Johnny is awakened by a knock at the door. When he gets up, and answers the knock, he is greeted by a child of about 8 years old asking, “Paper, sir?” Johnny shakes his head and asks the time and day, and is informed it is Wednesday November Twenty First, and about 10a.m. As the paperboy walks off, Johnny sees the headlines on the paper. “Lincoln voted in! South talking Secession!”
Johnny walks over to where his fiancé is still sleeping, kisses her forehead, and leaves a note. “Went to get food. If you wake up before I get back, come on down and have some with me. Love you.”
Life on the plains, as they have seen on their way here, is not easy. It is made doubly so by the oppressive lack of rain; the land is parched. The road going through town is nothing but dust. As Johnny goes to the outhouse, the stage comes through and is followed by a choking cloud of dust.
Having taken care of several of the necessities, he goes to the main part of the hotel. He makes his way to the mostly empty dining area and seats himself at a table. Beckoning the waiter over, he orders a steak and eggs.
The waiter looks at him and says, “We ain’t had steak in awhile. We got fried chicken and eggs iff’n ya want.” Johnny nods and the waiter asks, “You two okay? You been out a couple days. We was beginning to wonder if ya was alive in there.”
“Yeah, the trip from Marble was rougher than expected.”
“You mean you cut across country? No wonder. Had you gone north to Fort Scott; you would have come across on a trail with wells every ten miles. Not only that, but you took an awful risk upsetting the reds by doing that. Them Cherokee can be right mean. Had you been caught, you woulda lost you scalp, you woman, and then if you was real lucky, you head.”
Johnny was stunned. They went through Indian lands and hadn’t known it? How was that possible? The waiter went and got Johnny a cup of coffee, then went off to fix the food. While Johnny was waiting, he sees a vision of beauty walk down the stairs and approach him. At seeing the most beautiful woman on earth, Johnny’s heart skips a beat and he has trouble breathing. As Liz walks up to him, he inhales the scent of her presence and shudders. What right do I have thinking I can lay claim to this unbelievably beautiful woman? Who am I to think she could ever love me? She walks up to him, puts her arms around him and kisses him on the cheek.
“Hi, handsome. I woke up missing you in the bed. Already order?”
“I um, I, yeah, but you can get something as well.”
Liz’s smile at his response lights up the entire room. She seats herself next to him, close enough that she can either take his hand or surreptitiously place her hand on his thigh, making his leg jump at the unexpected contact.
The waiter comes out a few minutes later with Johnny’s food, takes one look at Liz and sighs. He sets the food down and looks at Liz questioningly. Without taking her eyes off her fiancé she says, “I’ll have the same.”
After several minutes, the waiter brings out another steaming plate of food and the couple is able to share an intimate, quiet meal with each other. They finish eating, have the meal added to the bill for their room and are getting up to leave when the door to the hotel slams open.
Several soldiers wearing red gaiters stormed in. The waiter takes one look at them, and immediately starts setting places at the largest of the tables for them. “Colonel Jennison. Would you like the usual: three rooms and food for all your troops?”
One of the men grunts. He takes off his hat and gloves, slapping the gloves against his pant leg, releasing a cloud of dust.
Johnny surreptitiously studies the man. He is rather tall and thin, has a goatee, and dark brown hair. Had he not been identified by the waiter; Johnny would never have guessed who this man is, he looks so ordinary. One would never guess that he is the one responsible for the death of so many people.
To keep from staring, Johnny takes Liz’s arm and leads her upstairs. He is so angry, he is trembling. When Johnny takes her arm a little too forcefully, Liz looks at him questioningly, but allows herself to be led away. When they make it back to the room, Johnny explosively exhales the breath he had been holding in.
Liz is startled when Johnny starts reloading his revolver, muttering darkly. “My love, what’s wrong?”
“That’s the animal that ordered our home burned. Who knows what else he’s told people to do.” Johnny’s hands are shaking so badly, he is having trouble pouring the powder into the end of the chamber to reload the Colt.
Liz stares at her fiancé dumbly. Finally, after several minutes, she sits down on the bed slowly and asks, “How do you know?”
“Before we killed the soldiers, they mentioned him and his orders that no one was to be left alive.” He shakes his head. “The reason I killed them all was because of how they were talking. Every single one of them is a monster, and they all need to die, as horribly as they killed the sisters.” The rage filling his veins and his head makes his hands shake so badly he is unable to continue loading his gun.
After the third time he drops gunpowder on to the floor, he sets the gun aside and looks at Liz sitting on the bed. She lowers her head into her hands, and starts trembling herself. Johnny steps over to the bed, take his fiancé in his arms and thickly says, “I love you.” Her trembling becomes harder, uncontrollable. “What it is, love?”
“I . . . I don . . . don’t want to lose you,” she sobs out.
“What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere.”
“If you go after Jennison, you will be killed. I saw those soldiers he had with them.”
“He has to pay for what he did. I won’t die. I promise, my love.”
