by W. R. Benton
“I don't have any.” Dutch said in return.
The driver pointed to the dandy and said, “Mister fancy pants there is a whiskey drummer and he's got two suitcases of liquor on the stage, plus a carpetbag full of drink.”
“That true, fancy pants?” Dutch asked as he pointed his pistol at the drummer.
“Um, I do have some samples with me, yes.” The man didn't make eye contact when he spoke.
“The suitcases of John Barley Corn are in the boot, both of 'em marked with big paintin's of 'Smith's Fine Kentucky Whiskey' on the sides. Hell, ya can't miss 'em.” the driver volunteered.
“Fancy pants, open the door to the stage slowly and pull all the carpetbags out and place them in front of their owners. Y'all been travelin' together for days now, so y'all know who the bags belong to by now.”
Four bags were unloaded, one for everyone but the cowboy. Dutch looked in the drummer's bag, saw close to eight bottles of whiskey and handed two to the driver.
“You can't take that, sir, please. That whiskey cost over two dollars a bottle. They'll dock it from my pay and I have four kids at home.”
“Bullshit,” Sam said, “on both counts. I cain't see ya havin' enough balls to make four kids, so ya must be lyin'. 'Sides the stage company'll pay for all we take this mornin'.”
“Clem,” Dutch said, looking at Bill, “Cut the straps on the boot and find the rest of this booze. We'll take it with us. Now, fancy pants, I suggest you stand there quietly and keep your big mouth shut. I happen to know the stage line will pay for anything we take. They're insured.” He reached over, patted the drummer down and pulled out two flasks, a hundred dollars in greenbacks, and a gold wedding ring.
Dutch slapped the man on the side of the head with his pistol barrel and yelled, “You were holding out on me, huh? We don't take wedding rings, so you can keep it, but I've half a mind to just shoot your ass!” The flasks and money went into Dutch's pocket.
“D . . . don't kill me . . . please.” the drummer begged.
“Aren't you going to pat me down?” the shapely blonde asked, and then licked her lips again.
“The James gang doesn't bother women.”
“What a shame, because I think I'd enjoy feeling your hands on me. We could move to behind the stage if you desire. I know you'll find me all woman.”
“June!” the older woman exclaimed, “I am shocked at your words. Have you no pride? What of your family name? You're acting like a soiled dove, instead of a proper lady.”
“Maybe I'm tired of being a perfect lady all the time, momma. I want a little fun and excitement at times.”
“That's enough out of both of you. Hush, and I mean now.” Dutch said, and then looking at the driver, he asked, “Is he goin' to live?”
“I think so. I've got the bleedin' stopped, only I ain't really shore. He needs a doctor.”
“Clem, load these bags on the horses, take all the whiskey except four bottles and leave 'em for the injured man. Hurry now, I want to be in the saddle in five minutes.”
The blonde stepped forward and said, “Take me with you, please. I can keep all three of you very happy.”
“Oh, my God, I'm feeling faint.” the mother said, and then leaned back against the stage.
“I appreciate your offer, lady, but I think not. It's a rough life I live and I have a woman.”
“It's all loaded, Jesse.” Bill said from the horses.
“Come on, Frank, let's make some tracks.”
The two men ran to their horses, all mounted, and they took off at a gallop. Just as they topped the hill, the big sharps rifle that belonged to the driver coughed once and Bill was blown from his saddle, as his arms flew high up into the air. He landed on the grasses in an unnatural position.
“Fetch his horse!” Dutch called out as he rode toward Bill, “While I check his injury.” The horse held a bag of money and a suitcase of whiskey.
Glancing down, he saw a hole the size of his fist in Bill's chest and part of his spine was missing. Sam soon returned with Bill's horse, so Dutch threw his body on the horse and then mounted. This way , he thought, they don't know if Bill is dead or just injured.
It was then a mad bee buzzed by his ear, just missing his head. Damn, whoever is doing the shooting knows what he's doing! he thought as he looked toward the stagecoach and saw the cowboy with the rifle in his hands.
