Jeremiah Tucker The Gunfighter - Book One

by James Butler

  “I’m not a poker player, but I like to watch. It gets awful boring just looking out the window and watching the trees go by. Maybe tomorrow, if I can get up enough nerve.” I looked at the pot. There couldn’t have been more than twenty dollars, but still that’s twenty dollars I wouldn’t have to work for and, if I lost, it wouldn’t be a big deal. I got up and, as I walked out, I said, “If I can get up the nerve to play, what time does the game start?”

  “It never stops,” said one of the men with a goodly sum in front of him. “The players change, but the game never stops.”

  On my way back to my car, I noticed a horse running alongside the train. We were going up an incline and the train had slowed considerably. Then another horse came up and this one had a rider with two other horses in tow.

  Were they outlaws? asked one of the reporters.

  Well, I figured they were either outlaws or they just liked to chase trains like a dog chasing a wagon, but I didn’t think to ask. I figured there were four of them in all and that meant that there were already three on the train. I went back to my seat and looked around. Most of the people who can afford to ride on a train are fairly well off. They were all clean and dressed well, but there were these three characters who were in long coats and it was summer and hot as hell even with the windows open. One was at each end of the car and the other was in the middle. I saw the one in the middle get up and take his hat off and stick it under the nose of the pretty young lady across the aisle. He had his hat in one hand and his gun in the other and, at the same time, the fellow at my end of the car came up to me and stuck his hat in my face and said, “Put all your money in my hat and hurry up about it.”

  I took my left hand and lifted my wallet out of my coat. He was looking at all the money I had stuffed in it when, with my right hand, I took my .44 and blew him across the car and almost out the window. The dumb-ass with the girl turned and looked at me like he didn’t believe it. I shot a hole in him while he was looking, knocking him to the other end of the car. The third one lost all his courage with his two partners dead. He ran out of the car and jumped on his horse held by the rider running the horses alongside the train. I just leaned out the window and shot both of them off their horses. The train never stopped until we got to the top of the hill. I sure hope they were outlaws cause I killed all four of them, but I never stopped to ask.

  What happened next?

  Well, the train stopped and everybody was all excited. They were all patting me on the back and buying me drinks. Things you’d expect when something like that happens. The conductors and some of the passengers went back down the hill on foot and caught the horses, loaded them onto the train with the dead outlaws and dumped them off at the first town we came to. When the sheriff came to take the bodies, the local paper was there and I had to give them my name and tell them what had happened. I knew Alma would read about it, so I told them a slightly different version. I didn‘t want her to think I was ever in any danger.

  What about you? Did they give you a reward?

  No, and I wouldn’t have taken one if they’d offered. I was alive and a hero in the eyes of the passengers and that was reward enough, especially in the big, blue eyes of the pretty young lady who I had saved from being robbed. Her eyes sparkled when she looked at me. That night, I asked her to dinner and later showed her what a first class cabin looked like. The next day I joined the poker game and the first card they dealt me was an ace up. The second card was dealt down and it was also an ace. I folded my hand and left the table. I just couldn’t take advantage of those good people.

  Was the pretty, blue-eyed lady going all the way to California?

  Yes, she went all the way, many times as I recall.

  Chapter 9

  I had to get away from those reporters for a while. I excused myself after promising to come back later and walked outside. I needed a shave and a haircut, so I looked for a barber shop. The barber’s chair was a good place for a quick nap while he covered my face with a hot towel and lathered it up with the warm soap. I laid back in the chair, closed my eyes and remembered those big, blue eyes. Her name was Mary Frances. I never knew her last name. That was all she told me. I didn’t even know if she was married or not. Sometimes when a woman traveled alone, she would take her wedding ring off. She may not have been married, but she sure was experienced in the ways of making love. When we finally got to California, I found out that she worked in a whorehouse in San Francisco. That’s how she got all that experience. I wrote Alma a letter and mailed it at the next stop. I told her all about the train robbery, everything except the part about the blue-eyed girl.

  My mind drifted back to when I was a child and my mother fighting for her life when I stuck the pitchfork in the cowboy’s neck. I had the money to buy back my property now. I wondered how the court was going to see things. Somebody had been living in the old house for all these years, but that made me no difference. My mother and father were still buried out under the oak tree in front of the house and, as far as I was concerned, I still owned that place.

  “You been gone a long time, young Tucker,” said the barber. “I reckon you’ve come back to reclaim what them Yankees took from you.”

  “I’m hoping to. It’s just about all I’ve thought about since I left.”

  “Well, you may be surprised. A lot has changed since you were here last.”

  He took the sheet off me and brushed the hair from my coat. “We’re all finished here. You better get on back to the court room. Your turn should be coming up pretty soon.”

  ***

  The reporters were still there waiting. The court was still in session. I took my chair and continued on where I had left off.

  San Francisco was a beautiful city. It had over a hundred and fifty thousand people living there. They had beautiful houses. They’re much more modern than here. They had streetcars that people could ride in pulled by horses. There was this place called Chinatown where all these Chinese people came to America to live. Some people took advantage of the Chinese girls and turned them into whores. The government of San Francisco passed a law making it wrong to use the Chinese in that way. Of course, that meant more business for the pretty, blue-eyed blond.

