Trial at Fort Keogh

by Charles G. West

  Amid a cheering group of citizens, one man stood scowling in bitter anger, but he knew there was nothing he could do about the verdict. Clint Cooper was a free man. He might think he got away with killing my brother, Yeager thought, but he’ll die by my hand. I swear it. He started for the door, but he was stopped before he reached it by Horace Marshall.

  “Hold on there a minute, Yeager,” Marshall said. Normally a mild man, he had decided it was time to take a stand. He was tired of paying the menacing brute for protection when the only protection he needed was from Yeager himself. And he was tired of being afraid of the murdering outlaw, and tired of being too meek to stand up to him. Throwing all caution to the wind, for he didn’t know if he was one man alone or not, he said what he should have said when the Yeagers and their two cronies first came to town. “The town of Miles City no longer needs your services. You’re fired as sheriff, and we want you out of town by tomorrow morning.”

  The room, which had been noisily celebrating the panel’s verdict, suddenly went dead silent. Simon Yeager’s brutal face was transformed into an angry frown. “What did you say?” he demanded, his voice low and deadly.

  Marshall immediately felt every nerve in his body go numb, but he had gone too far to crumble now before the sinister gunman. “You heard me,” he managed.

  “Who the hell is ‘we’?” Yeager demanded. “Who’s gonna back you up, Marshall?”

  “The whole damn town,” Lon Bessemer said, and stepped up beside Marshall. “That’s who.”

  “That’s right, Yeager,” Orville Johnson said. “We want our town back, and that means you and your kind ain’t welcome here.” One by one, including Homer Lewis and Jim Duffy, every man in the gallery of spectators stepped up to show their support for Horace Marshall.

  Enraged, Yeager lashed out at the revolting merchants. “You sorry bunch of sheep, you need me to keep the peace in that shit hole you call a town. You can’t throw me out. I own a business there, I own the Trail’s End. I got as much right there as any of you.” He turned to Major Kinsey for support. “Tell ’em, Major.”

  Kinsey, watching the rebellious turmoil in fascination, replied, “Tell them what? It appears to me that the elders of the town are unanimous in voting for the termination of your services as sheriff. And speaking for the military, the army will support the town’s elders.”

  Wildly frustrated, Yeager demanded, “What about my saloon? I got as much right to do business there as anybody else.”

  “You don’t own Trail’s End,” Ed Taylor said to him. “You’ve got no claim on that saloon just because Spence Snyder was killed.” He looked at Major Kinsey then. “And there’s some of us that have a pretty good idea who shot Spence.”

  “You’ve got a mouth that’s gonna be too big for you to tote,” Yeager threatened. “I wonder if you’ve got the guts to back it up.”

  “That’s as far as this is going,” Kinsey interrupted. “You’ve turned this hearing into a brawl, and I’ll have a detail of guards bottle the whole lot of you up if you don’t clear out of this building and off this post.” He turned to address Yeager directly. “Sheriff, or should I say, Mister Yeager? My advice to you is to collect your personal property and move on to some other part of the territory. It’s plain to see there’s no place for you in Miles City. Let me be perfectly clear when I tell you that if trouble continues in that town, it can be taken under military control.”

  Yeager stood stone still, glaring defiantly at the major for almost a full minute before the rage inside him allowed him to speak. He shifted his gaze to Horace Marshall then and said, “You ain’t seen the last of me.” He turned then and started for the door, and the men of Miles City parted to allow him a clear path. Just before reaching the door, he paused to turn and fix Clint with an ominous stare. “I’m puttin’ my mark on you,” he threatened in a voice so low that only those standing near the door heard him.

  Incredulous witnesses to the chaotic scene just finished, Clint, Justin, and Valentine stood to one side of the room, scarcely able to believe the rebellion of the merchants of the town. Once the door was closed behind the fuming gunman, the mood changed to one of celebration for Clint’s release. Valentine suggested that it was also Independence Day for the little town, and recommended celebrating with a drink at Ernie’s Saloon. Everyone was invited and the drinks were on him. To a man, they accepted his offer, especially since they all wanted to travel back as a group instead of as individuals. None of the merchants were keen to travel the trail back to town alone with the prospect of the ominous Simon Yeager lying in wait. It was common knowledge that Yeager’s method of dealing with troublesome problems was usually by squeezing a trigger.

