"I know that Bob. I’m just looking for a way out for us all. You guys know I didn’t kill that man in cold blood. In fact he had the drop on me and I just got lucky. If he hadn’t pushed it no one would have got hurt at all."
"Maybe so, John. But all I have to go on is your word for that. If you can prove it you don’t have anything to worry about. I can’t just take your word and turn you loose, can I?"
As they were talking the black clouds were building up over the mountains behind the hiding posse. It was just about time for the usual evening shower. But this one didn’t look like it was going to be just a shower. Those clouds appeared to be blacker than John had seen for quite a while. This might be what he was looking for.
"I suppose not, Bob. I just thought two old friends might be able to work something out. It ain’t like I robbed the bank and put the town out of business."
"I know that, John, but some folks pitied old Tom. I know he wasn’t much but he seemed like a harmless old guy and some folks won’t buy your story."
As the conversation wound its leisurely way around the topic of John’s guilt or innocence he was busy gathering his gear together. He took his poncho and bedroll from his saddle, took down the saddle bags and removed the food he had in there. Precious little at that. Some beef jerky, some stale biscuits and a little packet of salt were about it. These and his canteen and weapons were all he could carry on foot.
Glancing around the abandoned ranch he had chosen for his stand, John could see that there was no way he could hold the posse off until dark. If they worked their way around to the ridge behind him he would then be subject to direct fire which would surely result in his death or capture. At the same time if he tried to hide in the barn or old broken down ranch-house he could be trapped.
Continuing the conversation with the Sheriff, he looked over the ground around him. There was a swale starting about twenty five yards from the barn that dropped sharply to disappear over the rim less than two hundreds yard away. If he could get into that he might have a chance to get away. If he could only hold them off until dark or the storm hit?
"Bob, you still there?"
"Yes, I’m still here and so are my boys. We aren’t going to let you off the hook, John. It just won’t happen." replied the Sheriff. "Why don’t you just give up and let us get in out of this heat?"
"Now, Bob, you know with my reputation I don’t have a chance. Those folks back there in town never did like having me around and they liked old Tom. Where does that leave me?"
The Sheriff was taking it easy under a big cottonwood tree, waiting for the heat and pressure of being hunted to take its toll on John. He knew even a tough old hand like John would begin to feel the effects before too long. He wasn’t watching the sky behind him.
"Well. John, you’ll just have to take your chances. Maybe they won’t think a noose is the answer. Maybe they’ll just ask for few years in Yuma. I’ll do my best to convince them you were forced into it. After all, old Tom could be mean when he was drinking."
"You know that, Bob, and I know that but I don’t think the people of Cottondale are going to be interested in letting me go just because old Tom had a temper. They all think I’m a bad guy they’d be better off without."
Just then the first roll of thunder sounded over the mountains. John gathered his gear into a single pack he could carry in his left hand with the rifle in the right so he could defend himself. He scanned the ridge line but didn’t see any movement. He knew he would have only a short time to make the rim before they would realize what he had done.
The storm moved in swiftly, the wind quickly rose to almost gale proportions and the dust began to fill the air until John could hardly see the tree line where the Sheriff and his men were holed up. He grabbed his pack and rifle and darted for the swale. Just as he dropped almost out of sight the Sheriff must have got suspicious. The rifle fire started again, spraying the barnyard and house with bullets which would surely have caused John much discomfort if he had still been there.
When he didn’t get any answer to his fire he ordered the men to mount and rush the barnyard. Much to his chagrin they found their quarry had skipped.
"Damn. I knew he was slick but I didn’t think he could get out of there without us seeing him. Spread out and see if you can find his tracks." The Sheriff was really disgusted with himself for letting John pull one on him. He didn’t care much if John got away. It was just that he didn’t take kindly to being outsmarted.
The rain started and Bob was afraid they were too late to find any tracks but shortly there was a shout from one of his Deputies.
"Over here Sheriff. He went down this swale. Looks like he had time to get away."
The Sheriff rushed over and looked down the swale. Sure enough he could see John’s tracks in the dirt. It was lucky we found them when we did, he thought. In this rain a few more minutes and we wouldn’t have known where he went.
"All right. Let’s wrap it up and get back to town. No sense staying around here." The Sheriff sounded angry and no one really wanted to question his decision but they wondered why they weren’t going to follow.
"But Sheriff, aren’t we going after him? He can’t get very far in this rain." One of them got up enough nerve to ask.
"You don’t know this country, do you?" asked the Sheriff.
"No Sir, I don’t."
"Neither did John," sighed the Sheriff. "Too bad, too. He wasn’t really a bad man. Just a little too quick with a gun now and then. But it looks like he took his last ride. That swale leads into an arroyo that will be a torrent in the next ten minutes. It will sweep everything from here to the desert. Unfortunately for John there is no place for him to climb out once he drops over that rim down there."
Wheeling his horse around, he hollered above the rising wind, "Let’s go home."