  Mary Frances knew every sailor in San Francisco. She took me down to the docks and introduced me to just the right man. He owned a freighter that made regular trips to Alaska all the way up into the Yukon River area. His name was Horn and he called his company Around the Horn Freight Lines. He was a big man with a seaman’s beard. His face was weathered from being out at sea for most of his life. He carried freight up to Alaska and brought back lumber from the Yukon to San Francisco. I worked my way to Alaska on that freighter doing whatever I could to help them. Being a seaman and a gunfighter-gambler are really two completely different things. There were eight crewmen on the boat and I didn’t want them to know I had any money. I was hoping they hadn’t read about the attempted train robbery. We went right up the coast to Sitka, not far from Juneau, on the border of British Columbia and not too far from Yukon territory. Gold had recently been discovered in Sitka and there were gold-hungry miners from all over the world there. You could buy anything you needed right there in Sitka. I bought what I thought I needed and took it back to the freighter. There were too many people in Sitka. I wanted to go somewhere no one else had been. I had gotten to be friends with the captain. For some reason, he liked the way I worked even though I had no experience at being a seaman. He said he knew just the place.

  We were on our way to Anchorage when two stowaway Chinese girls were found hiding in the engine room. The captain wanted to throw them overboard, but the crewman who had hidden them was drunk and objected. He pulled a knife on the captain and slashed his arm. The captain was an older man and I could see he was going to get killed so I intervened. The crewman never had a chance, but I made out like it was a big deal. I didn’t want them to know I was a gunfighter. When he came at me with the knife, I just shot him in the face and put him
down. This made my friendship with the captain much stronger. We threw the two Chinese whores and the dead crewman overboard, went on to Anchorage and then to the mouth of the Yukon. I wrote another letter to Alma and gave it to the captain to mail. I told her I was going into the wilderness somewhere on the Yukon River and, if she wrote, to mail it to Around The Horn Freight Lines in San Francisco. I told her I missed her and that it might be a while before she heard from me again. It could be over a year, but if I made it out alive, I’d be knocking on her door one day. I told her that I had made a mistake by not staying in town with her until we knew each other better, but hindsight is always better than foresight.

  “We’re coming up on the place where you’ll be getting off,” said the captain. “It’s a little village right on the river. Bunch of Eskimos. I’ll be coming around about every six months and, when I pass by, I’ll blow my horn. If you have any letters you want to mail, then leave them at the store in the village and I’ll pick them up on my way out. If that girlfriend of yours writes, I’ll drop her letters off there for you.”

  We stopped at the village and I unloaded my gear. He unloaded the freight and mail to the village, got back on the freighter and it moved away.

  “Keep your powder dry,” he yelled. “I’ll be back down river here in about three days. If you discover it’s too much for you, be here then. Wolves won’t bother you, but the bears can really make a mess out of you.” He said something else, but I couldn’t make it out, something about not letting hair grow on my hands. I bought a mule and a dog from a man in the village and headed out into the wilderness, not having a map or any idea of where I was going. I did keep my rifle in hand at all times. I named the mule Jack and the dog Blue Eyes. She was a young dog, but she was a Husky and I knew she could handle the weather. I wanted a Husky because she would give me warning if a bear came around. She was black and white with blue eyes.

  The captain was right about there not being any people around. From the looks of the trail, only animals had used it. The country was beautiful, trees taller than I had ever seen and mountains with snow on top. Being raised in Kansas, the only mountains I ever saw were the Ozarks when I was in the war.

  There was a stuffed grizzly in the store at Sitka and I’d never seen a bear that big. I sure didn’t want to tangle with one.

  ***

  It was a beautiful day except for the flies and mosquitoes. Alma was right about that. They were as big as horseflies. We had gone back only about five miles. We were on a trail just barely wide enough for a wagon. From the trail, the ground dropped off so steep that you couldn’t stand on it, all the way down to a little creek. It was about a fifty foot drop; a steep slope, but not straight down. On the other side of the trail was a bluff that went straight up. I was out in front when the mule stopped. I pulled on his lead and tried to urge him on, but he turned around and ran off. Blue Eyes ran out ahead of me. She was growling and barking and looking mean. She looked back at me to see if I was watching her do her job. Her fur was up on her back and neck. She would run forward and then whine and come running back to me.

  The smell hit me first even though there was a wind at my back. It smelled like a hog. I readied my rifle expecting to meet a wild boar coming down the trail towards us. Instead, the biggest bear I’d ever seen, bigger than the one in Sitka, came charging toward me. You never know how you’re going to react to such a sight. Every split second counts. One wrong move and you’re bear shit. My only thought was to fly away from there. If I shot him with my rifle and didn’t kill him with the first shot, I wouldn’t get another. He was almost on top of me.