  “I’ll be over to join you at Ernie’s in a little while,” Clint said to Valentine. “I’ve got to go get my horse and my weapons.”

  “Maybe I’d better go with you,” Valentine said. “Since your regular bodyguard isn’t here to take care of you,” he added, referring to Ben Hawkins.

  Clint laughed. “I expect he’s probably givin’ Rena a hard time, tryin’ to get outta that bunk before he’s healed up proper. But you’d better go on to Ernie’s with the crowd, else they’re liable to think you’re runnin’ out on payin’ the bill.” Valentine still hesitated. So Clint, knowing what he was thinking, said, “Yeager ain’t fool enough to try anything on the post.”

  “I suppose not,” Valentine said. “Well, don’t be too long.” He went outside to join the town merchants for the short trip to Ernie’s.

  Major Kinsey walked over to talk to Clint then. “Well, congratulations, Cooper. I guess there wasn’t much doubt that Yeager was just trying to get you hanged for outdueling his brother. Of course, you’re free to go. Lieutenant Landry can go with you to get your weapons and your horse. I’ll see about having those wanted posters destroyed.”

  “I ’preciate it, Major,” Clint said.

  Justin waited until the major walked away before saying what was on his mind. “I guess I wasn’t much of a lawyer, but I’m mighty glad you came out of this thing all right. I got caught with my foot in my mouth when our two witnesses sat down in that chair and lied. I thought we’d lost it. According to what I was able to find out before the hearing, Duffy and Lewis were the only ones who really saw the shooting. I had no idea that there were that many more who witnessed it, too.”

  Clint smiled. “There weren’t,” he said. “Those two witnesses mighta thrown you for a loop, but you sure as hell held Curly’s feet to the fire. Let’s go get my rifle.”

  * * *

  The Miles City men were seated around two tables on one side of the saloon when Clint found them. They waved him over as soon as someone saw him walk in. He went by the bar first to pick up a glass.

  “Welcome back, Clint,” Ernie Thigpen greeted him, a great big grin on his face. “I heard they cleared your name.”

  “Yep,” Clint said. “I wasn’t an outlaw for long, but I sure didn’t like it much while I was.” He took the glass Ernie slid over toward him and started over to join the party, but Darcy Suggs intercepted him halfway.

  “Where the hell have you been?” she demanded. “I thought you were dead or something.”

  “Did you miss me?” he teased. “I was just stayin’ away to see if you’d forget me.”

  “Hell no, I didn’t miss you,” she said, pouting. “But everybody knew you went into town and shot Mace Yeager. I thought you had enough sense to walk around those Yeager brothers, just like you’d walk around a snake.”

  “Couldn’t be helped,” he said with a smile. “One of those snakes killed Pick Pickens, and you have to kill a snake that does things like that.” He took her by the arm. “Come on and join the party. Maybe you can lead one of the town’s leadin’ citizens upstairs to ride the bronc.”

  “What about you?” she asked. “I know you ain’t been riding the bronc, and that ain’t natural for a man as
young as you. If you don’t, everything in you is gonna dry up and you’ll start to look like Ernie over there.”

  He glanced back at the bar. “I believe I’ve got a few years yet before I get that bad.” He gave her arm a little squeeze then. “I tell you, it’s a mighty temptin’ thought, but I don’t reckon I’m up to it right now.” He placed his hand on his side over his wound. “That snake we were just talkin’ about, the one I killed, well, he bit me before I killed him. And I’m afraid I can’t really move much without being in real pain, so I couldn’t tend to you proper.”

  “Liar,” she charged. “You’ve always got some cockamamy excuse.”

