Drifter 2

by Jake Henry

‘You want some?’ Morgan asked.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Take a seat and Stark will get you some.’

  The four men were seated around the fire when Perkins asked, ‘Are you men outlaws?’

  At first, they were surprised by the question. Not expecting a stranger to ask such a thing considering there were three of them.

  Morgan’s gaze grew hard and he said, ‘Yeah, we’re outlaws.’

  ‘I thought so,’ Perkins said nonchalantly.

  ‘What’s it to you?’ Morgan asked.

  Perkins shrugged. ‘No reason. Who’s in charge?’

  ‘What?’ asked Stark.

  ‘I said who’s in charge?’

  ‘I am,’ Morgan snapped.

  Without warning, Perkins drew his six-gun and shot Morgan in the face. The outlaw’s head snapped back and his arms flew into the air, releasing the mug he’d held and it dropped to the ground at the edge of the darkness.

  Perkins shifted his aim to Willis. ‘Who’s in charge?’

  The outlaw’s mouth opened and closed. ‘Ahh … ahh …’

  Perkins thumbed the hammer back on his gun, the ratchet sound was loud in the tense silence. ‘Who?’

  ‘You,’ Stark blurted out. ‘You’re in charge.’

  With a cold smile on his face, Perkins said, ‘That’s right. I’m in charge and you men best keep that in mind.’

  He switched his gaze to the body of Morgan and guessed that the dead outlaw would be around the same size as him. He signaled to the other two and ordered them, ‘Get the clothes off your friend there and bring them to me. I won’t be needing this uniform now.’

  Fifteen

  It was two days before Shelby was ready to ride. After Savage had released the poison it had taken until late the following day for the fever to break. Then he’d needed rest to further recover from his wound.

  They were sitting by the fire on the last evening making plans to ride out the next day, eating part of an antelope that Savage had shot. They’d needed food, Shelby, more so, and Savage deemed the risk worth the gunshot.

  As they were eating Shelby said, ‘There’s been something that’s intrigued me ever since we met, Savage.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘You fought for the Union but you speak Texan.’

  ‘That’s ’cause I come from Texas,’ Savage told him. ‘I may be Texan but I believed that I was doin’ the right thing when I joined.’

  ‘Did you lose everything while you were gone?’ Shelby inquired. ‘Like the rest when the carpetbaggers moved in?’

  There was a trace of harshness to his voice.

  Savage thought for a moment before answering. ‘You could say that.’

  ‘What happened? Did you get back to Texas and find out you’d been fighting for the wrong side?’

  He thought of Amy.

  ‘Shenandoah Valley back in ‘64,’ Savage started. ‘My commanding officer sent me out to find Carver’s Raiders who were in the area.’

  Shelby nodded. ‘He was an out and out killer.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Savage agreed. ‘We found him outside of a town called Bender’s Hollow. He’d just finished razing it. Carver and some others got away and I was almost killed by him.’

  Shelby listened in silence.

  ‘Just before I got home to Summerton last year, him and his gang hit the bank there. People were killed and they took a woman when they escaped. It was my wife. It was me who found her.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Shelby said softly.

  ‘So were they,’ Savage replied.

  A heavy silence hung over the camp before Savage broke it. ‘Do you reckon you’ll be right to ride tomorrow?’

  ‘I think so. This food will help regain some of my strength. “Where are we headed?’

  ‘Fort Craig,’ Savage answered. ‘Before all of this started I was originally commissioned to find that damned half-breed killer, Rios. So I guess that is the best place.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘You’ll be able to get a decent sawbones to look at that wound of yours too.’

  ‘Fine. Tomorrow it is.’

  ~*~

  They broke camp and rode out shortly after first light. The desert was cool at that time of day and the air crisp and clean. There were no clouds in the pale-blue sky and the sun would soon bring a scorching heat to the rest of the day.

  They maintained a steady pace and had traveled for four hours when Savage called a stop. The horses were rested in the lee of a steep embankment while Savage climbed high enough to check their back-trail. It seemed clear and he stumbled back down, kicking up a small cloud of dust as he went.

