Edited

Edited

Edited

Edited

Been clearing up the old site and found these -

Capt. Delbert Sluttpuppy stuffed another credit into the garter of the stripper on the bar in front of him.
She leaned down and whispered, “Why don’t we go upstairs for awhile, Del? You know I miss you, baby.”
Delbert leaned on the bar, looked around at the other women, some he ‘knew’ others he wanted to get to know better. But Sparkles was well worth the time…and money, so he agreed.

The next morning he dressed, washed what was exposed in the sink, and shook glitter out of his clothes before heading back to his ship. Delbert was between jobs again and was nearing the point where he’d have to find real work again. He was crew-less again, unable and unwilling to pay them to just sit around.
So he was spending his time in the local bars listening to see who needed what moved where and was willing to pay. His free time was spent catching up on repairs to the ship, cheap repairs.

*****

Little Sam Boston had a problem, well four problems. His former boss was beginning to stink things up around the warehouse. He needed to get rid of his body, preferably off planet. Not to mention the bodies of Big Barge LeBarge’s body guards. So Sam went looking for someone who could lose a cargo box between planets.
He found Delbert smoking a cigar, sitting outside Larry’s Pub drinking a pitcher of beer, holding a “Need Work” sign. Delbert was talking with three other guys and a prostitute, laughing.
Sam figured that this clown would do the job rather nicely. He'd seen this Sluttpuppy guy do questionable, non-union work before. It took a few minutes and a bottle of rum to negotiate the deal. Delbert would take a shipment of old ship parts up to the moon to sell for scrap. Delbert bought the parts for the cash in his pocket, about $56. He’d then get to keep all profits of the sale, after spacing one box of trash.

Delbert knew of Sam. He’d worked for LeBarge before a time or two, usually getting the short end of the deal. Maybe working with Sam, and having a little leverage from the start, would be the beginning of a new working relationship.

Later that night he was off planet, rummaging the pockets of Vintrino LeBarge and his body guards as he unloaded them from the cargo box and laid them out on the entry ramp. He’d learned long ago that people rarely empty the pockets of their victims. All in all he picked up a couple thousand dollars worth of gold chains and rings, cash, credits cards, and four rather nice pistols. He also got several good pictures of the bodies before spacing them.

Next he scavenged trough the crates of parts, taking anything he could use or resale on his own. The rest of his trip was spent on more repairs.
The next evening found him on the moon, a little wealthier, with a full tank of fuel, and no prospects. Sam acknowledged their working relationship once he had word that all had gone well, but had no work that wasn’t union available yet.




Delbert was leaning on the bar, talking to one of the dancing girls, buying drinks for the place.
He was working one hand up her frilled dress when some one grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.
“Hey mother-fucker…!”

Delbert ducked as he turned and came up under the other man’s swing with a solid fist into the other guy’s bread basket, knocking the wind from him. His left went to the smaller man’s right cheek and his right jab set the guy back in the bar’s dirt floor.
Delbert spit on him, “I may have fucked your mother, but if I did…I overpaid.”
He looked up to see three of the guys friends looking ready to grab iron. In an instant he filled his fists with his own guns. “I don’t know what the problem is here, but you boys just better back the fuck off.”

They raised their hands, “No problems man. Jack just though you had his girl, but seems he’ll have to wait his turn.” Two of them picked up their friend and carried him outside while the other watched their backs.

“You like to fight?” came a question from his elbow.”

Delbert looked down at the weasel-faced man in a bowler.

“Sometimes. Depends on what I gain from it.”

“And what did you gain there?”

“I‘d hoped to be able to finish my drink in peace and maybe get back to getting’ to know Sheila here.” He ordered another round, “What’ve you got in mind?”

“A fight.”

“Of course.” Delbert waited the man out.

“My prize fighter got picked up after knocking his old lady and her new boyfriend around. Killed the guy. So I need someone that can fill in. Thousand bucks. Another thousand if you make it last and look good.”

“When?”

“Two days. This ain’t legal, but it’s not to the death or anything. Just pit boxing for cash.”

“Where?”

“Meet me here. About six. The place ain’t far.”

