It took him no more than a couple of minutes to find an entry for ‘Rowse, Peter’. Running a finger across the page, he said, ‘Ah yes, here we are! He left Harmony bound for Denver in Colorado, some four months ago. Unfortunately there is no forwarding address but …’ and here he looked at Wes, ‘… if you are Wesley Curnow, from Cornwall, there is a letter in the other office for you. I will go and fetch it right away.’
Disappearing into a back room, he appeared a few minutes later with an envelope upon which Wes’s name was written in bold letters.
Tearing open the envelope, Wes read the letter that was inside then turned to Howard Marlin and Old Charlie. ‘He’s gone to Denver, right enough – and so have a great many of the Cornish miners he was working with here. He says there’s gold to be found there and that men are making fortunes, some within days of arriving. How far away from Harmony is Denver?’
‘Far enough away for you to need to do a whole lot of thinking about it.’ The reply came from Old Charlie, ‘But if Howard knows where we can hire a horse for you we’ll go back to his place in Potosi and talk it over there. I’m on my way to Colorado too … but it might be that my way of travelling wouldn’t suit you.’
CHAPTER 28
Sheriff Howard Marlin had a very pleasant home on the outskirts of Potosi where he and his wife, Nancy, had brought up a family of two sons and a daughter. The children had now left home to make lives of their own, but it seemed they often returned to visit their parents and Wes gained an impression that it was a close and affectionate family.
Nancy came from pioneering stock and understood the ways of some older mountain-men but she would not hear of Old Charlie sleeping in the stable with his mule. Instead, she allocated him a spare room in which was a bed and a wardrobe, but very little else.
In spite of half-heartedly grumbling about ‘women always trying to change a man’s ways’, Old Charlie settled for this and actually appeared to enjoy being spoiled for a while. He even gave the sheriff’s wife a mountain-man’s ultimate accolade when he told Howard he was a lucky man and couldn’t be better looked after had Nancy been a squaw!
The day after Wes’s arrival at the house, when the three men were seated in the garden, Howard Marlin said to Wes, ‘Charlie tells me that one of Senator Schuster’s daughters gave you a fancy six-shooter while you were in Kentucky. Perhaps you’d let me see it some time?’
‘I’ll go and fetch it now,’ Wes replied, ‘but it was a present from the whole Schuster family, not from a particular daughter.’
When Wes had gone to fetch the gun, Howard Marlin commented, ‘The boy’s a mite touchy on the subject of Schuster’s daughter, did something happen there?’
‘Nothing that shouldn’t have happened,’ Old Charlie replied, ‘One of the younger girls took quite a shine to him. Wanted Wes to stay on at the Schuster place.’
‘He could have done a whole lot worse,’ Howard replied, ‘There’s both money and influence in that family. More than he’s ever likely to make from mining.’
‘That’s what Aaron Berryman was always telling him – but Aaron had his own plans for the boy. Reckons he’d make a real good deputy. As for the Schuster girl … Wes hankers after a girl who deals cards on the riverboats. At least, she did. Now she’s on her way with Aaron and another girl to work in a gambling-house he hopes to set-up in Abilene. I’ll give the girl her due though, she seems to feel the same way about Wes, and she also has the reputation of running an honest game.’
‘Hmm! Honest or not, she’ll never be able to give him the sort of life the Schuster girl could.’
‘No doubt about it, but I don’t think he felt any more comfortable in the Schuster home than I did. It’s so big a man could get lost in there … but here’s Wes now, with his fancy six-shooter.’
When Wes arrived at the garden table where the two men were seated he was rather self-consciously wearing the leather gun-belt to which was attached the holstered Colt revolver.
When he handed it to the county sheriff, Howard weighed it in his hand and turned it this way and that before saying, admiringly, ‘Now this really is a fine handgun, Wes. It’s got the right balance for a working six-shooter, plus one or two gewgaws that would appeal to a young man – but how well can you handle it?’
‘I’ve never used it,’ Wes admitted.
‘But you have fired a handgun?’
