Bear Claws

by Robert Lee Murphy

  “He is? Great. He can arrange the shipment of the count’s smelly hides back East. Get them off my hands, finally.” Will laughed.

  “I’ll ask him to be here first thing in the morning,” Jenny said.

  “Sounds like we’ve got a plan. I’ll bring Elspeth. You can get her into the coach before the count and the main hunting party arrive. Once that string of pack horses comes into view, Kavanagh will know Count von Schroeder is back. You’ll need to get moving quickly once the count’s onboard.” Will grunted when he stood.

  “What was that groan?” Jenny ask. “You that worn out?”

  “Just a bear scratch.”

  “What do you mean, just a bear scratch?”

  Will told her about the run-in with the grizzly and the buffalo sinew stitching the Shoshone woman had done. He pulled his buckskin jacket open and pointed out the rips in his wool shirt, which Elspeth had repaired for him.

  “Let me see that bandage,” Jenny said.

  “Elspeth’s been nursing me. She rewrapped me before we left the Shoshone camp.” Will unbuttoned his shirt and revealed the bandage that encircled his rib cage. Steaks of dried blood showed through the faded white cloth.

  “Take that shirt off and sit down. I’m going to change that bandage.”

  Jenny took the shirt from Will and laid it on the table. She slowly peeled the stained cloth off the wounds, causing only minor bleeding in a few places. She leaned forward to study the wounds and touched one of the sinew stitches.

  “Ow,” he said. “That hurts.”

  “That’s some neat stitching. That Shoshone woman probably makes fine clothing too.” Jenny looked up at Will and grinned.

  “Very funny,” he said.

  “You’re getting so full of holes,” she said, “I’ll soon be able to look right through you. First an arrow, then a knife, and now a bear’s claws.” She poked one of the old wounds in his left arm with her finger.

  “Humph.” He pulled his arm away from her prodding.

  “Now stand still while I wash that dried blood off.” She cleaned the wound and replaced the bandage, then handed him back his shirt. “That ought to hold you together for a while longer. Now off with you.”

  Four hours later the back door opened again, and Will escorted Jenny’s sister inside.

  “Jenny,” said Elspeth, “I’m sorry to put you in this position.”

  “Oh, forget it, Elspeth. What are sisters for?” Jenny held out her arms and smiled.

  Elspeth cuddled into her embrace. “Thank you, Jenny. I’ve been such a fool.”

  “Dear Elspeth. We all make mistakes. But what are you planning to do once we get you away from here?”

  “Wolfgang . . . I mean, Count von Schroeder has agreed to set me up as a milliner in Sacramento. But first I have to get there in one piece. Mort’s going to want to kill me.”

  “Well,” said Jenny. “Let’s see what we can do about getting you away from his clutches. You ready, Butch?”

  Jenny watched her sister look at Butch, then back to her. “Who’s Butch? And what’s he got to do with it?”

  “Well, first of all, Butch is the stagecoach driver that’s going to take you away from here in the morning. And secondly, Butch is a woman.”

  Jenny laughed when Elspeth’s mouth fell open.

  “Butch will sneak you into the coach before the others get on board,” Jenny said, “but you’d better wear my old bonnet to hide those blonde curls.”

  “I’ll leave you ladies to it,” Will said. “I’ve got to get back and bring the count’s party in. See you again at first light.” He slipped out the back door.

  CHAPTER 56

  The sun’s first rays streaked over the barren hills that rose above Green River. Will led the count’s party into the outskirts of the town that had grown up along the banks of the muddy stream and halted at the Wells Fargo station. “Hello, Jenny!” he called.

  Jenny McNabb stepped out of the front door of the station with a grin on her face. Following her out the door was Will’s uncle and the six passengers Jenny had mentioned last night.

  “Good morning, Jenny. Morning, Uncle Sean.” Will stepped out of the saddle.

  “Welcome back, Will,” his uncle said.

  Count von Schroeder, Conrad Eichhorn, and Rupert Ostermann dismounted. Homer climbed down from his horse and took the reins from the three Europeans. By the time he’d gathered up the lead ropes for all the pack horses and Ruby, he had his hands full.

