Gun Work: The Further Exploits of Hayden Tilden

Table of Contents

 

 

Carl flashed a death-dealing grin. Hissed, “Them two snaky bastards in back're already dead where they stand. Just don't know it yet.”

Brought my hands up as though surrendering to the circumstances. Stood, then edged sidewise into the aisle. Thought for sure everything was going right well, till the feller fired a shot into the seat back right in front of me. Big gob of dust, wood splinters, leather seat covering, and horsehair padding flew into the air, then rained down on everything within three feet of where I drew to a quick, unflinching stop.

Thunderous ear splitter of a pistol shot inside the confines of that coach came nigh on to being deafening. The thought suddenly flashed across my mind that the crazy bastards who'd just stormed into our midst might well kill us all . . .

“A writer who can tell a great adventure with authority and wit.”

—John S. McCord, author of the Baynes Clan novels

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Lawdog
should assume its rightful place beside other Western classics.”

—Peter Brandvold, author of
Rogue Lawman: Border Snakes

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Lawdog
has it all. I couldn't put it down.”

—Jack Ballas, author of
A Town Afraid

“J. Lee Butts is one fine Western writer whose stories have a patina of humor; nonstop action . . . and a strong sense of place.”

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Roundup Magazine

 

GUN WORK
HELL TO PAY
WRITTEN IN BLOOD
NATE COFFIN'S REVENGE
AMBUSHED
BAD BLOOD
A BAD DAY TO DIE
BROTHERHOOD OF BLOOD
HELL IN THE NATIONS
LAWDOG

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

 

GUN WORK

 

A Berkley Book / published by arrangement with the author

 

PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley edition / February 2010

Copyright © 2010 by J. Lee Butts.

 

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eISBN : 978-1-101-18509-4

 

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Special thanks to Kimberly Lionetti for keeping the ball rolling. And to Sandy Harding at Berkley for taking the reins and lettin' 'er buck. Big sweeping wave of the sombrero to Linda McKinley for continuing to work for free in spite of numerous wounds suffered in a wrasslin' match with her pet mule. And a special nod to Diane Estes, who reads my stuff and without fail always tells me how good it is.

“Tut! I have done a thousand dreadful things As willingly as one would kill a fly!”

—Shakespeare,
Titus Andronicus,
Act V, Scene 1.

“Friar Barnardine: Thou hast committed . . .
Barabas: Fornication? But that was in another country.
And besides, the wench is dead.”

—Christopher Marlowe,
The Jew of Malta,
Act 4, Scene 1.

“Women are like tricks by sleight of hand, Which to admire, we should not understand.”

—William Congreve,
Love for Love,
Act 4, Scene 3.

“How early murder is discovered!”

—Shakespeare,
Titus Andronicus,
Act II, Scene 3.

THE FOLLOWING FEW pages constitute a restored version of interview notes hand recorded by now-deceased former
Arkansas Gazette
reporter Franklin J. Lightfoot Jr. While the original rendering of this particular conversation is difficult to read at best, every possible effort has been made by the author to bring to life, for the reader, one of Mr. Lightfoot's later meetings with former Deputy U.S. Marshal Hayden Tilden.

Although it cannot be independently confirmed, it is believed that when this meeting took place Deputy Marshal Tilden had recently celebrated his ninetieth birthday. Tilden was, at that time, still considered one of the most stalwart former members of Judge Isaac C. Parker's cadre of two hundred valiant law enforcement officers. Men who had plied their dangerous, and often deadly, trade in the Indian Territories between 1875 and 1896.

The daunting task of renewing Mr. Lightfoot's scribbled observations for publication was accomplished by way of an in-depth study and use of the man's personal writing techniques. His methods are readily observable in other, more accessible question-and-answer sessions conducted with Marshal Tilden on any of a number of previous methodically chronicled occasions.

From all that can be legitimately determined, by way of thorough examination of the available record, this particular tale appears to have emerged from Mr. Lightfoot's impromptu interview with Deputy Marshal Tilden on April 17, 1949, at the Rolling Hills Home for the Aged in Little Rock, Arkansas.

For those readers who might harbor a special interest, all of the prolific Mr. Lightfoot's carefully crafted, wonderfully detailed, day-by-day memoirs, notebooks, and other pertinent historical papers are open to the public for examination through prior arrangement with the Arkansas State Historical Society's Archives Division. Their offices are located on the grounds of the Old State House Museum at 300 West Markham Street in Little Rock, Arkansas.

Stopped by to look in on my good friend Tilden. Raining to beat the band. Blue-black sky, thunder and pitchfork lightning abounded. Took a handful of Tilden's favorite cigars and four half-pint bottles of rye whiskey with me. From past discussions I've determined that the old lawman hides the contraband in secret places all over his room. Claims that he only indulges at late hours of the night when the nurses tend not to be on the prowl. Not sure I put much credence in his declarations of restraint.

Found the old man and his cat, the formidable General Black Jack Pershing, napping beneath the concealing limbs of a potted plant on the retirement home's sunporch. As always, the yellow-striped, notch-eared feline awakened as soon as I took a seat. Imperial-acting beast presented me with a sneering, disdainful glare that revealed a broken front tooth. Immediately jumped out of Tilden's lap and prissed away with its fuzzy tail hiked in the air. Near as I'm able to ascertain, the cat refuses to have contact with anyone other than Tilden. Well, with the possible exception of nurse Heddy McDonald. Tilden and the cat appear much taken with the girl.

For a man of such advanced years—he's eighty-nine or ninety now, I think (have always felt he lies about his age, so he could be older)—Tilden's robust appearance still amazes me. Tall, muscular, and only a bit stooped, the man sports a leonine mane of steel-gray hair, droopy moustache, a stub-bled beard that gives him a rugged unshaven appearance, still has most of his own teeth, and looks at least twenty years younger than his true age (whatever that might be) would indicate.

Evidently women tend to agree with this observation. I've noticed he's a particular favorite with many of the youngest and prettiest nurses. Seems as though attractive young women are often nearby anytime I stop in for a visit, including the stunning Miss McDonald. The old man appears to genuinely enjoy female company. He once told me that the average young woman tended to be far better company than any of the smartest men he'd ever met.

Took my usual seat and opened the conversation with, “Hope you're feeling well today, Hayden.”