by C. J. Petit
Jake laughed then said, “I feel the same way. Thank you, Mrs. Kemper. If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”
“There is one thing.”
“Just name it.”
“Please stop calling me Mrs. Kemper. I may be Mrs. Parker one of these days, but I’d be much happier if you called me Maggie.”
Jake grinned then said, “I’ll do that, Maggie. Hopefully, it won’t be a year before you join us on the Elk.”
When he left the bakery, Jake was in a much better mood than he’d been when he left the sheriff’s office. He crossed the street, mounted Mars and turned him west. He’d thought of asking Maggie to come to the burial, but she still had a business to run.
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When Jake returned to the Elk, he didn’t see Jack as the men were preparing for the burial service. After unsaddling Mars, he left the barn and spotted the gravediggers already at work in the family cemetery. He didn’t see the need to verify that they were digging in the right spot as he was sure that Isiah Redmond had passed along his precise instructions.
He entered the house though the front door and headed for the hallway. As he left the main room behind, he almost bumped into Sara as she left the front bedroom carrying his light gray Stetson which was now adorned with his father’s elk band.
He stopped before they collided and said, “We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Sara.”
She smiled as she handed him his hat and said, “Is it okay?”
He took a few seconds to examine her handiwork even though it wasn’t necessary. He didn’t want her to think that he was just paying her an empty compliment. He did notice that she must have thoroughly cleaned the band after removing it.
“It looks as if it came from the factory. Thank you, Sara.”
“Are you going to bury the hat with your father?”
“Yes. I know that he wouldn’t mind losing the hat but would be spitting nails if I left his elk band get covered in dirt again.”
“I didn’t know your father, but I’m sure you’re right. You still have the dark brown Stetson in your closet, but I think that this one looks much better with the band.”
“So, do I.”
They walked to the kitchen and after he set his hat on the table and they both sat down.
He turned to Sara and said, “I had an interesting talk with Mrs. Kemper after I left the sheriff’s office. She asked to be called Maggie now, but she also told me…”
Sara giggled when Jake told her what Maggie had revealed, but he decided to wait until tonight to ask her about his idea of finding R.L. Kemper.
When he finished talking, Sara stood and said she needed to cook lunch, so Jake returned to the office and sat behind the desk. Sara had returned his father’s mottled hat to the desk, so he just stared at the abused Stetson. He had expected that after he learned the truth of his father’s innocence, he’d finally feel remorse, but it had yet to arrive. He simply didn’t understand his father at all and wished that he could dredge up some happy memories from his boyhood years to ignite a measure of sadness. But all that he could recall were of stern lectures about what he needed to do to become a man. Even when he was four or five, his father had made it clear that life was hard, and Jake needed to be just like him. He could understand why his father would want his only son to be a harsh dictator to rule over the Elk, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t have spared at least some faint praise now and then.
Jake sighed, then picked up the hat and left the office.
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Jake and Sara left the house at two-thirty and walked to the chow house. He was wearing his elk-banded Stetson and carrying his father’s hat. While it no longer had the decorative strip, there was a clean, light band around the crown’s base that gave it the appearance of one.
When they entered the chow house, all the men stood, and Jake was impressed with their appearance. Each man was well groomed and those who didn’t wear beards had shaved.
They all must have seen the elk band on his hat, but no one spoke before Jake said, “The hearse should be arriving soon, but before we go out to the cemetery, I’d like to say a few words.”
He glanced at Sara, took her hand then continued, saying, “I’m not going to deliver a high-toned eulogy after my father is laid to rest beside my mother. You all know that we didn’t get along and I know that it was as much my fault as his. But because we didn’t get along, I never understood my father. Each of you probably knew him much better than I did.
“Over the next few months or years, help me understand him better. I had Sara move the elk band from my father’s hat to mine to pay respect to my father for building the Elk into what it is. I’m not sure I could have done it, but I’ll do my best to make it even better.
“After the burial, I’m staying on the Elk to start doing just that. I’ve decided to let the law handle finding and prosecuting Dave Forrest for murdering my parents. I don’t know why he did it, and I don’t believe I ever will. I’m not sure I even want to know. But I have responsibilities now. Responsibilities to the Elk, to each of you, and especially to Sara.
“When we get to the cemetery, you’ll notice that my mother’s marker is missing. I’m having the writing modified. It will be replaced when they bring out my father’s stone. So, let’s head to the cemetery and pay our respects to the man who built the Elk.”
He and Sara turned and began the slow procession to the family cemetery. Jake never looked behind him or even glanced at Sara as he stared at the small graveyard. While he’d been talking to the men, Isiah Redmond had driven quietly to the cemetery and was waiting with the two gravediggers and his assistant.
As they walked, Jake began to have second thoughts about letting the law find Dave Forrest. He was certain that it was the right decision, but he was concerned that only Sheriff Zendt would care enough to actively look for the ex-foreman. Other lawmen had their own problems and might arrest Dave if he committed some local offense, but with all the money he’d taken, Dave wouldn’t need to resort to crime.
Jake was just as convinced that the longer it took to find Dave, the less likely it would be that he’d ever be caught. There might never be justice for his parents unless he started his own search. If only he knew where Dave had gone.
