Bohanin's Last Days

by Randy D. Smith

  “You must be crazy.” Joe Tibbs said.

  Bohanin shook his head and turned back toward the window. “Just how much do you think you owe that woman?”

  “I guess I owe her the chance to explain. Hell. She’s been good to me. It might not make sense to you fellows but I’d like to know why.”

  Joe Tibbs shook his head. “You had any serious horse falls here of late, Dawdrey?”

  Bohanin thought of Millie. He had some of those same questions himself.

  “I guess we need to get some rest. It’ll be a long ride to the Bochart place tomorrow and I don’t intend to let Dawdrey make the trip alone.”

  Tibbs threw up his hands in disgust. “Sounds like both you gents been riding the same horse.”

  Bohanin cut his eyes to Dawdrey and winked.

  “Mares I reckon,” he said with a smile.

  Chapter XVI

  Three horses were saddled and waiting in front of Dawdrey Lance’s cabin the following morning. Storm clouds were forming to the northwest.

  “Maybe we should wait until that storm blows over before heading out for the Bochart place,” Joe Tibbs said.

  Dawdrey Lance brought out each man’s duster. Tibbs sighed as he realized that the coats were to provide a reasonable alternative to remaining in the cabin. He drew his well-worn Colt and examined his loads.

  “I wish I had a better revolver than this old relic,” he said.

  Lance handed him a coat and chuckled. “I doubt you’ll need it. You’re acting like a grandma this morning.”

  Bohanin attempted to raise his foot to the stirrup. He was stiff and he hurt. He couldn’t muster the strength to get his foot high enough to reach the stirrup. Tibbs and Lance watched as he placed the chair by his horse and stiffly stepped up on it. From that point he was able to get his foot into the stirrup and swing into the saddle. He groaned as his legs spread over the horse’s back.

  “Maybe we ought to wait until you’re in better shape,” Tibbs said.

  Bohanin’s hot glare stopped Tibbs. Tibbs shrugged and climbed into his saddle. Dawdrey stepped to his own horse and pulled his Winchester from his scabbard. He levered a round into the chamber and lowered the hammer carefully to half-cock safety.

  “I thought we were going on a friendly visit,” Tibbs said.

  “We got to get there first,” Dawdrey said quietly as he replaced the weapon in the scabbard. “Someone may not want us to talk to Augustina.”

  Tibbs and Bohanin pulled there own Winchesters and copied Dawdrey’s precaution.

  The men rode toward the trail to the Bochart ranch.

  “You’re really having a problem believing that the woman is guilty, ain’t you?” Tibbs asked.

  Dawdrey rode loose in the saddle, as though he was tired. “I guess I am. I’ve known that woman since I was just a whelp. I know she’s strong-willed and spoiled by her father. But I can’t believe she’d be capable of this. I know it looks bad for her but it looked bad for Logan and we were wrong about him. I want to see her. Hear her story.”

  “And if she lies to you?” Bohanin asked.

  Dawdrey stared down the trail ahead of them. “I’ll know,” he said.

  Rolling plains of choya, short grass, and palm cactus surrounded the men as they made slow progress toward the ranch. Each man was absorbed in his own thoughts and there was little conversation. Bohanin’s joints loosened after a mile or so and he became relatively comfortable in the saddle. He thought of his gunfight with Bochart. He figured Logan would beat him to the draw but not by so great a margin. A small house or cabin like Dawdrey’s in the hills of California looked pretty attractive, certainly more appealing than riding all over Colorado chasing bandits and solving mysteries.

  Why didn’t Millie just say that she wasn’t interested in him before she left? She had lied about the pregnancy, but Bohanin could understand. Maybe Bochart had seduced her and broke her heart. Maybe the money was revenge for broken promises. Bohanin cut his eyes to Dawdrey. He didn’t like the idea of confronting Augustina Bochart but understood Dawdrey’s motives.

  Five riders appearing on the horizon stopped Bohanin’s daydreaming.

  Joe Tibbs held up his horse. “Who do you suppose they are?”

  Dawdrey and Bohanin brought their horses beside Tibbs.

  “Could be anyone. Could be cowboys heading out to trail some stock,” Dawdrey said.

  Bohanin pulled his telescope from his saddlebag and focused on the riders. He could make them out drawing their rifles.