  “Don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure, Count von Schroeder.” Will’s uncle extended a hand. “I’m Sean Corcoran, station manager here in Green River for the Union Pacific.”

  “Ah, the pleasure is mine.” The count clicked his heels and shook the proffered hand.

  “I understand you have some specimens to ship,” Will’s uncle said. “Inasmuch as you are a major investor in the UP, I know General Dodge would want the railroad to make the necessary arrangements for you. Where do you want them sent?”

  “To my museum in Germany. Rupert will give you the address of my shipping agent in New York and provide you with a letter of credit.” The count waved a hand in the direction of his manservant. “I and my two associates wish to travel on to Sacramento right away.”

  “I have tickets reserved for you, sir,” Jenny said. “Butch has just finished harnessing the teams and is bringing the coach forward now.”

  “Hiyah. Up.” The Concord rumbled out from behind the station.

  Will noticed a grin cross the count’s face when Elspeth, already seated inside the coach, turned her head and smiled from beneath the confines of a bonnet. “I see you have thought of everything, Herr Braddock,” the count said.

  Butch climbed down from the driver’s seat. “If you folks will be giving me your luggage, I’ll stow it in the boot.” The passengers lined up and handed their bags to Butch.

  “Herr Eichhorn,” the count said, “give me one of the Winchesters . . . and a box of ammunition.”

  Conrad Eichhorn, who had been handing luggage to Butch, paused to pass the rifle and shells to the count.

  “Herr Braddock. I present you with this Yellow Boy in appreciation for saving my life, not once but twice. First from the snakes, then from the bear.”

  Will’s mouth fell open as he reached to accept the rifle. “My goodness, sir. Thank you.” He ran an appreciative hand down the oiled stock.

  “You can sell the pack horses and split the proceeds with Homer, as a bonus.”

  Will nodded. “Thank you, again. That’s very generous, sir.”

  “It was a most successful hunting trip. I enjoyed myself immensely and accomplished almost everything I had my heart set on. Too bad I could not shoot the white buffalo, but I guess it is better to have kept my scalp.” The count laughed.

  “We all feel that way, sir,” Will said.

  “Even though I had my doubts in the beginning,” the count said, “I admit now that General Dodge made a wise choice in assigning you as my guide. You did well also in recommending Homer as a cook. He produced wonderful meals from the game we shot. When you see Lone Eagle again, give him my thanks as well. Oh, one other thing. Give this letter to General Dodge.” The count took an envelope from a pocket and handed it to Will.

  “I will, sir,” Will said.

  “Homer,” Will’s uncle said, “how about you help me move these specimens over to the depot and I’ll get to work on shipping them. You can take the horses over to the livery stable after we’ve unloaded them. I’ll bet the stable owner will buy the lot.”

  “Right you is, Mr. Corcoran.” Homer gathered up the lead ropes, turned the string of pack horses and Ruby away from the station, and followed Will’s uncle toward the railroad depot.

  “Luggage is secure,” Butch said. She appeared from behind the coach and opened the door on the passenger compartment. “Time to roll, folks. All aboard.”

  “You are Herr Conrad Eichhorn?” asked Jenny.

  “Ja.”

  “I
am sorry, but we don’t have a seat inside for all of you. Will suggested you might be willing to ride up top with the driver and serve as shotgun messenger.”

  “Ja. I would enjoy that.” Eichhorn nodded to Butch and climbed up onto the driver’s seat.

  Count von Schroeder and Rupert boarded and selected the rear facing seat beneath the driver’s box, sandwiching Elspeth between them. Jenny helped the other passengers, two couples and two single men, get settled into the remaining seats.

  “Looks like a nice day for a ride, ladies and gentlemen,” Jenny said. “I realize you folks didn’t have any choice, but Wells Fargo appreciates your business.” She folded the steps back beneath the coach’s body and pushed the door closed.

  “Hold on there!” Mortimer Kavanagh hurried up the street, an arm raised. “I need to speak to the count.”

  Count von Schroeder leaned out the front window of the coach. “Herr Kavanagh. What a pleasant surprise. You need not have come to see me off.”

