A Cold Hard Trail

by Robert J Conley

  “It ain’t much of a gold camp,” he said. “I can see where they been blasting that mountain back there behind them though. Looks like to me like they ain’t doing no good. That’s how come them to want Weaver and them’s place. Well, let’s ride on through. Ain’t nothing else for it.”

  So we headed on, but when we got down into Morgan’s camp, the same thing happened to us what had happened back at Weaver’s. We was met by men with guns. These wasn’t holding rifles though. They was four of them, and they was just standing across the trail right smack in our way with their arms crossed over their chests and six-guns slung low on their thighs. They was gunmen all right. One thing I learnt in my last few years a life, I learnt to spot a gunhand. We stopped.

  “Some problem?” Zeb said.

  “You just come riding out of that gold camp over the hill,” one of the gunnies said.

  “It’s right on the trail,” Zeb said. “No way around it. Same as yours. We’re just headed north, is all. Can we pass through?”

  I was thinking that I might could get all three of them before they was to get me or Zeb, and I might coulda done it too, but it woulda been a real fool move to try it, ’cause you just never know. One a them might actual a been better’n me, or one a them coulda been just luckier that perticular morning. It don’t hardly pay to buck them kinda odds lessen you absolute have to. I set quiet.

  “I don’t know,” the man said. “I think maybe Mr. Morgan might like to have a word with you before you move on.”

  “That’d be right neighborly,” Zeb said. “We’d be tickled to stop for a visit.”

  Morgan had a big tent kinda like the one Weaver had tuck us into, and that’s where this feller led us, but only whenever we went inside, ole Morgan’s tent was more like a saloon than a eating place. That one gunslinger pointed us to a table not far from the bar where there was a feller in a black suit and a string tie a-setting and playing with a deck a cards all by hisself. When we come over there, he looked up.

  “What is it, Shark?” he said.

  “Couple a strangers wanting to ride through,” Shark said. “They come out of Weaver’s town. I thought you might want to see them before they move on.”

  Morgan, he looked at Zeb and then he looked at me. He put down his cards.

  “Gentlemen,” he said, “my name is Randall Morgan.”

  “I’m Zeb Pike,” Zeb said, “and this here is my pardner, Kid Parmlee. We’re just passing through, is all.”

  “Sit down,” Morgan said. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “This time a day, Mr. Morgan,” I said, “I’d ruther have coffee, if you don’t mind.”

  “What about you, Mr. Pike?” Morgan said.

  “I reckon I could stand a snort a brown whiskey,” said Zeb.

  Morgan waved a arm and had our drinks on the table in front of us right quick. He was a slick one—I could tell that, and I could tell just as well that I didn’t like his ass worth a damn. I picked up the coffee though, and had myself a sip.

  “So you just came from Weaver’s town?” Morgan said.

  “That’s right,” said Zeb.

  “Came from where?” said Morgan.

  “Well, we come up on the mountain south a Fosterville,” Zeb said, and I could tell he was picking his words real keerful like. “Got up to the trail and headed north. I been up here before, couple a years ago maybe, and weren’t no one along here then. Your place and Weaver’s is all new to me.”

  “What’s your business?” Morgan said.

  “We thought to do a little placer mining,” said Zeb, “when we find the right spot. Be farther north. Not any place around here.”

  “That’s good,” said Morgan. “All the places around here are taken.”

  “Looks thataway,” said Zeb.

  “You sure you were just passing through Weaver’s place?” said Morgan.

  “Why, sure,” said Zeb. “That’s what I said. What else would we be doing over there?”

  “Maybe you work for Weaver,” said Morgan. “You look like a prospector all right, but your young pard, there, has the look of a gunfighter to me. Weaver might think he has need to hire him a gunfighter.”

  “I ain’t no gunfighter,” I said, “and even if I was, I don’t work for Weaver nor no one else. Right now, I ain’t even got me a job.”

  “You looking for one?” Morgan said. “I might be able to use you.”

  “We ain’t looking,” Zeb said.

  “I didn’t ask you, old-timer,” said Morgan.