He must have been in the war , Dutch thought, and then kicked his horse hard and shot out after Sam, because Bill was as dead as he'd ever get.
Over the next two hours they kept moving north without a word spoken.
Finally, Sam asked, “We still gonna split up, I mean, like we planned?”
“I don't know, and I'm thinking on it. I hated to lose Bill, because he was like a brother to me.”
“Hell, it was bound to happen sooner or later, 'cause our line of work is dangerous.”
“Yep, I guess you're right. We need to switch directions in a few minutes and move South at a fast rate. This won't throw a good tracker off, but if they send the army after us, hell, they couldn't find their asses if they started with both of their hands in their back pockets.”
“When are we goin' to ditch Bill's body and why'd ya bring him with us? I think we might want to stay together until we reach Kansas City.”
“I don't want the law to know Bill was killed, so they'll be looking for three men, with one of them seriously wounded. Move off to your right a ways. See that stream bed with the overhang?”
“I see it. What do ya have planned?”
“I'll place his body under the overhang and then collapse the dirt on him. It ain't much of a burying, but it'll have to do. Damn, I hate this.”
“Ole Bill and us rode some miles together. What about his horse and gear?” Samuel asked.
“Throw his gear, except for his blankets, the whiskey and the money on top of him. Throw the suitcases, both of them, in with him.”
“Why the suitcases?”
“They tie us to the robbery is why.”
“Hell, we have thousands of dollars on us and I don't think it'd take a real smart law dog to figure out we've been up to no good.”
They both dismounted and quickly packed Bill's body to the spot below the overhang. Dutch stripped Bill's horse of all gear, including the bloody saddle, and with a slap of his right hand, sent the horse running. They then collapsed the overhang and stood for a few minutes looking at the poorly made grave.
“Lord, Bill wasn't a good God fearin' man, but I ask ya to take 'em into heaven with ya. He didn't steal from his buddies or cheat us when playin' cards. In his own ways, he was a good man, but he did like good whiskey and loose women. He wasn't no Christian, Lord, and while he could read, I don't remember ever seein' 'em with the good Book in his hands. Please overlook his weaknesses, Lord, and take 'em into yer arms. Amen.” Sam prayed as he held his hat in his hands in front of his belt-buckle.
“Amen. Now, let's ride.”
Four hours later, in a small camp in a shallow but wide dry stream bed, the money was counted and all total from the stage, they'd collected a little over sixty thousand dollars. Dutch handed twenty thousand to Sam and said, “Now, after the bank job in Missouri, the bank in Omaha, and now this, you have enough to buy one hell of a big place down in New Orleans.”
“What about Bill's money?” Sam asked and then stretched out in the dirt and leaned back against his saddle.
“We'll split it fifty-fifty. He didn't have no family.” Dutch lied, and knew the man had a wife and some kids. He also knew Bill was a saving man, so it was very likely his family was cared for well. In Kansas City, he'd wire his wife and tell her Bill had died of some illness, because she had no idea what he did for a living.
Suddenly, both horses nickered and looked west, toward the main trail.
“Comp'nee comin'.” Sam said as he pulled his shotgun close.
Chapter 13
LEW thought about Susan's words to him and realized he was indeed a hard
man to please. Since he'd turned from God and his life as a preacher, few things in life pleased him anymore. Or maybe it was the suddenness of losing everyone that mattered to him, the loss of his home, and maybe the combination of all of it that soured him. He had little, except for the money from the sale of his place and his horse. Hell , he thought, I'd be lucky to get eighty dollars if I sold both animals and my guns.
He banked the fire, stood, and then slowly moved to sleep by the horses. He knew if anyone moved in the darkness near camp, his bay would let him know. A few years back his horse had been attacked by a hungry brown bear one evening and now the slightest movement at night made her nervous. After rolling up in his blankets, he placed his head on his saddle, and looked up at the stars. Lew never realized when he fell asleep.
He may have been asleep for hours, or just minutes, he had no idea, but he felt his horse nudge him with her cold nose. His eyes instantly popped open and he listened, as he looked up at the stars. From the looks of the sky, he'd been asleep for almost four hours and it was just a little past midnight. There was a quarter moon, but it was now behind some thick clouds.
