Lone Jack Kid: The Buffalo Hunt (The Lone Jack Kid Book 3)

by Joe Corso

  Levi and Prewitt were like two kids at their first dance, just waiting for the music to start.

  Charlie yelled out to the two men facing him, “How do you feel now, you yellow, two-bit, back-shooting dogs? This time, you picked on the wrong man to rob and beat up. You couldn’t even do it like men. You did it like the cowards you are. Now let’s see how good you are with those hog legs you’re wearing.”

  The two men Charlie faced were cold-blooded murderers and back shooters, but they were also experienced gunslingers. They were sure that between them, they’d kill the Lone Jack Kid.

  Peter Baker and his wife Rowena watched Charlie step down into the street. They admired their benefactor, but they never realized until this morning that he was the famous Lone Jack Kid. Now they held their breath as the combatants positioned themselves for the contest. Peter held his wife close and she snuggled in his comforting embrace, knowing that their future could be altered in the next few minutes. They watched in stunned silence as the curtain lifted on the play unfolding in the street in front of their hotel.

  The silence that pervaded the street was deafening as the dance of death began. The slow circling… the watching for the telltale sign that one of them was about to go for his gun. Then, without warning and as quick as a rattlesnake, Luke reached for his gun. Lefty, sensing what was about to happen, went for his.

  Charlie got into the habit of wearing two guns during the Civil War and two guns became his trademark. He carried a hip holster and a cross draw holster. The cross draw was the one he reached for. The gun slid from its holster as if it were on ball bearings. Before the two men could raise their guns in position to pull the trigger, Charlie fanned his gun five times, hitting both men. He hit Luke with three shots and Lefty with two. Fanning a gun is not something a gunfighter would normally do in a gunfight. It was considered a fool’s errand, because slapping of your hand over the hammer minimized your accuracy. Charlie had spent many hours when he was young perfecting his fanning technique. At first, like so many others, he had speed but no accuracy. But Charlie persisted and practiced many hours, firing thousands of rounds. Eventually, his efforts paid off. In the end, he was as accurate as any man alive who fanned a gun.

  “Jeez, did you see that?”

  “I sure did, Levi. That kid is something else. I never seen a man fan a gun as fast as that and still be accurate. I’m glad he’s a friend, because as fast as I am, I wouldn’t want to test my speed against that kid.”

  Levi laughed affably and slapped his pal on the back. “You’re worrying over nothing because you’re never gonna face him. Come on, we have some serious celebrating to do.”

  The whole gang crowded around Charlie. A person in any trade always admires someone in the same trade who can do what they do and do it better. And that was the way the gang felt about Charles Longstreet, the Lone Jack Kid.

  Now that Charlie had won the gunfight, Wild Eagle closed the window in his room, cradled his Winchester under his arm, and walked out of the hotel to meet Charlie. He had positioned himself by the window when Charlie left his room. He rested his Winchester on the windowsill for accuracy and had a bead on the two men as Charlie stepped down into the street. If they had shot Charlie, he would have killed them both.

  Chapter 22

  Salt Lake City was visible in the distance, and it was comforting to know they would be there in another two hours. Charlie raised his arm, signaling everyone to stop.

  “Salt Lake City is just ahead. I’m going to ride in and check the train schedules. Peter, Rowena, let me know where you would like to go and I’ll buy your train tickets.”

  Peter looked at his wife and she gave him a slight nod.

  “If you can get us tickets to San Francisco, we’d appreciate it. We hear it’s civilized there.”

  “All right. I’ll get you four tickets to San Francisco. If you’d like, I can buy tickets in the horse car for your horses.”

  Peter waved the suggestion away.

  “We’ll sell the horses and wagon when we get to Salt Lake City, but thanks anyway.”

  Alexis said, “I’ll come with you.”

  But Charlie asked him to remain with the wagon. “No, Alexis. I need you and Anthony to stay with the wagon. It’s up to you two to see that the Baker family gets to town safely. I’m counting on you two to protect them.”

  The grand duke nodded, as did Anthony. “All right. I can see the sense in what you say.”

