‘Do I? I thought I did, but you’ve come up here with Marshal Berryman, calling on us to give ourselves up … and I’m suddenly not so sure any more.’
‘I didn’t come here because I wanted to, I swear! The marshal came to my home and pulled me out of bed, telling me I was in trouble for letting Vic Walsh go. I didn’t want to come. I’ve got a lot to lose too if he stays alive. Look, I’ll stay here with you and help fight the marshal and his men off.’
‘We don’t want you here,’ Ira said. ‘As for the marshal … you tell him that if he wants us he’ll need to come in and try to take us – but he’ll need to bring the army and an artillery piece in with him. He’s never going to take us with a posse, no matter how big it is.’
‘I’ll tell him that, Ira and I’ll try to persuade him and the posse to go back to Denver. Whatever happens, you won’t find me firing at you. If he makes me shoot then I’ll aim up in the air, you can count on that.’
Fearing for his life, here in the canyon, Chief Kelly turned his horse and dug his heels into the horse’s flanks … but he did not get far.
The horse had not even got into its stride when Gideon Denton threw up his rifle and fired. Kelly fell forward onto the neck of his mount before slipping sideways, causing the horse to turn and come to a halt.
‘What did you do that for?’ Ira Gottland demanded of Gideon Denton, ‘He was going back with a message for the marshal.’
‘We’ll tie him on the horse and send him back dead,’ Denton said, callously, ‘That’ll give Marshal Berryman and his posse all the message we need give.’
He had hardly finished speaking when one of the men crowding around Chief Kelly’s horse fell to the ground and a split second later the sound of a rifle shot echoed around the canyon.
Suddenly, all thoughts of using the dead chief of police as a gruesome message were forgotten as outlaws ran to the cabin, dragging their wounded companion with them.
Aaron and Wes, with Old Charlie and two of the posse-men had returned to their position on the canyon edge look-out spot, overlooking the outlaws’ cabin by the time the slow-riding Denver police chief arrived at what would be his final destination.
When Kelly was shot from his saddle, Aaron asked Old Charlie if he felt he could hit one of the outlaws with his large calibre rifle.
‘The way they’re bunched it’d be like putting a shot into a herd of buffalo,’ Old Charlie declared. ‘It might even down two or three of ’em.’
His subsequent shot downed only one and he fumbled the cartridge when re-loading, with the result that by the time he got off a final hasty shot the outlaws were fleeing back to the shelter.
He fired a third time, but the outlaws were already inside the cabin and it only resulted in the door being slammed shut.
Old Charlie’s fire was returned from the windows of the cabin, but the outlaws did not possess a weapon with the range of his large-bore buffalo gun and the bullets fell short.
Further shots from Old Charlie’s rifle shattered a window before stout wooden shutters were swung into place inside them.
‘What do we do now?’ Wes asked.
‘That depends,’ Aaron replied, ‘How many bullets do you have for that gun, Charlie?’
‘Enough to last out a lengthy siege,’ was the reply, ‘and there’s plenty more in my saddle-bags.’
‘Good! Start picking off their horses in the corral.’
When Wes protested that such a course of action was extreme, Aaron retorted, ‘So is shooting women. We’re dealing with unprincipled killers, Wes, and I don’t intend to let a single one of ’em escape. Start shooting, Charlie.’
The old mountain-man had downed five of the unfortunate animals before the outlaws realized what was happening and returned a fusillade of wasted shots.
Eventually, one outlaw, braver or more foolhardy than the rest flung open the only door of the cabin and ran around to the corral with the cabin between him and the three men in position above the canyon. His intention was to open the stable door so that the horses might find sanctuary inside.
He died against the still closed stable door and Old Charlie completed his heartless cull of the hapless horses.
‘What now?’ Wes asked, aware that it would soon be dark.
