Tanner's Law

by Charles G. West

  “Can’t say as I have,” the little man replied. “But, hell, as big as this country is, it’d be one helluva coincidence if you did run into him. From what you tell me about the man, it don’t sound like he’s one to live in the wild like I do. There ain’t no minin’ camps in these mountains that I know of. My advice to you is to quit wanderin’ all over hell and back, and go where the gold is.” When Tanner’s expression was questioning, he continued. “Alder Gulch, Virginia City, up in Montana Territory, that’s where they’re strikin’ it big right now. You ain’t too far from Fort Laramie. You might be able to find out if your man passed through there. Ever’body does that’s headin’ to Montana.”

  “Go ahead,” Tanner said in response to Jack’s questioning look when the curious little man held up the almost empty coffeepot. As Jack poured the rest of the coffee into his cup, Tanner considered his guest’s advice. Alder Gulch made more sense than wandering around in the mountains hoping to run across Ike’s trail. Jack was right, he decided. There were good odds that a man like Ike Leach would gravitate toward the goldfields. At least if he went to Fort Laramie as Jack suggested, he might find out if Ike had passed through there. His decision made, he asked, “How do I find Fort Laramie?”

  “Can’t miss it,” Jack replied, his tone carrying a slight implication that any fool should be able to find Fort Laramie. He pulled a half-burned limb from the fire and used it to draw a simple map on the ground. “This is where we are right here. You ride across these ridges—oh, a half a day or so, dependin’ on how fast you ride—and you’ll come to a valley where you’ll strike the Laramie River. Follow the river. It’ll take you right to Fort Laramie. You oughta be there in two or three days.”

  “Much obliged,” Tanner said. “How about you? Where are you headed?”

  “Back toward Denver City. The nights are starting to get a little chilly. Won’t be long before some honest-to-God cold sets in, and I’ll be winterin’ with a bunch of Arapahos that got a village near there. Been winterin’ with them for the last two years.”

  Tanner told him of his recent stay in an Arapaho village, but it turned out to be a different village from Jack’s friends. They talked long into the night about the country Tanner could expect to see if he proceeded northwest to Montana, the hostile tribes that he should avoid, and the brutal winter that he could expect.

  “You must want this feller awful bad,” Jack remarked. “What are you gonna do after you find him, considerin’ you’re the one still standin’?”

  The question gave Tanner pause. The only conscious thought in his mind was to balance the scales of justice, to give Jeb Hawkins vengeance. It had replaced all others. Jack’s question caused him to realize that he had no plans for life after his grim task was completed. The notion flashed through his mind that his life had been stolen. His brother Trenton was living his future—settling down with Ellie, running his father’s and his father-in-law’s farms. At once, his deep somber mood returned. He had no purpose in life beyond that of the cruel sword of the avenger. He glanced up to see Jack waiting for a response to his question. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” he said, then added, “if I’m the one still standin’.” Jack made no further comment on the subject, but seemed to study Tanner intently, as if envisioning his host’s probable future.

  The next morning, both host and guest were up early, ready to depart. “I thank you for your hospitality,” Jack said. “Maybe our trails will cross again sometime.” Tanner nodded as he checked the cinch on his saddle, his mind already back on the hunt. Jack hesitated a moment more before deciding to impart some advice to his new friend. “You know, Tanner, I’ve been trackin’ through these mountains, from here to the Bitterroots, for more’n fifteen years. And it’s a generous country if a man has a sharp eye and a nose for danger. But the mountains can get into a man’s head if he ain’t careful. Some folks just don’t take to bein’ alone all the time. Especially in the winter, the wind whistling through the Rockies can sometimes make some strange sounds, almost like words. If you’re alone long enough, and you don’t watch yourself, you can start listenin’ to them words, and sometimes them words can tell you to do some strange things.”

  Tanner paused to look at Jack before stepping up in the saddle, wondering what prompted the homespun advice. In his mind, he was already picturing the tall, gaunt features of Ike Leach and the sneering countenance that seemed his trademark. “What are you tryin’ to tell me, Jack, that you think I might go crazy listenin’ to the wind?”

