by Cherie Shaw
Texas Jake, crouching down, held tight to the reins, then whipped the team into action as they raced down the trail, then into the narrow pass.
Inside the coach Olivia gasped with shock, and Amelia swore a very unladylike oath. The older rancher’s face turned white as his hair, while the man in the rear seat, who wore the badge, laid his rifle on the seat next to him and methodically drew a six-gun from its holster.
Outside, racing against the harsh cold wind and lightly falling snow, the cowhand, Harry, let out a wild whoop, then began firing at the five horsemen, who now were running down from the foothills toward the stage as it entered the pass.
Clumps of wet soil flew from the hooves of the horses and the iron wheels of the stage, as the cold wind began to blow harder, turning snow flurries into a fine layer of sleet, covering the bags atop the coach. There’d been a small tarp covering some of the baggage, but the strong wind had blown it off, and the tarp was now hanging down the left side of the stage, covering the window and blocking the view from the inside.
The approaching outlaw gang had gained distance and were now coming near the left rear of the coach, firing in the direction of the driver and his companion atop the bench on the front of the stage, while Logan and Harry, riding along the right of the vehicle, had slowed to return several rounds of fire.
Claude rode along next to the right window, and called to the women, “Keep your heads down.” He shouted. Then the very distinguished Lord Claude Beckford slowed to make his seventeen-shot Winchester rifle spit fire. This was nothing like his duck shooting expos back in England, there the quarry hadn’t been shooting back. Through the excitement, Claude thought to himself, “Just like the old days of fighting pirates on the ‘high seas’.” He grinned to himself, as he let off another round towards the outlaw horsemen.
With the tarp covering most of the left front window, Olivia and Amelia couldn’t very well make out what was happening and both feared for their men outside, though each had faith in them at the same time. The snow was thickening over the other windows, making visibility almost impossible from the inside of the coach, though from the rear seat, the armed lawman was managing well, making use of his artillery and shooting through the now open rear window with both six-guns.
The outlaws, inexperienced in the rugged ways of the west, fresh from the Midwest, and formerly east coast, were quickly losing the battle, and as the firing was over within minutes, it was almost laughable. Three of the gang members slowed to ride around a large boulder, then attempt to climb the rocky cliff. Longtree had winged two of the outlaws, putting them on the wet ground, and out of the running. The team had pulled the stage halfway through the narrow pass, and when they came to a flat open space between two cliffs, Morgan pulled the winded team to a halt. He’d been grazed on the left shoulder, though not bad enough to slow down the tough old-timer.
Logan and Harry raced their horses after the three retreating outlaws, and at the same time uncoiled ropes from their saddles. The two then swung lassos to drop around two of the three horsemen, pulling them off their horses, onto the rocky ground, as the third slowed, and raised his right hand in surrender, while holding onto the reins with his left.
Then Logan and Harry pulled their mounts to an abrupt halt, while tightening the ropes around the two struggling outlaws on the ground, quickly finishing hog-tying the two, then turned their attention to the older remaining outlaw, who had surrendered, however, Lord Beckford had that one under control, at the tip of his rifle.
Logan loudly informed one and all of the, now glaring, gang members that they needed to take a course on how to shoot straight from the back of a running horse. Obviously, most of their previous crimes had been done on the ground, and not from the back of a horse, as they surely were not experienced in that practice. Their aims left a lot to be desired. While the captured outlaws glared, the two injured ones on the ground had pulled themselves up to a sitting position and were now loudly cursing. Logan and Claude both warned them about the pitfalls of cursing where there were ladies present.
One mile back on the trail, Sergeant O’Brien had been in a heated discussion with Lieutenant Harrigan. He now touched his heels to the sides of his horse, putting the pinto into action, then loudly yelled back at the officer, “We’ve waited too long as it is……sir! I’m headin’ out. The rest of you can suit yourselves.” With that statement flung back, he raced the pinto down the trail to the opening of the pass, ahead of the troop of soldiers, who were now looking in the direction of the Lieutenant for their orders. That officer was busy grumbling about the weather, but angrily waved the troop to follow the sergeant. The snow continued to cover the ground with a thin layer of white.