‘Yes … but I handle a rifle better.’
‘Aaron said Wes needs to get some practice in with a pistol,’ Old Charlie said, ‘and I’ve told him if he’s ever going to wear that fancy six-shooter he’ll need to be able to shoot better than the men he’s likely to meet up with, especially if he’s planning to join up with that kinsman of his at a mining camp in the Territories.’
‘No doubt about it!’ the sheriff agreed. ‘Some of these fancy gunmen would kill a man just to get hold of a gun like this.’
‘I don’t intend wearing it,’ Wes explained, ‘I never asked for it in the first place.’
‘Ask for it, or not, you’ve got it now,’ Howard Marlin said bluntly, ‘and going where you’re heading you’ll need to be like everyone else and carry a handgun, so it might as well be this one, but you’ll need to learn how to use it properly. I’ll set up a couple of cans on the fence at the bottom of the garden and we’ll see how well you can shoot. Do you have ammunition for it?’
When Wes admitted he did not, the sheriff said, ‘The gun’s the same calibre as mine and I have plenty of ammunition in the house. I’ll fetch some when I go in to find the cans.’
When he came from the house, Howard Marlin was wearing his own gun-belt and revolver and carrying a box of ammunition. Setting up three empty cans and a bottle on the garden fence, he returned to Wes and loaded his gun for him. Then, standing back, he said, ‘Okay, now let’s see you shoot ’em all off.’
Wes fired four shots before one of the cans tumbled to the ground. The fifth shot missed. Taking careful aim and steadying his hand, he succeeded in hitting another can with his last shot.
‘Hm! It’s the first time you’ve ever fired the gun, so I suppose it’s not too bad.’
It was evident to Wes that the sheriff was trying not to appear too critical. Old Charlie was less kind.
‘Trouble is, had he been shooting at men and not tin cans, they wouldn’t have stayed sitting on a fence waiting for him to take aim and try again.’
‘True, but how’s your aim these days, Charlie?’
Instead of replying, the old mountain man reached beneath his buckskin jacket and pulled out a percussion revolver. Raising his arm to shoulder height, he fired off two shots. The first sent the remaining can spinning from the fence, the second shattered the bottle.
Still holding the smoking pistol in his hand, he stroked his beard and looking at Sheriff Marlin, said, ‘There’s my answer, Howard. Now I’ll stick the cans back on the fence and we’ll see what you can do.’
Walking the length of the garden, he picked up the three cans and placed them back on the fence, with a gap of about a yard between them. He was still in the act of turning to return to the others when Howard Marlin drew his gun and, seeming hardly to take aim, fired off three rapid shots, each sending a can tumbling from its perch.
The first of the shots must have passed very, very close to Old Charlie but, grinning broadly, he said, ‘You always were something of a showman, Howard. Seeing as how you’re so close to retiring, perhaps you’d like me to put in a good word for you with Buffalo Bill. I reckon you’d get on real well with him.’
It was a good-humoured exchange and when the two men had returned to their seats and taken up their beers once more, Wes shook his head, ruefully. ‘I have a lot to learn about shooting with a revolver, but if you like to stand the cans up again I’d put up a better showing with a rifle.’
Old Charlie shook his head, ‘A rifle’s fine to earn a living with, as both Howard and I’ve done in the past – and to kill food too, but if you want to stay alive where you’r
e going then you need to be able to use a handgun – and use it well. I don’t know about you, but I won’t be staying here more than another couple of days. We’ll have to see just how much Howard and I can help you improve in that time.’
CHAPTER 29
The day after Wes’s first practice with his gift revolver, he received an unexpected and welcome surprise. Sheriff Marlin had been out of the house for some hours and when he returned he sought out Wes who was seated on the back porch with Old Charlie after yet another session with his new toy.
Seeing the holstered gun on the table in front of him, the sheriff said, ‘How’s the practice coming along, Wes?’
It was Charlie who replied, ‘We won’t be running out of cans just yet, but if we stay in your home much longer there’ll be enough bullets beyond the fence to open up a lead mine.’
