Duel at Low Hawk

by Charles G. West

  “Well, Mr. Ward,” Dr. Summerlin called out cordially, “didn’t expect to see you so soon. Come to check on the patient?”

  “I reckon,” John answered. “How’s he doin’?”

  “Tolerable, I guess,” Summerlin replied with a chuckle. “But he doesn’t seem to take to recovery very well. He’s healing just fine if he would just give it time.” He watched John dismount, then said, “You’re a little late for supper, but I expect Lucy could rustle up something if you’re hungry.”

  “What can Lucy do?” his daughter interrupted, appearing in the doorway at that moment. “I heard my name being volunteered for something.”

  Before she could get through the door, a voice right behind her yelled out, “Is that you, John Ward?” And Two Buck charged through the door, almost knocking Lucy off balance. He stormed out on the porch, althoughstill on rather shaky legs, a wide smile displayed across his face.

  “Damn . . .” Lucy blurted before she could recover to quickly force a smile. “You need to be more careful, Two Buck,” she said sweetly. Her father chuckled, still amused by the change in his daughter’s appearance that had taken place in the last few seconds. Careful to avoid meeting his gaze, she turned her face to John. “Well, hello again, John.”

  “Miss . . . Lucy,” he stammered, wondering why he instantly felt embarrassed in her presence.

  “You get Boot?” Two Buck blurted. Before John could answer, he asked, “You find Lilly?”

  John glanced at Lucy and smiled when she shook her head, exasperated with Two Buck’s lack of manners. “No,” he answered patiently, “I didn’t catch up with him, and I haven’t found Lilly.”

  Two Buck looked puzzled, wondering why the lawman had come back before catching Boot Stoner. “You come back for me?” he asked. “You need my help, right?” Then a frown crossed his face. “You’re not givin’ up on chasin’ him, are you?”

  “No,” John replied. “I haven’t given up, but I lost him north of the Boston Mountains. I followed a trail that turned out to be the wrong one. I’m pretty sure he’ll eventually head back to the Nations, though. I’ll pick up his trail again.”

  “Maybe Lilly got away from him,” Two Buck said, a hopeful gleam in his eye.

  “I’m afraid she’s still with him. At least, when they left Missouri she was.” Maybe he should have told Two Buck that Lilly had apparently taken to Boot, but he didn’t have the heart at this point. That could wait until Two Buck was a little steadier on his feet.

  “I’m ready to ride,” Two Buck declared.

  “Might be best for him to rest a couple more days,” Dr. Summerlin interjected.

  Two Buck started to protest, but Lucy, who had been waiting none too patiently, interrupted. “Take him, please,” she insisted, the exasperation clearly evident in her tone. “He’s just about driven us crazy ever since you left. We had to hide his boots to keep him from trying to saddle his horse and go looking for you.”

  “They did, John Ward. They hide my boots,” Two Buck confirmed with a pitiable frown upon his broad face.

  Dr. Summerlin shook his head slowly, remembering. “I can’t recall a patient so all-fired anxious to commit suicide. He had lost so much blood that he was too weak to sit up in the bed. Two days later, he wanted to leave. I should have let him go if he was in that much hurry to die.”

  “I’m all better now,” Two Buck insisted.

  John cocked his head in the doctor’s direction. “What do you think, Doc?”

  “Probably wouldn’t kill him,” Summerlin said. “But he’d best get one more night’s rest.”

  “Can you stay one night?” Lucy asked, half expecting him to say no. “You’re probably hungry. I’ll fry some potatoes and side meat, and make a pot of coffee.” She raised an eyebrow, threatening. “If I go to the trouble, you’d better not ride off somewhere before it’s done.”

  “No, ma’am,” he said meekly. “I’ll just go put my horse in the corral.”

  They all sat down at the table with him while he ate, anxious to hear details of his search for Boot Stoner, especially Two Buck. John patiently answered all their questions until Lucy scolded, “For goodness’ sakes, let the poor man eat before the food gets stone cold.” Two Buck let up on him a little after that, and even agreed to go back to bed when Lucy promised that she would return his boots in the morning. After Two Buck turned in, Dr. Summerlin lingered awhile longer before excusing himself for the evening, claiming to have some medical texts he wanted to study. Lucy knew her father never referred to medical journals, and hadn’t for years, but she appreciated his gesture.

