by John Legg
Culpepper jammed his Winchester into the saddle scabbard and mounted his buckskin horse. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw that Jody was riding swiftly toward him. Culpepper breathed a sigh of relief. He had been certain that Jody was bad hurt when he saw the blood. Culpepper clucked at his horse and trotted over to Cole and Jaegger. They, too, were dead. Culpepper was a little surprised to see that Cole had died of a broken neck, gotten when he had fallen off his horse.
Culpepper mounted up again and trotted over the ridge. He found the bounty hunters’ mule hobbled with a short length of rope. Culpepper cut the hobble and brought the mule back to where Jody and Bear were waiting a few feet from Eberhardt’s corpse.
“How’re you doin’, Jody?” Jonas asked, hoping his voice did not convey his suddenly renewed worry.
“Fine and dandy,” Jody answered with a grin. “I was lucky. The bullet just slid across the back of my shoulder. It’s more blood and sting than serious.”
“We’d best get it cleaned out soon, though, before it festers up on you.”
Jody nodded. “Good idea. But I figure it can wait till we make camp for the night.” He pointed and then winced as pain struck him in the shoulder a little. “That their mule?”
“Yep. You never can tell, they might have somethin’ usable in their supplies.”
“You aimin’ to bury those boys?”
“Nope,” Jonas said flatly.
“Damn good thing, too, big brother,” Jody said with a growl. “Them bastards aren’t worth bein’ consigned to the ground.”
“That’s a fact. You sure you’re going to be all right with that shoulder?”
Jody nodded. “It’s painin’ me some, but not too bad. Let’s just get going.”
That night in camp, Jonas brought out his small kit of medical supplies. There wasn’t much in it—a bottle of laudanum, some herbs for poultices, and two kinds of cathartic. Jonas cleaned Jody’s wound with water from Mesa Creek, which had almost no flow, but had water stagnating behind rocks here and there. Then he made up a poultice and slathered it on the wound. He found a fine new shirt in the bounty hunters’ packs and he sliced it into bandages with his bowie knife. Then he bandaged his brother.
The camp was in a low spot along Mesa Creek. A couple of cottonwoods rose tall from near the creek bed, and there were junipers and a few box elders scattered around the area. The trees provided enough wood for a small fire, for which the Culpeppers were grateful. After a day such as they’d had, there was little more disheartening than a cold camp.
The wind had sprung up, though the brothers felt little of it in their sheltered little camp. But the temperature dropped and thunder rumbled off in the distance. Jonas figured they’d have rain before the night was through.
He was right, but there actually was precious little rain. There was a lot more blowing dust than precipitation, and even that was gone by morning.
Jody awoke a little stiff from his wound, and he grumped around the camp about it.
“Good Lord, Jody,” Culpepper finally said, “I was going to offer you the chance to stay here another day or so to let you heal a little, but I ain’t going to make the offer if all you’re going to do is growl at me the whole durn day.”
“I ain’t going to hold you up for no damn stupid little wound. You want to press on, we’ll leave. Don’t try to blame stayin’ here on me when it’s you who needs the rest, you old bastard.”
“It’s no wonder you never found some gal to marry you, boy,” Jonas said tightly. “You’re such a pain in the tail feathers that no woman could stand you.” Then he grinned. “You want to stay here another day or not?”
“Nah. Hell, like you said, Jonas, all I’m going to do is grouse and make a nuisance of myself. I’ll be all right.”
Jonas nodded. He refreshed the poultice and bandages, then made his brother sit while he loaded both mules and saddled their two horses. All the while, Jody sat there issuing profane directions as to how he wanted everything done. He laughed frequently as he saw Jonas’s ire begin to rise.
Jonas, for his part, ignored the pestering as best he could. He knew what Jody was doing, and he was determined not to play into his brother’s hands, if he could help it. Still, the constant drone was wearing on him. Finally he turned and said, “Bear, get him!”
The mastiff looked at Jonas in question for a moment, then pulled back on his haunches a little. His hackles rose and he emitted soft, dangerous-sounding growls. He edged toward Jody, his teeth bared ferociously.
