“I hope it works,” Aaron replied.
Chapter 2
Stakeout
Ben and the men put the horses in the barn’s corral and made arrangements with Aaron for rooms over the bar.
“We won’t leave the saloon until he shows up,” Ben said to Aaron when they returned. The men sat at the table closest to the bat wing doors, and Ben took his position at the end of the bar. Then, the waiting began.
Throughout the day, men came and went. Ben could see who was entering by watching the mirror that lined the back wall of the bar. Some were dressed in dirty miner’s clothing, and others wore cleaner clothing.
Aaron had worked out a signal with Ben. If he saw the vigilante walk in, he would slide a clean shot glass down the counter to him.
Horse, Ty, Duke, and Bridge knew the signal and sat in strategic locations around the table to afford the greatest strength. They played five card stud all day, and when someone’s chips got low, somebody would slip him some chips when no one was watching. They played slow, told fishing stories, hunting stories, and made up stories about women they had known. They would laugh, and call each other liars, and then would ask whose turn it was.
The first day went uneventfully. Several times Aaron would ask loudly, “Hey, Henry, you ready for another?”
A miner came up to Ben and asked, “Are you the Henry that the vigilante feller is looking for?”
“Yup,” Ben replied with slurred words. “I’m waiting on that no good scoundrel to show his face. He got me fired. The boss said he didn’t want trouble out at the mine. So when he shows up, I aim to put one between his eyes for causing me my troubles. No one in the valley will hire me. Hell, they don’t even want me near their claim.”
“Well….,” one of the men said. “If you’re really Henry McAllister you’d better get on your horse and hightail it out of here. I hear he’s mighty handy with that pistol.”
“Nah, he’s just used to shooting drunken miners. After killing a few unarmed miners, everyone thinks he’s fast. I think he’s just a blowhard.”
“Okay, it’s your funeral,” the man said and walked away.
Many men passed through the saloon to watch the women dancing in the dance hall. The piano was noisy, and the men were cheering and whooping it up. The crowd grew large, but the vigilante never showed.
By 1:00, the crowd had dispersed. At 1:45 Aaron closed the place up and locked the door.
“The miners go home by 1:00, so they can get a little sleep. They have to work all day, but they’ll be back tomorrow night.”
They went to bed at 2:00 and were up at 5:00. After eating breakfast, Aaron opened the doors, and once again, the men took their positions. Men drifted in and out throughout the day, and Ben was beginning to wonder if the vigilante had left the valley.
The four playing cards ate lunch at the table, and Ben ate at the bar. By mid-afternoon, the bar began getting busy when the dance hall portion opened, and the ladies started dancing while others drifted around enticing men upstairs for a good time, or asking if they’d buy them a drink.
Ben was growing tired of the colored water and ordered a mug of beer. “Bring the boys over at the table a mug too,” Ben said to Aaron. “I’m sure they’re sick of drinking colored water.”
“Ok, Henry,” Aaron said loud enough for a group of men standing nearby to hear. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Hey,” one of the miners said that looked at Ben. “Are you Henry McAllister?”
“Yup, that’s me,” Ben replied.
“We heard you were here at the saloon waiting on the vigilante. We got a bet going.”
Ben asked, “What’s the bet about?”
“How long you’ll live,” he answered as they all laughed and walked away.
Aaron brought Ben a fresh mug of beer and said, “Sounds like the word is spreading. Shouldn’t be too much longer.”
Ben nodded. “Thanks for the beer.”
Another hour passed, and Ben sipped the beer as slowly as he could. Then a shot glass came sliding down the counter towards him. Ben looked at Aaron, and he nodded.
Ben turned and looked. A tall man dressed in a black suit, black hat, white shirt, and a string tie was standing just inside the saloon’s batwing door. Ben noticed the tied down holster and saw the man bite off the end of a slender cigar and spit it on the floor. He had an angry look on his face as he looked around at the crowd. Then his eyes focused on Ben, and he took a few steps forward and stopped as he pulled his coat back to expose his pistol.
