“You go ahead,” Matt said. “I want to check on my horse first. He was off his feed this mornin’. I’ll catch up to you later.” He knew Ike would most likely find a card game. There would be plenty of time to join him.
“All right, partner,” Ike said cheerfully. “I’ll save a snort for you.”
Matt smiled as he watched the huge frame of his partner move toward the saloon up the street. There seemed to be an extra spring in the big man’s step whenever he was headed toward a saloon and a card game. He breathed deep, taking in a lung full of the fresh air, then turned to leave the porch, almost running right over Libby. “Excuse me, ma’am!” Matt blurted. “I didn’t hear you come out behind me.”
She stood silent for a moment, still making up her mind to speak. The constant wisp of hair lay across her forehead, and the lantern light through the window traced shadows across her drawn face, making her look tired beyond her years. Matt wondered if she ever ate any of her own cooking, she was so thin.
“I heard the big fellow call you Matt,” Libby finally broke her silence.
“Yes, ma’am,” Matt replied. “My name’s Matt Slaughter.” Ike had slipped a couple of times since they had arrived in Nebraska City. Matt supposed it could do little harm. He doubted anyone was looking for him around these parts.
“You seem like a nice enough young man,” Libby continued. “I saw you smile a couple of times at Molly, and I just hope you are as nice as you seem.”
Her remarks served to confuse him, and he misunderstood her purpose. “Why, I’m sorry if I seemed too forward,” he stammered. “I reckon I was just tryin’ to be friendly. I assure you I don’t have any notions about your daughter.”
She smiled sadly then, confident that her first impression of the young man was the correct one. “I know you were just being friendly. I didn’t mean to say you did anything wrong. You strike me as being a kind and sensible man, and I thought I could talk to you about Molly.”
Still confused, Matt said, “Why, sure, ma’am, what do you want to tell me?”
Libby breathed a long sigh and began. “Molly’s kind of special. She ain’t been able to say a word since her and her daddy was struck by lightning twelve years ago. She can hear good enough. She just can’t talk. So she’s been pretty much right close to me all her life. She couldn’t go to school, and she ain’t ever had any friends—just worked with me in the kitchen ever since she was little.”
Matt had suspected there was something unusual about the young girl, and now that he thought about it, he realized that she had never spoken when he greeted her. He had attributed it to shyness. “That’s a real shame, ma’am. I’m truly sorry to hear it, but what does it have to do with me?”
“For whatever reason, she’s taken a shine to you,” Libby said. “I can tell. I can see it in the way she follows you around with her eyes.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Matt stammered. “I doubt if she even—”
“There ain’t no doubt about it,” Libby interrupted. “I know her too well. And the reason I’m tellin’ you about it is I don’t wanna see her get hurt. She’s like a child, and she could easily be hurt by a man that didn’t care what he done.” He started to assure her, but she interrupted again. “I’m tellin’ you all this because I believe you’re a decent man, and I’m hoping you’ll do the right thing, and not take advantage of her.”
Still astonished by the whole thing, Matt didn’t know how to respond. After a few moments’ silence, he sought to calm her fears. “Ma’am, I give you my word on it. I won’t do anything to hurt your daughter. Me and my partner will be leavin’ here in a day or two. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“I knew I had you figured right,” Libby said, obviously relieved. “You have my thanks, for what it’s worth.” Having done all she felt she could do at that time to save her daughter’s feelings, she abruptly turned and went back inside, leaving a bewildered and slightly amused young man.
He remained on the porch for a minute or two, digesting the rather unusual incident. He thought back, recalling the slight young girl’s constant gaze upon him. At the time, he had thought nothing about it. Now, he shook his head and smiled, hardly believing the conversation that had just passed. I don’t know if I’ll tell Ike about this or not, he thought as he stepped off the porch and went in search of his friend.