  “I ain’t looking,” I said.

  Zeb tossed down his drink and stood up. I had only just had me a sip or two a coffee on account it was hot, but whenever Zeb stood up, well, I did too.

  “I think we’ll be on our way, Mr. Morgan,” Zeb said. “Any reason we can’t be on our way?”

  “Why, no,” Morgan said. “It’s a free country. Why would I try to hold you up? Next time you’re along this way, stop in for another visit.”

  Zeb turned and headed out the door, and I follered him. Outside, we mounted right up, and we made our way back over to the trail and turned north on it. I seed tough-looking faces eyeballing us as we rid along. Then we come close to the far edge a the camp, and I seed some men come up from behind some crates and stuff with guns in their hands, rifles and revolvers.

  “Look out, Zeb,” I said, and I turned ole horse and headed back south. Zeb turned quick too and come along right behind me. We rid hard through that camp till we come back to where Shark and them others had stopped us on the way in. They was back there at their posts again, and they stood across the trail just like before. We hauled up.

  “What is this?” Zeb said. “Morgan said we could go on our way.”

  “This ain’t your way,” Shark said. “This is the way you come from.”

  “Some men over at the other end a the camp pulled guns on us,” I said. “It didn’t seem too safe of a way to go.”

  “Maybe you better just stay a while,” Shark said.

  “Maybe we don’t like it here,” I said.

  All four a them bastards went for the guns, but I seed that ole Shark, he was the fastest. I whipped out my Colt and sent a bullet into his right hand what tuck off his thumb. The barrel a his shooter hadn’t yet cleared the holster. Then I pointed quick at the next one. His hand was just on the butt a his gun. He stopped still, and so did the others. I moved my gun barrel from pointing at one to the other and they all kept still. Shark was a-groaning and a-cussing.

  “Drop them gun belts,” I said, and they done what I said. “Ride on through, Zeb,” I said, and he did. I waited till he was well along, and then I rid on past them bastards too. I caught up with ole Zeb, and I said, “Hit it,” and we continued our journey at a fast pace. Them three what still had thumbs musta all picked up their shooters, ’cause just about then the bullets commenced to popping behind us. I knowed they was wasted shots though. We had done rid outa six-gun range.

  We kept on a-riding hard for a while, and then we slowed her down again. I looked behind us, and I. didn’t see no pursuit, so we rode on easy all the way back into Weaver’s town. When we come into the town, I didn’t see no sign a Weaver just then, but I seed Raspberry a-walking toward us.

  “Back so soon?” he said.

  “It looks thataway, don’t it?” I said. “Weaver around?”

  “I think he went over to the tent to get him some coffee,” Raspberry said.

  “Mind if we head on over thataway?” I asked him.

  “No,” he said. “Come on. I’ll go over there with you.”

  Ole Raspberry walked on toward the tent, and me and Zeb, we rid along real slow behind him. Pretty soon we tied up our critters there by the front door a the tent, and then the three of us went on in. Ole Weaver was there all right. We went and set down there at the table across from him.

  “Well,” he said, “I can’t say I’m too surprised. Morgan and his bunch give you some trouble?”

  “Damned if the bastards di
dn’t try to kill us,” Zeb said.

  “First thing,” I said, “whenever we rid in there, just on our way through, you know, why, three gunslingers stopped us and made us go meet Morgan, and then he commenced to quizzing us all up, and then he said we could go on our way, but when we got over to the far side a his camp, why, some gunmen popped up, so we turned around and headed back thisaway. Then them same ones what had stopped us a-going in blocked our way again. But that time, I went and shot one of them, and we come hightailing it back over here.”

  I had to take me a breath after all that talking, and just about then ole Myrtle, she come on over and asked us if we wanted some coffee. We all said that we sure did, and she went to fetch it.

  “What’d they quiz y’all up about?” Raspberry asked.

  “Mostly about you,” Zeb said. “I mean about your camp here. They seemed to think that we might be a-working for you or something. Accused the Kid here a being a professional gunfighter.”

  “We told them we was just a-passing through,” I said.