Logan almost laughed out loud, and Claude shook his head, at the sound of a bugle off in the distance. Just then Sergeant O’Brien rode up behind the stage while turning the air blue with his cursing. He came to a halt, then quickly dropped to the ground.
“That damn young Lieutenant ain’t worth the powder it’d take to blow ‘im to hell.” He shouted, as he surveyed the situation, then said in a calmer tone of voice, “I see you folks have things under control and have a couple of roped coyotes to boot.” He nodded, then began shaking hands all around, offering, “Damned if I didn’t miss all the fun. The Colonel gave orders for us to watch for that gang, but our young officer had his mind on other matters. Well, we’ll at least take the prisoners off your hands an’ haul ‘em back to the fort. They’re wanted, you know.” He finished lamely.
Olivia and Amelia had stayed inside the coach, as did the worried rancher. Just as the rest of the cavalry rode up with the young Lieutenant, shoulders straight, proudly in the lead, the lawman, who wore the U.S. Marshal’s badge, stepped down from the stage and began crunching booted tracks into the thin layer of snow, as he walked slowly toward the group of men, who now had all five of the outlaw gang tied up and were discussing the situation at hand.
Lieutenant Harrigan began speaking with his best voice of authority, “My men and I will take charge of the prisoners. You men are dismissed.” He waved a hand towards the group of men, including Logan and Lord Beckford.
Logan, his anger rising, was the first to speak, “Harrigan, we are not under your authority to dismiss or not dismiss. We were having a private conversation here, on whether or not to turn our prisoners over to you. We’ll let you know what we decide.” He turned back to the others.
“You disrespectful scoundrel. You will from now on address me as ‘Lieutenant Harrigan’.” The Lieutenant ordered, and when Logan ignored the taunt, Harrigan turned to the waiting soldiers and gave them an order, “You men gather up the outlaws’ horses. We will return to fort Laramie, with our prisoners.”
The old-timer, Texas Jake Morgan, stepped in, “Sorry, sonny,” he began, “these men are our prisoners. You have no authority over us, and this is a local matter here in Johnson County. We took ‘em, an’ we keep ‘em, to turn over to local authorities up the road a piece.” He was deliberately pushing the young Lieutenant to see how he could handle a situation like this, and he looked him up and down with scorn in his eyes.
“Now see here,” Harrigan began, but he was interrupted by another voice, and this was definitely a voice of authority, not to be denied. The quiet man wearing the star on his vest had spoken. “Wrong on both counts, gentlemen.” He began, “With all due respect to you, Mr. Morgan, I do believe that I have put enough of a two-bit piece into this fight, and being as I have tailed this gang all the way from Dodge city, Kansas, I believe these outlaws belong to the United States government. I just happen to be a U. S. Marshal. Name’s Bill Holbrook, and I represent the government in this matter.”
Harrigan began to sputter, but the U. S. Marshal lifted a hand to hush him, and the Marshal continued talking, “These men are wanted for train robbery, which is a federal offense, and for bank robbery in Dodge, as well as a few other locations. When I spotted them outside of Ft. Laramie, I figured they’d follow the stage. The
y had seen that rancher carrying a large sum of money, after selling a herd in Dodge, so I took a chance and bought a ticket on the stage.”
He gave a chuckle here. “I didn’t figure on so much help in capturing the thieves.” He turned to the other men in the group, “The Colonel and I figured we might need help from the cavalry.” He glanced in the Lieutenant’s direction. “Though how much help we’d get depends on who is leading the troops.” His deep voice dripped with sarcasm as he pulled a cigar from his vest picket, bit off the end, and struck a match to light it.
