The Hole -- The Rancher (1040 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 2 on 20 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by I'm-Not-Jack-McCallum (View user info) at 2005-12-31 02:11:07 EST
Intro -- http://www.ubersite.com/m/74452
Pfc. Weyms -- http://www.ubersite.com/m/75620
theholetruth.com -- http://www.ubersite.com/m/75708
Emergence - http://www.ubersite.com/m/76672
Women's World (I) -- http://www.ubersite.com/m/77102
Divulgence - http://www.ubersite.com/m/78495
Women's World (II) -- http://www.ubersite.com/m/81641
The desert dirt churned and boiled under the pounding of hooves, ten pair strong. They were eating up the distance like a woman eats up praise. His posse was catching up steady. Harlan wasn't surprised. He knew a good horse when he saw one. And he knew a good man, too. Beside him he had his brother Grant and his nephew Lyle, two of the roughest riders he'd ever met. On his other side there was Red, who used to be a deputy before being discharged for drinking a little too much of the oh-be-joyful. And then there was Vernon, whip-smart, and knew the land like the back of his hand. Not a single one of them hadn't seen blood, one way or the other, and they could all fight like Kilkenny cats.
Those shitheads picked the wrong rancher to steal from, and that was the God's truth.
Harlan and his men had only been riding for an hour before they caught sight of them that took his money. He could see the puff of smoke on the horizon as their horses kicked up the desert. Two hours after that, and Harlan could make out the men in the center of that dusty cloud. Three men, and cowards all. Harlan knew this because he was close enough to make out the yellow streaks painted on their backs.
Every now and again, one of them would look over his shoulder and kick his horse to go faster. Harlan smirked through the dust and grit in the air. If the good sense these bandits had shown so far was any indication, them animals were pure crowbait, probably picked up for a song. And Harlan and his crew, they were ridin' on fine animals indeed.
By mid-day, they were within a shootist's range. A half hour later, they were within Harlan's shootin' range. He pulled his rifle out of the saddle-holster and motioned for his boys to stop. He nestled the rifle-butt into the hollow of his shoulder and took aim at the center man. His legs were pushed in and out by the heavy breaths of his gelding, but otherwise his mount was steady.
Harlan squinted. He took a deep breath out, and when all the air was out of his belly, he squeezed the trigger. The 'crack' echoed across the desert. A half-second later, one of the three bandits jolted out of his saddle and tumbled awkwardly to the dusty ground.
"Nice shot, Harl." Grant said with a surprised grunt.
Harlan's horse nickered and shuffled around nervously at the sound of the shot. "Attaboy, Diamond," he cooed, patting the horse's neck with a rough hand. Harlan named him after the white patch of hair on the chestnut's forehead.
The horsed bandits looked back at their downed partner and paused, swinging their rides around like they meant to go back. Then they looked back at the posse, five strong to their three - now two - and thought better of it. The puff of smoke the posse had been chasing kicked up again, and headed into the horizon, a third more narrow.
"C'mon boys," he said to his crew as he holstered his rifle and pulled out a revolver. Together, they trotted out to the man he shot down.
It wasn't but a hundred-fifty yards away. The bandit's horse stood off to the side, gasping like an old man with consumption. As they drew close, they could see the man moving around, feebly trying to crawl after his partners. He reached his hand out as if he could grab on to them.
A dusty boot stomped on his outstretched hand. The bandit cried out in shock and pain. Another man went to the bandit's hip and pulled his iron out of his belt. His eyes followed the boot up the leg until they met with the pale eyes of the man who had shot him. It was an older man, his face crisscrossed with heavy lines. A thick layer of gray stubble frosted his chin, and stringy salt-and-pepper hair dangled past his ears from under his Stetson. He was long and thin and was standing like a knotted tree.
"Howdy." The man said. "Do you know who I am?" The man increased pressure on his hand.
"Nossir," he grunted.
"My name's Harlan Winston. I'm the fella you and your partners just robbed."
The bandit coughed, stirring up a tiny sandstorm in front of his lips. "I figured."
"You got my money?"
The bandit shook his head.
"One of your pardners has it, then? Where are those mudsills headin'?" There was no answer.
"I don't think he's much of a talker, Harl." one of the other men said.
"Looks like," Harlan agreed. He took his boot off the man's hand and bent to one knee. "I got you in the shoulder, huh? Pretty lucky. Seems I just nicked ya." Harlan said as he examined the penny-sized hole in the man's back.
"Nicked me?"