  “So what will you do now?” Weaver asked.

  “I guess we ain’t rightly had no time to think on that,” I said.

  “We was headed north,” Zeb said, “but I reckon we ain’t now.”

  “You could go back south for a ways,” Raspberry said, “and then take the trail down the mountain. That’s the way we have to go in and out. Matter of fact, we have a load of supplies coming in that way right now.”

  “It’s a little late,” Weaver said. “I’m starting to worry a bit about it.”

  Me and Zeb give each other looks on that, on account a if their supplies was a-coming up the same trail what we come up, well, we sure knowed how come they was delayed, and it was ’cause we had pushed all them rocks in on the trail and closed it up. We didn’t neither one of us say nothing about that though.

  “Say, Willie,” said Raspberry, “what say you and me mount up and ride back that way to see if they’re coming up all right?”

  “I was kind of thinking that myself,” Weaver said.

  “We got plenty of daylight left today. Let’s just go on and do it.”

  “All right,” Raspberry said. Then he looked at me and ole Zeb. “You want to ride along with us? It’d get you on your way.”

  Now that kinda put us in a spot, ’cause we didn’t really have no notion a going back the way we come. There was that posse outa Fosterville with ole Jim Chastain a-heading it and mad as anyone could be at me on account a me leaving him nekkid in jail like I done, and there sure weren’t no reason for us to go on back down there and head south. But we had to say something, and since I couldn’t think a nothing to say, ole Zeb, he spoke up.

  “We’ll ride along with you,” he said. I agreed by nodding my head. Weaver and Raspberry went on out ahead of us to get their horses ready, and since mine and Zeb’s was done saddled and ever’thing, we just set there a-finishing our coffee.

  “Zeb,” I said, “how come are we a-going along with them? For one thing, we know that there trail is blocked.”

  “We can help them get it cleared,” he said. “It’s the right thing to do.”

  “And then once we clear it off again,” I said, “then what? We don’t want to ride south, and we sure don’t want to go back through Fosterville.”

  “Let’s just go along,” Zeb said, “and play it by ear. We’ll help these ole boys get their supplies on through, and then we’ll just see what we can see. Maybe we’ll have to ride south. Or maybe we can take a wide swing east and ride around Fosterville heading north.”

  “Well, yeah,” I said. “I s’pose we could do that. We’d get us on up north eventual if we was to do it thataway.”

  Well, we slurped our coffee on down, said thankees to Myrtle, and went on outside. Ole Weaver was already a-headed back our way with a saddled horse, and in another minute, here come Raspberry. We all mounted up and headed outa the camp going back south on the mountain trail. Ole Zeb opined that we’d oughta hit that camping spot what we had used on our way up before full dark, and we could camp there. If we was to do that, then we’d oughta get back to the trail down the mountain kindly early the next day, maybe mid-morning or so. Weaver and Raspberry agreed with him on that. We hadn’t rid along very far outa Weaver’s camp whenever the Morgan bunch commenced their blasting again, and we had to fight our skitterish horses and ole Bernice to keep them from sidling offa the edge and maybe taking us with them. Anyhow, we done okay, and we made it on to the camp site about when ole Zeb had figgered we would, and then we unpacked and settled in for the night.

  Next morning, we had us some breakfast and coffee—Weaver and Raspberry had brung along supplies—and then we got us a pretty early start. We was far enough away from the blasting by that time that we didn’t have no more problems. I asked Weaver if they’d ever had trouble with Morgan south a their gold camp, and he said they never. Ole Morgan, he just pestered them from over at his camp what was north a theirs. I reckoned that I had ought to keep myself alert just the same. You never know who or what might could pop up out on the trail like that.

