by Al Lamanda
He spent the rest of the morning cleaning and oiling them.
Lane didn’t know why, but he had the uneasy feeling they were going to see a great deal of use.
Chapter 2
Seth McCain stood on the edge of the coral and peered way off into the distance. He thought he saw something, a tiny dot moving on the horizon.
At twelve, Seth wasn’t big like his pa, but pa told him that when he was a boy he was a runt until the age of fifteen, then he shot up overnight. Seth climbed onto the second rung in the coral gate for a better look. The dot, whatever it was, was definitely moving forward.
Seth turned to look at his mother. She was scrubbing clothes in the basin full of hot water beside the cabin. “Ma, something’s coming,” he said.
Maura McCain looked up from the wash basin. “What do you mean by something, Seth?” she said. “Is it a person, an animal, what?”
“Can’t tell, Ma,” Seth said. “It’s too far away for me to see clear.”
“Well, keep an eye on it,” Maura said. “Could be a rabid dog or coyote.”
Ten days ago, her husband Daniel and their hired hand Mr. Philip, rode to the Indian Nation to trade for ponies. They were three days overdue and she was starting to worry, but she didn’t want to let on and frighten Seth.
“I’ll fetch Pa’s binoculars,” Seth said.
Seth raced into the cabin and returned to the coral post with his Pa’s binoculars. He stood on the rail and adjusted the lenses with his fingers. The dot was larger, but still too far away to make out what it was.
“Well, what is it?” Maura said.
“Still too far away to see,” Seth said.
“Come here and fetch some hot water from the fireplace for rinsing water,” Maura said. “And don’t burn yourself.”
Seth rested the binoculars on a post and went into the cabin to fetch the pot of boiling water. He carried it out to his mother and set it on the ground. Maura lifted the pot and poured the boiling water into a second basin, then transferred the clean clothes from the wash basin into the hot water to rinse.
Seth returned to the coral, stood on the post and picked up the binoculars. He zoomed in on the dot and was surprised to see that it was a man. He couldn’t see features on the man’s face, but it was definitely a man and he was on foot.
“Ma, it’s a man,” Seth said. “And he’s walking.”
“No horse, on foot,” Maura said, looking up from the wash.
“Sure is,” Seth said.
“Keep an eye on him,” Maura said.
“Okay, Ma,” Seth said.
Maura used wood tongs to remove the rinsed clothes from the basin and placed them into a wicker basket. She carried the basket to the clothes line hung between two trees on the side of the cabin and hung them to dry with clothes pins.
Seth kept the binoculars on the man. He was limping badly as if injured. As the man slowly came forward, Seth could see he was covered in blood. His clothes, his face, blood was everywhere.
“Ma, you better come see this,” Seth said.
“Seth, I’m doing…” Maura said.
“Ma, please,” Seth said. “Come see this.”
Maura wiped her hands on the apron around her skirt and walked to Seth. “What is it?” she said.
Seth handed her binoculars. “Look.”
Maura raised the binoculars to her eyes and located the figure. He was limping and bloody as can be. “Maybe he was in a fight or something, or fell off his horse,” she said. “And that’s why he’s limping.”
“Should I boil more water and get the bandages?” Seth said.
“Not just yet,” Maura said.
“Can you see who he is?” Seth said.
“Not yet,” Maura said.
“Should I get the shotgun?” Seth said.
“I don’t think…”
Suddenly the man’s face came into focus. His left cheek was exposed to the bone. The left eye was bloody and yellow. Blood ran down his mouth and nose. White foam dribbled down his mouth to his chin. His left foot appeared broken, but he paid no notice as he lumbered forward.
Maura gasped suddenly.
“What, Ma?” Seth said.
The man was Mr. Philip, their hired hand.
“Ma?” Seth said.
Maura set the binoculars on the post. “Stay here,” she said.