‘We wait,’ was Aaron’s reply, ‘In the meantime you and I’ll go and warn the men guarding the path at the end of the canyon to be on their guard in case anyone attempts to escape that way. They can work in two shifts, half of them sleeping while the other half stay on guard at the canyon end of the defile. They’ll be hidden from view but with a nearly full moon tonight they’ll see anyone coming towards them. You remain here, Charlie. You should be able to see if there’s any movement around the cabin and I want you to shoot, even at shadows – and put the occasional shot through a window. I want to keep the outlaws awake all night.’
CHAPTER 24
The outlaws were aware of the defile at the far end of the canyon and during the night Ira Gottland sent two men to check whether the posse-men also knew of its presence. Both were shot dead as they approached the defile, the sound of the shooting telling Gottland all he needed to know.
It was a cold night but a wagon had reached the posse-men with a load which included blankets. As a result, most, including Aaron and Wes were able to snatch a few hours much needed sleep.
A relief was detailed to take over from Old Charlie, but the mountain-man refused to allow anyone else to use his gun, declaring that sleep was something he could either take or leave. He proved it by wrapping a blanket around himself and keeping up an intermittent fire on the outlaws’ cabin for the whole night long.
The next morning, when coffee and a meal of bacon and beans were being dished out from the wagon, Denver’s mayor, speaking on behalf of the other posse members asked Aaron whether he intended keeping the posse in situ around the canyon in an attempt to starve the outlaws into surrender, or whether they were likely to attempt an assault on the cabin at sometime. He pointed out that many of the posse-men had businesses in Denver that could not be neglected for too long, adding, ‘We are not trying to wriggle out of our civil obligations, Marshal, but we have no way of knowing how much food and water the outlaws have inside the cabin. They could hold out for days … perhaps for weeks.’
‘That’s true,’ Aaron conceded, ‘but right now I can think of no alternative. An attack on the cabin would be costly in lives – our lives – so that can be ruled out. I think we’re just going to have to keep them bottled in and hope they don’t have ample supplies.’
Wes had been listening to the conversation and now he said, ‘I have an idea on what we could do, Aaron. It came to me in the night and I wondered why we hadn’t thought of it before. If it works it would be paying the gang back in kind for what they did in Denver.’
‘Go ahead,’ Aaron said, ‘Let’s hear it.’
‘Well, the stables are attached to the back of the cabin and, with winter coming on, they’ll no doubt be stacked with hay … right?’
‘You mean, if it was fired it would set light to the cabin too? But your idea needs someone to get there and set fire to it.’
‘I’ll do it,’ Wes said.
For a moment it seemed Aaron would raise some objection. Instead, he said, ‘When would you do this, tonight?’
‘Why not today … right away? We don’t need to wait until nightfall because the windows are all at the front of the cabin. Anyone approaching from the rear couldn’t be seen. I could enter the canyon from the defile with, say … a dozen men? They could take up positions close to the cabin with a clear view to either side of it while I went on and set fire to the hay, running back to join them once the hay was well alight. Meanwhile, when you and the rest of the men at the mouth of the cabin see the smoke begin to rise you could come into the canyon, remaining out of rifle range until the fire drove the outlaws out. They’d be caught in the middle with no place to go. While all this was going on Old Charlie would be where he is now and use
his buffalo gun to help out in whatever way he thought best.’
‘It could work,’ Aaron mused, thoughtfully, ‘It would certainly bring things to a head – and quickly.’
‘Then let’s give it a try right away,’ Wes said. ‘I’ll go to the far end of the canyon with a few men, picking up the rest there. On the way I’ll stop and tell Old Charlie what’s happening.’
‘Right, Wes, we’re on … but don’t take any unnecessary risks. I know how much you want Gideon – but so do I and it will be a sour victory if anything were to happen to you. Tell Old Charlie his support is going to be critical. He’s to fire at anyone who appears in the cabin doorway. When there’s no stopping the outlaws, he’s to shoot at those most likely to pose a threat to the posse-men.’
Old Charlie took his instructions without showing any emotion, saying simply. ‘Get on and do what needs doing, boy, I’ll be up here looking out for you.’