  ‘Our back-trail looks clear,’ he informed Shelby.

  ‘Maybe the Apache ain’t bothering to follow us.’

  ‘Let’s hope so.’

  They stayed and rested in the shade for a while longer before leaving. As the day wore on it became hotter, even the slight breeze felt hot on exposed skin. Then trouble appeared to raise its ugly head.

  Shelby sighted the black specks first, circling high above the desert.

  ‘Hey, Savage, what do you make of that?’ Shelby asked, pointing at the circling birds.

  They drew their mounts to a stop while Savage studied the vultures.

  ‘Whatever it is, it can’t be good.’

  Savage unsheathed the Yellow Boy and levered a round into the breech then eased the pinto forward once more.

  What they found was the partially naked body of a man. The buzzards already well into their work, had torn strips of exposed flesh from his bloated, mottled body. At their approach, a couple of the black feathered birds had waddled off a short distance unwilling to cede their meal.

  ‘I wonder who you were you poor bastard?’ Savage said aloud.

  He walked around the immediate vicinity and studied the ground.

  ‘There were others here,’ he pointed out to Shelby. ‘You can see their marks.’

  ‘How many?’ Shelby asked as he tried to make sense of the mess on the ground.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Savage said, shrugging his shoulders. ‘No more than four, maybe three.’

  ‘A falling out, maybe,’ Shelby surmised. ‘Why else would they take his clothes?’

  Savage frowned. He hadn’t thought much of it until now. He walked in a large circle around the outside of the camp area but found nothing. Then he looked at the burnt out fire and something caught his eye.

  He leaned down and picked up a piece of fabric with a button sewn on it. He rubbed it on his shirt to clean it.

  ‘What have you found?’ Shelby asked.

  Savage studied it then passed it across to him. The general looked at it closely then fixed them firmly on the Drifter.

  ‘It’s a button off a Confederate uniform,’ Shelby declared.

  Savage nodded. ‘No prizes for guessing whose?’

  ‘Perkins.’

  ‘Yeah, Perkins. I’d say he killed that feller for his clothes. What happened after that is anyone’s guess.’

  ‘I’d like to get my hands on that bastard,’ Shelby snapped. ‘I’d put a bullet in his brain without blinking an eye.’

  ‘You ain’t the only one,’ Savage allowed. ‘Let’s keep movin’.’

  That night they made a secluded camp among some brush well off the trail. Early the next morning they were up and in the saddle and headed towards Fort Craig.

  ~*~

  ‘Hold up,’ Savage warned Shelby as he drew the pinto to a stop.

  Shelby stopped his mount beside him on the crest of a low ridge. From there they could clearly see the dust haze out on the flat.

  ‘Indians, do you think?’ asked Shelby.

  ‘Hope not.’

  As the dust cloud drew nearer, they could begin to make out the figures at the base of it. Although not clearly seen, Savage had a fair idea who they were.

  ‘Soldiers,’ he said finally. ‘Come on.’

  Sixteen

  ‘Damn, Savage, what on earth have you got the
re?’ Lieutenant Joel Porter gasped as he took in the Confederate officer.

  The three men dismounted and walked a short distance away from the thirty man column to talk. ‘Have you gone and captured the whole Reb army?’

  ‘Porter, this is Major General Joseph Shelby of the …’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Major General Joseph Shelby, formerly of the Confederate States of America,’ Shelby stated.

  ‘Is this guy for real?’ Porter asked Savage.

  ‘I’m afraid so, Lieutenant,’ Savage confirmed. ‘And it might pay to show the man a little respect.’

  ‘But he’s a Reb …’

  ‘He’s a man who deserves your respect, Lieutenant,’ he snapped.

  Porter gave Savage the look a scolded child might give his mother. ‘What is it that Mr. Shelby is doin’ with you?’

  The two men looked at each other and Savage looked back at Porter and sighed.

  “Where do we start?’

  By the time he’d finished, Porter was shaking his head at the almost unbelievable tale that he’d been told. ‘Wait until the Colonel hears about this.’

  ‘Are you headed back to the fort soon?’ Savage asked.