“I don’t…”
“Stay here,” Maura said, turned and walked quickly into the cabin. She removed the shotgun from the rack above the door and cracked it open. She went to her husband’s desk and removed a box of shells from a drawer and loaded two into the chambers and closed the breech.
She put extra shells into the pockets of her apron, turned and went back outside. Seth was on the post, watching with the binoculars.
“It’s Mr. Philip,” Seth said. “And there’s something wrong with him.”
“Seth, get down,” Maura said.
“He’s hurt or something.”
“I said, get down.”
Seth stepped down from the post. “What’s wrong with Mr.…?”
“I don’t know,” Maura said. “Quit asking questions and come stand with me by the gate.”
Maura and Seth walked around the coral to the opening in the fence that surrounded the vegetable garden. From that vantage point they could see Mr. Philip as he lumbered forward, closer and closer to them.
It seemed to take him forever, but then he was less than a hundred feet from the fence. He paused and looked at them. That close, Maura could see that some animal had taken a chunk out of his neck. His left eye, too. He stared at Maura and Seth as if trying to recognize them, then he lunged forward and omitted a growl as foam ran down his mouth.
“Mr. Philip, where is my husband?” Maura said.
Philip lumbered forward, snarling and growling.
“Mr. Philip, please stop,” Maura said.
“Ma, what’s wrong with him?” Seth said.
“Be quiet, Seth,” Maura said.
Philip exposed his bloody teeth and growled louder.
“Mr. Philip, please stop,” Maura said.
Philip ignored her request and increased his pace.
Maura cocked the twin hammers on the shotgun and aimed it at Philip.
“Ma?” Seth said.
“Seth, get behind me,” Maura said.
“But, Ma,” Seth said.
“Do it!” Maura shouted.
Seth stood behind Maura and peeked around her skirt. When Philip was twenty feet from Maura, she placed her hand on the trigger of the shotgun.
“Stop,” Maura said.
Philip snarled and raised his hands at Maura.
“Please, stop,” Maura said.
Philip closed the gap to fifteen feet.
Maura pulled the trigger and the blast caught Philip directly in the chest. The powerful impact spun him around and knocked him to the ground.
“Ma, you shot him,” Seth said.
“Quiet, Seth,” Maura said.
Remarkably, Philip slowly got back on his feet and turned around. There was a huge hole in his chest, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. He raised his arms, growled and came at Maura again.
Maura squeezed the trigger and fired the second blast into Philip’s chest and again he spun around and went down.
Behind Maura, Seth started to cry.
“For God’s sake, be quiet, Seth,” Maura said.
Slowly, unbelievably, Philip rose to his feet again.
Maura opened the breech and removed the two spent shells, then reloaded. She closed the breech, cocked the hammer and walked toward Philip just as he stood up. As he turned toward her, Maura placed the shotgun against the back of his head and pulled the trigger.
The blast blew half of Philip’s head off as it threw him forward to the ground. His body twitched for several seconds, his hands moved and then he finally went still.
Maura turned to Seth. “Seth, go in the house and pack your belongings,” she said.
“Seth, did you hear me?” Maura said. “Pack your belongings and be quick about it. We have to leave this place right away.”
Seth turned and ran into the house.
Maura stood over the body of Philip. Two shotgun blasts to the chest and he got up and kept coming, how was that possible? Even with his head blown off he still tried to get up.
Maura cocked the hammer and fired the second shell directly into Philip’s neck, severing what was left of his head.
“Let me see you get up now,” Maura said.
Maura went into the cabin to Seth’s room. He was packing his bag with clothes and crying softly to himself.
“What about Pa?” Seth said. “He’ll come home and find us gone.”
“When you’re done with your clothes, start packing all the canned goods and jerked meat,” Maura said. “Everything that can fit into the wagon, we take.”
“What about Pa?” Seth sobbed.
“Your Pa isn’t coming back,” Maura said. “Ever. I’ll go hitch up the team.”