"Whew!" Harlan breathed. "It's hotter than a whorehouse on nickel night out here. So you gotta ask yerself, kid...what are you gonna die of first? The thirst? The bleedin'?" Suddenly the rancher's tone dropped from conversational to flat serious. "Or am I gonna shoot your fuckin' face off first?" Harlan grabbed the bandit by the hair and shoved the barrel of his Colt into his ear.
"Please - " the bandit began.
"'Please' ain't gonna do it, son." He snarled. "You start flappin' your lips, or you're goin' to the boneyard."
Lyle shifted nervously. He knew Harlan was a serious man, but he had never seen him quite like this before. "Paw - "
"Shh," Grant whispered. "Yer uncle Harlan knows what he's doin'."
"Okay, okay!" The bandit cried. "We didn't mean no harm sir, we just wanted the cash! It's my brother George and his friend, it was all their idea! Honest!"
"Where they headed?" Harlan barked. He twisted the barrel around in the man's ear.
"Ahh! There's a cave! Just past the gulch, 'bout ten miles from here! That's where they's goin'!! We was gonna lie low there, until it was safe..." He trailed off into gibberish and whimpers. Harlan Winston was all silent tension.
"...Oh Lord, please don't kill me."
After what seemed like an age, the bandit felt the cool iron pull off his ear.
"I ain't gonna kill ya...now." The rancher said gruffly. "Red, get his horse. Vernon, you brought some rope?"
In short order, the bandit was sat back on his horse. A mostly-clean rag was shoved into the hole in his shoulder, and his hands were lashed behind his back. Then Vernon tied him to the saddle, but good.
"We ready to go, Harlan?" Red asked impatiently. "Let's get a wiggle on! They're gettin' away!"
"Not on those mules, they ain't." Harlan said. "Relax, Red. We'll be back before the saloons close."
Red's cheeks turned the same colour as his beard. "T'ain't nothin' wrong with appreciatin' fine spirits," he said under his breath.
"Lyle, you got the note?" Harlan's nephew nodded, and handed him a sheaf of paper with the words "BANDIT AND THIEF - HARLAN" on it. Harlan got Lyle to do it because he had the most legible writing. Harlan stuffed the paper into the man's shirt. "Here. Bite this." He held the reins up to the bandit.
Gingerly, he took the leather in his teeth.
"Good." Harlan said. "You're going to ride back into town. Don't let go of the reins."
"What for?" The bandit asked. The reins fell from his mouth and dipped to the sand.
Harlan sighed. "You damn idjit. How did I know you wouldn't be able to manage that?" The rancher picked the reins up and tied the loose ends together around the back of his neck. "You're gonna steer this bag o' bones back to town. Once you get there, you'll get thrown in jail, directly. But you'll get water and a doc to take care of your sorry ass. If you don't make it back, you'll croak out here." He slapped the bandit across the face to get his attention. "You got it?"
The man nodded. He clenched leather between his teeth.
"Good. HAAHH!" Harlan hit the horse's rump with a sharp slap, and it took off towards town. "And if you ever show yer face around my ranch again, I will SHOOT YOU DEAD!!" Harlan shouted after the man.
"All right, boys." He said dourly. He pulled himself into the saddle with the ease of a man half his age.
"Harl, somethin' tells me those other two hombres are gonna be rougher customers than that one," Grant said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the one they let go.
"I'm in agreement," Vernon said. "They can't all three be so stupid, and still manage to steal that kind of money. Even if they did trouble the wrong man."
Harlan looked through narrow slits at his brother, and nodded.
"Let's ride. We might have some killin' to do."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was only another hour or so before they got into shooting range again. Just like Harlan figured, they ran them horses ragged, until they were too dragged out to do much more than walk. Heck, Harlan could slow his posse down to a lazy trot and still probably catch up to them before evening. But though Harlan Winston was a man of determination, he was not always a man of patience...especially when he was about the business of correcting a wrong that been done to him.
As the posse drew near, the desperados threw their mounts into one more sprint, one more dash for freedom - probably the last one before those poor beasts dropped dead. The puff of smoke grew smaller in the distance. Harlan didn't change pace. He knew that they'd manage to gain only two hundred yards at best, and when they was finished, they might as well be standin' still. And that's when Harlan would set Diamond to a gallop.
They were real close, now.
"Get ready," he hollered to his partners. "Soon as they slow down, we break loose on 'em!" Harlan's back hunched as he got ready. He felt his horse tense in response. His pale eyes squinted and turned to slits on a canvas of craggy skin.
Then suddenly, the puff of smoke disappeared.
"What?" He sat up in his saddle. The men were gone. "Lyle?" The kid had sharp eyes.
His nephew tipped his hat against the sun, his baby blues peering from under the brim. "I can't see them."