  “When you get to town, stop by the train depot. When I buy the tickets, I’ll ask the clerk to recommend a hotel, then I’ll leave word with him to tell you where it is. We’ll meet you there.”

  Charlie wheeled his horse around and galloped off, with Ban-Chu running easily alongside him. Wild Eagle, as Charlie’s blood brother, had no intention of remaining behind, so when Charlie rode away, Wild Eagle dug his heels in his pony’s flanks and the young horse leaped forward with a burst of speed. Wild Eagle caught up to Charlie and pulled alongside him. The two men heard the welcome sound of a train whistle and rode toward it. The great engine came chugging around a bend, spewing a black cloud of smoke as it sped past them. Passengers waved, happy to be approaching town, and they waved back. Charlie pointed ahead.

  “Look! There’s Salt Lake City just around the next bend.”

  Wild Eagle looked at the amount of traffic on the busy street of the bustling town. “Town big.”

  “Yes, it’s a big town all right, too big for me to stay longer than a few days. Let’s head over to the depot and buy tickets. I want to be on our way as soon as possible. Big towns have always meant big trouble for me.”

  They tied their horses to the hitching post in front of the depot, located at the entrance to the busy township, and walked up four wooden steps. The station was bustling with passengers stepping off the train, being greeted by friends and relatives. Charlie and Wild Eagle got more than a few looks as they walked to the teller. The man behind the caged window did a double take when he saw a cowboy in need of a shave and a bath, and a fierce-looking Indian staring back at him.

  “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

  The clerk was wary and Charlie sensed it.

  “I need four tickets to San Francisco and four tickets to North Platte, Nebraska. I’ll also need to send a telegram to North Platte.”

  Charlie handed the clerk the money for the tickets and ran his finger down a schedule, checking for the train to Nebraska.

  “The train to San Francisco is scheduled to leave tomorrow morning at nine. The next Union Pacific train to North Platte is scheduled to leave in three days.”

  “Here’s your change, sir. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  “Yes! What’s the best hotel in town?”

  “That would be the Marigold Hotel over on Chambers Street.” The young clerk pointed. “When you leave here, continue riding down Main Street and, at the first cross street you come to, go right. It’s right there. You can’t miss it.”

  “Thanks, partner.”

  The clerk fetched his message pad. “Okay, sir, what was the message you wanted me to send?”

  “The message is for General Phil Sheridan.”

  The clerk looked up. “This message is for General Sheridan?”

  “It sure is. Now take this down:

  Have arrived safely in Salt Lake City with a party of four STOP including Grand Duke Alexis of Russia STOP Expected arrival date in North Platte January 12 STOP Accompanying me is Wild Eagle Chief of Kaw Indians STOP and Anthony Abbott Aid to Grand Duke STOP

  Respectfully STOP

  Charles Longstreet.”

  The telegrapher realized he was about to send a historic telegram to General Phil Sheridan, the famous hero of the Civil War. At the same time, he recognized the Longstreet name. He looked into Charlie’s eyes questioningly.

  “I’ll send the telegram out right away, sir.”

  “Thanks, partner. The rest of my party will be here in a little while and I’d appreciate it if
you would direct them to the Marigold Hotel. Tell them Charlie will be waiting for them there.”

  “I’ll make a note of that, sir, and I’ll be sure to tell them.”

  “Thanks again, partner.”

  Charlie was about to leave, but the clerk stopped him. “You’re the Lone Jack Kid, aren’t you?”

  “That’s right, partner.” Although the clerk asked his question quietly, and even though Charlie answered him cautiously, some people in the room hesitated at the mention of his name, recognizing it immediately. Soon, everyone in Salt Lake City would know the famous Lone Jack Kid was in town.