He slipped his holster on, picked up his rifle, and moved toward Susan. Once beside her, he placed his hand over her mouth, leaned over, and whispered, “I have movement around us. You need to cock your shotgun and stay awake. Do not shoot until you have an idea who you're shooting at or you might kill me.” He noticed the light smell of her perfume and smiled.
“Who do you think it is?” she whispered a reply.
He shrugged and then whispering said, “No idea. Now, stay awake. I'm moving back to the horses.”
Almost an hour passed and finally three men walked to the glowing coals of the campfire.
“Shit, Dog, ain't a soul here. Where's that pretty lady and the feller with all the money ya promised us? I'm in the mood for a poke or two.”
“Poke this, you filthy sons-of-bitches!” Susan yelled just a second before squeezing both triggers on her shotgun. She'd only intended to fire one barrel, but in her fear and excitement, she'd pulled both of them. The double boom was loud in the cold night air and the horse, as well as the pony, danced on the picket line near Lew. As soon as the noise of the blast died, he was up talking to both mounts as he gently stroked both of their necks. Susan was picking herself up from the ground, because the old scatter-gun had knocked her on her butt.
“Ma! I hurt, ma! Oh, ma, the . . . pain. Make . . . me feel . . . better, ma!” an unknown voice screamed from near the fire.
Little Billy was heard crying loudly for his momma. The firing of the shotgun must have scared the pee outta the kid , Lew thought.
“Let 'em bleed a mite!” Lew called out. “A wounded man is still dangerous.”
“Lord . . . please for . . . forgive me . . . of . . . my sins!” A second voice joined the first, but much weaker.
An hour slowly passed and over time, both voices had grown quiet, and the wild kicking and flopping around had completely ceased.
“I'm going to get our fire going and see who we shot. I want you to cover me when I do this. Have you reloaded your shotgun?” Lew asked.
“Oh, yes, and right after I fired.”
“Good, now try not to shoot me. I'm going right now. It'll be easier to see once I have a fire burning.”
Minutes later, as hungry flames ate at the cow pies, Lew looked both men over closely. They're both breeds, but of what tribe I have no idea. I am willing to bet Barking Dog was behind this and these are some of his Omaha buddies. I heard one say his name too. The one on the left is dead as all get out and the other one will be joining him in hell shortly. Hummm, I see a light blood trail leading away from these two. I'll know more come sunup , he thought as he placed the coffee pot on the flames to warm up.
“Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.” Lew said to no one but himself and the last man gave a loud sigh, quivered, and then a rattling was heard deep inside of him. He stiffened and then fell back limply— dead.
“Bring Billy and come to the fire.”
“Bring my gun too?”
“Always bring your gun, always .” Lew replied and then shook his head.
When she neared, Susan said, “Why, they look like Injuns, but they're dressed like white men.”
“Half-breeds, and I suspect friends of Dog's. Hell, he's the only person in the world that even had a remote idea we were in the area. Coffee?”
“Yes, of course I'll take some coffee. What now?”
“Come daylight I have a blood trail to follow, then we'll head back to the man's trading post, and confront him. He'll soon discover I am truly a man of my word.” Lew poured a cup of coffee, handed it to Susan, and then continued, “We'll drop the bodies off at the place, too.”
“You surely don't intend to kill him over this, do you?” Susan asked as she looked over the rim of her cup.
“No, I'll not kill him, but I will beat his ass. How many travelers has he and his friends robbed or killed since he's been in business?”
“I'd not thought of that.”
“You did one hell of a fine job with that shotgun. You hit all three. These two are dead as hell, and the other is packing some buckshot in 'em.”
“Heavens, I had no urge to kill. I just pointed at them, hoping to scare them away from us. I don't like the thought of killing, Mr. Stoner.”
“Out here, ya either learn to kill, or you get killed. You did one hell of a fine job, and I can tell that you're a fast learner, too. I suspect these men planned to kill me, rape you, and then adopt Billy into the tribe.”