  “Where’s my niece, Elspeth?” Kavanagh asked. He stood beneath the window looking up at the count.

  “Why, I do not know. Didn’t she return to your saloon already?”

  “No, she did not. It’s imperative that I speak with her immediately.”

  “There she is!” An Irish-accented brogue shouted the warning.

  Will spun around to see Paddy O’Hannigan peering from behind the station, pointing a pistol at the coach.

  “She’s hiding beneath a bonnet right there beside the count, Mort!” Paddy shouted. “If she doesn’t get out, I’ll shoot her.”

  Blam!

  A shotgun blast roared from the driver’s box. Will watched Paddy duck back out of sight as splinters flew from the roof of the building, just above his head. If Conrad Eichhorn had been a practiced shot with the stagecoach’s shotgun, Paddy would be dead.

  Will stepped forward and slapped the rear horse on the rump. “Get out of here, Butch.”

  “Hiyah!” Butch snapped her whip and the Concord coach lurched away.

  CHAPTER 57

  “I’m going after him,” Will said. He handed the box of rifle shells to Jenny. “Hold this while I load.”

  Jenny held the box open for him. “I’m going with you.”

  “No, you’re not!You stay here. Get inside. I don’t know where he is. He might come back this way.”

  “What makes you think he’d do that?”

  “I don’t know.” Will fed one shell after another into the loading gate in the side of the Winchester. “I just know Paddy’s been giving us trouble for too long. It’s time to put an end to it.”

  “What’s the meaning of all this?” Kavanagh stepped between Will and Jenny. “What was Elspeth doing hiding in the coach? Why did that shotgun messenger shoot at O’Hannigan? Why was Count von Schroeder in such a hurry to leave Green River?”

  “That’s too many questions to answer right now,” Will said.

  “I demand some explanations.” Mort Kavanagh planted his hands firmly on his hips. “What’s your sister up to?”

  Will grinned when Jenny looked at Kavanagh, raised her eyebrows, and shrugged. Dumping the remaining cartridges from the box into his pants pocket, Will raised a departing hand to Jenny, then trotted down the side of the building.

  At the back corner of the station, he knelt and studied the ground. He easily picked up the fresh boot tracks indicating the direction Paddy had headed. He’d get the Irish rascal this time. Will rose and took off at a run.

  The footprints leading away from the rear of the station toward the river pressed deeply into the soft soil, making it easy for Will to follow his prey in the early morning light. The trail made an abrupt right turn to the south where the high bank dropped away to the narrow body of water flowing below. Green River had gouged out a miniature canyon at this point, leaving steep bluffs on either side. Will paused and scanned ahead. He spotted the bowler hat a hundred yards away and raced after Paddy.

  His side throbbed with each pounding step he took along the cliff’s edge. His healing wounds from the bear’s clawing grew more painful and he stopped running. Raising the Winchester, he sighted down the barrel and drew a bead on Paddy. He took a deep breath and groaned as his lungs expanded, creating even more discomfort to his rib cage. He forced himself to hold his breath while he adjusted his sighting to compensate for the breeze that blew across his face from the right. He squeezed the trigger. The rifle recoiled sharply against his shoulder when it fired.

  The bowler hat sailed off Paddy’s head and disappeared down the riverbank. Will chuckled. That’s the third time he’d shot the hat off the Irishman’s head. He’d done it a year ago in Julesburg and three months ago in California.

  Paddy glanced back over his shoulder as he picked up his pace.

  “Stop, O’Hannigan! Or the next round goes into your back.”

  Paddy raised an arm and Will saw the smoke puff from the barrel of the pistol at the same time he heard the sound of the shot his enemy fired at him. A bullet whizzed past his ear, followed quickly by a second one that dug into the dirt at his feet.

  Will levered another shell into the chamber of the Winchester and raised the rifle again. He couldn’t bring himself to back-shoot the man, but he could certainly wound him. He aimed low and pulled the trigger. When the smoke cleared from the muzzle, Paddy hopped toward the railroad yard that lay ahead of them. Will had hit the Irish thug in the leg.

