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

by Joe Corso

  “Like I said, Sheriff, I’m just passing through. We just had a house raising ‘cause I’m getting married in another month or two, depending on when I get back. President Grant sent me on a mission. He asked me to meet the Grand Duke of Russia and escort him safely to Nebraska, where General Custer had Chief Spotted Tail round up some buffalo for the grand duke to hunt.”

  “General Custer was there?”

  “Yep, and Buffalo Bill and General Sheridan, and a few other men I became friendly with.”

  The sheriff took a hanky from his pocket and wiped his brow. “Lordy, lordy, but that’s a whole parcel of famous people you hooked up with.”

  “It sure was, and they’re all coming to my wedding. Well, all except Alexis.”

  “Who’s Alexis?”

  “He’s the Grand Duke of Russia. He couldn’t make it because of his schedule, but he insisted I go to Russia. He said the people over there read my book and consider me a celebrity. Why hell, I’m just an ex-soldier. I’m no celebrity.”

  “Well, I’ll be hanged. You’re the most celebrity this town ever had visit it. Tell me something, son.” Charlie held his breath. “Was any of that book true?”

  “Yes! A lot of it was true.”

  “Did that gunfight with the three men happen?”

  Here it comes, he thought.

  “And did that Buntline fella stand with you against them?”

  Charlie nodded. “Like I tell everyone, Sheriff, that man has got more balls than brains, because he can’t shoot worth a lick.”

  The sheriff laughed and slapped his thigh. He was enjoying talking with the Lone Jack Kid.

  Charlie furrowed his brow and ground his teeth.

  “Is there anyone in this town that I should be worried about?”

  The sheriff took a cigar from his pocket and lit up. He offered one to Charlie, but Charlie refused and took out one of his own.

  “Here, try one of these, Sheriff.”

  The sheriff raised an eyebrow. “Don’t mind if I do, Kid.”

  “What’s your name, Sheriff?”

  “Sorry about that. I was so interested in hearing your story that I plumb forgot to tell you my name. The name is Abraham S. Fowler, but my friends call me Abe and everyone else calls me Sheriff.”

  “Well, Abe, is there anyone I should be worried about?”

  “There’s a whole parcel of people you should be worried about. Beside the railroad workers and the men that operate the temporary saloons, marshal law has been declared in Polaski County. In fact, the governor just appointed me sheriff because George Newton killed the last sheriff. Another sheriff by the name of Dodson was appointed, but he was shot at Perry’s Station while waiting to board a train. Ten men were charged with the crime, but no one dared to bring them in. In fact, when the judge told the ten men he would appoint each of them ten men for their protection, the ten men charged with the crime decided they’d go to the courthouse the next morning and kill all the officials in the court, including the judge.”

  Charlie had no idea things were this bad. “What happened? Did they kill the officials the next morning?”

  “Nope. The court adjourned and never reconvened, and that left all those who were charged with murder to remain free, so you’d be doing yourself a favor by hightailing it out of here as soon as you can.”

  “Thanks for the warning, Sheriff. I guess we’ll do just that. I’ll finish getting my supplies and then we’re leaving town.”

  “Good, because I’d hate to have you getting killed in my town.”

  There were still a lot of people milling around, trying to get close to Charlie. Although he never considered himself special, he was a celebrity to everyone in the country. Most people read Buntline’s books and everyone wanted to shake his hand, buy him a drink, or kill him to make a name for themselves.

  Charlie left the throng standing in the street and walked back into the store. Twenty minutes later, he walked out with his saddlebags filled with supplies along with some buffalo hides that Buffalo Bill gave him before he left. Sheriff Abe Fowler was waiting for him on the wooden plank sidewalk.

  “Come on, Kid. I’ll ride out of town with you.”

  The crowd parted, allowing the three men to get to their horses, when five men stood in the center of the wide street, calling Charlie out.

  “We heard there was a gunfighter in town with a big reputation, so we’re challenging the big man to prove he’s what the dime novels say he is.”

  The men laughed, and Charlie thought they might have been in their cups a little longer than they should have.