* * *
Once he was sure he had picked up their trail, Tyler left Topeka Landing and pushed on westward, following the river. When he came to the Big Blue River, he saw the tracks where the posse had turned back and headed for home. Two sets of hoofprints continued on. He stayed doggedly on the trail until it led him to the Platte and the old Oregon Trail. From that point on, he would have to rely on luck and instinct, for it became impossible to distinguish one set of tracks from the many who had used the road.
Though it might take some searching, he knew he would find Shannon. Shannon, how the name burned in his thoughts, like a red-hot brand that seared his conscious mind. He had never seen the man he hunted, yet he felt he would know Shannon if he saw him. He had heard so many witnesses describe the tall, broad-shouldered man in buckskin clothes, carrying a Henry rifle, that he had formed a complete picture in his mind—complete except for the face. In his mental image, Shannon’s face was blank. Every day that passed intensified Tyler’s desire to look into that face, to study it, to know every feature, so that he would always remember it afterward. During the long hours in the saddle, he occupied his mind with the mental picture of Shannon’s death by his hand. It sustained him through the cold October days, more so than food or drink.
* * *
Under cold gray clouds, Tyler rode into the settlement gathered close around Fort Kearny. With his heavy black cloak drawn up close around him, he presented a sinister image to the few people on the muddy street. The saloon being the logical place to inquire after the two men he searched for, he passed by the other stores and shops. As he slow-walked his horse by the hotel, something caught his eye that triggered his reactions. He immediately jerked his horse to a stop. Pulling hard on the reins, he backed the horse until he was abreast of three horses tied up before the hotel—a pack horse and two saddled horses. It was the buckskin gelding that had caught his attention. It looked a lot like the horse Eli used to brag about.
Tyler dismounted, and tied his horse at the rail. Then he proceeded to take a closer look at the buckskin. By God, he thought with grim excitement, that’s Eli’s saddle all right. A cruel smile touched his lips, and the muscles in his shoulders twitched in anticipation of the final reckoning.
* * *
“Ike tells me you’re leavin’.”
Matt looked up to see Libby standing behind him with the coffeepot. “Yes ma’am,” he replied and held up his cup for a refill. “It’s time we were on our way. We thought we’d get one more good meal under our belts before we go back to eatin’ nothin’ but wild game.”
Libby glanced at Molly at the other end of the table. She thought she detected a faint look of despair in her daughter’s eye, and figured she had overheard. She bent close to Matt’s ear, and whispered. “I’m beholding to you for not taking advantage of an inexperienced young girl.”
Matt was at a loss as to how he should respond. He still found it difficult to believe the depth of infatuation Molly had developed after such a short time. He was beginning to think that the whole situation was only in her mother’s mind, and the daughter felt no emotion toward him beyond innocent curiosity. Not knowing what to say, he merely nodded his head, and smiled at Libby. She returned his smile, and moved on to the next customer. She had barely filled the cup when the door was suddenly flung open to reveal an ominous figure dressed almost entirely in black.
He stood there, the Spencer carbine in his hand, his heavy dark cloak pushed back on both sides to clear the two pistols he wore. For a long moment, there followed a void in the noisy conversation around the table as everyone there sensed an evil presence had invaded the roo
m. Matt glanced over at Ike. Ike shook his head to indicate that he did not recognize the man. Figuring it had nothing to do with him, Matt turned his attention back to his plate. The dark stranger scanned the faces of the boarders seated at the table. His gaze stopped on Matt, then shifted to Ike, then settled back on Matt. Matt continued to eat, not realizing he had been singled out.
“If you’re coming in here to eat,” Libby told him, “you’re gonna have to deposit them guns on the table there.”
Tyler did not react beyond glancing at the weapons by the door. Then he looked back at Libby with eyes as dead as charcoal. “Move,” he said. When she did not, he reached out and shoved her aside. Most of the men reacted then, seeing Libby almost lose her footing. “Set down,” Tyler warned, training the Spencer on the breakfast table. There was little anyone could do, with all the weapons stacked up on the table by the door. “Shannon!” he called out, his eyes riveted upon Matt.
Ike tensed and started to get up, but Matt signaled him to remain seated. He turned to face Tyler and the weapon aimed at him. “Are you lookin’ for me?” he asked, his voice calm and even.