  With the tickets safely in his pocket, the young gunfighter and his Indian friend left the train station, mounted their horses, and rode slowly down the main street of the growing city. Charlie could tell that, in the near future, Salt Lake City would become a great city, but at the moment, it was experiencing growing pains. Rough-looking cowboys, who accompanied the great cattle herds, crowded the streets; drifters and ex-soldiers with nothing to do eyed strangers as if they were prey. Most of the cowboys who arrived with the herds were good, honest, hard-working men, eking out a small living doing an honest day’s work. They knew horses and they knew cattle and they loved their jobs, even though it was lonely work. Sure, they raised hell when they came to town after being on the trail for months at a time, but they weren’t the troublemakers—the really bad men. The town prospered when the trail hands came to town because they had pockets full of money to spend. They had been on the trail too long and earned the right to have some fun. They hadn’t been with a woman for months, and were now looking to hold a pretty woman, have a few drinks, play some poker, and let off a little steam.

  The town’s cause for concern was those who hid under the cloak of anonymity, and became drovers to escape the law. Hiding in plain sight among the many men driving the large cattle herds great distances across the vast, empty plains to rail depots or to towns hungry for beef was the perfect means to escape the law. The trouble was, no one could tell the good guys from the bad. Those men who came to Salt Lake City to escape the law were the troublemakers, the lawbreakers who were always itching for a fight. And who better to pick a fight with than the Lone Jack Kid, who was just then riding into their city.

  Chapter 23

  Wild Eagle wore a soft, elk skin jacket over a buckskin shirt and pants. The outfit was made by his wife, Running Deer, for the trip he planned to make with his blood brother Charles Longstreet, the Lone Jack Kid. He waited patiently in the lobby for Charlie to wash up and change into a clean set of clothes. When the clean-shaven young man came bounding down the stairs he looked like a different person. His timing was perfect because just then, Anthony walked through the batwing doors, protectively in front of the grand duke. Peter Baker and his wife Rowena, holding her children’s hands, followed behind.

  “Now that we’re all here, let’s see if there’s a private room available where we can talk.”

  Charlie asked the manager, who hesitated. Charlie pointed to the distinguished looking young man. “Do you know who that person is?”

  The manager shook his head. “No I don’t. Who is he?”

  “He’s the Grand Duke Alexis of Russia and he’s on his way to Nebraska to meet with Generals Sheridan and Custer. Buffalo Bill will be there also. They are there to meet and entertain that man. Now, do you know the publicity you’ll have when word gets out that a famous man like him slept in your hotel and held a private meeting in that room?” Charlie pointed to the room with the sign Meeting Room alongside the door.

  “I suggest you have a brass plaque made up saying: ‘The Grand Duke Alexis of Russia met in this room.’”

  The manager was thinking of the different ways he could use this information to his advantage. The name on his tag read “Joseph Schmidt” and he smiled pleasantly. “Mr. Longstreet, we are here to accommodate our guests, so I see no reason why you shouldn’t be allowed to use our meeting room. If you should require anything further, please do not hesitate to ask.”

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Schmidt. I will make it a point to inform the generals of you and your hotel’s generosity.”

  Schmidt puffed up, visualizing a raise in pay when word got back to the owners of the hotel who their guests were today.

  “I would ask only one thing of you, Mr. Longstreet.”

  Charlie raised an eyebrow. “And what would that be, Mr. Schmidt?”

  “I would like a photograph taken of the grand duke and me.”

  Charlie smiled and patted Schmidt on the shoulder. “If a photographer is here, when our meeting is over, I think a photograph could be arranged.”

  As soon as the door to the meeting room closed behind his guests, Schmidt ran out of the hotel as quickly as his feet could take him. The photographer’s emporium was only three doors down from his hotel. Maybe offering the photographer space in this hotel might work to the hotel’s advantage, he thought, so when guests or celebrities like this man check in, the photographer will be there to capture his or her likeness. Hmm, the hotel might even make a profit on such a venture. Well, it is something to consider.

  He burst into the photographer’s studio.

  “Quick, Boris, get your camera equipment and come with me. There’s a famous person in my hotel and I want you to take a picture of us. I intend to hang the picture by the entrance.”

  Back at the hotel, Charlie handed Peter Baker an envelope.

  “Here are four tickets to San Francisco, Peter. Your train leaves tomorrow morning at 9 a.m., so hit the hay early and get a good night’s sleep. You have a long journey ahead of you.”