Chapter 3
After thirty-six hours on the stagecoach, Lane’s back was as stiff as a board. When the coach arrived in Billings, Lane stood on the street with Poole, stretched his back and tried to shake out the kinks.
Long rides were easier when he was a younger man, but now that he was forty, his body didn’t respond as quickly as it once did. As the driver removed their bags from the top of the coach, Deputy Marshal James approached them from across the street.
“Marshal Lane, Deputy James,” James said.
“Scripture and Teal get here alright?” Lane said.
“In the office drinking coffee,” James said.
“What about the Sioux scouts?” Lane said.
“Two of them,” James said. “They’re in the saloon.”
“Who?” Lane said.
“Charlie Red Foot and Max White Cloud Sands.”
“Poule, get over to the saloon and bring those two to the office,” Lane said. “I don’t want them liquored up.”
“The Deuce Saloon at the end of Main Street,” James said.
Poule nodded and crossed the street.
“You reserve the horses?” Lane said to James.
“Five trackers like you asked,” James said. “Had them re-shoed with mountain shoes this morning.”
“Let’s go to the office,” Lane said. “I could use some of that coffee.”
The Marshal’s office shared one of two offices in a red brick building centered in Billings on Main Street.
“Sheriff in town?” Lane said as he and James entered the Marshal’s side of the building.
“Rode out to pick up some warrants at the county courthouse,” James said.
“He know anything?”
“Not much.”
“Never mind then.”
Deputy Scripture stood up from behind the desk and walked toward Lane. They shook warmly. At the woodstove, Deputy Teal filled a tin mug with hot coffee and brought it to Lane.
“How was the ride?” Teal said.
“Long, bumpy and dusty,” Lane said and took a sip from the mug. “And my back is paying for every square mile.”
Behind Lane, the door opened and Poule walked in, followed by Charlie Red Foot and Max Sands.
“Charlie, how the hell are you?” Lane said.
“I was planning on getting drunk, Marshal,” Charlie said.
“No time for that now,” Lane said. “Everybody at the desk.”
Behind the desk, mounted on the wall was a framed, color map of Montana. “James, fill us in,” Lane said.
James stood at the map and used his finger at a pointer. “Marshal Craig and one deputy left from here and traveled to the Indian Nation of the Crow,” he said. “That was twenty eight days ago. He’s gone missing, along with the deputy. I wired the Army outpost near the Crow Nation and they haven’t seen or heard from him.”
“They have a pack mule?” Charlie said.
“Yes,” James said.
“Shouldn’t be too hard to track two sets of horse prints and a weighted down mule,” Charlie said.
“When do you want to leave?” Sands said.
“Dawn tomorrow,” Lane said. “Check and pack your gear and no more drinking. I want everybody awake and alert come morning.”
“I booked rooms at the hotel,” James said. “Two to a room.”
“What time does that restaurant open?” Lane said.
“Six,” James said.
“We’ll meet there for breakfast,” Lane said. “That’s all for now.”
Alone with James, Lane rolled a smoke and sipped his coffee as he studied the map. “Any Crow uprisings lately?” he said.
“No,” James said. “Been quiet for years.”
“Cheyenne, Blackfeet or Sioux?” Lane said.
“None reported by the Army.”
“Doesn’t mean there isn’t some pissed off buck with a following out for blood somewhere,” Lane said.
“Maybe I should go with you?” James said.
“No,” Lane said. “Somebody has to stay near the wire. There’s more federal business than this going on.”
James nodded.
Lane puffed on his smoke and studied the map. In the pit of his stomach, he had a bad, really bad feeling building up and he didn’t know why.
“If we don’t come back, go to the Army,” Lane said and looked at James.
Chapter 4
Maura loaded the last box onto the back of the wagon and tied it with rope. There wasn’t time to attach the cover that looped around the iron frame. They had to leave now if they were to make the Army outpost by late tomorrow morning.
