West of the Big River: Boxed Set of Eight Western Novels

by James Reasoner

  "Not fair!" yelled men in the crowd.

  "Foul!" yelled several others.

  Big Mississippi ran into the center of the ring.

  "All right! All right! Bulldog struck before I said begin! Lance was being held by the crowd and defending himself. Now let's start over and make this a fair fight!"

  The crowd cheered, and Lance, shaking his head, stood at the edge of the circle waiting for his vision to clear. Warner came to his knees, then to his feet, also shaken from being thrown. Both men stared wickedly at each other, and the crowd noise increased into a roar as the two fighters clenched fists, ready to box.

  Bulldog stepped forward and threw a quick left. It struck Lance's left fist. Bulldog kept advancing, sidestepping and throwing lefts, while Lance continued to back up. He came against the crowd and men shoved. Bulldog Warner took advantage and threw a quick series of lefts and then a right which struck hard on Lance's chin. Sliding away from the crowd and their grasping hands, Lance got to the middle of the ring, where he determined to stay. There were cheaters in that crowd who were out to get him.

  Bulldog circled and then advanced. The more experienced boxer, he kept coming, throwing repeated lefts and making Lance back up. Remembering hands that shoved or held him, Lance stayed away from the crowd and circled in the middle of the ring. Each time Bulldog moved forward, throwing lefts and waiting for the moment to throw a right. Lance, the taller man by several inches, had the advantage of height and reach. It was debatable who had the greater strength. Bulldog was a mass of muscle and the bare-chested man sported an ugly growth of hair. Lance hated making contact with the man's sweaty hairy chest and arms.

  Bulldog Warner stepped in, threw three quick punches and a quick right that struck hard on Lance's chin. The big man tasted blood, and he threw a series of rights and lefts of his own. Both boxers stood toe-to-toe throwing punches and the crowd roared. It was Lance who threw a ringing right to Bulldog's head that stopped the frenzy of punches, and Warner stepped back. This time Lance advanced, the pain in his jaw and the series of blows making his head ring. Anger took away caution and pain, and Lance threw a left and right at his opponent with all the strength he could muster. Blows were returned and again the men were toe-to-toe, throwing lefts and rights. This time both fighters took the punishment for as long as they could, and then backed up. The crowd screamed encouragement.

  His head ringing with pain, his chest and belly feeling as if struck with hammers, Lance advanced first and struck a left and a right at Bulldog. The man was still trying to recover from the series of blows he received and was awkward at defending himself. Lance struck him hard on the chin, and Bulldog fell to one knee. The crowd roared louder than before, and thoroughly deaf, Lance stepped forward. When Bulldog stood up, he was struck with a right that dazed him. Taking advantage, Lance moved closer and planting his feet he began to throw fists to the stomach, chest, face, and chin of the other man. The blows rocked Bulldog Warner on his feet. The crowd was a constant roar now, and with his head beginning to clear, Lance struck with all his strength. Still the man did not go down. It was as if he were made of stone.

  Bulldog dropped his arms and Lance advanced, striking a blow to the gut, to the side of his face, and then to his chin. The hairy monster of a man, blood dripping from mouth and nose, jerked back several steps, barely keeping his balance. To the roar of the crowd, Lance stepped forward and remembering last Saturday night's fight, planted a right into the middle of Bulldog Warner's face. The smack of the punch sounded loud even in the crowd noise. The big man's nose poured a fountain of blood and was clearly slanted sideways. Bulldog Warner, nearly out on his feet, still remained standing. Lance stepped in and threw one final right up under the bully's chin. The hairy man slammed backwards onto the hard ground and did not move.

  The crowd went quiet for a few seconds, and then Big Mississippi appeared and raised Lance's right arm.

  "The winner!" shouted the fight promoter.

  The crowd cheered and then Fast Eddy came up to Lance and grabbed hold of his bruised and bleeding partner.

  "Come with me," said Eddy. "I got a bucket and a towel to clean you up with."

