The Gospel According to Colt

by W. R. Benton

  Lew was looking into her eyes when she kissed him.

  Sam glanced at Dutch and could see the man was angry, so he kept quiet. He still wasn't sure why they'd ran off in the middle of the night without so much as a thank you or anything. He knew his partner would speak when the time was right. They'd been in and out of prison together so many times they knew each other well. Dutch was always the moody one.

  For well over an hour the only sound heard was the 'clip-clop' of the hooves as the animals moved south.

  Finally, after sending a long brown stream of tobacco juice to the grasses, Dutch asked, “Ya know who that jasper was back there, don't you?”

  “Uh, John Stoner is the name I remember.”

  “Oh, for the love of Pete! Sam, he's the husband and father to them women we raped and killed in Missouri. Remember? Because you shot and killed one of his boys as he tried to protect his sister.”

  “Oh, yeah. I recall it now. There were three girls and a momma. Ummm, I had fun with them, didn't you?”

  “Listen, he recognized something about us and was working it in his mind. Sooner or later, he'd remember that we were some of the men he's looking for.”

  “Why didn't we just kill the man then?”

  “I gave that some thought, I surely did. But I don't want to start leaving a string of killings all the way from Omaha back to Missouri. If I'd killed him, well, we'd have to kill the woman and the kid too.”

  “Me and her could have become good friends before I kilt her. I like using my knife on women, 'cause I love to hear 'em scream.”

  “You're about a sick bastard at times, do you know that? I don't know how much of a reward is out on us, but they'll be coming out of the woodwork soon if we don't get to a big city and get swallowed up by the crowds.”

  “Do ya reckon that Stoner feller was gonna take us in fer the reward?”

  “No, I really don't think he was interested in the money.”

  “So, what's the problem then, I mean if he wasn't interested in the money?”

  “He wants to kill us, you damned fool. Look, I know you're not much of a thinking man, but we wiped out that man's whole family. Hell, you even killed the family dog. If he takes us in, it'll be dead and not alive. I suspect he'd love to torture both of us for hours.”

  “Why torture us? I mean it ain't gonna bring his family or the dog back. I say we just keep ridin' until we hit Kansas City, get on one of them trains and go to Saint Louis. He won't find us there fer shore.”

  I need to get rid of this damned fool as soon as I can. I am honestly thinking the French Pox is starting to affect his mind. He seems to make less sense today than yesterday and he was pretty stupid then , Dutch thought.

  They rode over the crest of a small hill and in the valley below Dutch stopped, and said, “Is your horse going lame? Stay mounted and let me check her right foreleg. It may just be sore or tender for some reason.”

  He dismounted, walked to Sam's horse, and took the reins in his left hand. Pulling his pistol he had a nice clear shot at his old running buddy. Dutch's bullet punched a hole through the man's spine. The shot was loud, his target screamed, fell from his horse and began to jerk. Holding the reins of both horses tightly, he placed his left knee on Samuel's chest and, using his right hand, bent over and cut his throat. While it was still dark, he heard him choking and could smell the scent of the blood in the air. His hand was wet and sticky to the touch, so he cleaned them on Sam's trousers.

  “Horse, I for sure didn't want to lose you because you're carrying more money than most people will see in ten lifetimes.” He removed most of the money from Sam's horse and placed it in his saddlebags. But realizing he had more money than saddlebag space he divided the money into roughly equal amounts and repacked both bags. He then decided to ride relay to Kansas City, but he'd move slowly and steadily, keeping one animal resting all the time. He'd change horses often, so one was always ready to ride long and hard.

  An hour later when the sun came up, he noticed the dried blood on his hands and under his fingernails. He felt absolutely nothing about killing Sam, and wished he'd done it years earlier. The man had been a damned fool and he was the one who always did the raping and killing with his knives. He wasn't happy just to rape, no, he had to cut on his women as he took them. I think he's the main reason the law was on our asses most of the time , Dutch thought and then stopped to check his back trail.

