Black Hat Jack by Joe R. Lansdale Read Free Book Online Page A

it all shook out.”
    “Reckon so,” Jack said.
    Then Olds got our attention. He called out, “They come, bet you they come through the roof. That’s the weak part.”
    No one disagreed with that.
    Olds put his hands on his hips and looked up at the ceiling. “There’s still a hole where that support pole cracked. I think I can ladder up there for a peek, see when they’re coming. My head will be between the support poles, and the sod is pushed up there, so I might get a look-see before they note me up there.”
    “All right,” Bat said. “But you ought to let me do it. I’m a bit more nimble than you.”
    “You ain’t nothing but a green kid,” Olds said.
    I looked around for Mrs. Olds, see how she felt about such concerning her husband, but she was still on the floor asleep. The Indians could be scalping her and cutting off her toes, and she wouldn’t have known no difference. She was drunk as anyone I’d ever seen and snoring like wind blowing through the mountains.
    Olds got a Henry rifle from the stock against the wall, and Billy pulled a ladder from behind the bar, and propped it up.
    “I’ll just go up there for a gander,” Olds said.
    “I ought to do it,” Bat said. “I’m small. That ladder looks rotten to me.”
    “I’ve climbed that ladder many a time and it’s held,” Olds said.
    “That may be why you ought not to climb it anymore,” Bat said. “Your fat ass is bound to be wearing it down.”
    “Oh, go diddle yourself,” Olds said.
    The ladder was propped and a man held either side of it, me being one of them, and up went Olds, that ladder squeaking like it was in pain. But up he went, hoping to see better what was behind us, as there was no window on that side.
    He reached the top, gently poked his head through the hole in the sod, between the two support poles. After a moment he said, “My, my. I can tell you one thing.”
    “What’s that,” a man called up.
    “There are a lot of fucking Indians out there.”
    “Thanks for that bit of news,” Jack called out from the window.
    “I can also say, for whatever reason, they ain’t behind us. I figure they got some braves tucked out there in the grass somewhere, but I don’t see them. Why ain’t they surrounding us?”
    “Why should they?” Jack said. “When they charge down off that rise and out from the trees, they’ll flow over us like water. We can run for it, but without horses, we wouldn’t have a chance. They’re doing fine. They can wait us out if they like.”
    “They won’t do that,” Happy said. “They are in for the kill, and are hot for it. I think they are holding back a little due to some disappointment. They was all supposed to be untouchable. Meaning bullets wouldn’t hit them. They are now uncertain, and the medicine man will have to make excuses for the ones that got killed. I saw him this morning looking for a sign, which meant he knew he had got himself on the edge of a cliff with them predictions. I was figuring that right then, before I was asked to run like hell. He gave the braves instructions on how they were to conduct themselves, and if he can prove someone killed a skunk, which is bad medicine when on the war path, then he can claim they are the ones threw off the magic. Medicine man has not only got to come up with predictions, he’s got to plan excuses for when things go wrong. It’s part of the job.”
    Olds called down. “Still a lot of Indians… Wait now. Here’s something. Two riders coming this way, way off, and they ain’t Indians.”
    “Well,” said Jimmy, “they’re skint.”
    Right then the ladder squealed and a rung cracked, and down come Olds, and he hit the ground in such a way his gun went up under his chin, and obviously being set on a hair trigger, the jar set it off, sending a round through chin and out the top of his head. He didn’t move a inch after that. Wasn’t no kicking or moaning, he was dead as a bag of hammers.
    Jack turned from the window at the