by S G Read
’Who are you?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘Who are you?’ Duncan slurred in return.
‘I am the man who is going to break you in half if you don’t answer me.’ The man roared causing the saloon to suddenly go quite.
‘Oh that’s who you are?’ Duncan replied still slurred and walked on.
One of the men with the aggressor tripped Duncan who promptly fell to the floor and did not move again despite being kicked and told to get up.
‘He soaked up a lot earlier.’ The bartender said from behind the bar.
‘Did I ask you?’ The aggressor asked.
‘No Bo.’
‘Then keep it buttoned until I ask for you to speak. Dump him in the trough.’
Duncan was carried out bodily to the trough and dumped into it and sank to the bottom. After a few seconds he surfaced spluttering as he did so.
‘What the hell do you want mister?’ He asked when he cleared his airways.
‘I asked your name.’ Bo answered.
‘Did you I don’t recall. If you are so fired up to learn my name it is....’ there was a significant pause before he said anymore. ‘Michael, Michael Miller and you are?’
‘What are you doing in Morgansville Miller?’
Duncan did not answer.
‘I asked you a question.’ Bo repeated.
‘You did? What was it?’ Duncan answered while a man close by sniggered.
‘What are you doing in Morgansville?’
‘I was trying to buy a drink, is there any law against buying a drink?’
‘I mean, why are you in Morgansville?’
‘It was the next town down the road from where I was wherever that was. I don’t remember much; one day I was there and next day I was here.’
‘I wonder why?’ the man who sniggered snorted. ‘I suppose you remember a ride in a buckboard as well.’
‘When I want you to speak I’ll tell you to.’ Bo growled testily. ‘When are you leaving?’
‘To go where?’ Duncan answered. ‘Where am I anyway?’
‘This is Morgansville.’ The same man answered drawing a glare from Bo.
‘Where is that when it is at home?’
‘Here you drunk.’ The same man retorted. ‘You could plug him Bo, then you wouldn’t have to worry about him.’
‘Who says I am worried about the drunk.’ Bo declared and threw Duncan back into the trough before walking back to the saloon.
Duncan climbed out and returned to the saloon, choosing to go inside rather than try to listen from underneath. He walked in dripping with water and when he reached the bar the bartender poured him a whisky on the house. He bought two more before planting his head on the bar in a pretence or sleep. He heard nothing much early on and was in danger of falling asleep before the patronage thinned down and he could hear what the people left inside were saying. He was interested in what Bo was saying more than the rest and they stayed longest. The bartender made no move to close up while Bo was there with his three cronies.
‘What about the Carters?’ The man who had spoken out of turn asked.
‘The boss has plans for them.’ Bo answered but we are not here to talk about them. ‘Tomorrow we kill McBride.’ He looked round at Duncan, walked over to him and slammed his head into the bar. ‘Damned drunk.’
Duncan felt the pain but did not show anything, the whisky helped a lot in that department.
‘Where do we do it?’ The talkative man asked in a quieter voice as the bartender had retreated to the far end of the bar.
‘When he goes through the dry gulch.’ Bo answered.
‘So we are going to dry gulch him? How poetic.’ The talkative men retorted.
‘Some times I worry about you Carpenter.’ Bo declared and walked out.
The rest followed.
‘Time to go feller.’ The bartender declared. ‘I’m shutting up now.’
Duncan did not respond. In the end the bartender dragged him outside and locked the door. Duncan stayed put for half an hour before he slinked away with his tail between his legs, complaining bitterly about his mistreatment, to anyone who was listening. He crawled under the saloon and stayed there for an hour before walking back to his camp in the dark to dry out his clothes. As he neared the camp he smelled cooking food and walked on cautiously. Someone had lit a fire in his camp and a rabbit was cooking on a spit. No one was in sight and he guessed who had a hand in it. He walked to the fire and took of his still wet clothes to dry them by the fire while he used a towel to dry himself with. He ate the rabbit when it was cooked and settled down to sleep after applying some of Morning Sum’s balm to his head, to try to stop it hurting.