  Paddy snapped two more shots in Will’s direction, then disappeared between two boxcars parked along a siding. Will proceeded more cautiously now. Paddy could hide behind or beneath a railcar and ambush him.

  When Will approached the spot where Paddy had disappeared, he crouched and peered beneath one of the boxcars to see if he could spot legs. A whistle signaled the approach of a train on the main track. The ground shook gently from the vibrations created by a string of freight cars.

  Stepping around the sidetracked boxcars, Will kept his rifle at the ready. He checked the ground alongside the tracks and spotted drops of blood, confirming he’d wounded Paddy. Across the expanse of half-a-dozen tracks comprising Green River’s railroad yard, Will watched a freight train gliding slowly by on the main line, heading east toward the temporary bridge that crossed the river. Two quick blasts of the engine’s whistle signaled the engineer was clear of the station buildings and planned to increase speed. Puffs of black smoke belched from the locomotive’s stack, indicating the engineer had pushed the throttle forward.

  Will scanned the width of the yard before him. Paddy had to be hiding someplace close by. There! Just as the last of the cars in the freight train eased past the depot, Paddy jumped from the station platform onto the last car, a flatcar hooked behind a string of a dozen boxcars. Paddy limped down the length of the flatcar and reached to climb the ladder leading to the roof of the next car in line, one of the boxcars.

  Will raised his rifle, but a group of workers spreading ballast along one of the intervening tracks appeared in his sights. He couldn’t take a chance on hitting them. He jumped when something brushed his shoulder.

  Jenny appeared at his side. The sound of her coming up behind him had been masked by the rumbling of the passing freight cars.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  Jenny held up her Colt pistol.

  “I told you to stay back, Miss McNabb.”

  “You don’t tell me to do anything, Mr. Braddock.” Her eyes glared at him, their blue irises turning a deep gray. “I’m entitled to a shot at him. He tried to kill me, too.”

  “Here, keep this.” Will extended the Winchester to Jenny. “I’m going after him, but I can’t climb onto that train holding a rifle.”

  Jenny grasped the Winchester.

  Will raced across the rail yard at an angle to intercept the end of the train before it reached the bridge over Green River. Paddy continued to hobble forward from one boxcar to the next, pausing momentarily to regain his balance after he’d leaped from the top of one to anot
her.

  The engineer whistled his approach to the bridge. Workers constructing the stone pilings of the UP’s permanent bridge they were building adjacent to the temporary wooden truss laid down their tools and stepped back to await the passage of the freight.

  Will dashed across the open space between the sidings and the main line, catching up to the trailing flatcar before it reached the bridge. He grasped the rungs of the ladder at the rear of the car and pulled himself up.

  Wow! His side hurt with the jerk on his rib cage as he heaved himself onto the bed of the empty flatcar. He felt the stitches pull tight where they held the wounds together from the bear’s clawing.

  The train swayed significantly as it rolled onto the open trusses of the bridge. Will got to his feet and struggled to maintain his balance. He stumbled down the length of the flatcar and reached across the gap to grab the ladder that led to the top of the boxcar. The pain from extending his arm and stretching his side caused him to grit his teeth, but he stepped forward onto the ladder. He hugged the ladder’s steel side rails and remained motionless while he caught his breath.

  He climbed the rungs and eased his head above the back edge of the boxcar. Paddy was three cars ahead of him.

  Blam!

  Splinters plastered his cheek where Paddy’s shot blasted the wooden roof next to his head. He ducked as another shot whined off the top of the metal ladder. That was Paddy’s sixth shot, by Will’s count. He’d have a few seconds to climb onto the top of the car while Paddy reloaded. Or had Paddy already reloaded?

  Will took the final steps up the ladder and lunged forward onto his stomach on the top of the car. He withdrew his revolver from its holster and cocked it. Paddy was loading his pistol.

  “Drop the gun, O’Hannigan!” Will shouted. “Don’t make me kill you.” That’s what he probably should do, but he didn’t like the idea of murdering the Irishman. Now that he had the chance, he wasn’t sure he could live with that.

  Paddy continued to plunge the rammer into the cylinders of his revolver to complete the reloading.