A smirk spread slowly across Tyler’s face. “Yeah, I’m lookin’ for you.”
Matt waited, but Tyler offered no explanation, the smirk still in place. The man was obviously enjoying the moment. Matt became impatient. “Well, you found me. Now, what the hell do you want?” As he said it, the thought came to him that the man might be a bounty hunter. Then another thought struck him, maybe there had been one of Brance Burkett’s gang that had never been accounted for after they left Old Bear’s village. It was his guess now that this man was the one who was missing. With this thought, the situation took on new meaning—one with eminent danger. He was caught with no chance to defend himself against execution.
“Get up,” Tyler ordered. Then to the others in the room, he warned, “Just set right where you are, and you won’t get hurt. But one of you makes a move, and you’ll get it before he does. That goes double for you, big boy.” He directed the last remark at Ike. Turning back to Matt, who was now on his feet, he said, “Back up to that wall there.” With no other choice, Matt did as he was told. “You don’t know who I am, do you?” Tyler asked.
“No, I don’t,” Matt replied calmly. “Should I?”
Tyler was beginning to get a little irritated by his victim’s apparent indifference to the danger he was in. After searching for so long for his brother’s killer, he craved some show of fear. “My name’s Tyler,” he said. “I had a brother named Wesley, and you killed him back in West Virginia. It took me a while to find you, but I’da tracked you all the way to hell if I’d had to. Now, you son of a bitch, you’re gonna pay for killin’ my brother.”
Tyler. So much had happened since Matt won the Henry rifle at that turkey shoot, that he had all but put the showdown with Tyler out of his mind. So this is the way it’s going to end, Matt thought. Well, I’m not going to make it easy for him. “Your sorry brother bushwhacked me. He got what he deserved,” Matt said, matter-of-factly. “And you’d better make your shot count, because I’m takin’ you to hell with me.”
“Is that so?” Tyler grinned, pleased with the prospect of Matt making a desperate effort to reach him before he was stopped cold.
The room was stifled by the heavy silence as the stunned spectators were afraid to breathe for fear of instant retaliation. One voice broke the silence. “You’re gonna have to take us both,” Ike stated soberly.
Tyler almost chuckled. “Let’s see how fast you can move with a bullet in your brain,” he replied to Ike.
Matt tensed, preparing to charge his adversary. Tyler, anticipating as much, took dead aim on Matt’s forehead. The sharp crack of a rifle suddenly shattered the heavy silence. Stunned by the bullet that ripped through his cloak, just missing his side, Tyler spun around to see Molly holding Matt’s rifle. Seething with anger, he raised his rifle to fire at the terrified girl, but Matt was upon him before he could pull the trigger. The two crashed to the floor, grappling for control of the Spencer. As they rolled over and over on the rough plank floor, Matt managed to get his hand on one of the revolvers Tyler wore. Snatching it free of the holster, he buried the muzzle against Tyler’s stomach and pulled the trigger. Tyler was mortally wounded, his face twisted in pain, but—determined to kill Matt—he drew the other pistol from his belt. Before he could bring it to bear, Ike trapped his wrist in a viselike grip. He held him fast until the life drained from Tyler’s body, and his sightless eyes stared into eternity. Ike, his body still pumping adrenaline at a gallop, lifted the lifeless form and flung it against the wall, then stood staring at it for a moment.
“Thanks, partner,” Matt said calmly. “I reckon that’s definitely the last one.”
“You all right?” Ike said after a moment more when he began to calm down.
