by Bill Markley
Jack took the canteen and saddlebag and stuck out his hand to Old Frenchy, who took it.
“Thank you, my friend,” Jack said.
“I will pray for your safe return, Captain,” Old Frenchy said.
“I thank you for that, too,” Jack said and then clicked for Paco to move forward. Stonewall trotted alongside.
“Godspeed!” Old Frenchy called after them.
They headed up Main Street to take the road to Lead. Jack didn’t expect to catch Varnes and Texas Jack until somewhere between Lead and Hill City, if he was lucky.
Jack wondered if he should stop in the theater to try to talk to Lil. He doubted she would talk to him yet. He better wait until he got back. Then changing his thoughts, he wondered if it would be safer to take someone along with him. If so, who? Bullock and Star? But it would take too long to tell the story, to convince them, then have them find horses and ride along. After all, Old Frenchy said Paco was the last horse at the livery. He decided to push on by himself.
Loud, popping firecrackers interrupted his thoughts. Paco reacted to the noise, bucking and trying to run, but Jack kept his head up and soon had him back under control. Bringing Paco to a stop, Jack dismounted and again tightened the cinch. He stroked Paco’s forehead and neck, saying, “Listen, Paco, we may be together for a long time. You need to get over this fear of loud noises.”
Jack remounted and they continued south along the road to Lead. Several wagons traveled along the road and Jack had to negotiate around the oxen. Horseback riders rode in both directions. Plenty of prospectors were working their claims along the way, and woodchoppers were on the slopes felling trees for lumber and fuel. After several miles, Jack reached Lead, another expanding, bustling town where miners were working promising hard-rock mines. There were fewer prospectors here, as working hard rock required plenty of capital, something the average miner did not have—and there was no heavy equipment to process the ore.
Jack did not meet anyone he knew well enough to ask for assistance. Several times, he asked familiar faces if they had seen Johnny Varnes and Texas Jack, but no one claimed that they had.
Outside of Lead, he continued south toward Hill City, heading deeper into the Black Hills. The slopes to the ridges became steeper as the narrow valleys and rock walls closed in. Overlapping ponderosa pine and white spruce boughs blocked the sun’s rays, creating a false twilight. The road was only a rough-cut trail. Boulders and stumps protruded up through the ungraded surface. Abandoned wagon wrecks, pulled to the side of the trail, had been stripped of anything useful. Wolves and coyotes had scattered bones where oxen, horses, and mules had died of exhaustion.
Jack encountered fewer and fewer miners until they disappeared, as the rock in this area held no gold. Travelers heading out of Lead and Deadwood had disappeared and very few were coming from the opposite direction. Jack asked those few he encountered if they had seen two riders heading south. He described the men. Those who responded said yes, that they had seen two horseback riders who were leading a third horse. This information encouraged Jack to press on.
He stopped by a trickling, gurgling stream to give Paco a rest. Jack, Paco, and Stonewall drank their fill of the ice-cold water. He loosened the cinch, removed Paco’s bridle, and tied his lead line to a birch tree growing at the edge of a meadow. There Paco could munch on grass growing in an open spot. Jack sat in the shade on a thick carpet of moss. He ate the bread Old Frenchy had given him and threw chunks of it to Stonewall who wolfed them down without so much as tasting them.
At the end of their break, Jack put the bridle back on Paco and tightened the cinch. He remounted and they continued south.
Time—he had lots of it to think. Most thoughts centered on his hate and disgust for Varnes and Texas Jack. They were done. He would kill them. He had killed before, during the war and afterwards, but always out of self-preservation and never out of revenge. Was revenge right? What would Lil say? Would she be even more disgusted with him if he shot down those two murderers? Maybe he should bring them back to Deadwood after all and let the citizens of Deadwood handle it. But then he knew what would happen. Varnes and Texas Jack would get off, just as Jack McCall and Harry Young had gotten off. Merrick was right. The usual verdict would be not guilty. He had to take matters into his own hands. He knew he was in the right. Those two murdering dogs had snuffed out the life of a boy who appreciated life and wanted to live it to its fullest. Now Pete would never get that opportunity. No. He would do it. He would take care of Varnes and Texas Jack, once and for all.