“You and him’re jokin’ here, ain’t you, Jonas?” Jody asked nervously as he watched the dog. “He ain’t really going to attack me, now, is he?”
“He ain’t attacked nobody in a’ couple days,” Jonas said offhandedly. “Not since you were smackin’ the bejeebers out of Marshal Childress back in San Miguel. Bear gets mighty edgy when he ain’t allowed to attack for some time. So there’s no tellin’ if he’s serious or not.”
Bear was within three feet of Jody now, still growling and looked mighty fierce.
“All right, you old bastard, I’ll shut up,” Jody said suddenly. “Just call him off!”
“Bear!” Jonas said sharply. “Face!”
The mastiff suddenly pounced, landing on Jody’s chest, forcing a worried screech from the man’s lips. Then Bear was slobbering all over Jody’s face, while Jody squiggled wildly until he realized what Bear was doing.
“All right, Bear,” Jody finally said. “You’ve made your point. Now get off me, you big galoot.”
Jonas laughed and called Bear. The mastiff bounced happily over to his master, who petted him. “Good boy,” Jonas repeated.
“I’m going to get you for that, you son of a bitch,” Jody said, grinning ruefully. “Damn, that was a nasty prank to pull on a feller.”
“I thought it was quite funny myself,” Jonas said with a chuckle.
“I didn’t say it wasn’t funny,” Jody said, laughing. “I just said it was a nasty prank to pull on your own dear brother.”
The humor died in the next few weeks as the fruitless searching led them nowhere. They had finally found the town of Westville—where the outlaw Milt Adler had said Ellsworth had planned to divvy up the loot. Westville turned out to be a ghost town, with no sign that anyone had been there any time in the recent past.
Culpepper had stood there, watching a tumbleweed blowing across the deserted street and wondering what to do now. He was no longer certain that Adler had told him the truth. Westville was not the kind of place a flamboyant outlaw like Mack Ellsworth would hole up, since there were no women, whiskey, or amenities of any kind. On the other hand, it was such a remote, deserted place that few people would think to look here for loot, buried or otherwise.
They stayed at Westville that night, and in the morning, they began following the Dolores River as it headed vaguely northwest. Somewhere in the next few days, Jonas thought they had crossed into Utah Territory, but he was not sure.
The land they traveled was a vast wasteland. A massive peak could be seen to the southwest, and a smaller ridge of mountains to the northeast. Except for that, the land was flat, barren and offered almost nothing in the way of relief from the heat.
The only saving grace was that the Dolores had water in it, and there were sporadic clumps of trees along the riverbank.
When they reached the Colorado River two weeks after their run-in with the bounty hunters, they turned northeast, following that large, swiftly flowing river.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Eight days later they rode wearily into Grand Junction. They spent two days there, asking questions of whomever they could. They learned that Ellsworth had been seen there, but that had been several weeks ago, and no one knew where he was now.
Angry, frustrated, and disgusted, the Culpeppers resupplied there and then headed southeast along the Gunnison River through a long, flat valley. They rode slowly, still trying to find some clue as to where Ellsworth and his men might be. They would ride away
from the riverbank now and again, looking for clues, but they found nothing.
Jody began to worry about his brother. Jonas seemed to be obsessed with finding Ellsworth. If he wasn’t, he would’ve been able to see that they had no hope whatsoever of finding any clues out here in the middle of nowhere.
They stopped at each of the infrequent towns they came to and asked questions, but got no information that was of any use to them. Jonas grew more quiet than usual, and more withdrawn.
A little more than a month after they had left Silverton, they were sitting in a cold, rained-on camp they had made just after they had crossed the Gunnison River.
“Maybe we’d best get back, Jonas,” Jody said softly. “Merry’ll be worried sick about you.”
“She’s been alone before.”
