Hunter James Dolin

by Bret Lee Hart

  He could hear the sounds of a poker game going on from the candle lit first floor in the front of the stilt house. This was a sound Hunter knew well but had not heard in a long time as the poker chips clicked in the night. He suddenly yearned for the days when poker was his living. He reminisced about the good old days of smoke-filled saloons, and the whiskey that flowed down his gullet as if funneled. His thoughts were broken when the front door opened and a man walked out onto the balcony, a glass in one hand and a stogie in the other.

  To Hunter's surprise, he recognized Richard Montgomery. He stood like a statue, no more than thirty yards from the gunslinger, looking out over the lake. Hunter took his bow from around his neck and shoulder; he loaded an arrow and then pulled back the string, locking his forearm to a deadly aim. Hunter had his sights on the neck of Montgomery, just to the right of his large Adams apple. At this distance the arrow would enter his throat in the front and right out the back; only the fletching made of feathers would keep it from going all the way through. Seconds went by, and then more seconds, both men were perfectly still, Hunter had the arrow drawn back and locked; all he had to do was loose the arrow, and Montgomery was a dead man.

  Richard Montgomery shot back his drink and took a draw off his cigar, then he threw the butt over the rail as he turned on his heel, and walked back into the house.

  The gunslinger lowered his bow as a drop of sweat ran down his cheek. If Walt and Jebediah were there beside him, they would have asked: Why didn't you shoot the bastard? Hunter would have said: Not that way, I want it to be up close and personal, I want to look into his eyes when I take his life and I want him to see me.

  Hunter knew the time was now; he turned on his knee from his crouched position toward the lake and pulled a piece of cloth from his belt loop, wrapping it around the arrowhead. He lit it with a match that he struck off his pant-leg in an upward motion. Hunter loaded and loosed the arrow. It flew through the trees, hitting the steamship at the top of its wheelhouse. The dry, painted wood caught fire immediately, catching the attention of the two boat guards first and then the men on the dock, who took off running toward the ship.

  The house came alive with quite a commotion as a bell began to ring. Men poured out of the house, some with buckets, headed toward the lake and the burning ship.

  By this time, the half-breed was already at the back of the house, climbing the giant oak. Hunter walked the length of a large branch and jumped down onto the first floor porch. He pulled his Colt from his belt, cocked it, then kicked in the back door, and entered the room. He came face to face with the woman. She was striking to him, as she stood there in her white undergarments – so much like his Lilith, it was mindboggling. There were slight differences he could now see; the woman had jumped when he made his crashing entrance, with only a slight gasp escaping her throat.

  She did not flee but just stood there, staring back at him.

  After a moment, Hunter asked, "Are you going to come quietly or am I going to have to throw you over this balcony?"

  "You're him..." said the woman. "You're the half-breed."

  "We need to go, now!" replied the gunslinger.

  She grabbed her dress off the back of a chair, walked past him, and out the door. Hunter walked to the large bed and yanked the top sheet by the corner dragging it out the back. He quickly and efficiently tied it to the rail and threw it over the side next to where the woman waited patiently. Hunter put his revolver in his belt after looking around for guards. Then, without saying a word, he helped her over the rail.

  She looked into his eyes, pausing as they were face to face, before she climbed down the sheet.

  He watched her descend, noting her ability. Hunter looked around again, but there was no one to be seen. They were all out by the lake, fighting the fire as he had planned; but they must hurry. As soon as they discovered the arrow, they would come for him. He flung himself over the side, bending his knees as he should to avoid breakage. He landed on his feet, making the twelve-foot drop with ease. The gunslinger and the woman hit the ground at the same time.

  "We got to go," insisted Hunter.

  She accepted his hand and they ran as fast as she could for the dark seclusion of the woods, fading into the swamp beyond.

  * * * * *

  The fire was extinguished fairly quickly, due to the men's quick action with their buckets of lake water.

  Montgomery made it down the dock and to the ship, arriving as the last splash from a bucket hit the side of the steamer.