Jack came to a large rock outcrop on the right that obscured a right-hand bend in the trail from his view. Taking no chances, he pulled his Army Colt and held it at the ready in case he should run into any unforeseen trouble. The Lakota and Cheyenne were not known to venture this far into the Black Hills. They usually stayed on the periphery, but no sense taking any chances. As Jack rounded the outcrop, he came face to face with two outriders and a two-mule team pulling a wagon. A man drove the wagon. A woman sat beside him, and a small girl and a smaller boy peeked from behind the man and woman. One outrider leveled his carbine at Jack and the other ordered in a high voice, “Hold it right there, mister!”
Jack reined Paco to a stop and pointed the barrel of his pistol straight up.
“Good afternoon,” Jack said. “I’m just passing by, if you don’t mind.”
“Trying to catch your friends?” the outrider holding the carbine asked. Both outriders were boys.
“If you mean two riders trailing a horse, they aren’t my friends. But I aim to catch up with them.”
“What’s your business with them, mister?” asked the man sitting on the wagon box, holding the lines to the mules.
“They are bad men. They have murdered several people in Deadwood, and I’m on their trail to catch them.”
“Go ahead, mister, holster your pistol then, nice and easy,” the older man said. Jack did as he was told. The boy with the carbine continued to aim the barrel towards Jack.
“We ran into those characters about a mile back,” the man continued. “We had a nice chat and when we weren’t looking, they leveled their pistols at us and demanded all the money we had. While one stood lookout, the other ransacked our wagon, taking valuables they could carry with them. They took all our guns except one that my son Jeb has there. Jeb, you can stop aiming that carbine at this man. They said they would leave us a few cartridges back along the trail to give themselves enough of a head start. Jeb rode back and sure enough, they did leave us a few. Said they didn’t want to hear about Indians lifting our scalps.”
“I’m sorry to hear of your misfortune, sir,” Jack said. “When I catch them, I’ll make sure I get your money and possessions back to you. Where do you plan to head to?”
“We want to settle in Deadwood. I was fixing to come by myself, but my missus here wouldn’t think of it. She said we need to stay together as a family.”
The woman had been looking down until this point but looked up at Jack and said, “That’s right, sir! We stick together as a family and I can help our income. I’m a good seamstress and I’m sure those miner boys will need their clothes repaired.”
“That they do, ma’am,” Jack said. “Some of those fellows look pretty ragged.”
“Mister,” said the little girl.
“Annie, be quiet,” the woman said. “You know it’s impolite to speak to a grownup without them speaking to you first.”
“It’s okay, ma’am,” Jack said. “What is it, Annie?”
“Mister, are you a lawman?”
“No, I’m a newspaper reporter, but I am upset about what those bad men are doing to people and I’m going to find them.”
“Are you going to take them to the jail?”
“I haven’t thought about that.”
“Well, if you don’t take them to the jail, what else can you do with them?”
Jack looked at the ground. He remembered what Old Frenchy had said, and now this little girl wa
s asking the same thing. His anger subsided, and he knew the right thing was to attempt to capture Varnes and Texas Jack and take them back to Deadwood. There were enough good folks in town who would help him with this. He looked back up at the little girl.
“You know what, Annie?”
“What, mister?”
“I’m going to do what you said, Annie. I’m going to catch those bad men and take them to jail.”
Annie beamed. Jack tipped his hat to the family and slowly walked Paco by them.
“Hey, mister!” Jeb said. “What’s your name?”
“Jones. Jack Jones.”
“Good luck, Mr. Jones.”
The family said Varnes and Texas Jack are about a mile back along the trail. Jack thought he might be able to catch up with them soon, and that he’d better be on his guard.
The trail continued under overlapping pine boughs. A squirrel scolded Jack, Paco, and Stonewall as they passed beneath his safe perch atop a white spruce. It was getting late. The sun had dipped behind the western ridges.