Harlan dug his heels in. "Hahh!" Diamond rode the wind.
It wasn't long before Harlan was a quarter mile ahead of his posse. He knew he was leaving them behind, but Harlan didn't care. He wasn't going to lose these snakes, not on account of no heatstroke or some trick the desert was playing.
His eyes swept back and forth along the landscape as he rode; from the spot they disappeared to the horizon and every cranny in between. There was nothing, nothing but red dirt and sparse patches of weeds.
Suddenly, Diamond skidded to a halt and reared up. Startled, Harlan fell off the saddle and landed smartly on his behind.
"What in the HELL - " he winced, rubbing his backside as best he could while he was still sitting on it. Diamond came up beside him and lowered his head in apology. He nudged the rancher with his nose and nickered softly.
Harlan balled up his fist and fought the urge to fetch him one, right in the nose. As the horse nuzzled his cheek (knocking his hat off), he felt the anger seep out of him. His fist turned into an open hand, and he rubbed the animal's muzzle in forgiveness.
"What the hell did you do that for?" He asked, exasperated. He looked around for anything that could spook a horse as reliable as Diamond, and in a moment, he found his answer.
Directly in the path he was chasing, there was a hole.
A very big hole.
Harlan couldn't reckon how big it was exactly, but it stretched hundreds of yards across at the center. The colouring of the landscape made it look almost invisible until you were right next to it. But the rancher had lived in these parts for almost a decade, and knew folk who lived here longer than that. Not a single body ever mentioned anything about this that he could remember.
Harlan stared at the hole for a while, until the heat of the sun on his bald spot broke him out of his puzzlement. He dusted his hat off and put it back on, just as his boys caught up to him.
"Sheee-oot! Willya lookit that!" Red whistled as he dismounted.
"You all right, Harl?" Grant asked.
"Yeah. Nothin' bruised but my pride." He replied, though as he rubbed his rump, Harlan realized he was being optimistic.
"Damn," Grant said, surveying the situation. "That's a mighty big hole."
Harlan rolled his eyes. "No shit."
"Has this always been here, paw?" Lyle asked. "I ain't ever heard of it."
"Me neither, son." Grant responded.
"Y'think...y'think those hombres were so stupid that they ran right into this hole?" Lyle wondered.
"Haw!" Red held his round belly and laughed. "Only a little more stupid than yer uncle Harlan, it looks like!" He howled in laughter. His yellow teeth grinned through his rust coloured beard.
Harlan stared at Red coldly. He heard Grant stifle a snicker. Then Lyle. Despite himself, the corner of Harlan's thin mouth curled up slightly.
"Heh. Heh-heh-heh," he chuckled. The rest of the posse began to laugh. "I guess I owe Diamond a bag of carrots when we get back to the ranch," he smiled.
"Look at this." Vernon said, kneeling at the edge. He pointed. At the end of his finger were two sets of grooves in the sand, four per set. They approached the lip of the hole and disappeared into the blackness.
"Well, that's that," Red declared, wiping his hands. "Looks like they done themselves in, Harlan. Best be gettin' back - I aim to be paintin' my nose red by sundown." The posse began to move towards their horses.
"The hell I will." Harlan said grimly.
"Wha -- ?" Red replied.
"I'm not goin' anywhere, amigo. Not without my dinero."
"Harl - it's gone." Grant said.
"It ain't gone, it's at the bottom of that dang hole, and I aim to get it back. I ain't lettin' the fact that those bandits were stupid enough to get themselves killed stop me from gettin' back what's mine." Harlan crossed his arms and frowned.
Grant sighed. He knew his brother was serious. There was no talking to him when he got riled like this. You'd have better luck convincing a damn oak tree to budge. "Okay, Harl, okay. Pull in yer horns. We'll give it a shot."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Vernon took what was left of their rope and tied one end to Harlan's waist and the other end to Tango, Red's horse. Tango was probably the slowest of the geldings they had with them, but he was easily the strongest. He would have to be in order to carry Red's bulk very far.
"Okay, here's the skinny." Vernon said. "Me, Red, and Grant are gonna lower you down the hole, nice and slow, like. Lyle's gonna sit on Tango. You call up to us if you find anything. You get in trouble, fire a shot off and Lyle will get Tango to pull you up right quick."
"Sounds good," Harlan said.
"Yeah, sounds good," Red muttered. "Now let's wind up this business and go home."
Harlan took the kerosene lamp from Lyle and lit it. He backed towards the hole. Normally, he wouldn't be caught dead putting his life in another man's hands. But these were his boys, and they were all men you could ride the river with.
He dropped into the hole.