*****

So two days and a couple hours later, Delbert went dancing.
He’d never heard of pit boxing, but as his wasn’t the first fight he got a quick review: Two men, in a 10x10 foot pit. There apparently weren’t any real rules or styles, just brawling. And not fighting to the death was only an option if your opponent decided so.

When it was his turn Delbert climbed down in the pit and saw that it felt much smaller when his massive frame was in it. He hadn’t thought until not to ask who he was going up against.

The man than jumped down in the ring made him feel small, and very cramped in this hole.

“Bru-Glar smash you like bitty bug!” the giant roared and laughed. Bru-glar was at least seven foot tall and weight half again as much as Delbert. He looked like some mutant out of a vid game with his scars, tattoos and evil, gap-toothed grin.

Delbert nearly pissed himself. He decided the extra thousand wasn’t worth it, but that he might not have much choice but to make it last and look good doing it. He truly doubed his ability to put this monster down quickly, but he was sure going to try.

“You’re about an ugly sumbitch,” Delbert said walking across with his hand out as if to shake.

Bru-Glar grabbed his hand and pulled Delbert in close to squeeze him. Which is what Delbert had been hoping for. His fist hit the brute’s solar plexus with that much extra force. Delbert turned, locked the elbow and pulled with all his strength. The snap could be heard over the cheering.

Bru-Glar, a brute used to smashing smaller people to pulp screamed like nothing you can imagine.

Delbert didn’t stop moving he grabbed a fistful of groin and was surprised to find it severely lacking, parts were missing, so he drop and gave a solid kick to Bru-Glar’s left knee, giving hi leg a new bend.

Arm and leg flopping grossly, Bru-Glar went down screaming in pain.

Delbert was amped, he kicked the giant in the side of the temple three quick times, knocking him out with his silver toed boot, nearly kicking the man’s skull in. Before crawling out, he took note of the big man’s handlers and hurried out of the hole.

Bowler hat was waiting with money in hand, “You could have done better. Take this and jump planet him. Now you’d better take this and jump planet. Bru-Glar and his brothers are going to kill you. Maybe me too.”

“Your problem, you set me up. You’re luck I don’t kill ya.” He took his money and guns from the little man and headed through the crowd to one of the many exits. He checked his guns and belted them on, carrying both openly until he got to his room.

He quickly packed his things, said good-bye to Sheila and hurried to his ship…where they were waiting for him, of course.
Delbert had a round-about way of getting places, so he saw them first, hanging around the ship with sub-machine guns in hand. He took his rifle from it’s case and hid his things carefully. He put the rifle together and began hunting. Circling the ship he managed to shoot three men before the others realized it and took cover, spraying bullets wildly.
Immediately alarms sounded and the shuttle port’s security started on its way over. The police sirens joined in moments later.
Delbert made another circle picking off two more, gathering his belongings, heading off for a new hotel under a new set of idents. It took him two days to get cleared and off-world after selling the rifle.
All in all, the thousand was not worth it.



Delbert had walked into Smokey’s Bar like he did every night and found a cop sitting at his table. He might have bought it, but Jenny, his favorite girl whispered about the gun in the cop’s lap as she gave him a drink. Delbert took the drink in his left hand and saw from the way the cop was sitting, he was indeed holding out under the table. But even knowing they were going to try to kill him, Delbert didn’t want trouble. He decided to get out while he still could and forget about the money this time. Then he saw that Bloody Murphy had come in the door behind him and Pickles Pete stood up at the other end of the bar.
They had him covered and weren’t playing games this time. Jenny saw what was going to happen and quickly went for the shotgun behind the bar.

Delbert waited, he knew what was coming and he was ready. Besides, this was nothing new, and that was his advantage. Both doors were blocked by a man with a gun and the window was barred, if he was leaving, it would be with his guns in hand.
The cop was clean cut with red-rimmed eyes. He looked up and grinned, “What’s this I hear about you threatening to kill a cop, Sluttpuppy?”
“Do what?” Delbert asked as if coming out of a daydream, “Sorry, what’d you say?” He set his glass down and turned to look at the cop putting his left hand in line with Pickles.
The other three had planned on a denial, they were tensed, ready to shoot, but he wasn’t following along.
“Say what?” Delbert hadn’t threatened any cops, and didn’t know this one at all.
They were caught off guard, they couldn’t shoot a man what was day dreaming away, not when they’d planned to have witnesses on their side.