In the distance, Jack could make out what appeared to be an abandoned cabin. The roof was partially caved in, but smoke was coming from the chimney. Three unsaddled horses were tied to a rope strung between two trees for a picket line. Jack saw no movement around the cabin. He dismounted, remembering that Paco was not the best around loud noises. He untied the halter’s lead line from the saddle ring, and crossing the reins, draped them over Paco’s neck. Holding the lead line in his left hand and the Army Colt in his right, he quietly approached the cabin. Stonewall padded silently alongside, huffing and happily looking up at Jack.
He was close enough now he could see the horses. The one belonged to Texas Jack and the other two had belonged to Poncho and Carlos. Three saddles lay on the ground along the front wall of the cabin. On top of one of the saddles lay a black-gummed haversack with white lettering. The two letters were B and D.
Jack quietly and slowly walked closer to the front of the cabin. Paco whinnied. The three other horses looked up and whinnied back. Varnes appeared at the cabin door and stepped outside.
“Hold it right there!” Jack ordered, aiming his pistol at Varnes. Varnes was unarmed. He glanced at a carbine propped by the outside cabin wall to his right and within his reach.
“Don’t try it!” Jack ordered. “Put your hands up—now!”
Varnes held his hands up.
“Step forward and to your left, away from the gun,” Jack again ordered, and Varnes complied.
“Where’s Texas Jack?” Jack asked.
“I don’t know,” Varnes answered. “He must have gone for a walk.”
Jack quickly scanned the area and saw no movement. He knew he probably had little time before Texas Jack returned.
“Keep moving to your left until I tell you to stop,” Jack said. Varnes moved left away from the cabin, until Jack said, “Stop!”
Leading Paco, Jack backed over to the picket line while keeping his eye on Varnes. One-handed, he tied Paco’s lead line to the picket line, using two half hitches.
“Jones,” Varnes said. “You know Texas Jack will return soon. He’s armed. If I were you, I’d clear out of here now. I like you. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
Jack didn’t say anything. He slowly moved over to the saddles and haversack, all the while keeping an eye on Varnes and trying to stay aware of his surroundings in case Texas Jack should come back. He reached the saddles and knelt on one knee, all the while not taking his eyes off Varnes. With his left hand, he unfastened the haversack’s keeper strap and reached inside. The first item he pulled out and held up to eye level was the possible bag that Carlos and Poncho had owned. It was still heavy with their earnings. Next, he fished out the nugget Bummer Dan had shown him. Jack found two poke bags filled with gold dust. He was pulling out an assortment of gold and silver coins when Varnes spoke.
“Jones, how about we make a deal? We would be willing to give you a cut of the take. Walk away and let us go. No one would be the wiser.”
“Do you really believe I would do that?”
“It was worth a try.”
Jack’s hand reached the last object in the bag. It was rectangular and flat. He pulled it out. It was Pete’s wallet, containing his greenbacks.
“You son of a bitch!” Jack snarled.
A click behind Jack’s head—the click of a hammer being cocked and then the cold steel of a gun’s muzzle pressed against the back of his skull.
Varnes laughed. “You asked where Texas Jack was. Well, I’d say he’s right behind you.”
“Drop your gun, Jones,” Texas Jack ordered. Jack didn’t move. “I said drop it or I blow the back of your head off now!” Jack dropped the gun. Varnes walked over to the gun and picked it up. He pointed it at Jack. “Put everything back in the haversack,” he ordered. When Jack was done, Texas Jack said, “Can I shoot him now, boss?”
“Not yet,” Varnes said. “I want to have a little fun first. Jones, stand up and move over to where I was standing.” Jack did as Varnes ordered.
“Texas Jack, make sure everything is back in that haversack and latch the keeper strap. I don’t want to lose any of our hard-earned money. You can holster your gun. I’ve got an eye on Jones here. He can’t do us any harm.”
“Right, boss,” Texas Jack said as he holstered his pistol.
“I’m sure you have plenty of questions, Jones, since you are a reporter. Go ahead, fire away. No pun there at all, ha ha.”