  Seeing that his advice was lost on the determined young man, Jack shrugged. “I’m just sayin’ you seem like a nice young feller. I’d hate to see you let this killin’ you’re bound to do drive out the good things in your heart.”

  “And wind up talkin’ to the wind?” Tanner finished for him. He laughed. “I’ll try not to let it happen.” He swung a leg over and settled in the saddle as the gray took a few steps to the side. Tanner pulled the reins to turn the horse’s head toward the north. “Take care of yourself, Jack,” he said.

  “You as well,” Jack replied. “Watch your scalp.”

  “I will,” Tanner replied. He turned north and relaxed the reins. The horse started out at a fast walk. He had not ridden a hundred yards when he heard Jack Flagg calling after him.

  “Wait up!” Jack called. Tanner looked back to see the little man coming after him at a gallop. When he pulled up beside him, he explained. “I changed my mind. Hell, I’ll ride to Fort Laramie with you. I ain’t ready to lay up for winter yet, and I ain’t been to Laramie in a spell.” He paused. “If you don’t mind the company.”

  Tanner laughed. “I don’t mind.”

  The trip took less than two days with Jack leading them. When they arrived, Jack suggested that Tanner might find information on Ike Leach at the sutler’s store. Since Tanner needed to buy supplies and ammunition anyway, he went directly there. Jack parted company with him then, telling him that he was going to visit a friend who had a little saloon on the road past the stables. “It’s easy to find if you’re ever lookin’ for me while you’re here,” he said, “but if I don’t see you no more, you take care of yourself.”

  Chapter 16

  Seth Ward had been the post trader at Fort Laramie since 1857. During that time he had seen all manner of people pass through the army post; settlers heading for Oregon, gold miners heading for California, soldiers, Indians, trappers, mountain men, and many other opportunists. Most of these he could label as typical, none especially more memorable than the others until they had all melted into a single monotonous hash of humanity. But there was something decidedly different about the dark-haired, broad-shouldered stranger who entered his store on this early October morning.

  He paused in the doorway for a few moments while he looked around the room. Tiny droplets of water glistened on his broad-brimmed hat and the roughly sewn buffalo robe draped across his shoulders. The few remaining snowflakes that had covered him melted in the heat provided by the stove and fell to create faint wet spots around his moccasin-clad feet. His right hand held a Spencer repeating rifle, hanging almost casually with the muzzle pointed toward the floor. It was not the man’s combination dress of animal skins and wool that caught Seth’s attention, however, for that was nothing out of the ordinary. Rather, it was the look in the man’s eyes as he surveyed the store. Seth got the impression that the stranger missed nothing in his cursory glance. Two men, a soldier and a civilian standing at the counter, turned to see who had walked in the door. The stranger’s eyes shifted momentarily to regard them before returning to focus on the post trader.

  “Good morning.” Seth greeted Tanner. “Look’s like it’s still snowin’ a bit outside.”

  “A bit,” Tanner agreed. He walked over to the end of the counter then, opposite the two men. The war was long since over, but he was still a little wary of Union soldiers. On their part, he was quickly dismissed as another of the many drifters who passed through Fort Laramie.

  “What
can I do for you?” Seth asked.

  “Do you have any cartridges for a Spencer?” Tanner responded. Seth replied that he did, and produced a box from a cabinet behind him. He waited for Tanner to say how many he wanted, looking somewhat surprised when Tanner said, “I’ll take the box.” He was even more surprised when Tanner paid him with gold coins.

  Pleased to receive the hard cash, Seth said, “You must be plannin’ to start a war. Is there anything else you need?”

  “Five pounds of bacon, a sack of those coffee beans over there, and something to keep my feet warm,” Tanner replied.

  Seth glanced down at the light summer moccasins Tanner wore. “You might be in luck, mister. I think I might have some boots your size.”

  Tanner nodded as if thinking it over before speaking. “I’ve grown partial to Injun shoes,” he said. “I don’t reckon you’ve got anything like that.”

  “Reckon not,” Seth said.

  Overhearing, one of the men at the end of the bar, a husky man wearing corporal’s stripes, interjected, “You can get some moccasins at that Crow camp up the river. There’s an old woman there who’ll make ’em for you if you’ve got the hides.”