  “No, I ain’t, darlin’. It’s just bad luck about my side. Anyway, I told you, I’m waitin’ till you get wore out from your profession, so I can marry you and make an honest woman outta you.” He reached over and placed his glass on the table. “Pour me a shot, Horace.” Horace Marshall picked up one of the bottles on the table and filled the glass. “Much obliged,” Clint said, and returned his attention to Darcy. “Anyway, I expect I’ll be leavin’ pretty soon now. I have to go back to the ranch with Mr. Valentine. He don’t like to go back by himself—scared of the dark.”

  She shook her head, perplexed. “Clint Cooper, you’re the biggest liar I’ve ever met. Aren’t you afraid your tongue is gonna turn black one of these days?” She spun on her heel and went back to the table where she had been sitting with a couple of soldiers before Clint walked in.

  Bringing his mind back to more serious matters, he took a chair from another table and pulled it in beside Horace Marshall. Horace looked as if he had had a real need for a drink after his bold confrontation with Simon Yeager.

  “That took some guts to do what you did back there in that courtroom,” Clint said to him. “It was mighty damn risky, but looks like the town stepped right up when you needed ’em. And I wanna thank you for doin’ it, because it looked like I was gettin’ ready to stretch some rope after the witnesses testified.”

  Sitting close by, Jim Duffy overheard Clint’s remarks. “I know you ain’t got no use for me, Clint, but Yeager came to see me before the trial. He threatened to harm my wife and kid if I didn’t back his story about that shootin’. I hate like hell that I had to do what I did, but I couldn’t take a chance on him hurtin’ my family.” He looked as if he expected Clint to challenge him.

  “Jim, there ain’t no doubt about it, I’da been mad as hell if you and Homer had sent me to the hangin’ tree. But since the rest of the town stepped up to do the right thing, I ain’t gonna waste my time carryin’ a grudge against either one of you. Besides, I heard it was you who let Yeager’s and those other two horses outta the corral to give me enough time to get away after Mace shot me. So let’s call it even and forget about it.”

  “You’re a fair and Christian man, Clint, and I wanna thank you for that,” Jim replied, greatly relieved. He was afraid it was not going to be as easy to repair his reputation with the rest of the town.

  After a short period of celebration, Randolph Valentine decided it was time to talk about some serious issues to come. Addressing Horace Marshall, he asked, “Have you men talked about the problem with Yeager before?”

  “Well,” Horace replied, not sure where Valentine was going with the question, “sure, we’ve all talked about the problem.”

  “But you haven’t gotten a committee together to discuss what action to take to get rid of the problem before?” Horace said that they had not. Valentine continued. “Well, you’ve damn sure taken the first step today, so you’d best be sure that everybody who spoke up today is willing to back it up. There might still be some trouble from that man before he clears out, and I can guarantee it if he catches any one of you alone. So I suggest you take to patrolling your street in pairs. You’ve got to organize, so the next gunman who rides into town doesn’t have a chance to get as far as Yeager did.”

  Just as Horace had, everyone there decided that it was time to defend the investment they had made in the future of their town. The first order of business was to organize a vigilance committee, and the first official meeting was held right then and there, in Ernie’s saloon. Horace Marshall was voted in as head of the committee, as well as mayor of the town. It was decided that the committee would handle all civil disorders until they could find a sheriff. When that subject came up, many eyes were turned in Clint’s direction, but he quickly told them that he had a job at the Double-V-Bar, and that was where his future lay.

  It was the middle of the afternoon before the Miles City vigilance committee left Ernie’s for the trip back to town. For a couple of the citizens, it was fortunate that Horace had driven his wagon, seeing as how it was questionable whether or not they could remain upright in the saddle. Such were the dangers of holding their meetings in a saloon.

  Clint and his boss started for the door, only to be stopped by Darcy Suggs. Ignoring Valentine, she grabbed Clint’s arm. “Sure you can’t stay with me tonight? I won’t see nobody else if you do.”

  “Oh, you know I’d like to, Darcy,” Clint said. “But I’ve got to ride back with Mr. Valentine.”

  She cocked a disapproving eye at Valentine, then released Clint’s arm. “You don’t know what you’re missing, Clint Cooper.”