  ‘We’re on the left hook of our patrol and then we head back to Fort Craig.’ Porter explained. ‘We should arrive back sometime tomorrow. You can ride along if you wish to.’

  ‘Have you got any decent coffee?’ Shelby asked.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Then we ride with you.’

  ‘I agree,’ Savage seconded the decision.

  ~*~

  The patrol arrived back at Fort Craig the following afternoon. Both Savage and Shelby were immediately taken before Colonel Maxwell Travis where they once more told the extraordinary tale. Travis frowned then turned his gaze on Shelby.

  ‘I’m sorry about your men, General,’ he said with sincerity.

  ‘Thank you, Colonel.’

  ‘Now Mr. Savage, about Cochise?’

  ‘He’s gone, Travis,’ Savage explained. ‘Back to his old stompin’ grounds. He won’t cause you any further problems.’

  ‘Never the less, I shall have to report it,’ Travis said adamantly.

  ‘I guess it don’t mean a damn about what that scalp hunter did?’ Savage pointed out.

  ‘Not after the way station,’ Travis snapped. ‘As for the Yavapai … Well, at least Rios won’t be causing any more problems.’

  Savage knew that nothing more would be done to the Indians, after all, they’d only killed some Rebs. But in saying that, he didn’t think that they should be held totally responsible for the events that had occurred either.

  ‘Back to you, General Shelby. What is it that you propose to do? For I have absolutely no idea what to do with you,’ Travis pondered the problem he faced.

  ‘I just want to go home to Missouri, Colonel,’ Shelby told him. ‘I just want to go home.’

  Travis stared at Shelby, deep in thought. Really, there wasn’t anything to think about. He still had no idea how to handle the situation.

  ‘Then go home you shall,’ he said before asking Savage. ‘What about you?’

  ‘I ain’t got nothin’ to go home to, Travis. You know that. However, there is somethin’ I would like to take care of before I leave the territory.’

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘Perkins,’ he replied. ‘Where would him and those two fellers go around here?’

  ‘You might try Phoenix,’ Travis answered. ‘It is a new settlement and with no law there yet, it would have to be a strong possibility. But then again, they could have headed anywhere.’

  ‘You don’t have to do it, Savage,’ Shelby said. ‘Your job is done. You got me here safely now let it go.’

  Savage shook his head. ‘Can’t. That bastard is responsible for a lot of men dyin’. I keep seein’ Mahoney and Simeon. Mahoney knew he was goin’ to die and yet all he... they could think about was you. Nope, they deserve some retribution and I aim to give it to them.’

  ‘I hope it’s not you on the receiving end, Savage,’ Shelby said grimly.

  ‘I don’t plan to be.’

  ~*~

  Three days later, after resting up and saying goodbye to Shelby, Savage rode the pinto into the new settlement of Phoenix not long before noon. It wasn’t much more than a few buildings and one street. Only a shadow of what it would become. It was formed by Jack Swilling, who’d fought on the side of the Confederacy in the civil war. He’d been traveling through the Salt River Valley and recognized its potential for farming.

  Savage let the pinto keep its own pace as it walked steadily along the dry street, kicking up dust. Being a new settlement, the presence of a stranger drew immediate attention. One dressed in Union blue pants and shirt even more so.

  He felt curious eyes watch his progress as he continued along the street. When he saw the three horses tied to a makeshift hitch rail outside what passed for a saloon, he drew rein. It was no more than a large canvas tent with a hand painted sign leaning against its front. Savage knew that he would find Perkins here.

  He eased the pinto over to the rail and dismounted. He tied the leather reins to the cross-member and adjusted the Remington in its holster. From inside he heard the high-pitched laugh of a woman filter out through the open flap.

  As Savage approached it, a drunk staggered out. Under his left arm was a black haired woman wearing nothing more than a red corset and bloomers, her large pale breasts billowing out over the top. In his right hand, he held a half-empty bottle of watered-down whiskey.

  He shouldered into Savage and the action caused the bottle to drop to the ground and spill the rest of its contents into the dirt. He screwed up his unshaven, scarred face and took his arm from around the woman.

  ‘Stranger, you’re goin’ to pay for that,’ he snarled and brought up his fists.