  “I thank you for goin’ to the trouble to feed me supper,” John said after the others had left them alone. “Maybe I could help you clean up some of these dishes.”

  “Why, that’s a right nice idea,” Lucy responded cheerfully. “I’ll just sit down and drink that last bit of coffee in the pot and watch you do the dishes.” Seeing the instant look of mild shock on his tanned face, she laughed, unable to maintain the ruse. “I’m only joking. Sit down there at the table and I’ll pour the last of this coffee for you.” She emptied the pot in his cup. “I wouldn’t trust you with my good dishes, anyway.”

  Sheepishly, he did as he was told, realizing the woman was teasing him. Feeling like a bungling oaf, he glanced up at her smiling face as she emptied the pot. “I expect I should go on out to the barn and make my bed, and not interrupt your evening any more than I already have,” he said, hoping she would protest. She did.

  “It’s early yet, and I don’t get a chance to talk to anyone but Dad very often,” she said. “So I guess you’re stuck with keeping me company for a while.”

  She finished the last of the dishes while he sat watching. When he downed the last of his coffee, she took his cup and washed it. All done, she suggested that it might be pleasant out on the porch. Both parties were thinking about the parting kiss between them on his last visit, but both carefully avoided reference to it.

  There were two chairs on the front porch, but he chose to sit down on the step. She sat down beside him. “It is a beautiful evening,” she said, breaking a silence of almost ten minutes. When he merely mumbled an agreement, she made another attempt to stimulate conversation. “So, John Ward, tell me about yourself. All I know is that you seem to wander all over Indian Territory all the time. Do you even have a home?”

  He hesitated for a long moment, realizing that he didn’t have much to tell. He had never spent much time thinking about the lonely routine that passed for his life. Now that she asked the question, it struck him how dreary it must seem to someone like her. “There ain’t much to tell,” he finally began. “I reckon most of my life is spent in the saddle, chasin’ after some scoundrel or another. I don’t know if most folks would call it a home, but I do have a place down on the Poteau River, below Fort Smith. It ain’t much more than a shack, but it’s a place to stay when I’m not workin’ for Judge Parker.”

  “I declare, John, I do believe that’s about the most conversation I’ve ever heard from you at one time.”

  He blushed. “I reckon I have been rattlin’ on a bit,” he said. He wanted to ask her about herself, if she ever thought about getting married, but he was afraid she might think him too bold if he did. For that reason, he was startled speechless for a moment when she spoke again.

  “I’ve never heard you say one way or the other. At least I’ve never heard you mention a wife or family. Have you ever been married?” She watched him carefully as he thought about his answer. For a man reputed to be so fearsome to the many outlaws who sought refuge in the untamed wilderness of Indian Territory, John Ward more closely resembled an embarrassed schoolboy at this moment. She knew he had feelings for her. It was obvious in his manner. Neither he nor she was getting any younger. In her mind, it would be a good union for both of them. If that was the case, she reasoned, why didn’t he act on his feelings? Unless, she hedged, she had misjudged his interest in her.

  “Nope,” he answ
ered when he could speak again.

  “Me either,” she said. There, she thought, I’ve laid it right out there for him. If this doesn’t give him an idea, then I might as well give up.

  Like a tongue-tied child, he was afraid to open his mouth, afraid that he was reading too much in what was probably an innocent remark. So he declined to take the opening she had provided. Instead, he sat silently contemplating the toes of his boots until the void became awkward.

  “Well,” she finally sighed, “I guess it’s time to turn in for the night.” A little irritated, and slightly embarrassed at what she considered outright aggressive gestures on her part, she got to her feet. “Good night, John,” she said, and went inside, leaving him sitting on the step. I guess I was wrong about him, she thought, but damned if I’m going to ask him to marry me.

  He didn’t leave right away, but sat there wondering if he had said something to make her angry. She seemed to have left abruptly for no reason at all. Although she had gone, he could still feel the closeness of her body. It troubled him. He would like to tell her that he thought about her all the time, but he didn’t know if he had the right to. If he were to openly express his feelings for her, it might strain the friendship of both her and her father. Hell, he thought, maybe I can talk to her again in the morning.