Before first light Duncan was looking at his map for the dry gulch they meant and headed for it. He set up his rifle where he could see what went down in front of him and waited. He saw Bo arrive with his three cronies and they hid themselves ready to kill McBride, when he came through. They knew he was coming this way, as Morgan had invited him to come and discuss burying the hatchet on their feud. Duncan thought seriously about shooting the four men but decided to warn McBride by firing close to him and thus stopping him coming through the gulch. McBride soon worked out what to do for the best, he turned and fled. Now Duncan turned his attentions to Bo and his little group in case they were of a mind to follow McBride and shoot him anyway. He fired shots to keep them where they were, or in the case of two of them, they fled the way they had come. When he had given McBride enough time to get away Duncan threw a few more shots in Bo’s direction before slipping away, carrying the rifle in his hand to let it cool down. He circled the area trying to lose his trail on rocks and returned to his camp. Once he was in his camp, he returned to his town drunk look and smell then hurried into town trying to arrive unseen.
The saloon was not busy. He bought a whisky and took it to a vacant table to await the arrival of Bo but when Bo did return to town, he went straight to the cattleman’s association but Duncan did not find that out for a while, not until the talkative crony arrived.
‘Bo’s with the boss now, he’s fit to be tied. We were running a little chore when someone started shooting at us from a hill.’ He complained.
‘That wouldn’t be the hill overlooking that dry gulch would it?’ The bartender asked.
‘You hear too much for your own good Lofty.’
‘No I think it is you talking too much for your own good Will.’ Lofty answered.
‘Just fill up that glass.’ Will turned round and saw Duncan with his half a glass of whisky. ‘Is that damned bar fly in here again?
Duncan was unceremoniously thrown outside into the street; he was glad it was not the horse trough again and staggered off, cursing anyone he saw but he happy for the intrusion into his drinking time. He walked round the back of the saloon and on to the cattleman’s association. He found an opening into the space under the raised floor and crawled about looking for money and listening for someone interesting talking above. He heard Bo’s voiced and crawled over to where it was loudest to listen.
‘I tell you we were there all ready to plug him and someone fired on us from the hill. I followed the trail as far as I could but lost it but I think they came from somewhere in town.’ Bo complained.
‘And you say you did not see who it was?’ The answerer asked.
Duncan assumed it was Morgan.
‘No Mr Morgan.’
Duncan smiled under the floor when he was proved right and wrote down all he could remember in his little book.
‘Well I want McBride dead today so go out and do it now!’ Morgan declared.
‘But he will be surrounded by all his men.’ Bo argued.
‘Well send out Johnson with the scope rifle; as soon as McBride appears he can plug him and come back.’ Morgan answered. ‘Send him out and we’ll go down to the saloon to make sure we have an alibi for his murder.’
‘Right away boss.’
Duncan did not wait any longer he moved over to the gap while Bo
was walking out, the noise of his footsteps drowning out Duncan’s exit. Duncan hurried out of town keeping out of sight when he could or staggering when anyone could see him. He ran back to his camp, climbed on his horse without changing and rode off toward the McBride spread.
There were two ranches left in opposition to Morgan, the McBride ranch and the Carter ranch. Both had a few hands there who would put up a fight to stop Morgan. Morgan obviously thought things would go better without a leader.
Duncan rode out to high ground that overlooked the farm, he assumed the man with the scope rifle would set up here. Now he moved back to a place he could see to shoot anyone trying to fire from that very spot. It was lucky the high ground was only on one side of the ranch and Duncan settled down to wait. He could have warned McBride but then they would know who he was and what he was up to.