  “Oh, shit, horse, I see a rider back there. Time to move a little faster and start my relay riding.” Dutch spoke to his horse and he then jumped from one saddle to the other.

  Chapter 16

  KILLS MANY knew he'd either win this fight or lose, but it was up to the Great Spirit. The rough oval was clearly seen in the soil and the only rules were they had to stay inside the circle at all times and one of them must die. Usually when they stepped out, they were pushed back in, but at times some warriors were shot for moving too far from the circle.

  Both men were stripped to their loin cloths and each held their personal skinning knife in their hands. It was early morning, so more wood was added to the fire to light up the area. Kills Many noticed the shadows moving as they slowly began to circle each other, both waiting for an opening.

  Dog moved to the left, then went right and placed a long shallow cut on the Omaha warrior's chest. He is fast , the warrior thought as he saw an opening and, with lightning like speed, he stabbed Dog in the upper thigh, but the injury was not serious. Blood now flowed from both men, but more from the breed.

  “Come dance with me, Kills Many, so I can see the color of your guts.” Dog yelled, his smooth Kentucky whiskey talking for him now. He swung his knife and made a long deep cut on the Omaha's left arm. Blood began to flow down his arm to drip from his fingers to the soil, which turned the sand the color of rust.

  He has had much of the firewater, so maybe he will start to slow soon. Now! Kills Many thought as he started to the left, went to the right, and then switched to his left again, and smiled as he felt his knife go into the breed's side. Dog screamed and made a wild roundhouse swing, but hit nothing but air. His side was already sore from the shotgun pellets Susan had given him. Blood began to flow freely from him.

  Giving a loud war cry, Dog ran for Kills Many, so the warrior waited until the last second and then dropped to the ground. He then came up behind the breed as he passed him. He moved fast, way too fast for the injured and drunk breed. Dog screamed as the Omaha threw his left arm around his neck and pulled him in close. Three times the knife of Kills Many went into Dog's body and each time the hilt stopped the thrust. All three stabs sliced his kidney to shreds.

  The Omaha warrior released the half-breed and stepped back, allowing the fatally injured man to fall to his knees as he screamed. Then, after catching his wind, Kills Many moved in behind the injured man, grabbed his hair and pulled his head back hard. As the breed's eyes met his, the brave cut his throat and stepped away. A stream of hot crimson shot high into the air and his scream stopped, replaced by gagging as he choked. A minute later, he fell on his side, his body jerking and quivering as he died.

  Then Dog the half-breed was dead, killed by his own people.

  “This thing was done fairly, as it should be. According to our laws, the dead one was a liar, and the one who spoke the truth was Kills Many. The Great Creator has spoken through this fight and may the name of the dead man never be spoken aloud again. It may anger his soul and remind him that while he lived, he passed through life speaking with more than one tongue. It is finished.” Big Badger said.

  “You have been cut.” Bloody Hand said and he moved toward the injured fighter.

  “It is nothing, and I will have the shaman look at me when I return to the village.”

  “What are we to do now?” Big Badger asked.

  “Someone must ride for Strong Bow and tell him we will not attack the white people. They have nothing that belongs to the Dead One. We should return to our village and tell our elders of the death of
the One Who Is No More.”

  “It was a fair fight, but he was drinking fire water and it did not help him fight.” Kills Many said as his arm was wrapped by Broken Spear.

  The warriors mounted, Bloody Hand rode to give word to Strong Bow, and the rest moved for the village. The Omaha victor led Barking Dog's horse, which carried the body of the dead man. For years the villagers had tried to get Dog to join them and become a full warrior, but he resisted. Many of the elders had predicted a bad ending for the half-breed and now Kills Many dreaded telling Charging Bear he'd killed his nephew. By law there was nothing that could be done to the killer because it was a fair fight, but the warrior suspected his chief knew there would come a day when bad news would visit about the dead man. Barking Dog, the white Omaha, who had no friends of either color and who was a lone wolf since the day of his birth, had passed over to the other side. At least Charging Bear could hold his head up, knowing his nephew died as a true warrior.