  He turned to the others.

  “Our train doesn’t leave for three days, so we have to keep out of trouble until then.”

  Alexis cleared his throat, indicating he had something to say.

  “What is it, Alexis?”

  “I just wanted to say that I didn’t come to this country to sit in a room for three days. Now that we are here, I want to visit the various establishments in the town. Perhaps Salt Lake City boasts an opera house; or, if not that, then a theatre of sorts where we can see a show. I’ve heard that the girly shows in the West are treats for the eyes and I’d like to see such a show.”

  Charlie nodded. “What do you think, Anthony?”

  Anthony was a lot like Wild Eagle in that he didn’t say much or show much emotion, but his eyes lit up at the thought of seeing a girly show.

  “I think such a show would be a memorable experience for Alexis. And I wouldn’t mind seeing one myself!”

  The boys forgot that Rowena was still in the room. She stood and excused herself.

  “I have to prepare for our trip tomorrow, so if you gentlemen would excuse me, I’ll go to my room.” She looked at her husband. “Come on, Peter, let the men talk among themselves. They’ll be here for three days and we’ll be leaving tomorrow morning. I could use your help.”

  Peter knew his wife wasn’t comfortable hearing the men talk of seeing a girly show, and she certainly didn’t want him going along with them.

  “Come on, Peter, I’m waiting.”

  He looked very uncomfortable, as if he was henpecked and he wouldn’t look the men in the eye, but he managed to say before leaving, “I hope to see you fellas tomorrow morning before we leave. There’s so much I want to say to you, and I’m afraid if I don’t see you tomorrow, I’ll never get a chance to tell you.”

  “We’ll meet you tomorrow morning for breakfast in the dining room at seven. I wouldn’t think of having you leave without saying goodbye to you and your beautiful wife. If you need anything before you meet us for breakfast, tell the manager to put it on my bill.”

  Peter would have preferred to go with the men, but he wouldn’t leave his wife alone and unprotected, not with the volatile atmosphere in Salt Lake City.

  Chapter 24

  Omaha, Nebraska

  Mayflower Hotel,

  General Sheridan paced back and forth, chewing anxiously on a cigar
.

  “Read me the telegram again, George.”

  Custer smiled calmly, picked up the telegram, and read it for the third time.

  “Relax, Phil, the duke is in good hands, and the telegram says they’ll be here on the twelfth.”

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

  Sheridan was only five foot five, but he stood tall in the saddle and appeared taller in stature than he actually was. In the room with Sheridan was Brevet General George Armstrong Custer, presently just Colonel Custer, since he was not serving in wartime. Custer was the embodiment of what an officer should look like. He was tall and slim, with blond good looks. When he rode a horse, it was as if he was born to the saddle. He was as fine a horseman as ever lived. On one occasion, when he led his men in the Grand Parade in Washington at the end of the Civil War, someone in the crowd lit a firecracker and threw it. It went off near his skittish horse, Don Juan. The loud bang startled the nervous thoroughbred and he bucked like an unbroken colt, causing Custer’s sword to fall to the ground. When Custer regained control of the horse, a young girl handed his sword back to him. The boy general took his sword and smiled gratefully at the wide-eyed girl and thanked her. Custer had impressed the crowd with his ability to remain on the thoroughbred. Whether his demonstration was by design or by accident, the crowd loved it and they responded with applause.

  Custer was the ultimate warrior during the Civil War. He made Phil Sheridan look good to General Sherman and, in turn, Sherman looked good to General Grant. Because of their successes, Grant impressed President Lincoln. Because of Custer’s successes in the war, he and Sheridan became good friends. They trusted one another, knowing that combat binds men together. Their friendship was sealed by the many campaigns they fought and won in the Great War.

  Three other men were in the room. Buffalo Bill Cody, whose name and exploits were known throughout America thanks to Ned Buntline’s dime novels, was there, and also there was Spotted Tail, chief of the Brulé Sioux. The last man in the room was the man who made Buffalo Bill a household name, Ned Buntline.