By the time they arrived at the cemetery, Jake set the notion aside. He wouldn’t ask Sara about it, at least not yet. He’d give the lawmen a week to find Dave before he asked her.
As they slid his father’s coffin from the hearse, Jake removed his hat hoping that within a week, some sheriff would have Dave Forrest in his jail and notify Arv Zendt. Jake would be happy to join the escort who brought him back to Fort Benton.
Jake would soon learn that would take just another day before Dave Forrest came to the attention of the law. But when Sheriff Zendt received a telegram from Lewis & Clark County Sheriff Pat Jefferson, it wasn’t to inform him of the capture of the ex-foreman.
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Five hours later, as Sara lay close to Jake, she said, “We never did talk to Jack about Mrs. Kemper.”
He quietly replied, “I know. It just didn’t seem appropriate at the time. At least my parents are together again.”
Sara had hoped her comment about Jack Parker would help Jake’s mood. He’d been mostly silent after talking to the men in the chow house. She had stayed at his side when they went to the office and he paid Mister Redmond’s bill. Even then, he had barely spoken. She mistakenly believed that seeing his father buried had inspired a greater sense of guilt for not being at the Elk to stop Dave Forrest. The reason for Jake’s silence wasn’t guilt. It was that he was thinking about what he would do if the law didn’t find Dave.
Jake looked into her dark blue eyes, then smiled before saying, “I’m sorry, Sara. I’ve been so distracted that you probably think I’m turning into a sullen hermit.”
“I was getting worried about you. What has you so distracted? And don’t tell me it’s because of me.”
Jake laughed lightly before saying, “You are the best distraction possible, Sara. But I suppose that I should tell you what’s on my mind. I was going to wait for a week or so, but I don’t want you to worry.”
“I won’t worry if you tell me.”
Jake explained his concerns about the probable lack of interest in finding Dave Forrest outside of Choteau County and that with each passing day, the likelihood of locating him would decrease.
When he finished, she asked, “Do you want to start your own search?”
“Not yet. I want to give them a week, but if we haven’t heard anything, I’ll probably go after him. I’ll ask Arv Zendt to deputize me to make it legal. But if you want me to stay, I will.”
“No, I won’t ask you to stay. You’ll always regret not doing what you can. But if you do go, I have one request.”
Jake expected her to ask him to show her how to shoot so she could come along. He’d have to refuse her offer and that might make her change her mind and then ask him to stay.
He asked, “What is it?”
“Take a couple of men with you. Jack can run the ranch while you’re gone, and he should still have enough manpower to keep everything shipshape.”
Jake laughed and hugged her before saying, “I thought you were going to ask me to show you how to shoot a Winchester so you could come along.”
Sara shook her head then said, “You can show me how to shoot one of your Winchesters one of these days, but I’m not about to ride a horse hundreds of miles. My behind is just getting adjusted to riding around the Elk.”
Jake slid his hand across her damp behind and asked, “Would you like a massage?”
CHAPTER 11
Friday morning on the Elk began as a routine weekday. As the ranch hands ate Charlie’s filling breakfast, Jack assigned them their duties. By the time Jake and Sara were having their breakfast, Big Tom was already in his smithy and Bill Jackson was preparing to swap some of the remuda horses out of the corral.
Things were still quiet in Helena, but that would soon change because Dave Forrest hadn’t taken the simple precaution of using a false name when he’d registered at the Flanagan Arms Hotel. He didn’t believe he had any reason to hide because he expected that Jake wouldn’t have returned to the ranch yet. Even if he had, the confession letter would ensure that Jake wouldn’t have Sheriff Zendt charge him with theft of the seven hundred dollars. He never even gave a thought that someone would have already discovered Chet Elliott’s body already.
He was leaving the hotel restaurant and planned to buy some new clothes at Bromfield’s Mercantile which was the largest store he’d ever seen.
As he crossed the lobby, he noticed a young deputy sheriff standing at the desk and heard just two critical words, ‘murders’, and his surname. A sharp chill raced down his back, but he avoided panic and continued to the doorway. He was doubly lucky because the man at the desk wasn’t the same one who had checked him in, and he had his money-stuffed saddlebags over his shoulder. But he knew his luck would run out quickly, so once outside he hurried to M&M Livery. His supplies were low, but they were enough to get him to another town. But it was his Winchester and the Martini-Henry that were more important now.
He soon entered the barn and when he spotted the liveryman, he grinned and calmly said, “I’ll be heading out shortly. Can you saddle my packhorse? I’ll handle my gray gelding.”
“Sure ‘nuff.”
Dave didn’t look behind him as he saddled his horse because he didn’t want to waste the time or see a lawman with a shotgun.
Just five minutes after leaving the hotel, Dave Forrest walked his gelding out of the livery trailing his packhorse. He turned right because the jail was in the other direction. Once he was on the street, he nudged his horse into a medium trot. He was trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.