  At first light, Lew and Susan, along with little Billy, mounted and he began following the tracks of Dutch and Sam. The two men had moved their horses at a slow easy walk and Lew looked their tracks over carefully, memorizing every mark in the hard packed soil. Like most western men at the time, he had a good memory for brands and tracks.

  The morning passed slowly, with the sun coming out and slowly warming up the countryside, until a little after noon; then it actually turned hot. Lew felt the sweat gather under his arms and at his neck, then make a mad run down his body. He felt filthy and suspected Susan, as a woman, felt worse than him.

  “Gettin' hot.” she said at a mid-afternoon rest for the horses.

  “If I remember correctly, we're close to an old trading post that was used back in the mountain man days. Uh, I think it was called Johnson's Trading Post or something like that. Named, I guess, for the man who owned it or started the business.” he said.

  “Anything there now?”

  “I don't really know. When I came up this way I avoided it, not needing anything, including company at the time. We'll check today, because we both need a bath and a good night's sleep. I'm wore out, so you must be bushed too.”

  Susan laughed, sobered and then replied, “I'm beyond tired and just completely worn out. I think that's one reason Billy has been so quiet, because he's tired too. Maybe too tired to even cry or laugh.”

  “I know that feeling. Susan, if you want, if this place is still in business, I can leave you and the boy there.” Lew said and dreaded her reply. He'd grown very fond of her over the last ten days or so.

  “Leave me? I should say not, unless you don't want us around any longer.”

  Smiling, he replied, “No, I enjoy having both of you with me, really, but the task I'm doing is dangerous and rough. It's hard to tell who'll walk away when I brace Dutch and Sam, but it needs doing, and it's not something I can just ride away from and forget.”

  “I understand that, John, or you'd not be the man I care about.”

  “Why would you care about what happens to me?”

  “I don't know, but for some reason, I'm attracted to you.”

  “I'm not looking for a woman right now, Susan, but you have a lot to offer the right man. Let's slow down some and let me get these two men out of my life, before we give thought to us or what may come in the future.”

  “If you don't want us along, you, well, you can leave us if you think it's best.”

  “My first thoughts are to take you with me, but I need to give it serious thought, because if I'm killed, what will they do to you and Billy?”

  “Oh, my, I'd never thought of you losing the gunfight.” Susan's eyes grew large at the thought of Lew being killed.

  “Well, I have, and we both need to do some serious thinking on this.”

  “Yes, if nothing else, for Billy's safety.”

  Lew nodded and rode on without reply.

  An hour later, he pointed to the sky ahead and said, “Something dead in front of us. Those buzzards are feeding on something.”

  “No way to tell without looking, huh?”

  “No, so we'll have to take a look. Maybe I got lucky and Injuns killed Dutch and Sam.”

  “It could happen out here. How far away do you reckon it is from us?”

  “Less than a mile, so let’s put a wiggle on and get there. It may be just a dead buffalo or the carcass of another large beast.” Lew said, and then tapped his horse gently with his heels.

  Many long minutes later, he said, “It's a man down, but he's laying on his face. You stay here, pull out your shotgun and cover me.”

  As Lew dismounted from beside her, she said, “He's dead, ain't he?”

  “Yep, he's dead as hell, but what if he has a partner around that ain't?”

  “Oh, I see. Move forward, I have you covered.”

  The man was dressed like Samuel had been with blue canvas pants, brown shirt, black vest, and red neckerchief. A tan hat lay about twenty feet from the body, obviously blown there by the wind. Walking to the body, Lew saw a hole high in the middle of his spine, and knew the man was dead as hell. The vultures had already been feeding on his softer inner organs and a long strand of intestine was pulled from his lower back, laying on his thigh now.

  Taking his foot, Lew rolled the man over and then said, “It's that Sam feller that was with Dutch and he's as dead as it gets. The bullet struck him low and exited high, so he was mounted when shot by someone on the ground. If I had to guess, the shooter was standing beside his mount and by the look on his face, he didn't expect to be shot either.”