  “Don’t think so. They’re pulling their rifles. I don’t believe that’s customary even out here.”

  Tibbs turned in his saddle and searched for cover. There was nothing for miles except rolling hills and grass.

  “Shit. We couldn’t be more in the open in the middle of Fanny Grant’s dance floor.”

  The five riders formed a facing line and started their ponies into a run.

  “They’re coming at us from the jump,” Bohanin said. “We’re in for a fight.”

  A bullet ricocheted into the dirt at the foot of Bohanin’s gelding. The animal jumped and pitched in surprise. In his stiff condition, Bohanin couldn’t keep his place in the saddle. He tumbled into the ground and dropped his Winchester.

  “Got dammed,” he said in pain as he rolled onto his back and grabbed at the thigh wound.

  “On the ground or from the horse?” Dawdrey yelled to Tibbs.

  Tibbs pulled his Winchester, swung down from his saddle and let his pinto free.

  “I can shoot better from down here.”

  “Me too,” Dawdrey said as he followed Tibbs’ lead.

  As another bullet careened into the ground near him, Bohanin signaled Dawdrey to retrieve his rifle and hand it to him.

  “Why in the hell don’t they shoot at someone else?”

  Tibbs went to the ground on his belly, raised to his elbows and drew his rifle to his shoulder. Dawdrey dropped to one knee and aimed his Winchester. Bohanin was able to sit up and from that position drew a bead.

  “From the left,” he said. “Joe the first, me the second, you the third.”

  “Gotcha,” Dawdrey said.

  Three rifles fired simultaneously. None of the riders fell from the saddle or acted like the shots were even close.

  “Ain’t we a bunch of riflemen,” Tibbs yelled in disgust.

  “All right, go for the horses,” Bohanin said.

  All three men took a longer, more careful aim. Bullets from the riders crashed and careened into the dirt around and in front of them. Their second volley caused one of the horses of the riders to go down. The rider crashed into the dirt.

  “Nice shot, Dawdrey,” Tibbs yelled.

  “He wasn’t my man,” Dawdrey said, “I was aiming at guy to his left.”

  “That’s encouraging,” Tibbs said.

  Bohanin drew a bead on another rider. His third shot caused the man to grab for his leg and drop his rifle.

  Tibbs fired and missed. “I think I ought to find a club and just wait till they’re in my lap.”

  A bullet sung past Tibbs’ ear and into the dirt beside his heel. “How in the blazes are those guys shooting so well from the back of those horses?”

  “I got a feeling they ain’t just regular cowboys,” Bohanin said.

  Tibbs fired again, this time rolling his man over the back of the saddle.

  “I hope they ain’t lawmen. We’ll have a lot of explaining to do,” he said as he levered another round.

  With three men down the other two held up their mounts and turned away from the fight. Bohanin drew a bead on one of them and squeezed the trigger. The man’s arm went limp and swung at his side.

  “Lawmen don’t come at you like that. They were paid to take us down.”

  The following shots yielded no results as what was left of the riders disappeared over the horizon. Tibbs gazed back toward the west.

  “I wonder how far them horses will run before they decide to stop,” he said.


  Dawdrey watched one of the riders’ horses get to his feet and shake off his dirt. “Let’s see if we can catch that thing and fetch up our horses.”

  Bohanin examined his thigh wound and groaned. Blood soaked through his pants.

  “You opened up that wound again,” Dawdrey said.

  “Did it in the fall. I think it will be all right,” Bohanin said.

  Tibbs took off his hat and slapped it against his leg, “We’ll just go for a visit. Stop by and have some tea with Augustina. Maybe she’ll have fresh baked cookies or apple pie.”

  Dawdrey looked up at Tibbs and after a moment’s thought smiled and softly chuckled. “Go get that horse, Joe. Ours will be in the next county if we don’t get a move on.”

  Tibbs replaced his hat, levered another round into his rifle and started toward the horse. His grumbling and complaining to himself could be heard for several minutes as he walked to the pony.

  Dawdrey offered his bandanna to Bohanin for a fresh bandage. Bohanin struggled to his feet, opened his pants and shoved the neckpiece over the wound.

  “You still want to pay Augustina a visit?” he asked as he adjusted his trousers.