  He was awakened early the next morning by the sounds of someone moving about in the barn where he had made his bed. He sat up to find a lantern glowing in the dark two-stall stable and Two Buck saddling the horses. “Two Buck, what the hell’s goin’ on?” John asked.

  “Almost sunup,” Two Buck replied. “We better get goin’ if we’re gonna find Boot Stoner.”

  John sat up straighter and looked toward the open end of the barn. It was still pitch-black outside. “Almost sunup?” he echoed. “Hell, it’s still the middle of the night.” He fished his watch from his pocket and held it up toward the lantern. “It’s still about an hour till sunup,” he said, then held the watch to his ear to make sure it hadn’t stopped.

  “Maybe,” Two Buck replied without pausing. “We’d best be ready to go. I saddled your horse for you.”

  “I can see that,” John said, a little disgruntled by Two Buck’s insistence. “I expect we could have a little coffee before we start out in the middle of the night.”

  “Dr. Summerlin and Miss Lucy ain’t up yet. If we be real quiet, we can get goin’ without wakin’ them up.”

  “Why, that wouldn’t hardly be the proper thing to do,” John said, “ridin’ off without so much as a thank-you.” He did not care to give the real reason for wanting to wait until the doctor and his daughter were up.

  “It’s all right,” Two Buck assured him. “I told Dr. Summerlin we was gonna ride out real early.”

  “Dammit!” John blurted out before reining his temper in. “I’ve got to see the doctor before I can leave.” On the spur of the moment, he came up with the best reason he could. “I’ve got to get his bill for treatin’ your wounds so I can take it to Fort Smith.”

  Two Buck’s face lit up with a broad smile. “It’s okay. I’ve got his bill. He stuck it in my boots last night.”

  John’s frustration mounted to the point where he was tempted to tell the impatient Cherokee that he couldn’t go with him, but he didn’t have the heart. The young man was obviously about to burst at the seams in his desire to make up for wasted time. After a few moments to reflect upon his conversation with Lucy the night before, he told himself that there was really nothing more to say in the light of day. She had to know that he had special feelings for her. If there was some serious interest on her part, she certainly would have told him so. With a leaden heart, he finally shrugged and said, “Well, since I’m wide-awake already, we might as well get started.”

  He pulled his boots on and rolled up his blanket. While Two Buck waited anxiously, he checked Cousin’s girth strap and led the buckskin out of the barn. Two Buck followed. Outside, he looked toward the east, where there was now the faintest hint of light. With a slight shake of his head and a soft sigh, he stepped up in the saddle and nudged the buckskin gelding with his heels. Passing the house, he saw that the windows were dark, and there was no smoke in the chimney. There seemed no point in waking the household. He regretted the missed opportunity to see Lucy one more time, but, he decided, it might be best. He might have said something to make a fool of himself.

  The two riders crossed the little stream that emptied into the Verdigris above the house, unaware of the lone figure that came out on the porch after they passed. With a robe pulled around her shoulders, Lucy stood watching until the broad-shouldered form in the saddle faded into the coming dawn. With a sad feeling of resignation, she turned and went back inside.

  Chapter 12

  Nathan Smoke was awakened by a sharp crack of thunder that sounded like it was almost right on top of him. Wide awake at once, he listened to the sounds of the storm outside as he lay in his bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. In the next instant, lightning flashed, illuminating the inside of the cabin for a long second. Like the flash that had awakened him, it was followed almost immediately by the crash of thunder. It was close, he thought. He looked over at his wife, still sleeping soundly in spite of the noise. He smiled to himself. He would have to tease her in the morning about her failing hearing.

  Lying there, counting between the flashes of lightning and the following thunderclaps to determine if they were getting closer, he thought he heard a horse snort and blow. Thinking his pony had somehow gotten out of the corral, probably scared by the storm, he slipped out of bed and went to put the animal back.