‘Well, I just happen to have something here for Wes that will buy enough bullets to serve the Mexican army.’ With this, Sheriff Marlin placed a wad of notes on the table beside Wes’s revolver.
Startled, Wes demanded, ‘What’s this for?’
‘It’s a thousand and two hundred dollars, your share of the reward money that had been posted for the outlaws you put out of action, one way or another, on the Mississippi. Most were wanted in more than one State. Apparently when Marshal Berryman met up with the Arkansas US Marshal he gave him a list of the outlaws and the names and addresses of those who had helped deal with them. The wheels were set in motion and authorisation given for the reward money to be paid out – or some of it. I believe there’s more to come, so make sure you let me know when you get to wherever you’re going from here.’
Wes was both surprised and relieved to receive the money. He had been concerned that if he did not soon find work he would need to start being careful how he spent the remaining money he had brought from Cornwall. He now felt he possessed a small fortune.
That evening, as Wes, Old Charlie and their hosts finished eating, Wes arrived at a decision. Addressing Nancy, who was seated at the table directly opposite to him, he said, ‘Nancy, you and Howard couldn’t have made me feel more welcome in your home had I been family and I really do appreciate it, but I think it’s time I moved on to find my uncle and get settled into my new life over here.’
Both Nancy and her husband were protesting that he was welcome to stay for as long as he wished, when Old Charlie interrupted them, saying, ‘You know, I was about to open my mouth to say exactly the same thing, when Wes beat me to it! It’s been good to see you again after all this time, Howard, you too, Nancy. There’ll be many a time when I’ll think about you both and be happy for you and what you’ve got here, together, but you’ve both known me long enough to understand how restless I get when I’m surrounded by folks with ways that ain’t mine. It’s time I moved on too. Besides, if I don’t give that mule of mine work to do real soon she’ll be so fat and lazy she’ll be no good to anyone.’
‘Now wait a minute…!’ This from Howard, ‘… Have you two been cooking this up between yourselves? If you have, you can forget it. Nancy and I both enjoy having you here. You give us new things to talk about to keep us from growing old before our time.’
‘Good! Wes and I’ll write to you from wherever we happen to be and you can call in the neighbours to spend evenings talking about us and our news. No, Howard, like I just said, you and Nancy have given us everything a man could want from friends and I know Wes appreciates it every bit as much as I do … but it’s moving on time for both of us….’
Old Charlie was interrupted by a knocking at the front door of the house. When Nancy answered it, she called back that there was a query at the County Sheriff’s office for her husband.
When the Sheriff left the house with the caller, Nancy said to Wes and Charlie, ‘Howard shouldn’t be long. While he’s gone I’ll be clearing the table and washing up. You two take a couple of beers out on the porch and we’ll join you when he gets back.’
When the two friends had carried their beers to the porch and settled back in their seats, Wes said, ‘I’ve been thinking, Charlie … now I have a bit of money to see me along for a while, I think I might head for Abilene before going on to Denver.’
‘Well now, why aren’t I surprised? Mind you, if I had a woman in Abilene who looked at me the way I seen that half-Mexican girl look at you, maybe I’d be doing the same. Still, I’m a mite disappointed. I’ve been thinking too and I came up with an idea that could turn you into a tolerable gunman by the time you reach Colorado.’
‘What is this idea of yours?’
Old Charlie had fascinated Wes with his reminiscences of a way of life that, if not already gone forever, was fast disappearing. It would not be long before there were no men like him left. He wanted to hear what he had intended suggesting.
‘It doesn’t matter now,’ Charlie replied. ‘You probably wouldn’t have gone along with it anyway.’
‘Tell me what you had planned and I’ll tell you what I think of the idea. I’m not tied to getting anywhere at a particular time, especially now I have a bit more money to help me last out.’
Old Charlie’s pleasure showed – and it made Wes feel guilty. He had pushed the old man into telling him what he had planned more out of curiosity than for any other reason. Now he saw it really mattered to him.