  Lance, with Fast Eddy's help, worked their way through the crowd toward the warehouse with the boxes. Men slapped Lance heavily on the back, and despite Fast Eddy's protest or effort to protect the fighter, many of the blows could not be stopped. At the boxes, Lance sat down and Fast Eddy was there with a wet towel, gently wiping blood from several cuts and from a dripping nose.

  "You beat him!" said Fast Eddy, in praise.

  "It was harder than I thought," replied Lance. "He's made of rock. A couple times he nearly got me."

  "Here's the towel," said Fast Eddy. "I'll hold the bucket and you clean yourself up."

  The crowd began to disperse. Many more of the dockworkers came forward and called to Lance and congratulated him for winning the fight and filling their bets. Fast Eddy had gone off to collect on their bets and he came back smiling. Eventually the night quieted and Lance finished using the towel. The bleeding had stopped. His face felt swollen and sore, but the aches and pains to head and body diminished.

  "That was sure some fight," said Fast Eddy. "Here's your twenty from your ten dollar bet. Now we go collect the fifty dollar purse and we can go home."

  "Where's their office?" asked Lance. "Remember, Miss Lilly said she wanted to talk to us."

  "Maybe we should leave collecting the purse for another time," said Fast Eddy. "I don't like this. Everybody's gone and there's only you and me. Who knows how many men Big Mississippi and Miss Lilly got."

  "Do you think they'll try something?"

  "I wouldn't trust neither one of those birds," replied Fast Eddy.

  "I'm not leaving without that fifty," said Lance.

  "Suit yourself, but don't tell me I didn't warn you. You've already had one fight tonight."

  Fast Eddy led the way. They walked in the dark past the two warehouses and to a little building in the back. It was lit up inside and out and there were several tough-looking men standing around. Fast Eddy counted five.

  "I don't like this," repeated the manager.

  They came to the door of the little building and it opened. Miss Lilly came out first, followed by Big Mississippi.

  "Good fight," said Big Mississippi, in his booming voice.

  Miss Lilly stood smiling. She was wearing a blue dress that accentuated her figure. In the light of the lantern her yellow hair gleamed and she looked quite pretty. Except during the fights, she was one of those beauties who normally showed little facial expression, as if her countenance was made of ivory.

  "I came for my purse," said Lance.

  "Before we get to that," said Big Mississippi, "there's something we need to discuss."

  "What's that?" asked Lance, grimacing, and then wincing at the pull of a cut on his lip.

  "I want you to fight for me. There's big money in it, but not here. You played out all the fighters round here. Your next fight should be along the river. We can go from town to town and build up a reputation. Then we can hit St. Louis and we can demand a larger purse. You should earn big money, get rich . . ."

  "You mean, you would get rich," interjected Lance.

  "Both of us," replied Big Mississippi.

  "What about Fast Eddy?" asked Lance. "He's my . . ."

  "He's out," said Big Mississippi.

  "I don't think so," said Lance.

  "You don't think what?" asked Big Mississippi. "That Fast Eddy is out, or that you won't box for me?"

  "Both," replied Lance.

  "He doesn't understand," said Miss Lilly. "You explain it to him."

  "You're green, boy," said Big Mississippi. "Too green to know that you should be afraid. Let me help you understand. See those men out there? Those five are armed, and within my voice are another ten. And all up and down this dock I have men that owe me. You see, there isn't one shipment that goes in or out of this city that I don't have a hand in and I don
't get a cut of. I got men working for me all up and down this river and there isn't one place in Missouri you can run that I won't find out about it. Now, boy, do you understand?"

  "I told you," replied Lance. "I'm not your boy."

  There was a long silence and then Big Mississippi laughed. Miss Lilly joined in.

  "You've got guts," said Big Mississippi. "I'll give you that."

  "Some time back I vowed that I would rather be dead then to let another man have control over me, or make me their slave."

  "Like I been explaining, that can be arranged," replied Big Mississippi.

  "Lance," began Miss Lilly. "What's the problem? You're just doing what comes naturally. You're a born fighter. Why not fight for us and become rich at it? Fight for us and you can have anything your heart desires."

  "I made up my mind," said Lance. "Tonight . . . was my last fight."