It occurred to Matt then that it mattered a great deal to Ike. “Yeah, I’m all right.” He got up then and turned toward the corner and the table where Libby was holding Molly in her arms. The terrified young girl was still shivering with fright. Matt’s rifle lay on the floor at her feet. He walked over to them. Libby, seeing Matt approach, released her daughter and stepped aside. Matt put his arm around the trembling girl. “That was a brave thing you did,” he said. “You saved my life, and I’ll never forget it.” She looked up at him, then quickly averted her eyes again, her slender body pressing close against him. He held her for a moment longer before releasing her, wishing he could do something to repay her. “Here,” he said, reaching up to remove the silver St. Christopher medal that he always wore. “I want you to have this. It’s always taken good care of me. I hope it takes care of you.” He glanced at Libby before putting it around the girl’s neck. She smiled and nodded her approval, so he fastened the catch and smiled down into the young girl’s face. The radiant face that returned his gaze required no words to convey the message in her eyes. Matt felt deeply touched, and he knew he would see that face in his mind long after he had departed Nebraska City.
* * *
The big gray metal coffeepot bubbled up to a boil on Libby’s stove, and she folded a cloth to take hold of the hot handle. Dragging the heavy pot over to the corner of the stove where it would stay warm, she looked over at Molly and nodded. Molly didn’t have to be told; she knew what Libby wanted. The girl took the cloth from her mother, and poured a large cup almost to the brim. Taking the cup then, she went through the door to the hotel on her way to the front desk.
“Ah, there’s my girl,” the desk clerk greeted her. “Good morning to you, darlin’.”
Molly smiled and nodded. Mr. Glover always gave her a cordial greeting every morning when she brought his coffee. He was a nice old man, and it pleased her that he seemed to appreciate this small kindness so much. Turning to go back to the kitchen, she glanced out the front window of the hotel. The first rays of the morning sun broke through to reveal two early riders moving down the main street. Molly went to the window to watch them. Two figures in buckskins rocked easily in the saddle, the morning sun at their backs. She reached up to feel the silver medal attached to the chain around her neck. She rubbed it softly between her fingers as her gaze lingered on the younger of the two riders. A tear threatened as she followed him with her eyes, and she knew that someday, somehow, she must see him again. It seemed impossible that someone could touch her heart so fatally, then ride out of her life forever. She glanced quickly back at the desk to make sure Mr. Glover was not watching. Then she brought the medal to her lips and kissed it. Matt Slaughter: the name shall forever dwell in my heart. She drew her shoulders back, turned and went back to help her mother start breakfast.
Read on for a preview of the next Western adventure featuring Matt Slaughter
THE HOSTILE TRAIL
by Charles G. West
Ike Brister took a cautious step forward in the knee-deep snow, his gaze unwavering as he watched for the first indication that the confused bull elk was about to charge. His rifle ready, h
e hoped he wouldn’t have to use it. The elk eyed him suspiciously, tossing his head back and forth and pawing the snow in warning. Moving deliberately, Ike took one more step and stopped. He was as close to the huge animal as he dared. He glanced toward the clump of pines on the slope to his left. Hurry up, dammit, he thought. This son of a bitch is fixing to jump into my lap. The agitated bull elk had exhausted his patience with the strange creature seeming to challenge him. He lowered his head and shook his huge antlers back and forth violently as he pawed the snow. Ike raised his rifle and aimed at the massive head, just in case the elk was preparing to charge. He waited, his finger on the trigger. A figure rose silently in the pines, and a second later, the elk bolted sideways, an arrow imbedded deep in his lung. Enraged and confused, the bull tried to sidestep away from the pain in his side, only to feel the lethal sting of a second arrow a few inches from the first. Ike kept his rifle sighted on the crazed animal in case it still had a notion to charge him. A bull elk sometimes took a little time dying, and he might take a notion to take Ike with him. If at all possible, Ike wanted to avoid firing his rifle in this part of the mountains. The shot would echo through the canyons for miles and might bring a Sioux hunting party down on them. There had been several Sioux hunting parties working this side of the Bighorns within the past week.
Much to Ike’s relief, the elk did not charge. Confused, it tried to retreat, bounding up the slope, still trying to sidestep away from the pain in its side. But before reaching the top, its legs became wobbly, and it went down on its knees in the snow. There it remained, waiting for the two white men to finish the kill.
“What in hell was you waitin’ for?” Ike asked when he caught up to his younger friend. “I thought me and that damn elk was fixin’ to have us a dance.”
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