As soon as his head dropped below ground level, Harlan felt a queer shudder in his guts. The kind of feeling a man gets when he hears a snake's rattlin' in the pitch black of night. Strange smells wafted around him. Steel, blood, cigar smoke, and a whore's perfume. Meadows and earthworms.
For a second, he thought about turning back, and he was immediately disgusted. "I ain't questioned myself since I was old enough to handle a shooter, and I ain't gonna start now," he muttered.
"You all right, Harl?" Grant called. "You say somethin'?"
"It's nothin'." Harlan replied. "Get me lower."
The rancher began to walk backwards down the side of the hole. He held his lamp out and saw nothing but a long fall. As he got lower and lower, he encountered ledges here and there. He was moving slow enough to see what was on them. Mostly it was nothing. Other times he spotted really queer stuff.
He saw what looked like a gun, but fancier than any gun he had ever seen. It was dirty and rusted. On the same ledge Harlan spotted a skull - human, except for a pair of fangs what would put his dogs to shame. Two ledges lower, there was a strange metal box, about the height of a man, with two doors on the front; one big, one small.
The stuff he saw didn't unsettle him. Neither did the stuff he heard - but those came a damn sight closer. When he turned his head he could hear whispers and chanting. It sounded like Navajo, but he couldn't rightly tell. When he turned his head the other way, he heard laughter, women's laughter. But not the type of laughter you like to hear from a gal. This broad was laughing AT him, and it sounded like hooks digging into flesh. He shook his head and the woman went away, her laughter drifting to death as if she were floating down the hole.
Harlan was beginning to wonder if this hole even HAD a bottom when he heard a faint buzz.
It was getting louder. The buzzing was coming from below, but when he looked down and held the lamp out, the sound started coming from above him. He looked up and saw nothing but blue sky, rippling under the desert heat.
The buzz turned into a throaty roar. Harlan could smell smoke from a fire. He shone the light down and a light shone back. Suddenly a huge shape lurched at him from the blackness below.
It was long and made of metal, like a train. But the metal looked flimsy, not solid like they make the trains. There were two flat things sticking out from its sides that looked like wings. They belched and farted smoke. Harlan thought he saw a man through a glass window in the nose of the thing. He looked terrified but determined.
The train-thing blew past him with a deafening roar, pulling the wind behind it like a big fat bullet. Harlan's knee-length coat flew up around his shoulders, and he bounced and dangled helplessly against the wall.
That was it. Money or no money, Harlan was getting out of this damn hole. He cocked his revolver and shot it, hoping that his posse could hear it over the thing that was heading their way.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Grant heard the shot, loud and clear. "PULL!" He hollered. The three men dug their heels into the sand, and Lyle dug his heels into the horse's sides. Seventeen hundred pounds of muscle set themselves against gravity.
But nothing happened.
"What?" Grant cried through clenched teeth. He was pulling with all his might, but couldn't pull the rope up an inch. He looked over his shoulder and saw Tango pawing at the ground, but it was like he was lashed to a mountain.
"He's stuck on something!" Vernon said.
"Keep pullin'! I hear 'im shootin' again!" There was a third shot. And a fourth. But they couldn't take him up.
Then the three men found themselves on their backs as the resistance disappeared. Red was the only one who held on, and Tango dragged him thirty yards as easy as he would have dragged a child. Lyle brought the horse to a halt.
Grant was pulling the rope up to the lip, but it was easy, too easy. In a few harrowing seconds, he saw what his heart already knew. The end of the rope was frayed and empty.
Harlan was gone.
User Reviews
Submitted by Alter (user info) at 2007-09-26 21:56:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No, Comment.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-02-01 19:18:56 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2006-01-15 23:57:48 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I thought I +2'd this when you posted it.
I went back to read the other installments and forgot I guess.
Heh.
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2006-01-10 22:05:32 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Thanks peckerhead.
Hmmm. You should reconsider your name. Anything I say to you can only sound like an insult.
Submitted by peckerhead (user info) at 2006-01-10 11:25:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I hate anyone who is better than me and man, do I hate you.
This was an amazing story; the Good, the Bad and the Ugly meets Bonanza. By the way, I'd party with all the reviewers of this post -- for different reasons. Good job, Caes. Very well done!
Submitted by Caulaincourt (user info) at 2006-01-09 22:18:02 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
THE CONSERVATIVES ARE WINNING! THE FINAL PIECE TO SET THE STAGE FOR A FREE QUEBEC!!1 CANADA, YOU HAVE BEEN TRICKED! HAHAHAHAHAHAH!
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-01-07 13:13:20 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Damn, people, wake up and read the good shit!!
