AN OLD TIMER'S LAST JOB
Occasionally the Old Timer has to tell a tale that he’s not
sure is true. I never knew Slouch
Hawkins, but Stan Fowler’s dad knew the whole Hawkins family. They lived on the
east side of Crying Cat Mountain. Stan told me several tales that his dad told
him about Slouch. I suspect that most of those tales are true. Slouch Hawkins was a bounty hunter.
No one knew his real name, but the ones who knew him called him “Slouch”.
He was neither a handsome man nor a well-dressed one. Dirty overalls and a
whiskered face pretty well described him. He didn’t even wear a gun belt, but
the big pocket on the right hand side of the overalls held a six shooter that
had killed several men. Actually, he seemed to prefer bringing in his victims
dead. He had been tracking Byron Byrd,
wanted for robbery and murder, for several days and had come to the wooded
cattle country of central It was about noon when Slouch
smelled smoke and cautiously made his way toward a small fire at the
edge of a grassy meadow. A man was huddled over the fire, apparently eating his noonday meal. The day was a little
chilly and the fire probably felt pretty good. The hunter crept up to within ten feet of the man, whose back
was toward him, and looked him over for a short time. The suspect had brought a sack lunch with him
and was warming pieces of meat impaled on a stick over the little fire. Slouch felt sure this was
the man he was looking for, but
it was hard to tell from behind. He was about the right size. Slouch pulled out the pistol and
pulled the hammer back. The slight click alerted the diner and he turned his
head toward the noise. Slouch made a split-second examination of the face and aimed and pulled the trigger. The
victim fell forward into the fire and lay still. The
killer caught the body by the foot and pulled it free of the coals, then booted
it over
on its back where he could get a good look. He was satisfied. The man’s horse
was grazing a few yards away in
the meadow. It took only a few minutes to bring the animal around and throw the lifeless body across the
saddle. It was late in the afternoon when he
rode into Browntown, the county seat. He was leading the horse and its
lifeless burden behind him. He had never been here before, but it was easy
enough to spot the sheriff’s office. He had found enough of them in his career
and the word “sheriff”
was one of the few words he could read - another one was “saloon”. He walked arrogantly into the office and
handed the poster to the sheriff. “I brought in Byron Byrd. He’s outside.
I’d like to get the $1000 reward.” “Who are
you?” asked the sheriff. Slouch replied, “I’m Slouch Hawkins, bounty hunter.” The
sheriff walked out the door, motioning for Slouch to follow him. The victim was hanging across the
saddle with his face turned toward the horse. He turned the head around and looked into the face. Turning to
Slouch, he said, “This is Tim Walker, a ranch hand for Bill Newsome.” “Nope, that’s Byron. I never make a
mistake. I’m entitled to the reward.” “Did you check for the scar on the
left shoulder that the poster mentions, and the missing big toe on the
right foot?” “Didn’t know about them,” answered
Slouch, “but the picture fits close enough. I can’t read.” The
sheriff pulled the shirt back, there was no scar. He didn’t bother to take the
boot off for a toe inspection. “Slouch, Byron Byrd was captured
here in town two days ago. He’s in the jail now; face scar, missing toe
and all that. You are under arrest for the murder of Tim Walker. Slouch’s right hand reached for the revolver in his pocket, but before he
could draw the weapon the
sheriff had a heavy .45 in his hand and pounded it heavily across old Slouch’s
head. Without hesitation he fell to the
ground and the sheriff grabbed him by his long hair and dragged him to the jail. With a sluggish grin he pushed the
body into the small cell where Bryon Byrd was lying on a stone couch
covered by a folded wagon sheet. As he slammed and locked the door, he gave Slouch a final suggestion: “You are in
the same cell with Byron now. You shouldn’t have any trouble finding the right man. But the reward has already been
claimed!” |