The cop looked around and repeated himself, “I heard you were threatening cops.” It sounded as lame as it was, but they hadn’t expected Delbert’s response. What happened next hadn’t been planned either.

Delbert reached out and tipped the table over away from the cop, showing the gun laying bare in his lap. Someone gasped, but the room stilled. Everyone saw that the cop had been planning murder, shooting Delbert without an even break from under cover.

The cop turned red and grabbed for the gun, “You son of a….”

Delbert shot him in the face with his right hand and shot Pickles with his left. He walked right at Murphy ignoring the other man’s gun and gut shot him three times.

Jenny yelled at him to run and he did, hitting the door with his shoulder and rolling into the street where three more cops were waiting by his car. They drew and fired and he fired back before taking to his feet at a full out run.

He’d run for his apartment, where he picked up his backpack and rifle, bailing out the window and going to the roof tops. Now he was soaking wet from the hips down and still being followed. Luckily helicopters were useless with all the buildings.

Delbert crawled out of the muddy water and ducked behind a wrecked car. He was pissed. “If they follow me this far, they’re asking for it!”
For three hours he’d been running through the city using every trick and turn known to a street rat, yet they clung to him like pit-bulls. That’s what came from killing a cop. The fact that it was self defense mattered not a whit.
That was what you got being the last man on the losing side of a gang war. All his friends were gone now save Murder Cole, and he was still bandaged up in that vet’s office sleeping in a dog kennel.
The people of Campo de Loco weren’t the toughest in the fight, and they were simply too honest for this type of turf war. Lincoln Evans and his gang had no problem hurting innocent bystanders, especially since they had several dirty cops on their side. Delbert’s skills and guns just hadn’t been enough this time.
Not, he admitted, that those of the Camp were angels themselves. They’d roughed up a couple merchants here and there when cash was short. He’d personally run a few cars to the chop shops himself, but who didn’t these days?
Tumble Jack and Bodie had been good men, but Tumble had been killed early on and Bodie fought fair, and that wasn’t any way to win against Lincoln and his boys. Bodie had plenty of family in Campo de Loco, so there hadn’t been much peace since.
Delbert was a gun man, and had been brought in as one. Unfortunately Lincoln knew it. He wouldn’t face Delbert alone, instead they set him up.

He took a moment to reload then stood and stretched, looking around for his next escape route. While he had a minute, he pulled off his silver toed boots and slipped on his running shoes from his pack. He saw flashing lights and knew they were coming. For some reason there were only men form Lincoln’s gang. They hadn’t called legit law in yet. He only had a little way to get to his ship and get off world. He waited a few minutes more and used his rifle to shoot down one more before lighting out again.
Delbert hated running, but they’d lost this fight. If he could get off-world, he’d feel lucky enough. There it was and he’d lost them for a moment. Delbert unlocked his ship and hurried to the bridge. He was just starting up when he saw them come into the space port, three cars and several on foot. But they were too late, he was airborn with them shooting into his ship’s belly in mere moments. He’d made it one more time.



Sprawled on his face in the dirt, the man wasn’t quite dead. The rifle near his hand hadn’t been fired. He lay as he had fallen two hours ago when the bullets knocked him from the saddle. The dark stain spread under his body was from blood caked card, dried by the baking sun.

Above him stood Devil’s Tower, a massive pillar of stone looming above the valley’s barren waste.

Under the sun’s baking heat the muscles in the man’s back twitched. The muscles stilled and the man lay motionless. However the tiny movement seemed to restart life in the man and conciousness began to trickle back into his brain.

He lay there a long time, his mind completely blank, before he came aware of his position. His stillness finally confused him and he began to wonder at it’s cause.

Then as pain flooded back he remembered everything.
He knew he’d been shot. And, knowing the men who’d shot him, he knew he’d been left for dead. He was also aware of the advantage he now had. Being dead had its uses.

Laying still, he mentally explored his body. From the dull throb in his head, he figured at least one bullet had clipped his skull. There was also a stiffness down low in his right side.