  Dawdrey watched Tibbs catch up the horse and walk to one of the bodies on the plain. “We don’t know for certain that she sent them. They could be working for someone else,” he said.

  “Could be,” Bohanin said.

  Tibbs led the horse back to the men. The animal wasn’t limping, but blood was streaming down its neck.

  “I think I can make this pony go for a while. Looks like the bullet didn’t hit nothing important,” Tibbs said. “That one hombre is a Mexican. I think they was all Mexicans. Don’t that woman get along with Mex’s pretty good?”

  “Espironsa gets along pretty good with them himself,” Dawdrey said.

  Tibbs lifted himself into the saddle. He looked down at Bohanin.

  “Ain’t he a caution?”

  Bohanin nodded and smiled.

  Tibbs grinned and again shook his head. “Hell, you ain’t any better.”

  “There’s that puddle about a mile back. I expect those ponies are there,” Dawdrey said.

  Tibbs sent the horse forward at a walk. “Or back at the ranch, or climbing Pike’s Peak, or grazing on daisies in China.”

  Bohanin chuckled. “What’s the plan? You figure we can just ride into that ranch after this.”

  “Ain’t no way else to get in. If we try a sneak, we’ll see some hot lead for sure.”

  “You’re either a bold son-of-a-bitch or the craziest bastard I ever came across.”

  Dawdrey smiled grimly and nodded. “I could go it alone. Maybe that would be better?”

  Bohanin watched the cowboy, considering the suggestion. “What’s the hold she has on you, kid? This is going a little beyond friendship.”

  Dawdrey scuffed dirt with his boot toe. “She offered me everything, if I’d agree to marry her. She wants children and it’s getting late for her.”

  Bohanin stared at the cowboy for a moment. “Paid stud service or do you have feelings for her?”

  For an instant Dawdrey flashed anger but then realized that it was an honest question. “I’ve always admired the woman. I could be happy with her. I could love her if....” He looked back to the ground.

  “If she ain’t involved in the murders,” Bohanin said.

  Dawdrey nodded and sighed. “Maybe if she is as far as that bastard she married is concerned. Logan treated her like dirt. I know she loved the man when they married. I remember seeing her after the wedding. She was real happy. It was later, when he started chasing women and leaving her at the ranch for weeks at a time that I noticed her change.”

  Bohanin eyed his friend for several moments. “Mind a little advice from an old fool who probably don’t know any more than you do?”

  “Sure. Fire away.” Dawdrey smiled.

  “Be careful. Go slow. You got to live with what you decide for the rest of your life.”

  “And what about you? What you gonna do if I decide to believe her and take her offer?”

  The old man thought for a moment. “I get on my horse and head for Californy.”

  “You mean that?” Dawdrey asked.

  “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.” Bohanin smiled.

  “Well, I haven’t decided as of yet.”

  “Tough decision,” Bohanin said as he watched Tibbs’ far away image returning with the horses.

  Dawdrey pulled a bag of California Gold and rolled himself a smoke. “You think I’m a fool, don’t ya, Captain?”

  “No, I don’t guess that I do. It takes a certain amount of courage to do what you’re doing for the woman, courage that comes from feelings deep in your guts. It ain’t easy to believe in anyone in this old world, especially a woman. Hell, if I knew all the answers I’d be sitting in the White House instead of Grant.”

  “I appreciate that. You don’t have to ride into this with me. You could light out now and let me go it alone.”

  “I’m going. We’ll settle this together or we won’t settle it at all.”

  Dawdrey smiled. “You’re a good friend.”

  Bohanin glared at Lance from the corner of his eye.

  “Ain’t you gonna offer me a smoke?”

  “Sure.”

  Bohanin took the tobacco and slowly rolled himself a cigarette.

  “The best damned friend you’ll ever have,” he said.

  Chapter XVII

  Rain was pouring as the cowboys topped the rise overlooking the Bochart ranch. Windows from the main house glowed with lamplight as evening darkness overcame the remaining sunlight through the heavy clouds. As the men rode toward the house, several cowboys crossed the courtyard from the bunkhouse. Reese Blanchart pointed a revolver in the general direction of the riders. Dawdrey, Tibbs and Bohanin held up their horses and waited for Blanchart to speak.