Jack was trying to control his anger and trying to figure out how to get out of this situation. He blasted himself for not bringing someone along. He should have known he would not be able to take on two hardened criminals by himself. The only chance he had was to delay the inevitable as long as possible. He thought that when it got dark enough he could dive to the side before they fired, and then run and hide in the dark.
“All right, I want to know if there is a criminal ring in Deadwood. I assume you are both a part of it.”
“Ah, a criminal ring in Deadwood. Hum. What do you think, Texas Jack? I never thought of ourselves as a ring, did you?”
“No, Johnny, I didn’t,” Texas Jack said as he sat down by the saddles, reached over and found his spurs, and started to strap them on his boots.
“But some of us did work together in town,” Varnes said.
“What do you mean by the word ‘did’?” Jack asked.
“Texas Jack and me figured things were getting a little hot in town, no thanks to the snooping you and your friends were doing. Besides, we felt we had done most of the work to acquire this loot and didn’t think we should share it with others who didn’t work for it as hard as we did.”
“So let me guess, your brother Henry, Swearengen, and Burns are members of your ring,” Jack said.
“Very good,” Varnes said.
“What about Miller, Harry Young’s attorney?”
“Wrong there, Jones, he was just a dupe.”
“Who else in town is part of your ring?”
“If you haven’t guessed, I’m not going to tell. You can’t know everything.”
“What about Wild Bill?”
“Wild Bill was a horse’s ass!” Varnes snarled. “He thought he could poke his nose into other people’s business. He thought he could work for the law, but he was no better than the rest of us. Yes, we had him killed by that buffoon, Jack McCall. If McCall had acted according to plan he wouldn’t have gotten caught!”
“What do you mean?”
“We had a horse for him tied to the hitching rack outside Saloon Number 10 so he could make his getaway out of town. We told McCall the cinch would be loose and that he needed to tighten it before he walked in to shoot Hickok. He forgot to tighten the cinch and as you heard, the saddle turned on him. Fortunately, we had our backup plan. We told him if he got caught to tell everyone Hickok had killed his brother. We had to make sure there were enough people on the jury who could sway the verdict to not guilty. We then had to hustle that idiot out of
town before Hickok’s friends took care of him.”
“Preacher Smith,” Jack said. “Was he one of your kills?”
“Preacher Smith’s death was an unfortunate incident,” Varnes said.
“I didn’t want to kill him,” Texas Jack said as he stood up. “But I had to.”
“Why?” Jack asked.
“While me and my compañeros was out huntin’ for Injuns, I separated myself from them to track down the good parson, knowing that he had just left Deadwood. I spied him walking north. I knew he had quite a heavy poke and I determined I would relieve him of it. I came up behind him. I was real close. I had my bandanna up over my nose so all you could see was my eyes. I told him to deliver up his poke to me. He turned, looked into my eyes, and said, ‘I know it’s you, Texas Jack. You know the Lord does not condone robbery.’ Well, it was his stupidity what got him shot. If he would’ve kept his mouth shut, I would have let him go, but seeing as how he knew who I was, I had to shoot him. Fortunately, that Injun happened along, I killed him and blamed everything on him. No one was the wiser, until you started your snooping.”
“What about Lou Mason, who was killed by the Indian?”
“No, he wasn’t in on it, he was just plain stupid.”
“What about Carlos and Poncho?” Jack asked.
Texas Jack spat. “Those hombres had it coming to them.”
Varnes scowled and said, “You were taking too much of a risk by shooting them right in town like that.”
“Aw, you’re too nervous, boss,” Texas Jack said. “I was careful. No one saw me.” Jack held his tongue.
“It was still a very stupid move,” Varnes said.
“Why did you stack the deck with the jury selection on the Harry Young case?” Jack asked.
“Why? What do you mean?” Varnes asked.
“You already told me Miller was a dupe. Remember? And I saw you and Swearengen passing signals to Miller on who to pick for the jury.”
“That was our best scheme yet,” Varnes said smiling. “And since you won’t be telling anyone, I’ll tell you what we did.”