Wes realized that, despite his companion’s oft-expressed aversion to human company, he was a lonely old man. It was possibly the knowledge that he was growing old and the thought of dying alone somewhere …
‘You really want to know?’ His companion’s question jolted him out of his thoughts.
‘I wouldn’t have asked you otherwise,’ Wes lied.
Leaning forward in his seat eagerly, Old Charlie said, ‘You seem to be interested in the old days of the frontier, so I was going to give you a chance to learn about it for yourself. To see how we lived then … and at the same time get in some practice with that fancy six-shooter of yours.’
‘I don’t quite follow you, Charlie. How are you suggesting I might do all this?’
‘By going to Colorado my way. By forgetting all about railroads and riverboats and travelling across country, shooting our meat as we need it and perhaps buying another mule to carry whatever other supplies we might need – with perhaps a few trinkets as presents for any Indians we meet up with along the way.’
Wes had very real doubts about Old Charlie’s idea and the two men were still discussing it when Howard returned, his business having taken less time than anticipated.
He asked what the two men were looking so serious about and when Wes told him, the sheriff shook his head. Addressing Old Charlie, he asked, ‘When was the last time you made a journey like that, old man?’
‘What’s it matter?’ Charlie retorted, stung by being called an “old man”. ‘It’s a journey I’ve made many times – or journeys like it.’
‘That’s not what I asked,’ Howard persisted. ‘Have you made that particular journey since the war ended?’
‘No, but …’
Interrupting him, Howard said, ‘When you went East with Buffalo Bill, did you travel with your eyes closed all the way?’
‘I didn’t need to, I travelled in a box car with Nellie – my mule.’
‘So you didn’t see very much of the country through which you were travelling?’
‘I saw enough to know I didn’t like it. Too many folk for my liking.’
‘That’s what I’m trying to say to you, Charlie. Times have changed – and they’ve changed fast. Dammit, old-timer, surely I don’t have to tell you that? You’ve brought old Nellie all the way from the East. Were you able to ride her cross-country?’
‘Not very often,’ Old Charlie admitted, ‘There were too many homesteaders sitting on a couple of hundred acres and making out they owned the whole blame country. I had to travel on their roads … but that was the East and it’s always been like that.’
‘That’s just it, Charlie, it hasn’t always been like it and it’s
no longer just in the East that things are that way. The frontier’s been moving west so fast we haven’t been able to keep up with it. There are so many folk in Missouri now that a buffalo couldn’t move ten paces without treading on someone.’
As he listened to Howard talking, Wes was watching Old Charlie’s changing expression. Now he asked the sheriff, ‘How far west would a man like Charlie need to travel before he got to the sort of country he’s looking for?’
The county sheriff thought for a while before replying. ‘Well now, Missouri’s pretty well settled, so too is East Kansas – and the Kansas Pacific railroad has hatched out a heap of homesteads clinging to it like a string of toad spawn almost all the way to the Smoky Hills.’
Wes had no idea where the Smoky Hills were but he was beginning to form a mental picture of the land that lay between the town where he now was and the mining area in Colorado to which Peter Rowse and the other Cornish miners had gone.
Speaking to Howard, he asked, ‘How far is it from here to Abilene?’
The question took the county sheriff by surprise but, after only a moment’s thought, he replied, ‘About four hundred and fifty miles, I reckon. Why…?’
Instead of replying, Wes asked him a second question, ‘How about the distance from Abilene to Colorado?’
‘To Denver, where your uncle has gone, must be much the same distance, I guess … but why do you ask?’
‘Because I’ve just had an idea,’ Wes replied.
Turning to Old Charlie, he said, ‘You want to go overland to Colorado and I’ve decided to go by train. Now, why don’t we meet each other halfway, Charlie? Why not travel by train to Abilene together – through the country that’s already settled and fenced off – then, once we’ve reached Abilene and I’ve had a chance to talk to Anabelita we could go on to Colorado – but this time travelling the way you say you want to? Along the way you could teach me what you think I ought to know about using a handgun.’
No Less Than the Journey Page 15