  He gave her a smile, then walked outside with Valentine. When they were untying their horses from the hitching rail, Valentine said, “I don’t know what you’ve got on your mind, but if you want to stay here tonight with that woman, it doesn’t make any difference to me. I don’t need anybody to ride back with me.”

  Clint had to laugh at that. “No, sir, that’s the last thing I need tonight.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Valentine said. “I hoped you had higher ambitions than tussling with a whore.”

  Clint felt compelled to defend Darcy’s honor, what little she had. “Darcy’s just a friend. She’s rode a hard trail, I reckon, and it’s put a lot of wear on her, but she’s got a heart of gold inside.”

  As they left the saloon, they encountered Justin on his way to Ernie’s. “Looks like my lawyer’s a little late for the celebration,” Clint joked.

  “I just wanted to say again that I’m glad things worked out,” Justin said as he rode up to meet them. Directing his remarks to Valentine then, he said, “I guess I’ll see you on Sunday, if that’s all right with you—if I haven’t worn out my welcome.”

  “I leave that up to Hope,” Valentine said. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re welcome as long as she welcomes you.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’ll see you Sunday, then.” He nodded to Clint and wheeled his horse to return to the post.

  Clint had to admit that Justin’s courtship of Hope still bothered him, even though he and the lieutenant had sort of declared a truce between them.

  Chapter 14

  While the merchants celebrated the liberation of their town at Ernie’s, the target of their recent revolt was bitterly assessing his situation after the trial had gone so wrong.

  That damn fool, he thought. They’d have had to find Cooper guilty if Curly hadn’t let his mouth run on.

  He couldn’t blame Curly for all of it, however, for he knew all of the voluntary witnesses wanting to testify clinched the verdict for the three officers on the panel.

  The more he thought about what he had lost, the madder he became—so much so that he was in a state of overpowering rage by the time he got back to the Trail’s End. There were only a few customers inside, and he ordered them out, saying the saloon was closed. When Floyd asked what was going on, Simon ordered him out, too.

  One look at the fury etched on the face of the enraged brute was enough to clear out the saloon immediately. Simon could feel the burning rise of bile in his innards when he replayed the scene of the trial. He felt the need to strike out at something, so he picked up a chair and threw it crashing through the window of the empty saloon. The sound of it brought one of the tw
o prostitutes hurrying down the stairs to investigate.

  Alice Birchfield stopped halfway down when she saw the result of Yeager’s frustration. “Well, that was a dumb thing to do,” she said. “Now it’s gonna be cold as hell down here with that wind blowing in the window.”

  Without a thought, Yeager turned, drew his pistol, and fired, needing something more than a broken window to release his anger on. The shot caught the unfortunate woman in the breast, and she crumpled on the steps and slid almost to the bottom before lying still. Yeager looked up at the top of the stairs when Bonny Fry screamed. His lust for blood already out of control, he cocked the pistol and fired at her, but she had already fled to her room, screaming as she ran for her life.

  Knowing that his plans to operate the saloon were destroyed, he had no need for the two whores, so he started after Bonny. The sight of Alice’s body sprawled near the bottom of the stairs added fuel to his anger, so he grabbed her ankle and dragged her roughly down to the floor. With Alice out of the way, he stormed up the steps, but he was too late to stop Bonny from locking her door and going out the window. When he kicked her door in and found her gone, he calmed down enough to begin to think about what he was going to do, now that he was being forced out of town. He thought about Horace Marshall and Lon Bessemer, and the others who volunteered to witness.

  “They had the gall to tell me to get outta town,” he declared. Thinking of the lot of them, he refused to believe they had the stomach or the nerve to run him out of town. “By God, we’ll see about that,” he decided. “I’ll plant myself behind this bar and shoot anybody that comes through the door.”

  The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that there was not a hatful of courage in the whole town. And if they did try to storm him, he was confident that he could take out enough of the town’s business owners to cause the collapse of the entire town. Then he would leave, after he had brought the town to its knees and it was too depleted of its leading citizens to survive.