  When he opened the door, it was almost as black outside as it had been in the closeness of the cabin. The rain was pelting the bare baked ground so hard that the drops spattered against his bare legs. Expecting to find the frightened pony outside the door, he was surprised to find nothing there. He was certain he had heard the horse, but thinking he must have still been half asleep, he started to return to his bed. As he turned, another bolt of lightning lit up the yard around the cabin, revealing a solitary figure at the corner of the building. Nathan’s heart almost failed him, for he was certain he was looking into the face of an evil spirit.

  Seemingly oblivious to the rain pelting down upon him, Boot Stoner stood watching the startled man standing in the doorway. It was only for a moment, however, for Nathan stumbled backward in an attempt to flee, causing him to fall on his back. Before he could get to his feet again, Boot was standing in the door, his rifle aimed at the fallen man.

  “Who the hell are you?” Boot demanded.

  “Nathan Smoke,” Nathan replied, his voice quaking with fear. “Wendell Stoner don’t live here no more. He’s dead.”

  “I know that,” Boot snapped. “Who said you could use this house?” By this time the sound of voices had awakened Nathan’s wife, and she started to ask what was wrong. “Shut up!” Boot commanded. “Get up and light a lantern.”

  Still quivering, Nathan pleaded, “Wendell Stoner was my friend.”

  “I say who can live here and who can’t. I got a good mind to shoot you for trespassin’.” He waved his rifle over at Nathan’s wife. “Fix me somethin’ to eat.” Pausing to make sure she acted at once on his command, he then looked back at Nathan. “The girl— Lilly—is she here?” Nathan shook his head solemnly. “Who’s in the store?” Boot demanded, nodding toward the adjoining cabin.

  “My brother, his wife and children.”

  “Go get ’em,” Boot said, “and no tricks or I’m gonna put a big hole right between your woman’s eyes.”

  Boot pulled a chair over to the corner of the room and sat down with his back to the wall. He held his rifle across his lap and watched Nathan’s wife as she scurried about in an effort to find something for him to eat. A few minutes passed. Then Nathan came back through the door, followed by a bedraggled man and his wife, still blinking the sleep from their eyes.

  “I thought you said there was kids,” Boot said.

 
; “They’re still asleep,” Nathan replied.

  “You’re Boot Stoner, ain’t you?” Nathan’s brother, Lester Chases Rabbits, blurted. “I remember you before they sent you to prison.” Already warned that Boot Stoner was in Nathan’s house, his brother attempted to lower the notorious half-breed’s guard by making conversation—hoping Boot wouldn’t notice the .44 handgun he had slipped inside the back of his waistband. “Yes, sir, that was a pretty bad deal you got, sendin’ you off to . . .”

  “You know the girl that was livin’ here with my pa?” Boot interrupted.

  “Yes, sir, Boot, sure do,” Lester was quick to answer. “Lilly was her name.”

  “Where is she? You seen her around here?”

  “Why, no,” Lester answered. “Word is that you took her off with you after you shot . . .” He caught himself before continuing. “I mean, after you left here.” He glanced nervously at his brother, and placed his hand on his hip with a casual move he hoped would go unnoticed. Boot’s eyes never wavered from his face, encouraging him to continue. “I expect if you’re lookin’ for Lilly, she most likely went back to her folks in Low Hawk, in the Creek Nation.”

  Boot’s gaze shifted to Nathan and then back to Lester. “Low Hawk, huh?” He considered that possibility for a moment.

  Detecting a possible distraction, Lester decided to make his move. Very casually, he removed his hand from his hip, and let it drop to his side. He hesitated for a brief second, calculating his odds. Boot made a motion as if to get up from the chair. Lester decided to act, and made a sudden move to grasp his pistol. It had barely cleared his waistband when Boot leveled his rifle and cut him down with a slug in his chest. His pistol clattered to the floor as he dropped at his wife’s feet.

  Amid the screams of the women, Boot stared at Nathan, a smile slowly forming on his face, challenging the Cherokee to retaliate. Knowing such a move would mean his own death, Nathan wisely backed away. Boot glanced down at Lester’s wife, now wailing hysterically as she knelt beside her wounded husband. Looking back at Nathan again, he asked, “Is that right? Does Lilly have folks in Low Hawk?”