  "Don't talk crazy," said Miss Lilly, coming closer and putting her two hands on Lance's arm. "If you come with us, you and I might even become close friends."

  "I won't fight and I won't work for either of you," replied Lance.

  Fast Eddy, standing next to Lance, groaned audibly and in real fear.

  "You'll fight for us, or die!" shouted Big Mississippi, pulling a small pistol from a wide sash at his middle.

  The five men moved closer and gleaming steel could be seen in their hands. Again Fast Eddy groaned.

  "I won't let another man make me a slave!" shouted Lance and in a white hot heat he launched himself at the three hundred pound giant.

  The big man roared as Lance put his two large, powerful hands around Mississippi 's throat. The force of the attack shoved Big Mississippi back and together they fell to the ground against the shack. At the same time the pistol discharged and the bullet struck one of the five men in the side and passed through him and into a second man. There was a large anvil that had been sitting against the outside wall for many years—a heavy piece of iron someone had placed there for decoration, or perhaps because it was too heavy to move. It was the edge of the anvil that Big Mississippi's head struck. His skull caved in as if made of plaster. He was dead the moment his body collapsed onto the ground.

  Three of the men still standing advanced towards Lance. One had a pistol and two had knives. Fast Eddy, eyeing a large hammer that lay on a table near the door, ran to it. Picking it up, he threw it at the man with the pistol. It struck his head and as he fell, the weapon discharged into the back of one of the men holding a knife. The last guard standing was now confronted by Lance who had risen to his feet. This enforcer took one look at the giant, turned, and ran.

  "You killed him!" cried Miss Lilly. "You killed Big Mississippi!"

  "He was going to kill me," replied Lance in a remarkably steady voice. "I want my purse money."

  "Never!" exclaimed Miss Lilly. "Not if you were the last man on earth!"

  "I won it, I need it, and I'm going to get it," said Lance, in as calm a voice as Fast Eddy had ever heard.

  All along the docks men were shouting.

  "Help! Help!" yelled the guard who had run away. "Miss Lilly needs help!"

  "Come on, Lance!" said Fast Eddy. "We got to get out of here!"

  "Not until I get my money," said Lance.

  The tall giant grabbed Lilly's left hand and squeezed. She reached for something in her clothing with her right hand, and when a tiny single-shot derringer appeared, Lance knocked it away.

  "You're hurting me!" said Miss Lilly.

  "Give me my fifty dollars," said Lance, squeezing harder.

  "Here," she said, producing a small pull string purse. "There's more than fifty in there."

  Lance took the soft pouch, opened it and poured three twenty dollar coins into his hand. He kept the three coins and then reached in his pocket and pulled out a ten dollar gold piece. He added it to her silk reticule and then flung it before Miss Lilly's feet.

  "I took what was mine," said Lance. "I'm no thief."

  "That won't save you!" she replied bitterly and then began to shout. "Help! Help! Murder!"

  "Follow me!" exclaimed Fast Eddy.

  Lance stepped over several of the fallen men and broke into a run as he raced behind Eddy. They sprinted towards the docks and the river. As they ran, a group with guns suddenly appeared before them. Big Mississippi had not lied. Many of the longshoremen worked for him. Fast Eddy turned to the right along the wharf. He came to a large dock and ran onto it. Men shouted from behind. Fast Eddy hurried forward and lapping water could be heard from below. Eddy came to a ladder and he disappeared into inky blackness. Lance followed and climbed down. They were just above the water now, and at the bottom of the ladder was a little rowboat. Eddy climbed in and began untying a rope. Lance gently stepped aboard, his vast weight making the little boat sink to its gunwales.

  "Grab those oars and start rowing," whispered Eddy.

  Never having rowed a boat in his life, Lance made up with strength what he lacked in skill. The heavily laden craft began to move swiftly towards the center of the river and away from the docks.

  "What now?" asked Lance.

  "If you and me want to live," exclaimed Fast Eddy. "We're going to have to get off this river and go west."

  "But there's Indians out there."

  "I'd rather face Indians than the law, Miss Lilly, and her men."