Lieutenant Harrigan pulled himself up straight. “My troop will accompany you to Fort Laramie, Marshal and, upon arrival, we will decide who is to take charge of the prisoners. Then be assured, I will volunteer to deliver them to the Fort Dodge officials.”
“That is a most reassuring statement, Lieutenant Harrigan, but I guess you didn’t hear me right.” Marshal Holbrook stated matter-of-factly, as if talking to a child. “I was told by Colonel Winters that you were to lead your small troop all the way to Buffalo, making sure the stage reached that location safely, in case of an Indian raid. Do you not intend to follow orders….....sir? There have been rumors of renegades in the immediate area, and I do know that you were told of that fact.”
“I believe this present situation calls for me to use my own judgment, in any case.” The Lieutenant sputtered.
Sergeant O’Brien, who had been standing a ways behind the others, spoke up now, “Lieutenant……sir. The Colonel gave me written orders that I was to report to him as soon as anything happened on the trail, also to remind you, sir, to stay on the trail……..all the way to Buffalo. He made that order clear. So being as I am heading back to the fort anyhow, and you are going all the way to Buffalo, I will accompany the Marshal back to Fort Laramie, and you can believe those prisoners will be well taken care of. Being as you had no part in the capture, I don’t believe it would be wise for you to show your face back at the fort at this time anyhow.” With that the Sergeant walked back to his horse, climbed aboard, then sat waiting.
Logan grinned, Claude chuckled, and the others turned to go back to the stage. Without a backward glance, the Lieutenant motioned to his men, threw a dark look in the sergeant’s direction, and mounted his horse, then digging spurs into the sides, raced northward up the narrow pass with his men following. Each soldier trying his best to avoid smiling.
Cold wind continued to blow, but the snow flurries had diminished somewhat, leaving a distinct damp chill to the air, as Logan, Claude, and Harry tied their horses to the back of the stage, planning to ride inside the coach for a few miles. Morgan and Longtree had assisted in getting the prisoners mounted on horseback, then bade farewell to Sergeant O’Brien and Marshal Holbrook, who immediately rode in the direction of Fort Laramie, with lead ropes attached to the prisoners’ horses. They planned to stay at the fort overnight. Holbrook had been assured by Sergeant O’Brien that he would request enough leave to accompany Holbrook back to Fort Dodge with the prisoners.
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Longtree was busily tucking the loose tarp back around the damp luggage atop the stage while Morgan assured Logan and Claude, “Should be at the town of Comfort by suppertime, won’t be none too soon either, these old bones can use a rest. We should make good time, once we get out of this pass that is unless we run into another gang of would-be dangerous men.” He chuckled at his own humor, then he added, “In the mornin’, Longtree an’ I’ll be runnin’ this stage on to Buffalo, where we have lodgings for the winter months. We’ll park the stage at the stable, then head back down the trail with the spring thaw. Harry will ride on with us, as he works for a spread outside Buffalo.”
As Texas Jake Morgan walked to the front of the vehicle, he added, “Oh, an’ I feel the really bad weather will hold off for a while, least ‘til you folks get up to your pa’s ranch out of Freeman. Wish you all lots of luck.” With that he and Danny Longtree climbed up to the bench on the front of the stage.
Once inside the coach, Logan and Claude settled on the seat facing the ladies, as the cowboy, Harry, proceeded to stretch his long lanky form across the rear seat, glad to be riding inside now, and out of the cold wind. Harry was a nice young ranch hand, and Claude had taken to him immediately, offering him a job riding for the ‘Triple-B’. He could leave in the spring, as the winters were harsh in northern Wyoming. Harry liked the Englishman, and the thought of returning to Texas, where he was from, appealed to him. He’d told Claude he’d head on down Texas way when the weather permitted.
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Olivia had tried her best to hide the worry and fear in her eyes from her Uncle Claude, though he assured her that the ruffians had not been all that hard to subdue. His blue eyes had twinkled as he noticed his Amelia still absentmindedly clutching the handle of her trusty umbrella, her knuckles white.