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-12-31 19:21:01 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
And you know, Dretta is actually a cool name. I like pretty much any name that's a little different...except for the ones that are, well, gay. Like "rainbow," or stuff like that. I once knew a girl, her name was Autumn Sweet. Her sister's name was Honey Sweet.
That's gotta suck.
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-12-31 19:10:58 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
I wish I got the title right...it should have been The Four Corners Hole, not just "The Hole."
:(
Well, that's what I get for posting at 2 am.
And Wisher, that was an impressive rant.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-12-31 13:50:43 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
What a great New Year treat. thanks, man!
I DID originally intend 4CH to be the next Pandemic-style free-for-all on Uber, but I had it going in so many different directions I figured people wouldn't know what I was doing.
http://www.ubersite.com/m/74386#1580871
Thanks again for a fun read, and Happy New Year.
Submitted by Wisher (user info) at 2005-12-31 13:48:38 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Caesar is insane cool! But people online would think you were being a Romanesque bastard or something, God! I'd use it. SEIZE HER!
Haha. Like I stopped using my real name IN REAL LIFE 'cause people always say I made it up til I show them my license {I have a "Mom Interrupted" kinda mom, like A. Jolie from Girl Interrupted, that's her, without meds}. She was a stripper, {she even says she still is~~~~~ "Mom, that's not something the cable guy needed to know"- you cock-on-the-brain jukebox jezebel ~~~~~~~She even does still strip sometimes, though no one I know will ever know
I'll tell you my my-mom-took-the-brown-acid name now, and you'll see why I understand, in an atavistic way, the idea of murder. {~~~~~~It's Dretta. Yeah, I know.}
Anyhow thanks for scratching an itch I couldn't reach. I feel better, Caesar.
~~~~ ~
Be glad you're not Jack Mc, btw, not just cause he's poor now, AHAHAHAHA but because he's mean, deep down. I review most his posts, always 2s, even wrote A POST about him {actually it was a real dream I had}, forgot what I was gunna say. Oh, and he didn't even review my last post, my first "real" post, because he's mean, and the Heat Meister. And he was on line when it was floating around uber, I saw him reviewing this or that. It's karma catching up with him, I tell you. He'll be wearing his underwear on the outside soon enough. What goes around comes around. Ta ta, Caesar.
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-12-31 12:50:20 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Uh...well, my real name is Caesar. I started using 'thecaes' as part of my email address because some insolent name-stealing jerk already was using 'caesar'. So I've been using 'thecaes' ever since in most of my internet stuff.
Ta daaa!
Submitted by Wisher (user info) at 2005-12-31 12:15:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This was really well written, and with a gorgeous horse pic. I always wonder about user names here. Many are easily understood: for instance, redskieslookfake, well, red skies do look fake. But yours is one of the ones that I cannot crack the code on.
Google offered 20,000 suggestions, one was:
Red Bull Brings Demanding Mountain Sports Relay Race to the US
The CAES won both the amateur and professional categories in at the Red Bull ...
The CAES squad, Team Internet Billboard/OpavaNet, finished second, ...
bikemag.com/news/redbulldivide_final/ - 37k - Cached - Similar pages
(Yes I'm bored.)
I will check back later and see if you've explained your name- maybe you'd like to remain mysterious. Anyhow, i like your story.
Submitted by joedaddy (user info) at 2005-12-31 06:13:39 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2005-12-31 03:25:51 (#)
Ranking: 2
You and Jack should get together.....
******************************************
there go's Bubba, horsing around again and talking to equines....nag nag nag
Submitted by c1ndy (user info) at 2005-12-31 06:13:04 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm-Not-Jack-McCallum either
Submitted by joedaddy (user info) at 2005-12-31 04:32:10 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Harlan sounds a little like "Big Jake" McCandles (1971)
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2005-12-31 03:25:51 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
You and Jack should get together.....
Submitted by MandaPanda (user info) at 2005-12-31 02:40:04 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I didn't read it, but that's a *gorgeous* horse.
Sorry, it's almost 3am. I'm sure it was good.
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-12-31 02:19:48 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Holy Jesus, this is long.
Whoops.
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-12-31 02:19:00 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
DISCLAIMER: I am not horning in on Jack's racket, to use 1950's ganster lingo. I am also not continuing this story. Noooooooo 29 part epics. Just one shot. BAM! Done.
Mostly, this is something for Jack to play with. Something for him to bounce other elements of his story off of. Surprise, Jackie-boy!
In the writing of this I learned that horses cannot vomit, and that the phrase 'go on a bender' comes from the Old West (because you have to bend your elbow to take a drink).
I've also learned that writing for 5 hours straight makes me pretty aggravated with the subject matter.