  “I was just gonna tell you about her,” Seth said, “but she’ll take a while to make up some moccasins. I’ve got a stout pair of boots just your size.”

  Tanner turned to face the soldier. “Much obliged,” he said.

  “Shore,” the corporal replied. “When you get done here, I’ll walk outside with you and give you directions to that Crow camp.”

  “You think of anything else you need,” Seth said, “you come on back, and I’ve probably got it. I don’t get paid with gold coins very often. You’re only the second one in a month.”

  Tanner felt the blood in his veins suddenly go cold. He turned his attention abruptly back to the post trader. “Who was the first?”

  Seth shrugged, thinking back. “Some fellow on his way up to Virginia City,” he said. “At least that’s where I think he said he was goin’.”

  Tanner could feel his heart pumping against his ribs. “What did he look like?” he asked.

  Seth stroked his chin as he recalled. “Tall fellow, taller than you maybe, but he was thin as a rail. Had a dark look about him. That’s about all I remember about the man.”

  Tanner stood silent for a few moments, hardly believing he had at last stumbled upon Ike Leach’s trail. Jack Flagg’s advice had been good. “How far is Virginia City?” he asked.

  “You thinkin’ about goin’ there?” Seth asked. “You’re talking about two weeks or more, dependin’ on the weather, through some pretty hostile Injun territory. And, mister, if you ain’t ever been there, you’re gonna need a guide. I doubt you can find one that’ll set out this time of year.

  Nodding to Seth, Tanner picked up his purchases and said, “Much obliged.”

  The soldier and his civilian friend followed him out the door. Outside, they gave him directions to follow the Platte for two miles west where he would find the Crow camp. “The woman you wanna find is Owl Woman,” the corporal said. “She’ll make you a fine pair of Injun boots.”

  Tanner thanked them for their help, loaded his purchases onto his packhorse, and rode out of the compound, his mind still spinning with the news of Ike Leach. Unwilling to waste another day, lest Ike not stay put in Virginia City, he was inclined to set out right away for Alder Gulch. He had two problems, however, the most important being that he didn’t know the way to Alder Gulch. The second problem, only slightly less important than the first, was his feet were cold. Anxious as he might be, he knew that he couldn’t set out blindly for a place where he’d never been, especially this time of year. And he knew the folly of starting out ill-equipped to handle the cold. So, he reluctantly decided, the first order of business was to acquire warm footwear.

  Following the directions given him by the corporal, he had no trouble finding the Crow village. Owl Woman turned out to be an old woman who lived with her son and his wife. She made moccasins in exchange for hides, trinkets, and money, whatever she could trade for. When Tanner showed her the buffalo hide he carried on his packhorse, she said, “I make you fine boots, warm, come up to here.” She touched his leg below his knee. “Two days,” she said in answer to his next question.

  “Two days?” Tanner questioned. “You mean you’re gonna soften this hide and make up a pair of moccasins in just two days?”

  She explained that she would take his hide to replace one she was already working on for a pair of boots for her son. Some minor adjustments could be made to change the size, and her son was in no hurry for his boots. Tanner considered this a real piece of good fortune, and the price was agreed upon—his buffalo hide and three dollars, paper.

  Riding back toward the fort, he thought about Seth Ward’s advice, that he would need a guide to take him to Virginia City. I just might know one, he thought, smiling. Jack Flagg had been careful to give him exact directions to his friend’s saloon. The little man might have already been thinking that Tanner would need a guide. He couldn’t imagine why the curious old man would want to go. Maybe he was wrong. We’ll find out, I reckon.

  As he guided the gray along the bank of the river, he decided he might as well start looking for a place to camp for a couple of days while he waited for his new moccasins. The path along the river dropped sharply as it doubled back around a large cottonwood that leaned out over the water. Rounding the trunk of the tree, Tanner pulled up sharply when he was suddenly confronted by a horse and rider blocking his path. Startled to find a pistol drawn and pointing at him by a man with a bandanna masking his face, he started to reach for the rifle in his saddle sling.