  "Which one of you drunkin' fools was sleepin' on the job allowin' my ship to catch fire?"

  "My men don't sleep on the job," said the captain as he walked up to Richard.

  "Well, what the hell happened?" demanded Montgomery.

  "I think it has begun..." replied the captain. He handed Richard the tail end of an arrow with the feathers singed.

  Montgomery stared at the burnt stick in his hand, rolling it as if to see what was on the other side. "Son-of-a-bitch! It's the half-breed."

  There were men scattered about on the boat, on the dock, and up the walkway.

  "Bodie!" shouted Richard.

  "Here, boss." Bodie was coming up the walk, strapping on his guns as he maneuvered through the men.

  "Where the hell have you been?"

  "It was my down time, sir. I just came off a fifteen-hour shift."

  Montgomery slammed the broken arrow into Bodies hand. "Git these men in gear and find him."

  "All right, boys!" shouted Bodie. "Spread out and check the grounds, check the house, and watch your ass. You all know by now who we're dealing with."

  The men dispersed into action, pulling their weapons as they began their search. Birdie was joining in with the rest of the men, eager to get into the fight.

  Bodie stopped him after five steps down the boardwalk. "Birdie boy, you stay here with me."

  With a sigh of disappointment, the boy stopped and holstered his gun.

  Bodie turned back to Montgomery. "What do you think, boss?"

  "I think that savage tried to burn up my battleship."

  "One lit arrow with guards ten feet away and surrounded by water, looks more like a diversion to me."

  "You might just be right on that assumption, Bodie," chimed in the captain.

  "A diversion for what purpose?" asked Richard.

  "Hey, over here," came a faint yell from the back of the house.

  Birdie, Bodie, and Montgomery hurried down the walkway with their guns drawn, leaving the captain behind.

  "You two," yelled the captain at the deck guards. "Git on them Gatlin' guns and be ready for my orders."

  With Birdie leading the way, the three men came around the building to see the bed sheet hanging from the balcony.

  "What the hell?" questioned Richard.

  One of his men came out the bedroom door onto the balcony. "She's gone, boss."

  Bodie had never seen Montgomery look like this before. His face turned three different shades of red, while sweat broke out from his hairline to run down his face.

  Through clenched teeth, Montgomery gave his orders to Bodie, "I want this compound secured, and I want you to put together a hunting party of ten men. I want that son-of-a-bitch half-breed bastard found and killed. A thousand dollars to the man who kills him and brings me his body, or his head!"

  "What about the woman?" asked Bodie.

  "You mean my wife? Obviously, she's been kidnapped. You will rescue her and bring her back to me."

  "Yes sir, of course," replied Bodie, trying not to show his skepticism.

  He set Montgomery's men into action securing the big house and putting together a hunting party. Bodie was an excellent tracker and would lead the party himself. The half-breed would have a three-hour head start for they needed daylight to track him and sunup was at least two hours away. Bodie did not think the half-breed would go far, knowing the history between the gunslinger and Montgomery. Many men would die over this pissing contest between these two, but
he would continue. This was his job and he was paid well for it. Bodie's bottom line was for him and Birdie boy to get out of this, alive and rich in the end. This was a cutthroat business and everyone with half-a-mind had their own agenda. Other than Richard, Bodie was the only one who knew how much gold was in the house. But there was one other in this bunch Bodie needed to keep one eye on, and he would do so until the end of this little war.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hunter and the woman made their way through the brush and swamp to where the Appaloosa waited. He helped the woman onto Zeke's back; they moved with purpose, but did not hurry. The gunslinger knew they would not begin tracking them until daylight, giving them some time. He walked the horse only so far before he fell back, clearing their tracks from behind. He took a thick stick and pushed around the edges of the hoof prints filling them in with mud, following up with another stick branched out with oak leaves at the ends. A back and forth sweeping motion blended their tracks with the rest of the wet forest floor.

