Thunder Over Lolo Pass

by Charles G. West

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Teaser chapter

  BIDDING FAREWELL

  Already preparing to come to Brenda’s rescue, Cody McCloud paused to see if the three strangers were going to agree to leave. When it became apparent that they had no intention to do so, he glanced at Jug, who nodded his silent confirmation. Splitting up, they both drew their revolvers. “I expect you’d best put that gun away,” Jug said, eyeing Blackie with a look that promised serious consequences if the suggestion was ignored.

  Blackie hesitated, not sure of his chances. Jug’s pistol was pointed straight at his head. He glanced nervously at his partner, John Crocker, who had Cody’s gun aimed at him. “Let the lady go,” Cody said to Burdette.

  Burdette was smart enough to see they had reached a standoff and he didn’t like the odds that he could release the girl’s wrist and draw his own weapon before getting shot. Reluctantly, Burdette fashioned an exaggerated smile and let Brenda go.

  With guns still drawn, Jug and Cody followed them out to make sure they got on their horses and left. “It’s a good thing you fellers had us outgunned, biggun,” Crocker snarled. “I mighta enjoyed kickin’ your ass.”

  Never one to shy away from a good scrap, Jug responded with a laugh, “Sorry to disappoint you. Now get on that horse and get outta here.”

  Crocker deliberately took his time putting a foot in the stirrup and pulling himself up in the saddle, still smiling defiantly at Jug the whole time. “Maybe I’ll see you again sometime,” he snarled.

  “Maybe,” Jug said, “but it better not be around here, or I’ll shoot you on sight.”

  SIGNET

  Published by New American Library, a division of

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  First published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  First Printing, April 2011

  Copyright © Charles G. West, 2011

  eISBN : 978-1-101-51375-0

  All rights reserved

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  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  For Ronda

  Chapter 1

  “Damn, lookee there, Jug,” Cody McCloud exclaimed. “There’s a new saloon gone up since we’ve been back in town.” It was one of several new businesses in the settlement, no doubt attracted by the recent establishment of Fort Missoula in Montana. Cody, youngest of the three McCloud brothers, and by far the most adventurous, was always ready to follow a new trail. “Whaddaya say we have a look inside? I could use a little drink about now.”

  Jug, the middle McCloud brother, and two years older than Cody, was more interested in getting something to eat. Largest of the brothers, Jug seldom allowed his mind to be complicated with thoughts more serious than finding the next meal. Gifted with an oversized and powerful body, he was, however, of a peaceful nature, requiring considerable agitation to ignite the fearsome violence he was capable of. “That suits me,” he said in answer to Cody’s suggestion. “Maybe they’ve got a little somethin’ to eat, too.” The gentle giant’s real name was Ryan, but everybody had called him Jug ever since he was twelve years old. His eldest brother had pinned the nickname on him after he sneaked a full jug of cider their father had cooling in the spring box and drank over half of it. Afterward, he had been too ill to refill the jug with water as he had planned. He got the licking his father had promised, but the terrible sick stomach he suffered had been the greater punishment. The nickname stuck and in time replaced his given name.

  Having just delivered twenty cattle to the new fort to feed the recently arrived detachment of soldiers, the brothers were in a mood for a mild celebration before riding back up the valley to the M Bar C Ranch. Already advised of the portion of the money they could spend on food and drink by their father, they were determined to spend the limit, so they tied their horses at the hitching rail alongside a half dozen others and went inside.

  Before going directly to the bar, they stopped to look the place over. Generous in size, the new board building featured a long bar across one end of the open room with about a dozen tables filling the rest of the space, except for a small area in between that appeared to be a dance floor. There was a piano up against the wall. About half of the tables were occupied. The thing that caught Cody’s eye, however, was the dark-haired woman with a bored expression, sitting with four soldiers at the rearmost table. “Don’t even think about it,” Jug warned. “Let’s just get us a drink and be on our way. We’ve got a long ride home.” From experience, he knew the workings of his younger brother’s mind, and more times than not, it ended up with him in a fight. It never seemed to matter if the woman was young and pretty, or seasoned with time. As long as she was not sporting gray hair and a toothless grin, she was worthy of Cody’s attention.

  Cody flashed a mischievous grin in Jug’s direction. “Now, brother, you know it doesn’t hurt to look. She don’t look all that bad from here. I could tell more if she would stand up.”

  “Well, she’s obviously with those soldier boys,” Jug said, “so it don’t make no difference to you.” He took hold of Cody’s arm and started him in the direction of the bar. “Let’s get us that
drink, so we can get started back home.”