  “I wouldn’t if I was you,” the man warned. “If you don’t wanna die, you’d best just set peaceful there.” The man nudged his horse up closer, the pistol pointing directly at Tanner’s face. “Now, let’s take a look in them saddlebags. Is that where you hide them gold coins? You could save me the trouble of tearin’ up your whole outfit if you just tell me where you got ’em hid.”

  Feeling like a fool for being careless, Tanner quickly evaluated his situation. He couldn’t see the man’s face, but he had a strong hunch that it was the same man who had been talking with the soldier in the post trader’s store, who had given him directions to the Crow camp. The thought of it made him angry, with no thought of fear. With a pistol in his face, he knew there was no time to pull his rifle from the sling. He was wearing a revolver on his belt, but he wasn’t sure he could draw it fast enough to get a shot off before his assailant blew his brains out. Still, he was unwilling to meekly let this son of a bitch have his way. After what seemed a long standoff, Tanner dropped his hand to rest on the handle of his pistol.

  “Get your hand off’n that pistol!” the man exclaimed. “I’ll shoot you down right now.”

  Ignoring the threat, Tanner spoke, his voice calm and steady. “Mister, you’re gonna have to earn anything you steal from me. You might shoot me, but I can pull this pistol in less than a half a second. So I’m gonna kill you, even if I’m dead when I pull the trigger. You might wanna think about whether it’s worth the risk or not.”

  His unexpected threat caused the man to hesitate. Tanner thought his bluff might have succeeded, but it was only for a moment, for the next sound was a voice behind him. “I expect you’d best get your hand off of that pistol. I don’t think you’re fast enough to stop a bullet in your back. Now get them gold coins outta them saddlebags like he told you.”

  Damn, Tanner thought, knowing he had no chance to escape this standoff with no harm done. He was reluctant to give them what they demanded, but it wasn’t worth risking his life. Still, the very thought of being robbed by two surly scoundrels galled him no end, and they might decide to shoot him anyway. He was seriously thinking of telling them to go to hell, and letting the chips fall where they may. Another voice made his decision for him. “I got this Remington Rollin’ Block buffalo gun sighted right between your shoulder blades, mi
ster. So if the shootin’ starts, this .50-70 cartridge is gonna leave a right sizable hole in your back.”

  Even under such tense conditions, Tanner couldn’t suppress a hint of a smile, for he recognized the twang in the voice immediately. “Is that you, Jack?”

  “I reckon,” Jack Flagg replied. “You wanna go ahead and shoot these low-down snakes, or let ’em go?”

  “I’d just as soon shoot ’em both,” Tanner replied. He could see the confusion and uncertainty in his assailant’s face. “I’m feelin’ pretty generous today, though. Maybe we’ll leave it up to them, live or die.”

  There was no indecision in the second highwayman. With the threat of Jack’s buffalo gun at his back, he said, “I’ll pick livin’.” He wheeled his horse and retreated at a gallop.

  Still reading the eyes of the man facing him, Tanner could see the confusion turn to panic. Instinct dictated his next move. Lunging sideways, Tanner suddenly dived from the saddle, just in time to avoid the pistol shot that whistled through the air where his face had been a split second before. As he hit the ground, fumbling for his pistol, he heard the solid report of Jack’s buffalo gun, followed by the thump of the body on the ground. He was on his feet in seconds, his gun drawn, to find the man dead, a sizable hole in his chest.

  A few seconds later, Jack rode up beside him. Looking down at the body, he said, “Damn fool.” Then he looked at Tanner. “You all right?”

  “Yeah,” Tanner said, rubbing his backside. “Except where I landed on that damn root.” He looked up at the curious little man. “Much obliged,” he said. “Where’d you come from, anyway? I was in a helluva fix back there.”

  “I’d say you was,” Jack said with a chuckle. “I was havin’ a drink with that friend of mine, and I happened to overhear them two fellers talkin’ about some stranger buyin’ stuff at the sutler’s store with solid gold coins. I couldn’t hear all their conversation, but I got enough to know they wasn’t up to no good. You were the only stranger I knew that had just rode in, so I figured I’d best follow them two to see if they was up to somethin’.” He grinned wide. “Good thing I did, warn’t it?”