Susan, not wanting to hear about the dead men, said, “Let me rustle us up some breakfast and we'll be close to leaving by the time we finish eating.”
Pulling his pocket-watch, Lew said, “It's only a quarter after three, so we've lot's of time. I do want to be tied to the hitching post at the trading post when Dog opens for business.”
Suddenly, she burst into tears and began to tremble. Lew moved to her, sat beside her and took her into his arms. He pulled her body to his and spoke in gentle tones, as she cried over killing the two men. One thing lead to another and soon he was kissing her.
Abruptly she shoved him away and said, “Stop! My husband hasn't been dead a week yet, and I should not be doing this with you.”
“Susan, you didn't love him and we both know it, so there is little need for you to grieve over his passing. But, I am glad you stopped us, because I felt a passion I've never felt before when I kissed you.”
“That's enough, John; slice me some bacon, as I, uh, make some biscuits.”
She can ignore our mutual attraction for a while, but eventually she'll have to give in to her desires. I'm surprised this happened too, except she's right, neither of us has been alone long enough to be kissing another person. I'll wait , he thought as he pulled a side of bacon and began shaving off long strips.
Breakfast was bacon, biscuits, and white sop pepper gravy, all washed down with hot coffee. Once the meal was done and the dishes washed, he placed and then tied the two dead men on his horse. He let Susan and Billy ride his pony as they started for the trading post.
At the hitching post, he cut the ropes holding the two dead men and let them fall to the dirt beside his horse. He had Susan pull the shotgun as he made his way to the door, which he found locked. He pounded on the door hard, heard a yell from inside, so he waited, thongs off his pistols.
Five minutes or so later the door opened about an inch and Dog asked, “What do you want? I'm sick this mornin'. I had too much whiskey to drink last night.”
“I brought your friends back.” Lew said.
“Friends?”
“In the dirt by my horse.”
Dog walked outside dressed in his long johns, looked at the two dead men, and said, “That's the Cook brothers, Frank and Roger.”
“I see she almost killed your ass too, huh? Looks like some fresh blood leaking through your long handles, Dog.”
Dog plac
ed his hand on his injured side, winched at the touch, and said, “Me? No, I have no idea what ya mean. I was shot yesterday after ya left by an Injun I wouldn't give no more credit. He come in here a-wantin' whiskey and hasn't paid a penny on his account since he opened it two years ago.”
“Where's this dead Injun then?”
“He ain't dead and I never said he was.”
“I know ya got a hog leg and scatter-gun, both cocked under your counter, so how'd he get away without bein' killed?”
Looking sheepish, Dog said, “Uh, well, he caught me comin' out the storeroom when he shot.”
“Let's go take a look at the inside of your store and see if the walls have any pellet marks on them. If the gun was fired at you in there, some of the pellets surely hit the walls behind you.”
Susan remained mounted as the two men entered the store, but a couple of minutes later, Dog came flying out the open door to land in the dirt, hard.
Lew was right behind him and moved to where he was standing over the breed. Pulling his pistol, he pointed it at Dog and asked, “Give me one good reason not to blow you to hell.”
“I got kids, mister, and they'll not have a pa!”
Holstering his pistol, Lew said, “Now stand up, you bastard, because I'm going to give you the whippin' of your life. Come into my camp in the middle of the night up to no good, when you know I have a woman and child with me. What was you gonna do? Huh? Kill me and then rape the woman?”
As he stood, Dog said, “I have no idea what yer talkin' about. I never left this tradin' post all night.”
“Oh, so now you're calling me a liar, huh? I thought all you red skins loved to fight?”
“Look, just leave me alone. I hurt and had nothin' to do with your problem with the Cook brothers.”
Lew swung a hard left hook, felt it connect with Dog's jaw, so he swung a wicked right, knocking the half-breed off his feet. The force of the two blows was sufficient to knock the man out and he fell to the hard packed dirt unconscious.
“He's not dead, is he?” Susan asked.
“No, but he should be after what he pulled on us last night. He's no real man, and I can see why the Omaha don't want him around. They may have been killing folks for years here.”