  The sheriff stepped in front of Charlie. “Go home, men. Don’t start anything you can’t finish.”

  Charlie pushed the sheriff gently aside. “No one has to die today. Go on back to what you were doing.”

  The men snickered. “He wants us to go back to playing cards and drinking whiskey. Not going to happen, Kid.”

  So there it was, Charlie thought, they were drinking.

  “Are you handy with a gun, Sheriff? It looks like you’ll be taking Ned Buntline’s part in this little show.”

  The sheriff took a deep breath. “I’ll stand with you, Kid, but there’s five of them and only two of us.”

  “Three of us, Sheriff. Wild Eagle will be watching our backs, and Ban-Chu will take one of them out.”

  “Who’s Ban-Chu?”

  “He’s my wolf. Ban-Chu, come.” The wolf appeared from nowhere and stood beside Charlie. “Well, let’s see how good with a gun these men are.”

  Charlie walked boldly to the middle of the street, facing them. He was fortunate because the sun was behind him, and the five men hadn’t realized that when they began taunting him. The sheriff walked beside Charlie, and when they were in position, Charlie waved his hand to the side to tell the people to get out of the line of fire. Then he turned to Abe and said, “When I open the ball, just try to take out the man on the right and leave the rest to me.”

  The sheriff looked at Charlie as if he were a crazy man. “You’re gonna take out four men? By yourself?”

  “No, I’ll take out two men, possibly three. Look, let’s just do this. When it’s over, you’ll be famous, Sheriff.”

  Charlie called out to the men. “Which one of you is going to kill me?”

  The man on the far left said, “That would be me, Kid.”

  Charlie jerked his gun and shot that man in the forehead, and then he unloaded on the others, fanning his gun at an impossible speed. It sounded as if he fired one shot when, in fact, he fired all six rounds. Then he let his gun fall to the ground as he pulled his hip gun from its holster.

  The sheriff got off a shot and so did Wild Eagle. Ban-Chu rushed at the only man still standing and brought him down. But the man was wounded and would have fallen on his own.

  The sheriff stood there, panting. “I can’t believe what just happened. We killed all five of them.”

  “Yeah, we sure did, Sheriff. Now do me a favor and let’s see if there’s any papers on these fellas.”

  The crowd gasped when the smoke cleared. The sheriff looked as the undertaker came running over to him.

  “Take care of these fellas, Mort. You can keep what money they have on them. Sell their guns and horses and that should cover the cost of their burying.” He nudged Charlie. “Come on; let’s take some identification from these men and get to my office. Their friends might come looking for us and I don’t want to be in the middle of the street if they do.”

  The sheriff opened a desk drawer and pulled out a bottle. He poured two drinks and offered one to Wild Eagle, who refused it. “I heard you were fast, Kid, but I never saw anyone handle a gun like you did out there in the street. I’ll be telling my grandkids about this shootout.”

  Charlie laughed. “You won’t have to. If I know Ned Buntline, he’ll write another book, and this time, he’ll make you famous. All kidding aside though, Sheriff, that took guts to stand there with me in the street, facing five men like you did.
And if you think there’ll be trouble with some of their friends, I won’t let you face them alone. I’ll stand with you against them.”

  The sheriff looked through all his wanted posters, studying them and pulling out one here and another there until he was finished.

  “I’ve found three men with papers on them. The man your friend gutted had two hundred dollars dead or alive on his head for bank robbery in Tucson, and two of the five men had two hundred and fifty dollar rewards on them for murder. That’s seven hundred dollars you have coming to you, Longstreet. That’s a mighty hefty sum of money. I think I have enough in the safe to pay you now, so pour yourself a cup of coffee and have a seat while I get your money.”

  Ban-Chu rose from his position by the door, silently walked over to Charlie, and sat beside him while the men talked. He lowered his ears and nestled his head comfortably on his thigh as Charlie ran his fingers affectionately through the hair on the wolf’s head.

  “Do you think their friends will cause you any trouble, Abe?”