Seth came out of the cabin with his last box of possessions and set it in the wagon. “I don’t understand, Ma,” he said. “This is our home, and Pa wouldn’t…”
“I told you, your Pa isn’t coming back,” Maura said. “Now get in the wagon.”
“How do you know Paw isn’t…?”
“Get in the wagon, Seth. Please.”
Seth climbed aboard the wagon seat.
Maura checked the shotgun before setting it on the seat, then picked up her husband’s Colt revolver from the back of the wagon. It was fully loaded Peacemaker. She grabbed a box of .45 shells and a box for the shotgun, then climbed aboard next to Seth.
“Where are we going, Ma?” Seth said.
“The Army outpost,” Maura said.
Maura took the reins and gave them a yank. The two powerful plow horses easily moved the wagon forward.
The outpost was twenty miles due west. With seven hours of daylight left, they could cover possibly half the distance before nightfall.
They traveled two slow and bumpy miles and then Seth pointed and said, “Ma, look. A man’s coming.”
Maura stopped the wagon and peered to Seth’s right and saw the man off in the distance. “Stay here,” she said.
Maura climbed down and fetched the binoculars from the wagon. The man was five hundred yards away and moving slowly. It appeared his right foot was broken and dragging behind him.
Then Maura saw that his left arm was missing, torn off at the socket.
She looked at the man’s clothing.
She didn’t need to look at his face to know that the man was Daniel, her husband of fourteen years.
Maura returned to the wagon, stepped up on the wagon and grabbed the heavy Colt revolver.
“What are you doing, Ma?” Seth said.
Maura opened the box of .45 shells and grabbed a handful and tucked them into the pocket of her skirt.
“Seth, get down,” Maura said.
“Why, Ma?”
“Just get down.”
Maura jumped down off the wheel and took Seth’s hand. “I want you to walk twenty paces from the wagon and don’t turn around,” Maura said.
“But…”
“Do as I say, Seth,” Maura said. “And don’t turn around for any reason until I call you
. Understand?”
“Yes, Ma.”
“Go.”
As Seth walked away from the wagon, Maura went around to the other side and stood for a moment to watch Daniel lumber toward her. With the Colt in her right hand, she walked quickly out to meet him.
When a hundred feet separated them, Maura could see clearly her husband’s face. The skin appeared almost green like in tone. A dozen cuts and bruises covered the skin. He had been in a fight and fought hard. His eyes were red and deep set as if sunken. She looked at the missing left arm socket. The arm had been ripped off by something powerful. A bear perhaps?
But, why was he still alive?
How could any man have his arm ripped off and walk on a broken foot and still be upright and breathing.
Maura stopped and watched as Daniel stumbled closer.
Suddenly, Daniel’s face went animated and he staggered quickly toward her. Maura didn’t know if he recognized her or not, so she called to him.
“Daniel, it’s me, Maura,” she said. “Your wife.”
David started to snarl and growl as he came closer. His right arm raised and he made grabbing motions with his hand.
“Daniel, it’s Maura,” she said again.
There was no recognition in his eyes. He growled louder and opened his mouth to expose blood red teeth.
It was just like Mr. Philip.
“Daniel, stop,” Maura said, knowing that he wouldn’t.
Desperate to grab her with his one arm, Daniel lunged forward with snapping teeth.
Maura cocked the Colt and fired a shot into Daniel’s chest from six feet away. The bullet blew a large hole in his flesh and slowed him for a few seconds, but then he recovered and lunged again.
Maura cocked the Colt again and fired a second, then third shot into Daniel’s chest and still he kept coming to her.
No man and few beasts could take three .45 bullets to the chest and still be alive, much less stay on their feet.
Daniel snarled, snapped his teeth and reached for Maura with his right hand. He grabbed her neck and attempted to bite her as she cocked the Colt, placed it to his forehead and pulled the trigger.
Daniel fell over backward with half his skull blown off and his brains exposed.