  “I swear, you’re gettin’ more and more like Cullen every day,” Cody complained, but offered no resistance to Jug’s prodding. The reference was to their older brother, who was four years senior to Jug and had always employed a quiet authority over the younger two. It was never resented or contested by Jug or Cody. It seemed the natural order of their family. In fact, they were both proud of their older brother. Cody’s only concern for him was the fact that he seemed too serious at times, and he wished Cullen would find a woman to lighten his somber moods. On occasions like the present, Cody always preferred to partner with Jug. Even though Jug complained some, he always went along with whatever Cody wanted to do.

  “What can I do for you fellers?” Roy, the bartender, asked.

  “A couple of shots of whiskey,” Cody replied, greeting the bartender with a friendly smile.

  “And a couple of them eggs,” Jug added, causing Cody to scrunch his face up in disgust. Jug had been eyeing the large jar of pickled eggs ever since he stood in the doorway.

  “You’re gonna have to eat both of ’em,” Cody said, still making a face.

  “I figured,” Jug replied with a smile.

  After another shot of Roy’s whiskey, Cody seemed content and he turned around to look the room over again. Someone called out something to Roy and the bartender went down to the end of the room to a door leading to the rooms in the back. When he came back into the room, he was followed by a thin, bald man with heavy gray sideburns. Roy returned to the bar while the bald man shuffled wearily toward the piano and sat down. In a few minutes, the sounds of the old piano echoed off the wall in a spirited arrangement of an old hymn. None among Roy’s clientele was qualified to identify the tune as a religious selection, especially since it was rendered up-tempo, and after a few seconds, one of the soldiers pulled the woman from her chair and led her to the dance floor.

  “She ain’t half bad,” Cody commented as he watched the woman dance with first one, then a second soldier. He was content to be no more than a spectator, since Jug was persistent in reminding him that they should get started toward home. “One more little drink,” he said, “and then we’ll go.”

  “If you didn’t buy at least one more,” Roy felt obliged to comment, “I was gonna have to charge ol’ biggun there for eatin’ all my pickled eggs.”

  Cody laughed and replied, “I’m fixin’ to take him outta here before he starts gnawin’ on the corner of the bar.”

  Roy laughed with him and was about to offer Jug another egg when a startled cry was heard from the woman, causing them to turn to look toward the dance floor again. A third soldier—a husky brute, almost as big as Jug, wearing corporal’s stripes on his sleeve—had cut in to dance with her. It was apparent that his idea of dancing was to physically maul the helpless woman. As they watched, she tried to pull away from his unsolicited advances, a sharp tongue her only defensive weapon. The more she cursed him, the bolder he became until it appeared the corporal was going to have his way with her right there in the saloon.

  “Now, that just ain’t right,” Cody said. “Even a whore don’t deserve to be treated like that.” He turned to Roy. “What’s her name?”

  “Mae,” the bartender replied, showing little concern for the woman or the table of soldiers.

  “All right, then,” Cody said, and walked toward the arguing couple. “Hello, Mae,” he greeted her cheerfully. “I’m sorry I’m late for our appointment, but I’m here now.” Addressing the startled corporal then, he said, “Thanks for entertainin’ her till I got here, soldier. You can let her go now.” He took her hand and pulled her toward him. The surly corporal was too astonished to hold on to her and she had scurried to safety behind Cody by the time his whiskey-soaked brain realized what had just happened. “Enjoy your drinks, boys,” Cody called to the corporal’s three companions at the table who obviously didn’t know what to make of the intrusion upon their fun and were slow in deciding if there should be any action on their part.

  “Your appointment?” The corporal sneered. “What the hell are you talkin’ about, you little asshole? The woman’s with us, and I’ll bust your head for you if you don’t get the hell outta here.”

  Cody shook his head as if perplexed. “There, now see, you had to go and get rowdy about it when it was all just a simple misunderstandin’ between the lady and yourself.” He glanced at the woman. “Mae, do you want to go with the soldier, or come with me?”

  “Hell no, I don’t wanna go with the son of a bitch,” Mae spat in anger as she examined the abrasions left on her wrists by the corporal’s rough hands.

  Cody looked back at the corporal and shrugged. “Well, there you go. I reckon that clears everythin’ up.”

  “Why, you little bastard,” the corporal cursed.

  “Sic him, Jarvis,” one of the soldiers still seated at the table goaded.