  Hunter knew a good tracker would be able to read the ground and continue to follow. His purpose in this was merely to slow them down 'til they reached the knee-deep water of the swamp. They reached the edge of the watery bog as the sun was threatening to rise. Hunter walked the horse through the water, sensing the woman's eyes upon him. Forty feet in and a half-mile to the south of their destination, Hunter mounted the horse behind her, and turned to the northwest.

  Their pursuers would eventually find where they had entered the water, but from there they would have to guess in which direction they had fled. The men would be forced to turn back, split up, or wander in the swamps searching aimlessly for days.

  Neither the woman nor Hunter had spoken since their departure from Montgomery's stilt home. Her silence and cooperation surprised him a little. He figured right, that she was not staying with Montgomery freely, but he hadn't expected her to come with him so willingly.

  The rays of the sun were pushing up over the horizon when the overdue conversation was begun by her.

  "Where are you taking me?"

  "I have some friends waiting for us on a hammock a few miles from here. They will lead you north, away from this place."

  "What if I refuse to go? Hunter James Dolin."

  She was still wearing her undergarments and he noticed for the first time that their bodies were rubbing close together; her smell was maddening.

  "I would say you don't have a choice," replied Hunter sternly. "Seeing how you know my name, maybe you should tell me yours, ma'am."

  "My name is Lilith."

  Hunter stopped Zeke in his watery tracks and tried to look her over by leaning back from his hindmost position.

  She turned to him, clearly noting the shock and confusion on his face. "That's the name Richard gave me – my birth name is Helen, Helen Beckum."

  "He made you change your name to," Hunter paused for a moment and then continued, "Lilith?"

  "If you know Montgomery, which I have a feeling you do, you know I did not have much choice."

  Hunter continued to move Zeke along through the shin high water and knee-high swamp grass. There were a dozen hammocks in sight, spread out for miles in many directions. They turned north and headed for the limestone island of palm trees where Jebediah and Walt were waiting.

  "Who was Lilith?" asked Helen, out of nowhere.

  "She was my woman – I rescued her from Montgomery, but I could not save her."

  "What happened to her?

  There was a cry from the sky as a bald eagle soared overhead; a mullet could be seen in its talons. The gunslinger waited for the bird to fly away and become quiet before he answered,

  "He killed her with extreme prejudice."

  "So now you have taken me," Helen said plainly. "Do you aim to kill me?"

  "Why would you think that?" asked Hunter.

  "For revenge," she said.

  "You feel that I am vengeful?"

  "You reek of it."

  Hunter stopped Zeke once again.

  Helen tensed, waiting for a blade to pierce her side; but it didn't come, much to her relief.

  "My intentions are to rescue you," he replied. "No – that's wrong, I mean to save you."

  Hunter pulled the reins, changing the Appaloosa's direction toward a medium-sized island that was just one of many strewn across the marshy lands. He dug his heels into Zeke's body, pushing him harder. "Yah, yah," he yelled, making it clear to her he was done talking.

  * * * * *

  Bodie, Birdie boy, and eight other heavily armed men began their search at daybreak following the tracks the gunslinger left behind. The horses were fresh; Bodie was in front as the lead tracker and he positioned Birdie in the center of the single file convoy, figuring it to be the safest place for the boy. One man ambushing ten men was unheard of, but Bodie would not put it past the half-breed to try.

  Over the last few years, the gunslinger had become a legend in these parts. The stories told of a gun-slinging savage that stood seven-feet tall, killed one hundred men, and then burned an entire city to the ground while avoiding capture from the United States Army and every bounty hunter north, south, east, and west of the Mississippi. The legend was exaggerated, but Bodie knew not by much.

  If they could only kill this Hunter James Dolin, with the Civil War winding down and clearing the passages, Bodie and Birdie could take their money owed and move away from the danger of such men as Richard Montgomery.