The posse-men at the defile were, on the whole, far more excited than Old Charlie about the forthcoming action. Their enthusiasm contradicted the generally accepted feeling in Denver that the town’s men would never form part of a posse and hunt down those who lived outside the law.
When Old Charlie saw Wes and the posse-men moving along the canyon from the defile, he began firing at the door and windows of the outlaws’ cabin in a bid to keep the occupants occupied while Wes’s plan was being carried out.
His ploy worked only until the Denver posse-men began to fan out to cover the sides of the cabin. There was a rifle shot from inside the log-built building and a bullet passed close to the advancing men.
Wes immediately ordered them to drop to the ground using whatever cover they could find in the treeless but rolling floor of the wide canyon.
Speaking to the nearest posse-man, Wes said, ‘That shot must have come from the cabin … but there are no windows at the sides! How do they know we are here?’
‘They’ve picked away the mud between the logs,’ came the reply, ‘Fortunately, the cabin appears to have been well-built, which means there won’t be a great deal of space between the timbers. All that the men inside will be able to do is spot us through a peep-hole, then poke a rifle barrel through and fire without being able to aim properly.’
‘It doesn’t make the bullets any less lethal if they hit anyone,’ Wes commented, ‘Tell the others to pull back to where they can see the cabin sides, but can’t be shot at from anyone in there. I’m going forward to the stable now.’
Wes reached the stable at a run but, once inside, he discovered to his dismay that the back wall of the stable was also the back wall of the cabin! Anticipating that the posse might try to creep up on them from this direction, the occupants had already picked away spy-holes in the mud between the logs – and the outlaws were able to use their revolvers here.
However, Wes had made his way to the stable for a purpose – and he was determined to carry it out.
The hay was stored in a small room at one end of the stables and, although a number of shots were fired at him through the wall of the cabin, Wes reached it safely. Fortunately, the holes between the logs had been made at a height convenient for the men inside to spy through and Wes realized that by wriggling on his stomach along the base of the log wall he would be below their line of fire and able to place hay against the bottom of the cabin wall in comparative safety, but he could hear the men inside the cabin scraping away at the mud between the lower layers of logs and knew it was going to be a race against time.
Eventually, he was satisfied he had placed sufficient hay against the wall of the cabin to start an effective blaze, especially when soaked with oil from a couple of lamps he found in the stable.
Unfortunately, the oil had a pungent smell that reached the nostrils of the outlaws. When they realized what was happening gunfire from inside the cabin increased alarmingly.
Hastily striking a match, Wes threw it on to the hay. It ignited immediately and when the flame reached the paraffin it ignited with a roar that left the outlaws in no doubt about what was happening.
Wes rose to his feet to run outside, but before he reached the door disaster struck!
One of the outlaw’s bullets hit him behind and above his knee, bringing him to the ground and he heard a jubilant voice shout, ‘It’s the Englishman, Gideon. I’ve brought him down!’
The cry was answered by another voice, saying, ‘Don’t shoot again … he’s mine. When the next shot from that buffalo gun hits the cabin, throw open the door and get out of the way. I’ll reach the stable and finish him off if it’s the last thing I do.’
Billowing smoke from burning hay was filling the stable now and, unable to walk, Wes could only drag himself to a corner. Here he drew his revolver and waited. He was in pain but could think clearly enough. He realized that when Gideon Denton sprinted from the cabin to the stable he would be fired at by members of the posse. Wes would hear the firing and realize what was happening.
His hope was that if the outlaw made it to the smoke-filled stable, when he entered from the bright sunshine outside it would take a moment or two for his eyes to adjust to the gloomy interior.
It happened exactly as Wes had believed it would. He was warned of Denton’s imminent arrival by the crack of a half-dozen rifles, the last of the bullets hitting the stable wall.
A moment later the door was thrown open and the outlaw, gun in hand, leapt inside, looking around him for his quarry.