  When we come to the turn going down the mountain, ole Weaver, he hauled a watch outa his pocket, and it was just ten o‘clock. Zeb had hit it right on the head. He sure was a humdinger when it come to knowing just about ever’thing they was to know in them mountains and a course, ever’thing about gold too. We had to slow down and take her real easy going down, on account a the trail got steep here and there, and it woulda been easy to slip just a little and then wind up sliding down the mountain for a while, and that with a horse a-sliding on top of you. Anyhow, we rid a ways like that, and then Weaver, who was riding out front, seed the rocks in the way, and he called a halt. I stretched my neck on out, and I could see down the trail on the other side a that long rock pile me and ole Zeb had made was a couple a men and four packmules. The men was busy a-moving rocks.

  “Is that there your supplies?” I said.

  “That’s them,” Weaver said.

  “Well,” Zeb said, “I reckon we best get busy on this end and see how fast we can meet up with them.”

  All four of us dismounted, and we commenced to tossing rocks and rolling boulders and such, a-trying to clear out that there trail, and I can tell you, I ain’t never in my life worked so hard as I worked that day. It was cool on that mountain trail, but it weren’t no time, and I was sweating like hell. I called back to mind ole Chastain and that posse, and how come me and Zeb done what we done, but moving them goddamned rocks that day, I got to thinking that if I was to have a choice in the matter, I’d ruther be fighting the damn posse than moving the damn rocks.

  When Zeb had come up with that idea, and I had gone along with it, it never come into my mind that I would be headed back the same way and so be clearing off the damn trail. If that thought had come to me, I’d a not did it. I can tell you that. Ever’ now and then, whenever I got me a chance to catch his eye, I give ole Zeb a real mean look to let him know what I was a-thinking, but if the truth a the matter was to be told, I figger he was probably having basic the same kinda thoughts as what I was having.

  We worked the rest a that day away, and they still couldn’t bring them mules through, so we all just had to lay our ass down along that steep trail and sleep the best way we could manage, and it was sure a long night being uncomfortable the way we was. I was glad when daylight come, but whenever I went to stand up, I couldn’t hardly manage it I was so sore on account a all the hard work the day before and then sleeping the way I done. I groaned somewhat, but no one else seemed to have no complaints, so I didn’t say nothing too much. I didn’t want to turn out to be the only sissy in the bunch, and whenever the others went back to work, why, I did too.

  Well, final at last we got the damn trail cleared off, and the two men and the four mules come on through. Weaver interduced me and Zeb to them other two, and they said something about us going on our way, but we said that we figgered we didn’t want to make the ride on down just then, a
nd that if they didn’t mind another night a our company, why, we’d just head back up to the campsite with them and wait till morning to make our way on down offa the mountain.

  That there likely didn’t make no sense, ’cause it was just as far one way as tother, but no one said nothing to argue with us, so all of us headed back on up. We didn’t talk much for the rest a the trip till we got to the campsite and unpacked and made us our sleeping spots and cooked us our food and coffee. Whenever we had done et and was all just a-setting around the fire like that and thinking about calling it a day, why, that’s when the conversation got going. For a while, all we talked about was the rock slide and what a pain in the ass it had been to get the trail cleared off and all, and ever’one a-wondering how it had got started in the first place. Me and Zeb give each other looks whenever that subject come up.

  Then Weaver asked them two what was bringing the mules back if they’d had any trouble along the way, and they said that they had got ever’thing what they had went after all right and hadn’t had no problems.

  “We witnessed a bank robbery though,” said one of them what was named Binger.

  “In Fosterville?” Raspberry asked, and his eyes was wide.

  The other’n, called Bobby Crash, nodded his head. “In broad daylight,” he said. “It was three men. They killed a man in the street for no reason.”

  “The sheriff there,” Binger said, “come running out of his office just as the three bank robbers was riding out of town, and he was sure a-cussing.”

  “Yeah,” Crash said. “I guess he knew the outlaws too. I heard him say, ‘That damn Kid Parmlee,’ and then he called for a posse to ride after them.”

  Chapter 6

  Well, me and ole Zeb looked right into each other’s saucer eyes at that, and Weaver and Raspberry give us quick and puzzled looks too. I was trying to figger out if I was a-going to have to draw out my shooter to get us away from them four men, but Weaver was a-thinking all right. He turned back towards ole Crash and ole Binger.

  “When did this robbery take place?” he asked them.