  Bodie had lost his wife and young son to disease many years back. He had wandered through life aimlessly, until he found an orphaned boy barely surviving in the deep woods of the panhandle. Birdie was thirteen then, his parents killed by Indians in the Seminole Indian wars. Bodie took him in as his own and taught him to shoot and survive in the times. Now the boy was seventeen; young, but still a man. Bodie educated him over the years the best he could, the boy had trail smarts more than most. Like most young men his age, Birdie thought he would live forever. As far as Bodie was concerned, it was his job as a stepfather to protect the boy from himself and others.

  They followed the gunslinger's trail easily at first, but their progress slowed from his covering of the tracks. Bodie was a veteran in such matters and after some effort was able to continue the pursuit. At one point on the trail, Bodie raised his left arm, bent at the elbow and balling his fingers into a fist, which brought the following men to a halt. He dismounted and, holding on to his horse's reins, he walked slowly, studying the ground at his feet.

  "Watch your flank, boys!" shouted Bodie, loud enough for all to hear. "You two watch the front while I'm rootin' down here." said Bodie, to the two men behind him.

  The man called Big Joe, directly behind Bodie, pulled his rifle from his saddle-sheath, cocked it, and rested it on his shoulder as he looked intently forward, scanning the trail up ahead. This sent a wave of pulls and clicks of revolvers, shotguns, and rifles through the line of men that ran clear to the last one at the rear. There was a reason Bodie placed Big Joe second in line behind him. Bodie knew from wars past that Joe was a serious man and would watch his back.

  "They changed direction here," Bodie said aloud to no one in-particular, from his crouched position. "I feel we're gainin' on um," he said to everyone, "so keep some extra wits about yah."

  Climbing back in the saddle, Bodie led his men in their new direction for several miles, until the flow of tracks ran dry – or wet in this case – for they ended at the edge of the marsh that stretched as far as the eye could see, and then some.

  "Shit!" exclaimed Bodie.

  The men fanned out coming alongside their leader, bringing their horses to the edge of the water. Some of them drank from their canteens; others took the time to light up.

  "What the hell we gonna' do now, Bode?" asked Big Joe.

  "Well, there's no way to track them in this high water, if he was careful which I have no doubt he was. The grass that parted for their horse has already moved back to normal."

  Birdie brought his hor
se alongside the conversation and shoved a big wad of chaw into his cheek which muffled his speech,

  "Where'd they git to, Bodie?"

  Bodie had a slightly disgusted look on his face as he stared at tobacco juice running down the boy's bottom lip.

  "What?" said Birdie, as he swiped his chin with the cuff of his sleeve.

  Bodie looked out over the grassy marsh, ignoring the boy,

  "I figure there's three ways they could have gone; they could be headed for the other coast straight through the swamp, but I don't think so... It would take weeks to cross, and this man ain't done here. I don't believe it's in his nature to run, besides he wants Montgomery dead."

  "For killing the woman and the boy; right, Bode?" asked Birdie.

  Bodie ignored this and continued, "He could have entered the swamp and gone north or south, back-trackin' any wheres. Hell, he could be headed back to the home front while we're out here chasin' our tails."

  "I could send two men south and two men north along the bank lookin' for tracks," suggested Big Joe.

  "Nah," said Bodie. "It'll be dark soon and two men alone would be as good as dead if they come across him. I figure it's likely fifty-fifty we survive against him with ten of us."

  Birdie squawked as if someone made a bad joke, "Come on, Bode, nobody's that good."

  Bodie was getting irritated with the boy now, as was suggested in the sound of his voice, "You're not listenin', son. The legend of this half-breed is more truth than not. Git your ass over yonder and git to settin' up camp."

  "Yes sir." Birdie knew when Bodie talked in that tone he'd better do as he said or somebody was getting a whooping. He turned his mare around, calling out to the rest of the men, "You heard the man, lets git 'er done."

  Big Joe was the only one who stayed behind, he wasn't done talkin'. "The only option left is the hammocks."

  "You're right, Joe, I'd bet my left arm he's holdin' up on one of 'em."

  "It would take days to search all them out," reasoned Joe.