  “Jarvis,” Cody responded. “Is that your name?” There was no verbal response to the question, but the corporal’s eyes looked capable of igniting a fire, as he appeared to brace himself to launch an attack on the brash young man. Ignoring the threat, Cody continued. “Well, Jarvis, let me give you some advice. I know what you’re thinkin’ and it’s the wrong thing. It’s only gonna cause you pain you don’t need, so why don’t you sit down with your friends there and finish that bottle, and forget about Mae until you sober up a little?”

  Knowing full well what was about to follow, Jug unstrapped his gun belt and, emitting a tired sigh, handed it to Roy to hold, since it was obvious that the soldiers were not armed. “I shoulda known we had no business stoppin’ for a drink,” he muttered as he sidled up to the end of the bar. “Ma’am,” he offered politely to the still infuriated woman when she moved past him on her way to sanctuary behind the bar.

  Back in the center of the tiny dance floor, Corporal Jarvis was sizing up his opponent after a standoff, astonished at Cody’s emotionless approach. With his anger rising, he took a threatening step forward, his fists raised in pugilistic fashion, causing another of his companions to exclaim in enthusiastic anticipation of the contest, “You’d better get on your horse and get your ass on outta here, cowboy, ’cause you just picked a fight with the regimental heavyweight boxing champion!”

  “Is that so?” Cody replied while keeping a steady eye on the formidable figure of a man now slowly moving toward him with nothing save mayhem in his gaze. “Well, if this is gonna be a boxin’ match, then I guess we need some rules.”

  “Rules?” Jarvis bleated, dumbfounded and eager to administer the beating he had in mind.

  “Yeah, rules,” Cody replied, stepping aside to avoid the wild charge launched at that instant. Drawing his Colt .44, he cracked Jarvis squarely across the bridge of his nose with the barrel as the bully lumbered drunkenly by. “Like none of that,” he said. The blow sent the larger man reeling clumsily to keep his feet. “And no kickin’ in the balls,” Cody said as he brought the toe of his boot sharply up between the corporal’s legs. Completely helpless, Jarvis bent over in agony. “And no hittin’ behind the head,” Cody added as he slammed the pistol barrel down solidly on the back of Jarvis’ skull. In that brief space of time, the match was over and Jarvis lay, out cold, on the floor.

  It had happened so fast that the corporal’s friends were still seated, staring in stunned disbelief at their champion lying in a heap on the floor. Finally one of them thought to react. Kicking his chair back, he charged over the table only to be met with Jug McCloud’s fist, which stopped his head while his legs ran out from under him, causing him to land on his back, unconscious. The third soldier, instantly wiser after seeing his friend finished with one blow from a fist that looked the size of an anvil, scrambled around the table and jumped on Jug’s back just as Jug aimed a kick at the fourth soldier, who had sense enough to run for the door. Left then with the one soldier clinging to his back like a parasite, Jug twisted left and right in an effort to get a grip on the desperate man. His antics proved
highly amusing to his brother, who stood by enjoying the spectacle of Jug bucking like an unbroken mustang while the soldier hung on for dear life, afraid to let go.

  Finally Jug grew tired of the contest. “Get him the hell off my back!” he roared.

  Roy, who had been a silent spectator to the whole performance, casually handed Cody a broom and Cody began whipping the soldier across the back with it until he finally released his death hold on Jug and dropped to the floor. As soon as he landed, he started scrambling on his hands and knees across the floor and out the door, the sound of Cody’s laughter ringing in his ears. “Well, I swear, that was some fight, wasn’t it?” Cody exclaimed, grinning at Jug as his brother picked up the table and set the chairs right side up. “That was downright lively.” Turning to Roy, he said, “Don’t nothin’ appear to be broke.”

  “I reckon not,” Roy replied, “but it might be a good idea for you boys to get on your way. Them other two soldiers might be back here with half their company to get those two.” He nodded to the two casualties who were just beginning to show signs of life.

  “I expect you’re right,” Cody said. “I apologize for runnin’ off four of your customers.”

  “Don’t matter,” Roy said. “They’d done spent all their money, anyway. Besides, I might sell some whiskey to their friends when they come back lookin’ for you two.”

  “What about me?” Mae piped up, an astonished spectator up to that point. “You mighta cost me money.”

  “Oh yeah,” Cody said. In the heat of the action, he had forgotten what started the altercation. “How much do you charge?”

  “Three dollars for a straight ride without no extras,” she replied.

  “Fair enough,” Cody said, and dug into his pocket. “Here’s three dollars and a dollar extra.”