  Lance rowed the boat across the river and they landed on the opposite shore.

  "Now where?" asked Lance.

  "We have to find a place to buy guns and supplies. We can't go west without them."

  "I don't know anything about guns."

  "I don't know much myself," said Eddy. "Best we join a freight outfit or a wagon train to travel with. I have a hunch we're gonna find Californy."

  "I'd like that," exclaimed Lance.

  "Too bad we had to leave our things behind," said Fast Eddy. "But we're not going back to the room. They'll be watching it for sure. Good thing we kept our coin on us. I got a money belt and some savings."

  "I have about seventy dollars," answered the big man.

  "We should be able to buy guns, ammunition, and supplies, but we don't have enough for horses or wagons."

  "We can walk."

  "Men don't travel this country on foot," said Eddy, "unless it's a slow moving wagon train, and even then they ride more than walk."

  While Eddy and Lance were talking, a group of toughs, now working for Miss Lilly, touched the shore in two large rowboats. They pulled the boats up near the small skiff the escapees had used.

  "I heard something," whispered Lance.

  He turned and saw the thugs getting off the boats.

  "They've followed us," answered Fast Eddy. "Miss Lily probably offered a reward for our hides. A big one, I venture."

  Lance left the shore and ran for the cover of small trees and brush. The two crashed through the vegetation, making a terrific noise as it grabbed and tore at their clothing.

  "Let's run west, and then head north," said Fast Eddy. "They'll think we went south towards St. Louis."

  Lance led the way, and in the dark they stumbled over stones and vines. They must have been heard, because there came shouting voices from behind them.

  "They've got guns and knives," said Fast Eddy. "All we got is the clothes on our back."

  As quickly as they could, the two traveled north, following the course of the river. In the dark they would be hard to find and there was no possible way the hunting party could trail them. It wasn't long and the noise of the pursuers stopped. Lance whispered to Fast Eddy.

  "What do you think will happen?"

  "Those men won't give up. They'll find our tracks in the morning and follow."

  "Then we have to hide, or find a different way to travel."

  "It's worse than that," explained Fast Eddy. "Miss Lilly will make up some story how you killed Big Mississippi. She'll call in the law, offer a reward, and posters will be put up. They'll probably do the same with me. All up and down the river and all th
rough Missouri we'll be wanted men. We've got to go west and stay there."

  Chapter Four

  Katy sat on the wagon seat and beside her, snuggled close, was her son Johnny. Using both hands she held the long leather reins controlling the four mules. It was second nature to her now. For months she sat on the blanketed seat, bouncing along the worn trail, doing her best to avoid the deep ruts. Tanned by the sun, her face felt stiff and windburned. She hated having to use axle grease for her complexion; it was just one more hardship she endured.

  Her father was on his horse, riding ahead as he often did. Today he went hunting and said he would return with venison. Ever since leaving Illinois, her father had pushed, always anxious to reach the California gold fields as soon as possible. They had not rested, not once. The animals were thoroughly worn out. So much so that the mules were losing their strength and pulling less each day.

  Many times Peter Day's enthusiasm put them in danger. During a raging rainstorm near Fort Laramie, he forced the four wagons across the South Platte, and it was Katy's wagon that went last, with her son aboard. With each passing moment the river rose and began to turn into a raging rush of water. The torrent lifted the heavy wagon up off its wheels and it began to float sideways, dragging the mules with it. It happened that two of the party thought to use caution and be prepared. If it hadn't been for ropes and the quick thinking of her Uncle Clare and Frank Sparks, they would have disappeared in the rising flood.

  When on firm ground, in the pouring rain, Katy angrily confronted her father.

  "You nearly killed my son! You keep taking risks, you keep pushing us! We're exhausted, the animals are worn out. Look at them! Nearly skin and bone. Johnny and I aren't going any further until we rest."

  "I'm the leader of this party, and you'll do as I say, daughter," replied Peter Day.

  "That may be so, but I'm firm on this. You said Fort Laramie is near. When we reach it, we stop and stay as long as it takes. Long enough to buy proper supplies and rest our bodies and the mules. Weeks—if necessary."