  “It’s hard to say. These men are always looking to cause trouble. But since the governor has cracked down, I have to admit there’s been a lot less mischief going on than before. I don’t think they’ll cause any more trouble, but I won’t know for sure until tonight when they get liquored up.”

  “Well, I was going to leave, but if there’s gonna be trouble, I’ll stick around for a while. Will you be making your rounds later, Sheriff?”

  “Yes, and I have to be honest. It ain’t like before where a lawman could make his rounds without being afraid of being killed.”

  “I’ll make the rounds with you, if you don’t mind.”

  “Are you crazy, son? Don’t mind, you ask? Hell, you just took a load off of my mind. And mind you, it’s only tonight I’m concerned about. Seeing as how we just killed five men, and I’m just wondering how their friends are taking it.”

  The sheriff scratched his head and poured another two fingers of whiskey in each glass. “We’ll just have to see how this night unfolds.”

  “Look, Sheriff, all you have to do is tell the men that I killed their friends, and you had to stand with me to make sure the odds were balanced a little better. No man can fault you for that. In fact, they’ll probably admire your courage, standing up to all those men.”

  The sheriff thought for a moment.

  “Yeah, they just might think that way. That bunch likes a show of courage. They respect a man like that.”

  “What’s the roughest saloon in this town, Sheriff?”

  “That would be the Red Dog Saloon over on Main Street.”

  Charlie smiled. “What say we go have a drink there and test the waters?”

  “Good idea. We’ll get a chance to see what mood the boys are in.”

  Chapter 35

  The two men walked through the batwing doors of the Red Dog Saloon and headed straight to the bar.

  “What’ll it be, gents?” a rough-looking man with a long scar running along his bald head asked.

  Charlie answered for the sheriff. “A bottle of the best whiskey you have, and don’t give us any of that rotgut you regularly serve.”

  The man looked at Charlie as if he was about to say something, but he just shook his head and left to get the better bottle of whiskey from the large, locked store room in the back. When the bartender left to get the whiskey, the room quieted down, to where you could hear a mouse fart. Charlie watched three men get up and walk towards them. He leaned over to the sheriff and whispered, “It looks like the show is about to start.”

  The three men spread themselves out, one on either side of the two men and one behind them.

  “Sheriff?”

  “Yeah!”

  “We heard what happened to our friends a little while ago.”

  “Yeah! And?”

  Charlie held his breath.

  “We think that to stand against five men took a lot of guts and we came over to tell you that and to buy you and your friend a drink.”

  Charlie let out his breath. “I have a bottle of good whiskey coming out in a second, and I’d like share a few drinks with you boys.”

  The three men sidled up to the bar and began chatting amiably. Then one of the men tapped Charlie on his shoulder and Charlie looked at him curiously.

  “You’re him, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know who ‘him’ is,” Charlie said.

  “I meant to say you’re him… I mean, you’re the Lone Jack Kid, right?”

  “Yep, that’s me. Now don’t you go tapping three times on me just when I’m beginning to like you fellas.”

  They laughed and the whiskey was poured.

  “Here’s to the Lone Jack Kid.”

  They threw back their drinks and another was poured.

  “And here’s to…? Here’s to… Who? I don’t even know your names.”

  “I’m Jack Bartlett,” Jack said, putting his arm around Charlie. Then he leaned a little closer and pointed to his two friends. “And this is Zeke Thornton; and that good looking guy over there is Pete Fuller.”

  Charlie didn’t like anyone he didn’t know crowding him as Bartlett was doing. He had to get to his gun if there was trouble, but he may not be able to if he was crowded.

  “Right pleased to make your acquaintance, fellas.”

  Even though Charlie was acting friendly, he was still on high alert, looking for any sign of treachery. After all, just a little while ago, he and the sheriff had killed five of their friends. Charlie leaned over the bar and asked the bartender to join them in sampling some of his good whiskey that he kept hidden. The barman nodded and grinned as he took a glass from the shelf behind the bar. He rubbed a towel over it to clean it, then poured himself a healthy glass of his good stuff. Meanwhile, Charlie bent over the bar as a pretext to look at the men in the mirror, to see if they were up to anything. He wrapped the palm of his hand around the handle of his gun in his cross draw holster, just in case he did see something suspicious.