“Probably not this long. We’re not doin’ any goddamn good out here, Jonas. You should damn well know that. All we’re doin’ is spittin’ into the wind. Look, Ellsworth is an outlaw through and through. Even I can see that, and I don’t know anything about him other than what I’ve heard since I’ve been with you. He’s not going to give that up just because he hit the big one once. That’ll only goad him on, make him want an even bigger jackpot. He might take some time off to enjoy his loot, but he’ll try somethin’ else again sooner or later. And I’d wager all I own that it’ll be close to Silverton, or maybe Durango—the train again. Or a bank. You know that as well as anyone.”
“Yeah. So?”
“When he makes his move, you and I’ll chase his ass down right from the start.”
Jonas nodded. He knew that everything Jody had said was true, but he didn’t like it any. Still, he missed his wife considerably more than he would admit to anyone, even his brother. He wanted to eat her cooking instead of the slop he and Jody prepared for themselves. He wanted to feel her smooth, soft skin under his hard hands; wanted to see the lust for him burning deep in her soft brown eyes; wanted to know the taste of her lips on his.
“You’re right, Jody,” he finally said firmly. “We’ll push on for Silverton in the mornin’.”
They moved much more quickly after that. Now that Jonas had made up his mind, he was eager to get back to Silverton. Thoughts of Merry were with him almost constantly, driving him on. Thoughts of finding Ellsworth faded with each mile they put behind him. He would get Ellsworth, he had no doubt of that. Sooner or later, he would get Ellsworth and see the outlaw hang.
The Culpeppers still stopped at each town they came to—Olathe, Montrose, Colona—but not for very long. Jonas would introduce himself to the town marshal and ask if Ellsworth had caused trouble or even been seen in the area. The answer was always negative, and Jonas would leave. Depending on the time of day, he and his brother would find quarters in town for the night, or resupply and then ride on.
They stopped—reluctantly—several times a day to loosen their saddles and let the horses breathe a few minutes before moving on again. They did not stop for a midday meal; instead, they would make one of their rest stops and grab some beef jerky and hard biscuits from their packs and eat while they were riding again. Their night camps were small and quickly made. Breakfast was a gobbled affair in the predawn darkness.
Six days after making their decision to press on home, they came to yet another small town, one with the unlikely name of Horsefly, named after the nearby peak. Jonas had been there numerous times, since it was not too far north of the San Juan County border. Jonas called on Marshal Sean Dowling and learned nothing more than he had at any of the other towns he and Jody had stopped at.
Since it was late, the Culpeppers got a room in a small boarding house for the night. They ate an almost decent meal and hit their beds early.
They were on the trail just as dawn was cracking. But little more than a mile out of Horsefly, still heading southeast, Jody called for Jonas to stop.
Jonas did, looking back in concern, and even with a touch of anger. Now that he was within a few days of Silverton, he wanted to push on and get home.
“I aim on going that way, Jonas,” Jody said firmly, pointing southwest.
It took Jonas a moment to realize why. Then he nodded. Jody wanted to see Daisy, again, and Jonas could not fault him for that. The younger Culpepper had mentioned Daisy frequently on their travels, but other than some vague references to going back to see her one day, Jody had not said what he planned to do about her. Until now.
“You know the way?” Jonas asked. He was surprised when Jody nodded.
“I asked in Horsefly,” Jody said. “I didn’t know how you might take to the idea of headin’ the other way.”
Jonas smiled a little. “It’s the right thing,” he said. “Any other reason than a woman, though, would’ve put me out some. But I know what it’s like to have a woman get to you deep inside. I’m still taken that way with Merry, and I miss her somethin’ awful when I’m on the trail like this.”
“You don’t show it.”
Jonas shrugged. “It’s not somethin’ a man likes to make public. But thoughts of her are with me all the time.” He paused, looking around at the towering peaks that he would be entering as soon as he got back on the trail. “You figured out what you’re going to do about Daisy?”
“Marry her,” Jody said flatly, almost as if in defiance. Or maybe as a challenge.
“I figured that. When and where? And then what’re you going to do with yourself?”
“You might not believe this,” Jody said with a laugh, “But I’ve given this considerable thought since I met her, and...”
“Do tell,” Jonas interjected.