“Young man.” Amelia suddenly spoke to Logan, “Would you mind changing seats with me? I’d like to sit next to my husband. There are a few things I’d like to say to him.” Of course that would put Logan next to Olivia also.
Crouching down, Logan assisted Amelia to his seat, then he landed hard on the opposite seat, as the stagecoach rattled and bounced over the rough trail.
Amelia started in on her husband, “The very idea, at your age, acting like some wild youngster, out there shooting up a storm. Just where is your dignity? You old fool!”
Claude smiled down at his feisty wife, with adoration in his blue eyes, and put an arm around her. Amelia tossed her umbrella onto the floor, saying, “Well, I suppose I won’t be needing that now. I didn’t know whether to come out there and use it on those road agents, or you.” She settled her head on his shoulder, and closed her eyes.
Logan looked down at Olivia, “How about you, ma’am? Are you alright?” He asked softly.
She answered briskly, her sky-blue eyes sparking fire, “Ma’am, is it? You still don’t know my name, Mr. Wakefield? And yes, I am fine. I was only in here calmly sleeping, all the while you men were out there trying your best to get yourselves killed. Why wouldn’t I be alright?”
He grinned down at her, then asked, “Oh, you were worried about me?”
“Now just why would I be worried about you?” She looked away, staring out the window, then continued, “I was worried about my uncle. I wouldn’t want to become an orphan once more. And you, sir, are an egotistical lout, out there shooting at those men. You might have killed one or more of them.”
“Oh, you were worried about those nice gentle outlaws? The same ones who were leering at you back there at the Way Station?”
“I don’t want to see anyone killed.”
“Not even me?”
“Mr. Wakefield, I am a civilized person, and do not believe in violence.” She continued staring out the window, as the countryside rolled by.
Logan wouldn’t be stopped, “What about your Uncle Claude? Just what do you think he was doing out there, in the snowstorm? Enjoying the weather?” He asked.
“My uncle was only protecting us. That’s different. You, on the other hand, were showing off, and being a bully.”
“Our friend, Harry?” Logan was baiting her, and she knew it.
“That young cowboy was……..well…..he was helping my uncle.” Olivia’s voice wavered, and she didn’t dare look at Logan now. He would see the fear, and lonely tears slipping from her eyes. Oh, if he wasn’t so appealingly ornery. She always felt like slapping him soundly, when he teased her like this.
Why couldn’t she control these emotional outbursts? When she reacted like this, he only enjoyed it all the more anyway. She had promised herself time and time again, that she wouldn’t react in this manner, and here she was repeating herself.
“Would you like comforting, Olivia?” He leaned over, and whispered in her ear. “I could put my arm around you.”
Forgetting her tears, her head whipped around, and she gritted her teeth, as she hissed, “Don’t…….you…….dare!”
Seeing those beautiful so
ft blue eyes, with the tears streaming down her lovely face, Logan softened, and reaching over, he put a strong arm around her shoulders. No matter how hard she struggled to pull away, he held on tight.
Finally Olivia heaved a deep sigh, and stopped struggling. Tired now, she relaxed, then let her head fall back onto his strong muscular shoulder. Closing her eyes, she said not a word. Her Uncle Claude and Amelia both had their eyes closed, and no one noticed them trying their best to hold in the laughter.
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The small settlement of Comfort, Wyoming which, in the past, had been named ‘Devil’s Rest’, had grown much more than Logan had expected. It was late afternoon when the weary team of horses pulled the stage to a screeching halt in front of the long building that served as a combination Trading Post and Way Station.
The first thing they saw was the cavalry’s horses tied to the hitching rail. The soldiers were obviously inside the trading post, some enjoying a hot meal. Lieutenant Harrigan definitely would have been of no great assistance had there been an attack on the stage by Indian renegades, but if they could see him now, deep in the throes of intoxication inside the saloon area of the Post, they would more than believe that fact.