But his decision to avoid passing the sheriff’s office sent him past his hotel. After finding Dave’s name on the register, the deputy had gone to his room and found it empty. He then checked the restaurant and asked the waitresses if they had seen a man matching Dave’s description. But Dave had no distinguishing features, so neither of the waitresses provided him with any help. He was leaving the hotel to go to the M&M Livery when he noticed Jake riding past. While he didn’t identify him, it was the gray gelding and the packhorse that convinced Deputy Sheriff Mike Henderson that he’d just spotted the man wanted for two murders in Choteau County.
He pulled his pistol but didn’t cock the hammer. The rider was already well out of pistol range and the street was too crowded with traffic. So, he hurried back to the jail to tell his boss.
Dave soon left Helena, then as he took the road to Silver City, he picked up his pace. He was certain that it wouldn’t be long before a posse was on his tail and was already trying to figure out a way to avoid the noose that was waiting for him in Fort Benton.
He kept checking his backtrail and once Helena was no longer visible, he slowed his horse to a medium trot. There was a good amount of traffic between Helena and Silver City, so he had to be careful not to arouse suspicion. It was bad enough knowing a posse was going to be looking for him, but he didn’t want a spooked freighter taking a shot at him.
He soon reached Silver City and still hadn’t seen any posse. He was tempted to stop and buy some more supplies but decided that adding distance was more important. But he also had to decide which direction he’d take out of Silver City. The obvious choice would be to head west toward the gold fields, but he didn’t know the terrain. He was familiar with the road from Fort Shaw and those succession of passes would provide him with the best chance of stopping the posse. With the Martini-Henry, he’d be able to convince them that it wasn’t worth their lives to continue their pursuit.
Just two hours after leaving Helena, Dave Forrest was riding on the same road that Jake had used just a few days earlier.
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Sheriff Pat Jefferson didn’t bother sending a telegram to Arv Zendt after his deputy’s report. He’d simply grabbed his Winchester and told Deputy George Bennett to mind the office before leaving the jail with Deputy Henderson and Deputy Bill Potts. That left two deputies in Helena, but the town marshal had his own staff of four deputies. All those millionaires didn’t mind paying more taxes to protect their money and their families.
About an hour after spotting Dave, the sheriff and his two deputies rode out of town. Sheriff Jefferson didn’t see the need for a large posse to bring in one man. When he’d read the telegram from Sheriff Zendt, he’d concentrated on the descriptions of the horses and shrugged off the line about the suspect having a long-range rifle. He had confidence in his ability with his Winchester and knew his deputies were almost as proficient.
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Dave was soon descending to the small plain and could see the Missouri River to the east. And while that plain may be small compared to those in Dakota and Nebraska Territories, it would leave him exposed for more than an hour. He still hadn’t seen a posse behind him and began to wonder if they were even going to follow him as the murders were committed in a different jurisdiction. But it was safer to assume that he was being chased.
When he reached the flat ground, he kicked his gelding into a fast trot in the hope of reaching the next pass before the posse could spot him.
He was starting his ascent to the pass when he picked up some riders on the crest of the pass behind him. He doubted if they were just out for a pleasant ride. He couldn’t count them at this distance but was certain that they’d seen him.
Despite spotting the posse, he didn’t panic. He didn’t want to overstress his horse. He actually slowed the gelding so he could get a closer look at the number of men in the posse.
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It hadn’t taken Sheriff Jefferson long to find out which direction Forrest had gone. He had asked a boy who was carrying his hand-carved wooden rifle if he’d seen a man pass by on a gray horse and leading a packhorse. The boy pointed to the road to Fort Shaw and before h
e could say a word, the three lawmen set off.
As soon as they crossed the high point, Sheriff Jefferson spotted Dave about six miles away and said, “It looks like he’s about an hour ahead of us, but he’s going uphill, so let’s make use of this downslope.”
He and his deputies then accelerated toward the plain.
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Dave was still riding slowly up the side of the mountain to the pass and soon identified just three riders. He didn’t know if he should feel insulted or not, but once he knew the number, he picked up the pace just a bit. He knew he was losing ground to his pursuers, but he wanted their horses to tire. They’d still have to make this climb while he was heading downhill.
He guessed that the three-man posse was just four miles behind him when he crossed the pass and lost sight of the lawmen. He thought about stopping here to set up his ambush but figured that they’d be expecting him to be waiting and might not be careless enough to ride into his trap.
He kept the same rate of speed as he rode down the long decline to a narrow valley. Once he started his next climb, he imagined that the posse would be just two miles behind him. But as he neared the bottom of the valley, Dave decided not to check his backtrail again. They’d been too far back to notice that he’d seen them, so they might believe that he was unaware that they were behind him. If he didn’t turn around again, it should reinforce that belief. Then he’d set up for his ambush with the Martini-Henry.
He’d wait until they were within four hundred yards before he started firing. He hadn’t had a chance to practice with the gun but wasn’t concerned about accuracy. Even if he missed the riders, if they didn’t have any horses, then they couldn’t follow, and he’d be able to disappear.
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When the small posse crossed over the pass and spotted Dave making the next ascent, Sheriff Jefferson was surprised that they’d cut the gap so quickly.
Deputy Henderson shouted, “He’s only a couple of miles ahead, boss!”
Bill Potts asked, “Do you figure he hasn’t seen us yet?”