  With the speed of a striking rattler, Savage drew the Remington and brought it crashing down on the drunk’s forehead. With a resounding crack, it split skin and produced a stream of blood which ran down the man’s face. His eyes crossed and he dropped like a pole-axed steer.

  The whore screamed out a protest but Savage ignored it and pushed in through the tent flap. The bar was a rough construction of a couple of boxes with planks run across the top. The light was fair and there were a few battered tables with customers seated at them in the confined space.

  Three men sat at one of the tables to his left, one had a whore in green draped over him. All eyes had fixed onto the entrance when the whore outside had screamed and now they were looking at Savage.

  Savage strode across to the table, his Remington level and cocked. They remained unmoved at his approach. Out of the corner of his right eye, he saw the barkeep move.

  ‘If you want to keep livin’ barkeep, I’d keep away from that messenger gun,’ Savage warned without looking in his direction. ‘If you don’t, you’ll be buried with whoever else comes between me and what I aim to do.’

  Perkins’ face paled as he saw Savage coming toward him. He eased his hand below the table and said to Willis, ‘Get rid of the whore.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Do it,’ he snapped.

  The whore, however, didn’t need to be told. One look at the purpose on Savage’s face was enough to cause her to get quickly to her feet and back away.

  ‘I see you’re still alive,’ Perkins sneered.

  ‘So is Shelby,’ Savage told him. ‘Get your hands on the table where I can see them.’

  Steadily, Perkins brought both hands up, empty.

  There was movement to Savage’s right and he swiveled and put a bullet into the barkeep’s chest. The man staggered back against the canvas then slumped to the dirt floor.

  ‘He was warned,’ drawled Savage. ‘If you all don’t want the same, I suggest you stay outta this.’

  His eyes focused back on the table. ‘My fight is with Perkins, not with you other two. Move away.’

  ‘What if we don’t want to?’ Willis snarled. ‘Wh
at if …?’

  The Remington roared once more and a third eye appeared in Willis’ forehead. The pink spray of gore from where the bullet exited stained the canvas wall behind him.

  Perkins flinched at the sudden roar of the six-gun. The remaining outlaw, Stark, threw up his hands and cried, ‘Wait! I’m goin’. Don’t shoot, I’m goin’.’

  ‘I see you’ve started without me,’ a familiar voice observed from behind Savage. ‘Do you mind if I join the party?’

  ‘Suit yourself,’ Savage said, shrugging his shoulders.

  Shelby stepped forward with a cocked six-gun in his fist.

  ‘You, get outta here,’ Savage ordered Stark.

  The frightened outlaw knocked over his chair in his haste to stand and moved quickly away.

  ‘So what now?’ Perkins asked. ‘You’re just going to shoot me down? Like a dog?’

  ‘I’m not,’ answered Savage. Then he motioned to Shelby. ‘He is.’

  He holstered the Remington and turned to leave. ‘All yours, General.’

  As Savage stepped outside the tent, the drunk on the ground was starting to stir. He sat up and shook his head, clearing the cobwebs.

  Suddenly Shelby’s six-gun roared from inside. Not once, but six times.

  The drunk looked warily up at Savage, his face streaked with blood.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ he croaked.

  ‘The end of the war,’ Savage remarked.

  He walked over to the pinto and waited. Shelby emerged a couple of moments later just as a small crowd started to gather.

  Both men remained silent as they climbed on their horses and rode out of Phoenix. About a mile or so from the settlement, the trail forked and they drew their mounts to a halt.

  ‘I guess this is where we part company, Savage,’ observed Shelby.

  ‘Yeah, I guess,’ he agreed. ‘You headed back to Missouri?’

  ‘Yes. My wife will be waiting for me,’ then he added, ‘I hope. What about you? Where are you headed?

  Savage rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. ‘I was goin’ to head out to California, have a look around but …’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘I might head on back to New Mexico and see if I can pick up a trail drive and take a look up north.’

  Shelby moved his horse in beside the pinto and stuck out his hand. ‘Thank you. For everything. If you’re ever around Missouri, come and look me up.’