Wes had his revolver trained upon Denton, but the outlaw was standing sideways on to him and Wes wanted to be certain of his target when he fired.
‘Looking for me, Denton?’ he called.
His words had the exact effect Wes wanted. Denton swung around and Wes fired … then fired again.
Two red patches blossomed on Denton’s shirt a hand’s breadth above his belt buckle and he jack-knifed to the floor.
By the time Wes dragged himself across the stable floor to the outlaw, Denton had succeeded in turning onto his back. He was mortally wounded, but still attempted to raise his revolver and point it at Wes, his expression one of desperate malevolence.
Reaching out, Wes used his own weapon to knock Denton’s gun from his hand. Looking down at the dying man, Wes said, ‘How does it feel to be shot and left to die in a fire, woman killer?’
‘You killed two Denton brothers,’ Gideon gasped.
‘Wrong!’ said Wes. ‘By the time this day is over I’ll have killed three.’
The flames had reached the stable roof now and small pieces of flaming bark were sashaying gently to the ground around the two wounded men.
‘Then do it properly and put a final bullet in me,’ gasped the dying man.
Looking contemptuously at the stricken man, Wes said, ‘You aren’t worth the expense of a bullet, Denton and you might as well burn here as in hell.’
Picking up the outlaw’s gun, Wes threw it to the far end of the stable before crawling to the open door. Once out in the clean mountain air he continued his crawl to a wooden water trough at the end of the corral. Here, with the trough between him and the blazing cabin, he ripped open his trouser leg, bound his neckerchief around the wound and waited for the posse-men to come to his aid.
CHAPTER 25
The siege of the Rocky Mountain cabin by the Denver posse came to a bloody and one-sided conclusion when the cabin had been half-consumed by flames. The door was suddenly flung open and outlaws spilled out through the doorway.
Emerging from the smoke they fired at anyone their reddened, smoke-sore eyes could see – or thought they could see.
Of the outlaws of the Denton gang, two had been killed at the defile during the night and thirteen died at the cabin. Only eight were taken prisoner and of these five were wounded, three of them seriously. Ira Gottland was one of this number, but it was believed he would make a full recovery.
It was a great triumph for the posse, for Marshal Aaron Berryman – and for his deputy.
Left homeless by the fire at the house behind th
e Thespian Club, Aaron, Wes and Pat were accommodated in the self-contained wing of the Denver mansion owned by a very rich Denver councillor who had been a member of the posse. The accommodation came complete with servants and a doctor called daily to tend Wes’s wounded leg.
During his convalescence here, Wes received a number of messages from well-wishers in the town and letters from Governor Schuster of Kentucky – and his daughter Emma. It seemed the battle with the Dentons in the Rocky Mountain foothills and its successful outcome had made headlines in newspapers throughout the United States and the two lawmen become national heroes.
Aaron also received a congratulatory letter from President Ulysses Grant, in which he asked that his congratulations be passed on to ‘Deputy US Marshal Wesley Curnow’ and the upstanding citizens of Denver who had formed the posse to assist the two lawmen. He added that he hoped very soon to welcome Colorado into the United States of America as its thirty-eighth State.
The letter was printed in bold headlines on the front page of Colorado’s newspapers and sparked off a wave of noisy celebration in the saloons of Denver.
Despite the acclaim received by Aaron and Wes, they did not feel like celebrating. The body of Lola had been recovered from the burned-out house and a bullet hole in her forehead told its own tale of the manner of her ending.
The funeral of the two women attracted mourners from all sections of the town and Wes was helped to the church and cemetery by Aaron for the sad occasion.
Both men felt very deep sorrow about the loss of the two women, but, following Aaron’s example, Wes succeeded in keeping his feelings contained, and neither men spoke of their joint loss to anyone but, as the excitement of the action receded into memory and the acclamation of the citizens of Denver subsided, Wes thought more and more of all he had lost and of what might have been.
No Less Than the Journey Page 30