one at a time and put them into shackles and manacles and marched them to the jail. Then I went through my wanted posters and sent some telegraphs to Texas, and they said to hold them for the Pinkertons. Them boys didn't waste any time getting here, and we've just been waiting for the Judge to get here."

Roy led them into his office where they were met by three of the Pinkerton agents, two with rifles at the ready. Roy waved to indicate everything was all right and introduced the Judge and the Cartwrights. One of the agents handed the Judge a sheaf of papers, which he looked through and nodded.

Seating himself at Roy's desk, he pulled out a pen and began signing, while saying, "I see no problems with you taking custody and leaving with them right away."

The leader of the three agents present, nodded at the unarmed agent who left the office and headed toward the livery stable.

"Do you think we could have a look at the Slades," Ben asked. "I'd really like to see if they look as much like us as you, Joe and Hoss say."

"I don't think that would be a good idea, Sir," the leader of the Pinkertons said. "It is doubtful that they will ever be free again, but one never knows, and it wouldn't be a good idea for them to know that they could pass as good upright citizens such as yourself and your sons. When the fortified wagon gets here, if you want to see them, find a place out of the way where they won't be able to get a good look at you. We're going to make sure they are transferred from the jail to the wagon as quick as possible."

Ben nodded in understanding and he and Adam left the jail to find a place to view the transfer to the Pinkertons fortified wagon. No sooner had they found a place to stand, the wagon came up the street. It looked like a normal prison wagon, pulled by a pair of sturdy mules, made of heavy metal with a flat roof and four small shuttered windows. But oddly enough it didn't have a door at the back like the other prison wagons they had seen. The driver took it on past the jail and using the alley, turned it around and brought it back. The driver brought the mules to a halt and his partner jumped down and unlocked the four doors that were on this side of the wagon, showing that the wagon was divided into four secure compartments. Each door had a shuttered window at the top and a latched flap at the bottom. The Cartwrights could see in each compartment a bench bolted to the wall, a bucket with a dipper presumably containing water, and a covered bucket for slops. The flap at the bottom was big enough that the buckets could be passed in and out without the risk of the occupant overpowering one of the lawmen.

An armed Pinkerton man opened the door at the front of the wagon and stepped back. Then escorted by Roy and another armed Pinkerton, was the first prisoner. This must have been the patriarch of the Slades', Bart Slade. Even with the long flowing white hair and beard, his resemblance to Ben Cartwright was uncanny. He carried himself in a calm, dignified manner, that is until he realized that there were no ordinary citizens to question why a fine upstanding gentleman such as himself was being forced into a prison wagon. Then his lips curled into a snarl and his eyes glittered with the evil that was his true nature. He chose to preserve his dignity by refusing assistance in getting into the prison wagon compartment. The door was closed and locked by the Pinkerton who handed Roy the key. The shackles and manacles were removed through the small flap at the bottom of the door.

The next door was opened as Roy and the Pinkerton returned to the jail for the next prisoner, who by Hoss and Joe's description, had to be the eldest son, Abel Slade. Able Slade was every bit the fashion disaster they had described. While he was handsome with his long raven hair and sideburns that did indeed flow to his shoulders, probably to make up for his receding hairline in front, his color sense was more than a little off. He carried his brown sugarloaf hat, and he wore his black and white vest over a bright orange shirt. His neck scarf was bright pink, his pants were charcoal gray with purple pinstripes, and his boots were blue. Like his father, he didn't want any assistance. "Take your #$& hands off me you #$&," he said, "I can get on the $&# wagon myself."

Roy shrugged and replied, "Suit yourself, just get in and settle down."

Ben and Adam looked at each other in disbelief. "Hoss certainly wasn't exaggerating when he said that Able Slade could cuss," Adam told Ben.

Ben nodded in agreement.

Like with his father, Able Slade was locked into his compartment and the shackles and manacles removed, and Roy receiving custody of the compartment key.

The next prisoner brought out of the jail was a double for Hoss. That is if Hoss didn't shave for a week and hadn't bathed for a month. Big Jack Slade had a hard mean look in his eyes that would never grace Hoss' kind and gentle face. He thought he'd try and knock Roy down and escape, but the sound of a cocking rifle held by one of the Pinkertons, changed his mind. With some prods from a rifle, he reluctantly climbed into his compartment and was locked in and his shackles and manacles were removed.

Last was Shorty Jim Slade. Jim Slade looked more like Joe's other double, Angus Borden, than he did Joe. Like Angus, Jim Slade had a mustache and was rather scruffy looking, and Joe was much more vain about his appearance and was cleaner than either of them. Apparently the Pinkertons wanted to get going because two of the agents had him by the arms and were carrying him out of the jail. "Hey," he yelled as they drug him over to the last compartment in the waiting wagon. "I can walk over and get in myself! Where do you think I'm going to go?" They set him down in front of the open door, but apparently he was taking too long to straighten his clothing, so they picked him up by the scruff and seat and pitched him in. A muffled "Ouch! What did you do that for?" was heard before the door clanged shut and was locked. He was told to hurry up and let them remove the shackles and manacles.

As soon as that was done, two of the Pinkertons got on the wagon and one took the reins and started the mules off. Roy handed his rifle to Clem and motioned for the two Cartwrights to come with him. Just down the street another wagon pulled by mules and driven by another Pinkerton pulled out from the livery stable and got into line behind the prison wagon.

"Supplies for the trip to the rail head," Roy told them. "Food, water and feed for the horses they stole." He nodded at the four fine looking horses that were tied to the wagon's tailgate. "Those horses are valuable and the owners want them back, so the Pinkertons are seeing that they are returned to the rightful owners," he continued, as the wagons with two outriders slowly made their way out of town.

"What are you going to do with the keys," Adam asked. "Aren't they going to need them when they get to the rail head?"

"Nope," Roy replied as they turned and walked down the street. "I'm to take them down to the blacksmith's shop and have him melt them down and make them useless. Them Pinkertons aren't taking any chances of someone getting ahold of a set of keys and turning those boys loose. They've got special locks on the doors of that wagon and they won't get out of it until they get to where ever they're going. That's where the other set of keys is. They'll put the prison wagon right on a railroad car and that's where they'll stay until they get to Texas."

Considering how dangerous the Slade's were, Ben and Adam accompanied Roy to the blacksmith's shop where they watched the smith heat and then hammer the keys into something that had no resemblance to a key. As Roy had no need for the lump of metal, the smith threw it into a barrel of scrap to eventually be worked together to make some other useful item.

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, the sheriff and the Cartwrights went their separate ways. Roy to send off a telegram and Ben and Adam to conduct the business they came into town for.

"I guess we owe Hoss and Joe an apology for not believing their story," Adam said thoughtfully.

"Yes, you're right," Ben replied. "Hearing that the Slades were caught should put them in a better mood too."

TTT

As for the Slades, nothing but rumors were ever heard of them again. Some said that they were hung for their crimes, while others said that they lived out their lives in prison. Another said that they escaped and went to Australia where they went straight. Bart Slade, capitalizing on his resemblance to Saint Nick, head of an orphanage. Able Slade, the proprietor of a men's clothing shop specializing in his eye-popping fashions. Big Jack Slade, a bouncer at an exclusive gentleman's club. And Shorty Jim Slade, a private investigator, much in demand with the local woman looking for assistance in domestic problems.

The End

5/26/07