  “You reckon Dutch killed 'em?”

  “I have no idea, but it'd not surprise me if he did. I suspect these two have pulled off some robberies since they broke out of prison, just to get gear and be able to live. So, he may have killed him over money, or hell, anything, because convicts are a rough bunch.”

  “You goin' to bury him?”

  Lew was pulling things out of Sam's pockets, and so far he'd found the normal things a man would have, like a plug of chewing tobacco, a box of Lucifers, pocket knife, watch and then a paper that had a room number written on it in pencil. Checking inside the dead man's coat pocket, he found over $200 in double eagles, and that surprised him.

  “John, I asked you a question.”

  “I was checking his body for anything of use and found some double eagles, so I didn't hear you.” Lew spoke as he stood and placed what he'd recovered in his coat pocket.

  “I asked if you were going to bury him?”

  “Bury this Sam feller? Hell no! He'll get no Christian burial from me, not after the way he helped kill my family. I'm glad there's just one man to follow now, but a little disappointed that I didn't get to kill Sam.”

  “Sam could have been killed by an Injun too, right? I mean if a warrior ran to his horse and then shot him.”

  “Oh, that could have happened, and I've heard of Injuns burying themselves in dirt or sand and then doing just that. They pop up out of the ground all of a sudden and are all over a rider in seconds. But, I don't see the soil disturbed here, or even the tracks of anyone, except for Dutch's horse and some faint boot marks in the dirt near the body.” Lew spoke as he walked to his horse, mounted and added, “I think this trading post, if it's still around, is about three miles from here, due south.”

  “So, who do you think killed him?”

  “It wasn't no Injun, or he'd been scalped, so that leaves Dutch.”

  “Why no Injun?” Susan asked, rather surprised John could judge Dutch guilty so quickly.

  “If it'd been Injuns, they'd scalped and mutilated him, which wasn't done. If you think back to when they attacked your wagons, do you remember how the bodies were all cut up?”

  She didn't reply, but closed her eyes and nodded.

  “Also the look in his eyes was that of someone surprised, not scared.”

  “What does the look have to do with anything?” she opened her eyes and asked.

  “In the war, I saw all kinds of dea
d men, and their reactions to being killed was frozen on their faces forever. Some died so quickly they looked normal, while those who died experiencing terrible pain showed it, too. The exact second life leaves a body, well, it's forever in their eyes. I think Sam knew his killer well and trusted him.”

  They rode a long time without talking and then she said, “What a shame to die like that, killed by a friend.”

  “I rather like it, because it saves me having to kill the man later, and regardless of what you've heard, there is no honor among thieves. I see the trading post but can't tell if it's open or not. I don't think the place gets much business, but they might at times.”

  “I need a hot bath, a room, and some hot food.”

  “How are we going to do this, if the place is open for business?”

  “I don't understand what you mean.” Susan said, smiled and met his eyes. She knew exactly what he meant, but wanted him to bring it up.

  “They'll assume we're married, since Billy is along. So do we get two rooms or only one?”

  Susan laughed and replied, “Get one room and we can pretend we're married while we're here. Who knows, you may like being a married man.”

  “You aren't serious, are you?”

  She winked at him and replied, “When he asks about a room, just let me answer him and you both at the same time.”

  Smiling, he said, “Deal. And, I see a light on inside the shoddy, so someone is here.”

  “His sign is nice, 'Bud's Trading Post,' but I can't say much for his buildings. He likely doesn't have a hotel here.”

  They rode to the hitching post, then he dismounted, took the baby from her and helped her dismount. He then gave the child to her and tied both horses securely. They seemed to be the only people there.

  They walked in and saw an obese white man with slicked back red hair behind a counter made out of three whiskey barrels, with some one by sixes nailed to the tops. The place was a rawhide outfit, like many out west, but right now they were tired, hungry and dirty.