He couldn’t lay here all day. He had to get out of the sun before he was completely dehydrated. Then he must figure out what to do next, take stock of his situation. Right now the heat and his own thirst would kill him faster than his wounds or the men that had caused them.

Derlbert carefully stretched his arms and legs, feeling no new pains and carefully got to his hands an knees. The sight of his own blood bothered him a little, but he was glad to see it wasn’t still pouring from his body.
He felt his head and determined it was only a scalp wound, nothing more. He no doubt had a concussion, but he’d be fine. The wound in his belly was much worse, and from the blood caked to his shirt, pants, and the dirt below him, he must have lost plenty of blood. He was a little dizzy and nauseous, but knew he could move for now.

He retrieved the pistol that had come from it’s holster and his rifle. At least he had something to sorta lean on. The shot that had pitched him from the saddle had come without warning. Even with rifle in hand, he’d tried to draw his pistol. It was one of those instinctive actions, natural to a man much dependant upon that weapon. Due much more to conditioning than considered thought.

He got to his feet, leaning on his rifle, and felt his stomach and back, happy to learn the bullet had gone straight through. His belly was caked with dirt, and his back clotted over. Looking around he saw his horse was long gone, leaving him afoot in the desert. In this country that was a death sentence to a healthy man.

He slowly and carefully headed for Devil’s Tower, at least there would be shade there. And water. He’d often watered his horse at the hidden little spring there when riding out here the last few weeks. Thank god he listened to Doc Tamberlane when the old man talked about this desert.

Weakness flooded him as he came to the Tower and he not-so-gently lowered himself to a sitting position in the shade. The water was still around the other side, but he imagined he could smell it from here. He sat there filled with a sickening fear of death. His vision faded and he saw he was bleeding again.
He wanted to live, desperately so. He wanted to get back to the job. He wanted to shoot the guys who’d ambushed him. Shoot them in the face. Mainly he want to not die out here in the shadows, forgotten in the desert.

Realisticly he was dead. Might as well suck on the barrel of his pistol and take it easily. The town he’d rode out from was twenty miles behind him. On foot it may have well been the friggin’ moon. Mormon’s Run, the town he was going to was still ten miles ahead through the pass at the edge of this desert.

At least water wasn’t too far distant. He headed for it, crawling with his rifle. When he got to the little spring, not much more than a wash basin sized bowl of water, he drank until he threw up, which nearly made him pass out. The next time he drank slowly, resting between swallows. Then he washed his head and other wounds, wrapping them best he could with strips torn from his shirt and the pigging string from his pocket. He stayed put until darkness fell, bathing himself and drinking his fill, dozing in the cool evening. He began feeling much better.

He was picking up his rifle to get going when a hoof striking stone froze him. Then he saw the horse. His horse!

“Creet! Well I’ll be damned!”

The horse jerked his head up and stopped. Delbert spoke quietly and gently, drawing the thirsty horse in until he got a hand on it’s bridle. He let the horse drink and nearly wept for joy.
Obviously, the horse had escaped, running away when Delbert had been knocked from his back. The horse had no doubt grazed and came searching for water when things had calmed. When the horse had drank it’s fill, Delbert climbed into the saddle and headed for the trail.

As he rode, Delbert considered things. He was weak from blood loss, but knew now that he would make it back to town okay. It was not only important that he get back to town, but reached it in condition to act. So what was he going to do when he got there?

He knew Passman was one of his ambushers. He was the only one who knew where Delbert was going today. Hazel-eyed-Betty knew he was coming, but she was more than eager for his company, he felt he could still trust the woman. He was sure he’d seen Mathy out of the corner of his eye, but it happened too quick to be sure. If Mathy was there, his brother would be too. He’d had a couple run ins with the twins, but nothing to cause this. Unless….

He’d been hired out to see who’d been rustling cattle off the ranch. And he was close to figuring it all out. He knew who’d picked them up, and where, and was working on who the actual rustlers were. He must have come closer than he thought. So he reviewed what had happened over the last couple days as he rode along.

He’d been out the other side of Green River back tracking the trail…he’d snapped some pictures of the hoof prints and was going to look over the ranch horses to see if any matched. He’d just missed the riders from the looks of their trail.