“I don’t believe you. Don’t do it. We need to leave. Please? If you love me, leave with me right now.” She struggles to stand against him, but he holds her to the bed.
“I promise, I will not go after him. I will not sacrifice anything for that demon spawn.”
She takes his face into her hands and looks him straight in the eye. “I just don’t want you to die. I want to grow old with you. I want to have your children. I don’t want to live without you.”
Johnny is chilled by her tone. There is something not right here, and he doesn’t know what it is. He convinces her to stay with him for a few more days while they figure out where they are going to go.
Chapter 11
The morning after the thunderstorm was spent clearing brush and gathering building materials back up. John is thankful he had secured the canvas to the wood pile; else the storm would have blown it all the way to the Red River. As it is, the wood pile is mostly in shambles. Thankfully, they had only gathered about a rick of wood. After they set the camp aright, John rides around the rest of the claim to check for damage elsewhere.
At the northeast corner of the stake, John sees what appears to be a Conestoga, a camp-fire, and several horses tied to the Conestoga on a neighboring claim. He is unsure whether someone else had made a claim in the area, but thinks it most likely the case. Knowing how the creek that worked its way across the west side of Red-feather’s claim swung back to the east, north of the claim, John was rather sure that someone would settle closer to the bend. He chose the place he had, since he knew that the creek is most likely to flood at that bend in the heaviest of those rainstorms.
Not wanting to seem reclusive, John rides towards the camp. When he approaches it, there are no people. In fact, it appears to be completely deserted, save for the campfire still burning happily along. John stops his horse about ten yards from the camp and yells, “Ho, the camp! I am coming in. I have a claim close-by, and just wanted to stop in and say hi!”
“You just did. Now go away,” rumbles a deep bass voice from the other side of the wagon.
“I'll tell you what. I have food, water, and other visitors staying with me at my place about a quarter mile that way.” John waves off toward his camp. “You and your family are welcome to come join us, if you're of a mind to.”
“You are on my land. If you don’t leave now, then I will shoot you down w
here you are.”
“The offer stands open. Just make sure to announce yourself, if you decide to come by. We’ve had trouble with claim jumpers, and I don’t wanna shoot ya for accepting my offer.” John raises his hand in a wave goodbye, turns his horse and makes his way back towards his own camp at a sedate pace.
Later that evening, John is able to enjoy a sumptuous dinner served by the hands of the wonderful Ling We. Having spent as much time on the trail as he has, John has learned how to cook for himself, but with the delightful tastes and cuisine being produced by the demure Mandarin woman, John is becoming spoiled. He has started to develop a taste for foreign foods. It reminds him of the first time he ate food from a different country . . .
Chapter 12
While Johnny and Liz are talking, they hear people going up and down the hall constantly, talking in extremely loud voices. The raucous noise is unnerving to the both of them. After several hours of discussion, they agree to go down to Indian Territory and try to find Josh. Johnny tries to push for continuing on to Texas, but he agrees that Josh will be a good companion to help avoid any trouble. That evening, they gather their things so they can leave the following morning.
They go downstairs to have dinner, but even before they get there, they can hear raucous voices, course laughter, and with the clattering of dishes, it was deafening. The dining room is mostly full of soldiers where the one lone table was in the corner. After sharing a look of disbelief, they turn around and leave the hotel, wandering down the street to a building called Granny’s Crock o’ Stew. When they enter, the scene is much the same. They check yet another restaurant, also the same: pandemonium. Growing more and more frustrated, they make it to the outskirts of town to an adobe building with greasy smoke boiling out of one of its windows.
When they walk inside, the interior is immaculate. They are greeted by a middle-aged portly Mexican woman who immediately shows them to a table. “Que te gustaria?” she asks.
Johnny and Liz look at her dumbly.
“What eat?”
The couple look at each other, then back at her. “Um, what do you have?” Johnny asks as politely as he can.
“Mia con dios,” she replies, shaking her head. “Burritos, tacos, tamales, fajitas, pollo, carne, puerco, how you say, chicken, beef, and pork.”
“We’ve never had any Mexican food. Can you recommend something not too spicy?”
She stalks off, muttering to herself in Spanish. Johnny looks at Liz, and asks, “Did I say something wrong?” Liz shrugs in response. They sit there for several minutes before the woman comes out holding several plates with steaming food on them. The aromas wafting up from the fajitas and tamales is quite possibly the most appetizing of smells either of them has ever experienced.
The woman leaves and returns almost immediately with two large fired mugs filled with water. They eat more than their fill, both feeling stuffed. The environment is quiet, comfortable, and inviting. After they stuffed themselves stupid, and paid for their meals, they both groaned from being miserably full.
JOHN IS STARTLED OUT of his reverie when after dinner and is informed by the Lings that they are feeling well enough to go back to their claim. He is sad to hear that they would be leaving him, but understands that they want to get on with their own lives. John agrees to ride to their property with Quan to see what kind of state it is in. John presents Quan with his rifle and shotgun, each with a box of ammunition. At first, Quan declines the rifle, but John insists, saying he has too many guns as it is. Giving away the additional hardware made keeping track of them easier.