  “What you want here, Lance?” Blanchart asked menacingly.

  “I want to see Augustina,” Dawdrey answered.

  “Ain’t you caused her enough grief?” Blanchart asked.

  “Did she say that she didn’t want to see me?” Dawdrey asked.

  “No, she didn’t. I don’t know that the subject came up,” Blanchart said.

  “You gents seen Espironsa?” Joe Tibbs asked.

  “We ain’t seen him. He don’t have much truck with rest of us,” Reese said.

  “Well, what about it?” Dawdrey asked impatiently. “Do I see Augustina or not?”

  “What if I said no?” Reese asked cocking his revolver.

  “I guess we’d have some fireworks. I mean to see the woman,” Dawdrey said.

  “You’d be first,” Reese said.

  “You’d be second,” Bohanin said as he raised his revolver from under his coat.

  Reese stared into the bore of the .45. He slowly lowered the revolver. “I guess it would be all right for one of you to talk to her. I don’t like the idea of all three of you going in there.”

  “You got any hot coffee in the bunk house?” Tibbs asked.

  “Sure, you know that,” Reese said.

  “Clean cups?” Tibbs asked.

  “I suppose I could find one if you’re finicky.” Reese smiled.

  “Ain’t no big Mexicans with big knives waiting behind the door, is there?” Tibbs asked.

  “Mexicans with knives but no big Mexicans with big knives,” Reese answered.

  Tibbs stepped down from his horse. “I figure I can handle that.”

  “Could you use a hot cup of coffee, Captain?” Dawdrey asked.

  Bohanin started his horse toward the bunkhouse. He wasn’t about to walk any farther than he had to.

  “Watch your backside, kid,” he advised softly.

  Dawdrey nodded and turned his horse toward the house. A bold flash of lightning and intense thunderclap rocked the courtyard. The torrent increased after the strike. Dawdrey watched the front entrance of the house as a steady stream of water rolled off the brim of his hat. Tibbs helpe
d Bohanin step down from his horse. Reese watched as the old man eased himself to the ground.

  “Paying a heavy toll from the gunplay,” he said as Bohanin turned to face him.

  Bohanin shook his head. “Was a time when I’d be running a foot race after such a wound. I guess I’m getting old.”

  Reese nodded. “Join the club.”

  Tibbs stepped by Reese. “That’s for sure.”

  “What the hell was that supposed to mean, Tibbs?” Reese asked.

  “Just trying to be sociable,” Tibbs said as he drew his revolver and checked behind the door.

  Reese followed Tibbs through the door and went for some tin cups near a pot-bellied stove in the center of the room.

  “I told you Espironsa wasn’t her, Tibbsy.”

  Tibbs holstered his Colt. “It ain’t that I don’t trust you. I was just looking for a place to hang my hat.”

  Reese poured coffee. “Yeah, with a revolver in your hand.”

  Tibbs took a cup of coffee. Bohanin limped through the door looking for a chair.

  Reese handed him a cup of coffee. “That was the slowest draw I believe I ever saw,” he said smiling.

  “Don’t remind me,” Bohanin said as he eased himself into a crude chair beside the stove.

  “Any Mexicans ride out from the place, today?” Tibbs asked as he sipped his coffee.

  “Naw, cowboys have been coming in right regular but no one that I know of left the place,” Reese said. “Geese, Tibbs, you sure are jumpy about Mexicans here of late.”

  “Had a bunch jump us this afternoon. Had ourselves quite a shoot out,” Tibbs said.

  “Were they riding Bochart horses?” Reese asked.

  “No, the ponies weren’t branded.”

  Reese poured himself a cup of coffee and watched Bohanin roll a cigarette. “It took a lot of guts to face down a man like Bochart with a draw as slow as yours, old timer.”

  Bohanin drew his tobacco pouch closed with his teeth. “I’m surprised you boys ain’t more upset about the deal.”

  Reese nodded. “Fair fight. Hell, it ain’t like any of us was in love with the son-of-a-bitch. Besides, we heard what was said. A lot of us have ridden for Augustina Bochart long before that asshole came along. Some suspected what was going on. The way I see it, Bochart probably got what he deserved. If he didn’t, I guess that’s for Augustina to decide. You know if she had told us to smoke your asses, you’d be out there in the mud right now.”