  He watched Zeke Thornton nudge Jack Bartlett away from him, which was okay with Charlie because it freed up his shooting iron on his hip holster. All the while, he appeared to be bantering with the barman he had his eye on the men crowding behind him. He watched Pete Fuller pick up his drink with his left hand while his right hand slid down to his gun. This happened within two heartbeats and Charlie didn’t hesitate. Without turning, he pulled his side gun free and shot Fuller before he could plug the sheriff. Then he shot Thornton before he could blink an eye, and he fell dead to the floor.

  Wild Eagle had been covering Charlie with his Winchester outside the batwing doors, but the shootings happened so fast he couldn’t react quickly enough. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Charlie was uninjured. Jack Bartlett backed away and held his hands high, wondering what just happened. He looked down at his friends and he could see that Fuller’s hand still held his gun, while Thornton’s gun fell to the floor before he had a chance to use it. Bartlett stared at the bodies of his friends and then everything became clear to him.

  “Look, fellas, I had no idea they were gonna pull a stunt like this. They must have planned it behind my back, and me, like a sucker, fell for it.”

  Sheriff Fowler stood stunned by the speed of what just happened.

  Charlie pointed to Thornton. “He was just about to plug you, Sheriff. I spotted what they were planning when I bent over the bar to talk to baldy here.”

  The bartender was still in shock. “The name’s Riley, not baldy.”

  Bartlett was still shaken. “Honest, Sheriff, Lone Jack, I had no idea they were gonna pull a stunt like this. You have to believe me.”

  Charlie’s eyes narrowed and he furrowed his brow. He was beginning to like Jack Bartlett, and now he didn’t trust him.

  “Sorry, Bartlett. You may be telling the truth, but I plumb don’t trust you. I think us drinkin’ together is finished, and if you ever see me walking toward you, you better turn and walk the other way, because people I don’t tr
ust usually wind up dead. If you get my drift.”

  Jack Bartlett walked back to his table with his head hanging low. Now that it was over and he had time to think about it, he should have seen the signs. Pete and Zeke were sure anxious to get close to Longstreet. He couldn’t figure out why, but he did admire the way Longstreet and the sheriff stood up against superior odds. So when Zeke suggested they go to the bar and buy them a drink, he was all for it. Stupid. That’s what it was, just plain stupid. I should have seen this coming.

  Fowler gulped down his drink and tugged on Charlie’s arm. “Come on, let’s get out of here. And bring the bottle with you.”

  “Good idea.” Charlie flipped Riley a silver dollar and took the bottle.

  Fowler opened the bottle, leaned close to his desk, and poured two drinks. “This is a hell of a lot better drinking whiskey than the swill I’ve got in my drawer.” The sheriff leaned back in his chair. “Do you have an extra one of those cigars I saw you with before?”

  Charlie nodded and took two cigars from his vest pocket. After they were lit, the sheriff took a sip of his whiskey and a pull on his cigar before pointing it at Charlie. “You must have a sixth sense, because I still can’t figure out how you knew those two bushwhackers were up to something.”

  Charlie shook his head. “No sixth sense, Abe. When those fellas started crowding us, it sorta hindered me from getting to my guns, and I didn’t like that feeling. It made me a little suspicious, but I had nothing to go on but my gut feelings. That’s why I leaned over the bar and invited Riley to have a drink with us. That move freed up my gun hand and it gave me a chance to study those boys. That’s when I saw Zeke pick up his drink with his left hand. I watched his right hand reach down for his gun as he leaned in closer to you. It looked to me like he was getting ready to drill you. I could have been wrong, but I wasn’t taking any chances, so I plugged him, then Pete. I was about to shoot Bartlett too, but his hands were on the bar and that was what saved him.”

  Fowler poured himself another drink. “I don’t usually drink while I’m on duty, but this has been a hell of a day, and one I’ll never forget. When did you say you were leaving?”