Ty jumped up and said, “Say, do you have another one of those cigars you can spare? I love cigars.”
“Get out of my face, pilgrim,” he said as he used both hands to push him away.
Ty, being an ex-boxer, had a right hand that hit like a four-pound hammer. Quickly, he slugged the man in the jaw. He flew backward hitting his head on the wall, and then he fell flat on his face.
They rolled him over, removed his gunbelt, and checked him for other weapons. They found a knife in his left boot and a .44 caliber derringer in his vest pocket. Duke and Bridge attached irons on his wrists, and then they picked up the whiskey bottle with colored water and poured it on his face.
Ben walked up as the man began coming around.
“Boy,” one of the miners said, “You sure were lucky Henry. If that feller hadn’t knocked him out, you’d be dead.”
“Actually, my name is Ben Collins. I’m a U.S. Deputy Marshal. These four men are also deputy marshals. We knew we’d have a hard time finding his hiding hole, so we just sat and waited for him to come to us.”
“Well, I’ll be,” he said as he laughed. “You had all of us fooled.”
The vigilante had woken up. Blood was trickling from his mouth. Duke and Bridge pulled the man to his feet. He glared at Ty and said, “You broke my tooth.”
“Hey, I got some toothache medicine,” Horse said with a big smile as he pulled it from his shirt pocket. “You wanna try it?”
“Horse,” Ben said, “Put the cocaine away. A toothache is the least of his worries.”
“I should have shot you from the door,” the vigilante said as he looked at Ben.
“If you had gone for your gun, you’d be dead. You’re lucky all you got was punched in the jaw. We’re taking you to Denver. You’ll stand trial in a Federal court for murder. If you’re found guilty, you’ll be hung.”
“I’ve got two brothers, and they don’t take kindly to people mistreating their kin. You’ll never get me to Denver.”
Ben looked into his eyes, “If your brothers are as stupid as you are, I’d say our chances of getting you to Denver are pretty fair.”
“Let’s get the horses saddled. We should be in Walsenburg before dark.”
Ben looked at the men, “Duke, you and Bridge go to the barn and saddle the horses. Ty, you and Horse, keep an eye on our prisoner.” Ben walked to the bar and paid their bill with Aaron and returned the cards and poker chips.
Ben climbed the steps and tossed his saddlebag over his shoulder. Then he picked up his bedroll, rifle, and canteen. He returned and told Horse and Ty to go up and retrieve their gear. Minutes later they returned.
Three miners walked in. One was the man known as Brick. They noticed the crowd watching the men controlling a man in wrist irons. One of the men walked up to Ben and said, “I heard the U.S. Marshals arrested the vigilante. I’m Henry McAllister.”
“I need you to sit down and write up exactly how the shooting happened.” Ben got a piece of paper and a pencil from Aaron. Henry sat at a table and wrote a transcript of what had happened. Ben read it, and it matched what the witnesses had said. He asked Henry and the witnesses to sign it.
Duke and Bridge entered and said, “The horses are ready.”
“Go up to your room and get your gear.”
Ben looked at Henry and said, “It appears that it was an accidental shooting. As far as I’m concerned, it was in self-defense.”
“You’ll die,” the
vigilante said as he stared at Henry. “I’ll come back and kill you.”
Ben pulled him to his feet. “The only place you’ll be going is the gallows.”
“Let’s just hang him here,” one of the miners said.
“Yeah,” the crowd shouted as they advanced.
“Now listen up,” Ben shouted at the crowd. “We’re taking him to Denver. He’ll stand trial for murder. Federal Judge Henry Moore has a nickname, the hanging judge. After the trial, he’ll be sentenced to hang. It has to be done legally.”
“Okay, let’s head out.” They pushed him out the door and put him on the horse that someone pointed out was the horse that he had ridden in on. They secured his irons to the saddle horn and removed the bridle and placed a rope around the horse’s neck to lead him. After the men had their saddlebags, bedrolls, canteen, and rifles in the scabbards, they mounted their horses and headed for Walsenburg.