An hour later a man arrived on horseback and set up the same sort of rifle that Duncan had. Duncan wondered if he had come across the rifle the same way as he had, he had taken his from a dead confederate sniper and chose to keep the rifle. The man he assumed was Johnson set up his rifle ready to shoot as soon as McBride appeared. Duncan in turn set his rifle to shoot Johnson as soon as he went to fire then they both settled down to wait.
It was an hour before McBride appeared and Johnson lined up on him, as he walked out of the house, Duncan was already lined up on Johnson and reading his body movements; he fired just before he thought Johnson was going to. Johnson arched his back and slumped forwards onto his rifle but did not fire. Duncan was annoyed he wanted a shot to alert the ranch and none came. He moved down to the lower position leaving his horse nearby and crept up to the dead man. The ranch had heard something but they did not know what or where it came from so Duncan fired Johnson’s rifle smashing the porch light then hurried away. The hands below returned fire with their rifles and some mounted horses to come up to where Johnson lay but Duncan was long gone. They found the dead Johnson, one of Morgan’s men and the sniper’s rifle recently fired and took both back to the ranch. McBride looked at both.
‘With that rifle he could have picked his spot and we did not shoot him from the position of the wound, so we have someone helping us. Probably the same man who fired on me yesterday. That means there was an ambush ahead and Morgan was the only man who knew I was coming. I think a trip into town is called for boys.’
Duncan knew none of that he returned to his camp and then to town. He walked into the bar and bought a whisky.
‘How come you always have money?’ Lofty asked from behind the bar.
Duncan tapped his nose. ‘I’ll tell you one day.’ He answered and took his whisky to a table. He saw Bo and a man he assumed was Morgan, sitting at a table but did not choose a table near them, as it was likely to get a might dangerous over there.
Lofty smiled a knowing smile; as soon as Michael was drunk again, he would find out where his money came from.
An hour later McBride walked into the saloon with several men one of whom had Johnson over his shoulder. Another had Johnson’s rifle.
‘Missing someone Morgan?’ McBride asked.
‘I fired him yesterday.’ Morgan answered.
‘And I take it you have been in here drinking all morning?’ McBride asked.
‘I have with Bo here.’
As Morgan answered a sheriff and four deputies walked into the saloon all armed for bear.
‘What is going on in here?’ The sheriff asked.
‘Just having a polite conversation with Mr McBride sheriff Boyd.’ Morgan answered. ‘From what I gather from the evidence in front of me one of my employees, one who I fired yesterday tried to bushwhack Mr McBride here.’
‘If that is true then you should be talking to me McBride.’ The sheriff replied.
‘I’d rather go direct to the one pulling the strings sheriff, no offence intended.’ McBride retorted.
The sheriff’s face took on a red hue but he said nothing.
‘I suggest you let the sheriff investigate the whole thing just to make sure you did not just shoot Johnson there and make up this story to besmirch my name.’ Morgan replied evenly.
‘Well, I suggest if he comes out to arrest someone. When he does, he brings more than this little bunch Morgan.’ McBride warned.
‘Now now McBride we can see the evidence, he tried to bushwhack someone and you killed him so he wasn’t very good at it was he. I only employ the best which is why I let him go.’ Morgan retorted.
The man carrying Johnson dumped him on the floor and McBride left with his ranch hands; the sheriff went to leave.
‘Don’t leave your evidence behind sheriff.’ Morgan ordered.
The deputies picked up the dead man and his gun before they left. Bo and Morgan sat talking quietly for a while before they left but Duncan could not hear what they were saying, although he thought he could probably guess. He finished his whisky bought another which he downed immediately then walked out with a slight stagger, one which was not put on. He walked behind the saloon and hurried under the building which housed the cattleman’s association but there was no one in there talking whose voice he recognised. In the end he made his way to his camp and changed into his best going to town clothes and donned a false beard so as not to be recognised by anyone. He carried two pistols both tied down and he knew how to fire them. People looked at him as he rode into town and up to the telegraph office.