  I dove from the trail down toward the creek. I was flying for a moment and so high I thought I’d be killed when I hit the ground. I hit hard and rolled all the way into the water. I was on his trail and I thought, if I get off of it, he’ll leave me alone. Blue Eyes attacked him and I heard her yelp and saw her go flying through the air. The bear turned and started sliding down the slope on his rear, growling and showing me his teeth. My rifle was laying somewhere between me and the bear. The only gun I had was my .44. I pulled it and fired. All it did was stop him for a moment and then on he came, madder than before. I was standing in the creek taking aim and firing until, with my last shot, I finally killed him, but not before he took a swap at me and ripped my face open with his massive claws. I had never known fear like that before. I stood there in the water shaking, looking down at this magnificent bear. His paw was bigger than my head. I realized how lucky I was to be alive. I sat down on the creek bank beside his massive body and stared down into the water.

  The sun was shining just right through the trees and what I saw in the water excited me even more: The sparkle of gold. I had never seen it before, but when you do, there’s no mistaking it. I completely forgot about my face and the bear and was diving down into the water bringing up gold nuggets that had been trapped in the roots of that tree probably for hundreds of years. It was only five miles in from the village and on a trail. I wondered why no one had ever found it. If it hadn’t been for the bear, that gold would probably still be there today. I didn’t know the name of the creek, but I named it right then and there: Bear Claw Creek, and that’s where I staked my claim.

  The freighter came back after six months like he said and he had a whole stack of letters for me from Alma. In the last letter she wrote, she said she loved me. Nobody ever said that to me in person or in a letter. I kept all her letters and read them every day, especially that last one. I wrote her a letter and told her I’d be coming back. I didn’t tell her about the gold, but I told her about the bear and how he had ripped my face open: “You may not want a man with a scar on his face like the one the bear gave me, but I’m coming home and will give you the chance to say no. I’ll be going to my old homestead first and try to buy it back from the Yoders.” I gave the letter to Horn and he mailed it at his next stop.

  I’d bought an old wagon at the village. I collected the empty, oak beer kegs they’d discarded and put my gold in them. I sat there in the entrance of my lean-to with my dog and my mule watching the snow fall and listening to the wolves howl. It was the most beautiful place I’ve ever been, but as I read Alma’s letters over and over, I thought: How much gold does one man need?

  On Horn’s next trip back, I was waiting at the village with Blue Eyes ready to go. It took the whole crew to load my gold. I had it packed away in those small kegs, but the weight of each keg was almost too much for one man. The captain had a safe on board, but it wasn’t big enough to hold the gold. I stored it under my bunk and tied Blue Eyes there to guard it. I paid the captain for my trip back, so I didn’t have to work. I didn’t want to leave that gold for long periods of time. I’d made friends with the whole crew and would trust them under normal circumstances, but gold is gold and it does strange things to people. One night while we were asleep, someone came to my bunk and tried to slide one of the kegs out from under it while I was sleeping there. He must have been crazy. Blue Eyes barked and I blew a hole right through the top of that man’s head all the way to his asshole.

  What happened to the mule and dog?

  Blue Eyes is here with me now. She’s being looked after by Bill down at the stable while I’m in court. She was almost killed by that grizzly and the mule ran all the way back to the village. I found Blue Eyes and carried her down to the creek. I was freezing to death, not so much from the weather, but from being in that freezing water. I took my knife and cut open that bear and me and Blue Eyes climbed inside his belly and went to sleep. The next morning I carried Blue Eyes all the way back to the village. The mule had dumped my gear and scattered it all along the trail. One of the women at the village store sewed up my face and took care of Blue Eyes. She had a pretty good cut in her side. I traded that mule for another and called him Plan B. I wanted one that wouldn’t be afraid to go down that trail. I made a saddle of sorts for Blue Eyes and let her ride back to the site. I skinned that bear and made my lean-to. I used his hide as a blanket at
night and as a coat while I was working. Me and Blue Eyes lived off that bear meat for quite a spell. I kept the meat in that freezing water.

  One of the reporters looked at his face and said, It’s not that bad considering what it could have been.

  The court room was letting out. “You’re up next, Mr. Tucker,” said a man standing in the doorway of the courtroom.

  How much gold did you find in Bear Claw Creek? asked a reporter.

  “More than I’ll ever be able to spend. It’s all locked away in the new vault at the bank.” I walked into the courtroom followed by the reporters.

  “I suppose you’re here about the property, Mr. Tucker?”

  “Yes, sir.” The judge was different. He wasn’t a Yankee, for one, and he smiled when he talked to me and that was sure different.

  “The people who took over your property in ’65 were the Yoders.” He was reading from a stack of papers he held. “They didn’t pay their taxes either and the land went back up for sale again. It was just recently purchased by another party who paid the back taxes.”

  “Who was it?”

  “You have quite a reputation as a gunfighter. I think most people are afraid to talk to you. They wished to keep their name anonymous. I can’t blame them for that.”

  “What can I do? I have enough money to buy the place many times over. My parents are buried there and I’d really like to have the property back.”

  “My suggestion to you would be to ride out there and talk to the new owner. Sometimes things can be worked out outside a courtroom, but you’ve got to be nice. Don’t go shooting anybody.”