A crowd had gathered on the boardwalk in front of the saloon and dance hall. They watched as the lawmen headed out of town. One of the old timers muttered, “I wished I had ol Betsy. I’d blow a hole through that vigilante’s head.”
“Ah, it ain’t worth it,” another man said. “They’d arrest you for murder.”
“Yeah, but, at least, when I’m standing before Saint Peter, I could tell him I did one right thing in my life.”
“C’mon,” the man said as he put an arm around the old man. “I’ll buy you a drink.”
They continued the journey to Walsenburg. Upon arriving, they stopped at the Tinsel Livery Stable in Walsenburg and spoke to Tom Tinsel, the owner.
“Howdy Ben,” Tom said when they stopped. “Looks like you lassoed a wild mustang,” he said as he looked at the prisoner.
“Yeah, we’ll board the horses tonight and sleep in the barn. At daylight, we’ll be gone.”
After unsaddling the horses, they put them in the corral and made sure they had hay and water. Then they walked to the café. They took a seat at the back of the café, and Horse sat next to the vigilante, and Ty sat on the other side.
The large Indian woman brought them coffee and Horse looked up at her and said, “Howdy, Buffalo Calf Woman. What’s fer supper?”
“Rabbit stew and ash cakes,” she said without smiling.
Ben nodded, “We’ll take six plates of your rabbit stew and ash cakes.”
After she had left, Horse elbowed the prisoner and said, “Don’t you think the name, Buffalo Calf Woman, is a purty name?”
The vigilante looked at Horse and said, “Yeah, maybe you ought to ask her to marry you. You two would make a good pair.”
“You expect me to eat with these on?” He asked as he raised his hands and displayed the irons on his wrists.
Ben looked at him and said, “I don’t care if you eat. Do the best you can. Any trouble out of you and you’ll be chained to a support beam in a horse stall while we eat.”
After eating, they went to the stables and bedded down for the night.
They secured the prisoner to a support post in the barn and spread their bedrolls on the hay and slept.
The next morning, they walked to the café, and after eating breakfast, they saddled the horses and headed north towards Pueblo.
They walked the horses in the center of the road at a leisurely pace. When the sun was setting, they stopped at a stream and helped the prisoner off his horse. Ben looked at the prisoner and asked, “Are you ready to tell me your name?”
“Nope, it’s none of your business.”
“That’s fine with me. The judge will assume you’ve got a bunch of warrants, and it sure won’t help your case in court. So we’ll just call you, Madison, the vigilante, the murderer of unarmed men. Sit over there on that log and keep quiet.”
The horses were allowed to drink, and then they staked the horses in an open area with a little grass and then set up camp and built a fire.
Ben wrapped a chain around a Pinyon Pine several times and secured the prisoner’s irons to the chain with another set of irons.
They took turns standing watch, and the night passed uneventfully. Only the sound of coyotes howling from a distant mountain was heard, and the call of a great horned owl that had landed in a tree fifty feet away from camp. After checking the camp over, the owl flew away.
After breakfast, they saddled the horses and continued the journey. It was almost noon when they rode into Pueblo. Ben checked with the train depot and arranged tickets to Denver on the 2:00 train.
Ben walked to the telegraph office and sent a telegram to Denver.
Hunt-U.S. Marshal-Denver (stop) In Pueblo with prisoner (stop) Will return to Denver on the 2:00 train (stop) Ben
After sending the telegram, they rode to the café and ate a meal of beef and beans. They rode to the depot and put the horses into the depot’s corral to be loaded onto the train. The train rolled in, and after passengers had stepped off the train, they began boarding.
Ben and the others took a seat in the back of the last car. Their intentions were to isolate the prisoner from the other passengers. Ben noticed the prisoner searching faces around town looking for help that never came.
“Looks like your brothers were a no show,” Ben said.
“They’ll come,” he said as he looked at Ben with a menacing face, “They’re as good as I am with a gun. You won’t stand a chance against them.”