‘Can I help?’ The man behind the glass screen asked.
‘I want to send a telegram.’
‘Came to the right place then mister.’ The man answered and slid a form under the glass.
Duncan filled in the form using his code name of John Potter and slid it back under the glass.
‘Take a while for that lot, will cost four dollars and eighty cents.’
Duncan slid the money over and waited.
‘I’ll do it later.’ The telegraph operator declared.
‘No you’ll do it now.’ Duncan retorted.
‘Now listen here...’ The telegraph operator started but Duncan held his pistol up to the glass. ‘Okay keep your hair on.’
He started tapping but Duncan had manned a telegraph office in the war.
‘Send it now or I will come in and do it and any more of that test signal will annoy me.’
The telegraph operator sent the message while Duncan watched. A few seconds later the answer came back and Duncan caught most of it without seeing it written down.
‘Well she is still hanging on in there.’ The telegraph operator declared as he gave Duncan the answer.
‘But will she still be alive in a week, I am out on the prairie until then. Still I can always ask when I am next in town.’
‘Can’t get back eh?’
‘No I know you are supposed to look after your ma but my boss is a slave driver.’
‘We got a few of them round here Mister Potter; I hope there is better news when you are in next.’ The telegraph operator replied.
‘Sorry about the pistol I haven’t got a lot of time.’
‘Think nothing of it I have had worse things threatened.’
Duncan slid another dollar under the glass and tipped his hat as he walked away. He thought that went well and rode out of town in the direction he arrived from. He picked his way round town to his camp and changed into his smelly clothes again.
Chapter 3
Duncan spent half his time in the saloon and half his time under the cattleman’s association floor where he learned more and more of the goings on in the town and surrounding area. Both remaining ranches were well armed and ready for battle and after the attempt on his life, McBride did not go anywhere without a bodyguard and scouts up front for bushwhackers. Carter did not leave his ranch at all and his supplies came from surrounding towns, when they managed to get through.
Now when Duncan rode into town, always when Bo was not in town he was greeted like a friend by the telegraph operator and there was no trouble sending and receiving an answer to his request
for news. It was all coded to tell the marshal just what was going on and the latest answer revealed the presence of two rangers, one to keep an eye on each ranch. It was not known in the office and as far as all concerned they were on leave of absence. They had not found the man there in Morgan’s pay but they were feeding information through different channels to try to find them out.
It was a week later that Duncan heard Morgan arrange the hit on the carter ranch. A party had left in darkness for supplies. They would not be back inside a week and now was the time to strike. Morgan was to arrange his usual alibi and Bo was going to lead the raid. Duncan thought about it for a few seconds and squirmed from under the cattleman’s association floor but Bo had heard him and came to investigate.
‘What the hell are you doing under there drunk?’ He cried and picked Duncan up by the shirt front.
‘Looking for money.’ Duncan answered honestly and held out what he had found.
‘Well that belongs to us not you.’ Bo retorted and snatched the money before he threw Duncan to the ground and stormed off. ‘And stay out from under there in future.’ He growled as he walked away.
Duncan followed, he had an idea. It was dangerous but might be worthwhile. Bo walked along the street and into the saloon. Duncan followed swaying slightly for effect. By the time he reached the saloon Bo was ordering a drink and Duncan walked up to him.
‘It’s my money, give it back!’ He ordered.
‘What are you on about drunk?’ Bo retorted.
‘Give me my money!’
Bo turned to push Duncan away but Duncan was having none of it and picked up an empty bottle to enforce his request. Bo went to push him away with his left hand the one not holding his drink so Duncan hit his hand with the bottle hard enough to break the bottle on Bo’s hand. Bo shrieked with pain and dropped his drink. Bo went for his pistol with his other hand. To stop him Duncan thrust the end of the broken bottle into his hand as it came up with the pistol in it. Bo was fast but Duncan beat him to the move and Bo dropped the pistol squealing with pain.