It was the following day that John and Quan ride out to the property. Ling We stays behind to make additional food, knowing that the men will be starving by the time they got back. Ling We motions to John, saying, “Don’t ret him fohget see shest.”
As they ride up to the claim the couple had been burned out of, the men are shocked to see about a hundred head of cattle grazing on the property.
It is late morning when they come upon the cattle and guards. When they get roughly a hundred yards from the herd, they are assaulted by the barks of several cattle dogs. After riding another ten yards in, they are met by two armed guards.
“That’s far enough! What do you think you are doing on our lands?” calls out one of the guards aggressively.
“Who says these are your lands? My friend here says this is his land, and he has the paperwork to prove it.” John counters.
“Our boss says this is his pastureland, and any problems have to go through him.”
“What’s his name and, where is he?”
“Jacobson. You can find him in Denver.”
“All the way in Colorado?”
“No. Denver is a couple miles down that way. Ain’t you been to the land office?”
“Well, yeah. About a month ago.”
“That’s Denver. Go back there, or don’t. Your choice. Our boss is there and if you don’t get off our land, you won’t be able to. Now git!”
John and Quan take one look at each other and ride off. John has never been one to shrink from a fight, but he has always been one to believe in picking one’s battles. This is not one of the battles that needs to be fought. John and Quan will take it up with Jacobson.
The two men ride back to the camp and explain to Ling We what happened. The three of them discuss how to retrieve the money and papers the Lings had buried before being burned out. After some discussion, they decide to go back on a midnight run with some meat and bribe the cattle dogs into staying quiet while they get what they are looking for.
Several hours later, just a little after dusk, they ride back to just outside the range of the cattle dogs. They dismount and break out the meat. Once they get a little closer, rather than alerting the guards to the presence of the men, the cattle dogs come over to investigate. The men throw some of the meat to them, and are able to draw the dogs in closer. After several minutes, the dogs are close enough to touch. John crouches down and allows the dogs to approach him. He then motions Quan to go find the chest while he keeps the dogs distracted. In less than a half hour, Quan quietly lumbers back with a moderately sized chest. John give the dogs a final pat, and motions them on.
The dogs run back to the camp, tails wagging in joy. John shakes his head. Poor things. They are starved for attention. Their owners should be shot, though those guards’ stupidity works to my benefit. This is just so stupid.
John and Quan make it back to their horses and get the chest loaded. As they finish, they hear sounds coming from the cattle camp. They hurriedly ride off directly to the west, toward the creek that runs by Red-Feather’s lands. They get down into the creek, dismount, and set up an ambush.
They wait for several minutes before they hear horses’ hooves approaching. John motions to Quan in army sign to wait until their pursuers get about ten yards in front of them before firing. Quan holds his arms out, and shrugs in the universal sign of “Do what?” John sighs and, ducking low, does a fast crouch walk across to where Quan is stationed. Speaking low enough that his voice does not carry, John says, “Stay here and don’t shoot until I do. If we need to, we will catch them in a cross-fire.” Quan nods his understanding. John makes his way back to his hiding place and checks his weapons. He watches as the riders approach the creek warily, sensing something in the air. Just before they reach the ten-yard range John had set, they come to a dead stop, look at the ground where they could see the tracks by the moonlight. They speak to each other so quietly; John can’t hear what is being said.
One nods to the other and they split up. One rides to the north, the other to the south. Oh boy. Here we go. John motions Quan to turn so he can face the rider coming in, and hopes that they are not caught in the same crossfire they were hoping to catch the riders in. Quan nods, shoulders his rifle, and shifts in his position to the tree, to put it between the rider and himself. None too soon. Both of the riders come riding down the creek from opposing sides, guns drawn, looking for blood.
The rider coming toward him dodges left and right around fallen limbs, on his way to his waiting fate. Slowing his breathing, John takes aim and slowly squeezes the trigger of his repeater rifle. His gun pulls up and slightly to the right, pulling his shot off center, making it go slightly wide. Rather than hitting the man in the leg, as he had hoped, the round went into the horse’s head, between the eyes. The horse rolls forward, throwing its rider forward, pinning the man under its half-ton bulk. The rider, with most of his body pinned, is unable to bring his pistol to bear and cusses about not being able to move.
John, seeing that things appear to be under control here, turns and sees Quan take a shot at the other rider’s horse. The rider is thrown into the wall of the creek by the force of the horse being taken out from under him. Even from more than fifty feet away, John hears the snap of bone as the man’s neck breaks.
Quan, mortified at having taken another human life, is rooted to where he stands.
John moves over to the slight man and puts a hand on his shoulder. “It gets easier the more you have to do it.” Until now, John was unable to see Quan’s face.
Tears streaming down his face, Quan asks, “Duhr he id dead?”
John moves over to the body and verifies it is indeed a corpse. He checks the man’s pockets for any kind of identifying paperwork and finds only a couple of twenty dollar gold coins.
The Marshal of Denver Page 5