When he got to the ranch he was heading to the corral as the twins were unsaddling. They’d been over in the eastern meadows rounding up strays. Their horses were lathered up from a hard ride but he’d thought nothing of it. Most of the cowboys let their horses race back at the end of the day.

When he started looking over the other horses, Mathy came and got in his face about where he’d been all day when there was real work to be done around the place. But before anything came of it Denton pulled him back and they went to the house for dinner.

Passman was the ranch foreman, and while cordial, didn’t think Delbert was really needed. He felt that a hired gun would just cause trouble and spoke up against Delbert’s actions every chance he got. He was always trying to send Delbert out to help the other hands…usually away from the Green River area.

It all looked too simple looking back on it. Especially since he was sure it was Mathy he’d seen shooting at him.

Rustlers were still hung out here on these back water planets. Which was reason enough to not want to get caught at it. Apparently his reputation was enough that they hadn’t dared face him.

The town was pretty quiet when he topped the hill looking down over the little hollow Mormon’s Run sat in. There were a couple horses in front of the saloon that looked familiar. Apparently the twins needed a drink after their dirty work today.
Delbert rode around the rim and saw that Betty still had a light on. He rode down to the backside of her place and quietly crept up to her window. And was glad he did. He heard voices inside, so he listened a moment.

“What I Say,” Betty stated, “Is that you give me my money now. I want to be shut of all this already. Your boys say he’s dead then I want my cut.”

A shadow stepped to the window and Delbert ducked lower, it was Passman.

“He ain’t dead till someone goes out and finds him so tomorrow. Or what the coyotes and buzzards leave anyway. And you get paid when I say so. I’ve still got to get two more shipments out before I can buy the Flying L out from under ol’ Butch. Then money will be something you’ll never have to worry over when you move out there with me.”

“But I’ve got expenses now. Besides, lover, I like living here in town…”

Delbert ducked away and headed for his horse. He could go to the saloon and shoot it out. He could wait for Passman and shoot him on Betty’s doorstep. But he’d rather stay dead awhile and see how that worked out for him. He let his horse drink at the trough and turned back for the Flying L as fast as he was comfortable riding.

To Be Continued:


Continued {This ends a little lamely, but hey...it works}:

It was morning before he got near the ranch. Delbert tied his horse in a little creek bed and walked to where he could watch the place. He waited until everyone had ridden out before walking in.
He found Doc in the kitchen cleaning up breakfast. The old man nearly had a heart attack when he saw the bloody mess Delbert was in. After a little explanation, Doc got him fresh clothes from his gear in the bunk house and rebandaged his wounds. Together they worked out the details of Delbert’s plan while he ate. Delbert wrote out the notes he needed and hurried away before anyone came back for lunch.

From the brush he saw Doc hitch the wagon and head for Mormon’s run for supplies about ten minutes after he’d left. Doc was going to ‘find’ and bury his body, and find the notes he’d written to Butch about his foreman and the twins rustling. He then headed out to Green river for the afternoon.

That night he met Doc out at the creek for some more planning and a late dinner.

The next day Doc and Butch and several other cow hands herded Passman and the twins out across Green river where they found a couple hundred head of cattle waiting in a brush pen. It had taken Delbert all day to find it, but the cattle were there, waiting. He had also called down the buyer, who was waiting patiently for Butch and Passman to explain things.

Delbert waited for the initial commotion to settle down before he stepped out of the buyer’s cargo bay, pistols loose in their holsters.
Butch was the first to react to the dead man, “Well, I guess I’ll have to pay a dead man today.”
“That’s the plan. This is Jake Freemantle. He’s been a pretty solid buyer of your cattle, and for a pretty good price for both of you for awhile now. He’s got the receipts to show that he’s been buying from Passman for months. He can verify that the Barkers there were with him every time. As for them shooting me, watching a few rustlers hang will ease my wounds just fine….”

“You lying dog!” Mathy said grabbing for his gun.

Delbert shot him, in the face, turning his gun on his brother, who dropped his gun in the dirt. The horses all jumped and shied at the noise and smell of blood, but they were quickly calmed.

In the end Denton would have accepted the noose, but Passman begged and pleaded and bought their freedom by returning the money for all the cattle he’d sold. They earned a trip off world by the next boat leaving and a future visit from Delbert.