“Well,” Ben said as he settled into his seat and pulled his hat down over his eyes. “If they’re as simple minded as you, they won’t be too hard to arrest, or kill.”
Duke and Bridge chuckled at the angry look on the prisoner’s face as Ben ignored him and closed his eyes.
The train rolled into Denver the next morning, and Ben was pleased to see Hunt, Clayton, and Earl waiting on the dock.
They began stepping down from the train, and Horse followed the prisoner out. Hunt stepped forward, and shook everyone’s hand, and welcomed them home. Hunt looked at the prisoner and asked, “Who do I have the privilege of greeting?”
“Go to hell,” he replied as he glared at Hunt.
“Two things you need to learn,” Hunt replied. “One, I don’t ask questions twice. And two, I don’t have any patience for someone whose mama failed to teach them respect.”
“Yeah, your boots are dusty. How about a little spit shine,” he said as he spat on Hunt’s boot.
Hunt slugged him hard. The man fell backward, and when he hit the dock, he didn’t move. Hunt lifted his boot and rubbed the spit onto the vigilante’s pant’s leg and said, “Horse, you and Duke drag him up to the jail.”
They each picked up a foot and began dragging him down the steps and up the street toward the jail.
Clayton looked at Hunt as he watched the man’s head bouncing on the steps as they drug him away. “He refuses to give us his name. His dead brother’s last name is Madison. So I assume he’s a Madison. He claims he’s got two brothers that are fast with their guns and that we won’t have a chance when they come to town to spring him free.”
Earl picked up the prisoner’s hat that fell off when he hit the dock.
Hunt looked at the men, “Take care of the horses. We’ll put the prisoner’s horse in the stockyard, and I’ll see you men at the jail.”
Hunt, Clayton, and Ben mounted their horses and rode to the jail. They arrived just as Horse and Duke had stopped in front of the jail. Horse picked the man up and draped him over the horse trough, and the man fell face-first into the water from his waist up. Horse held the back of his shirt collar, and when the man began struggling, Horse lifted him out of the water.
“I’ll tell yah,” Horse said as he smiled at the prisoner. “Doesn’t a nice refreshing bath feel good in this heat?”
“I’ll kill you,” he screamed at Hunt, “You had no call to hit me.”
“Let’s just say, I don’t like you. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll quit your screaming before I hit you again.”
With a firm grip on the back of the man’s shirt collar, Horse
pushed him up the steps to the porch of the sheriff’s office. “Say, your tooth is bleeding again, are you sure you don’t wanna try some of my toothache medicine?”
Hunt opened the door, and Horse pushed the prisoner through the door. Sheriff Drake Collins looked up and said, “Well…., who’d you bring us this time?”
Horse smiled and said, “This feller with the sore tooth won’t give us his name. We just call him Vigilante. He likes killing unarmed fellers and brags about how good he is with a gun.”
“You don’t say,” Drake said as he stood and took the keys from a peg on the wall. “I happen to have a comfortable room available. Right this way, Mr. Vigilante.”
He unlocked one of the cells and the vigilante turned and said, “All you sons-of-bitches will be dead when my brothers get here.”
“Oh, you know what?” Hunt said as the vigilante looked at him. “That punch a little while ago was for using bad language. This one’s for spitting on my boot.” Hunt slugged him on the chin, and the prisoner fell into the cell and lay unconscious on his back.
Drake locked the cell and asked, “What about the irons?”
“Leave them on him,” Hunt replied. “He looks better with a little jewelry.”
Chapter 3
The Trial
The others arrived with the horses, and they walked outside to talk. Hunt looked at them and said, “Let’s walk down to the Dollar Saloon. I owe you men a welcome home drink. Clayton, you and Earl might as well join us. I’d like to hear a little bit of the story. You might as well enjoy it with me.”
They sat at a table in the Dollar Saloon, and Fred Benson, the owner, walked over and asked, “What’ll you have?”
Wanted: A Western Story Collection Page 18