“Well, I have,” Jody said seriously, then laughed. “I’ll decide when I get to her in San Miguel. I can marry her there, and then bring her to Silverton to live—and so I can work with you when needed. Or I can bring her to Silverton and then marry her.”
“Which way do you want it?”
Jody shrugged. “It ain’t so much a matter of the way I want it, Jonas. It’s more what she wants.”
Jonas laughed. “Spoken like an already married man.”
“You have any preference in this?” Jody asked, ignoring the friendly jibe.
“Me?” Jonas asked, more than a little surprised. “Why should I have a preference?”
“Well, you might be thinkin’ of bein’ in the weddin’ party. And Merry, too. After all, you was the one saved Daisy from those outlaws. And she looks up to you. So do I.”
“Well,” Jonas said, a little embarrassed, “if you was to ask me—me and Merry—to be at your nuptials, I’d be honored, and that’s a fact. But Daisy might be more comfortable gettin’ married with the Stantons present instead of me.”
“I’d had that thought. It’s why I hedged when I told you my plans.”
Jonas nodded. “Whichever way she wants it is all right with me, Jody. I won’t be put out any if she’d rather have the Stantons standin’ by for the nuptials than me.”
“Thanks, Jonas,” Jody said, holding out his hand. “For everything.”
Jonas clasped Jody’s hand. “Wasn’t so much, little brother. You watch yourself on the trail.” He paused. “I think San Miguel’s got a telegraph. Send me a wire tellin’ me what your plans are. If Daisy wants to get married there, I don’t think Merry’d object to the journey.”
“That’d cover it all,” Jody said thoughtfully. “I’ll mention it to Daisy.” He suddenly grinned. “But maybe she won’t be able to wait that long before she’s got to have me.”
“Listen to this foolishness,” Jonas said with a laugh. “Good Lord, he thinks he’s got somethin’ every woman wants. Hah! You’ll learn better.” He paused. “Now, give me the rope to my old mule. You can take the other with you. I’d not want you ridin’ back into your lady love’s life half starved.”
They went their separate ways, then, Jody heading southwest toward the Dallas Divide, the San Miguel River, and the town of San Miguel; Jonas going southeast toward Red Mountain, the town of the same name, and finally, Silverton.
<
br /> Culpepper made it back to Silverton in two days of hard riding, pulling into the town an hour or two before dark. As he rode down the mountain road toward the town, he had an uneasy feeling. He took side streets to avoid the busier parts of Silverton. He finally reached the alley that would bring him to his office and the county jail. The uneasy feeling grew as he moved along, though he saw nothing that looked wrong. People still moved about the streets, a few even called out greetings to him, which he returned perfunctorily.
He stopped outside his office and dismounted. He looked around as he tied his horse to the hitching rail next to one that looked familiar, but he couldn’t place it. Something didn’t seem right, though there was nothing he could put his finger on. With Bear at his side, he walked into the office and stopped.
Buster Reinhardt was sitting at Culpepper’s desk, writing. He looked up when he heard the door. His face was grayish with fatigue, and a haunted look spread over it when he saw Culpepper. “Jonas,” he said with relief—and fear.
“What’re you doin’ here, Buster?” Culpepper asked, a cold feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t that he disliked Reinhardt; quite the contrary. But seeing Reinhardt just reinforced the worry he had had since riding into town.
“I’m...I’m...”
“Where’s Jimmy?” Culpepper demanded, concern growing.
“He’s...” Reinhardt paused and sighed, shaking his head. “He’s dead, Jonas.”
“But how...?”
“Let’s go up to Anvil Mining’s headquarters,” Reinhardt said firmly, rising from his chair.
“Why?” Culpepper’s voice was as cold as a Silverton January.
“Because,” Reinhardt said cryptically. He tried to smile and almost accomplished it. “Please, Jonas. Don’t give me a hard time on this. Just do as I ask.”
“I don’t like this, Buster,” Culpepper said harshly. “Not one bit.”
“You’re gonna like it even less when you hear the full tellin’ of it,” Reinhardt said in a nervous voice.