Bloody Sunday (A John Stone Western--Book 11)

by Len Levinson

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Stone. You can rely on Dr. Horbach. And if you ever get shot, come see me. I vill take care of you too.”

  Stone counted a hundred dollars and handed it to the doctor. “If he gets better, give him this. Otherwise, make sure he gets a decent funeral.”

  Stone carried Muggs outside and lashed him to the back of the saddle. Dr. Horbach stood in his doorway and watched the fastest gun alive ride out of town. The white cocoon on the horse’s rump remained visible for a long time, then it too faded and disappeared in the endless dimensions of night.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Stone found a hill overlooking a stream and dug into the cold hard-packed ground at the top, the blade of his shovel clashing with rocks and misshapen chunks of long-lost dinosaurs. The first faint presence of sun appeared on the horizon.

  Stone kept hacking away, to keep Muggs from the buzzards. The exercise heated his blood; he removed his fringed buckskin jacket. By noon, the hole was chest deep. He climbed out, unwrapped Muggs, and looked at him for the last time. Crusted blood everywhere, snarl on his lips, the dog didn’t know the meaning of surrender. You were the best friend I ever had, never complained or made fun of me, never cheated or betrayed me, like friends I treated far better. A drop rolled from Stone’s eye as he gently lowered Muggs into the grave. I wish I could go back and give him a better life, instead of letting him fend for himself while I chased whiskey and women.

  Stone took a step backward and threw a West Point salute. His eyes blurred with tears as he covered Muggs with cool fresh earth. I hope we meet again someday in the Happy Hunting Ground.

  ~*~

  The light of dawn shone through the window of Eunice’s hotel room as she munched a slice of bread and examined the map on the table. She’d drawn it herself, with the schoolhouse and Mayor Blodgett’s home marked with Xs.

  She’d remained in her room most of the day, not wanting to attract attention, and wore a man’s clothes, her hair cut short. She looked like a cowboy beneath the voluminous shirt, but smooth cheeks and graceful hands belied her appearance.

  She had no profession, and the cribs awaited when her few dollars ran out. She pulled the gun from its holster and fidgeted nervously. Never liked firearms, they made too much noise, and consequently she never practiced much, but she’d watched her gunfighters shoot tin cans behind the kitchen. Cock the hammer, aim, and pull the trigger. It didn’t seem complicated.

  She tucked a derringer into her blouse, just in case. Gold-plated, inlaid with ebony, she’d never fired it, but her husband said it was lethal at close range.

  ~*~

  Leticia sang as she put on her coat and observed herself in the mirror on the second floor of the Blodgett home. Her eyes twinkled with delight, her future appeared magnificent. She couldn’t wait to see Lieutenant Daltry and tell him John Stone was out of the picture.

  They said he left town before dawn, with his dead dog. She tried not to think of the wonderful hours she spent in the gunfighter’s arms, because it happened long ago when she was young and impractical.

  She looked at the gun on the dresser, and debated whether to carry the heavy cumbersome hunk of iron. The range war’s over, so what’s the point? Then she recalled John Stone’s words. Don’t ever go anywhere without a gun.

  That was before. Ladies don’t carry guns. “Phooey on John Stone,” she said, tossing the gun into a drawer.

  ~*~

  The sun rose in the sky, and John Stone headed northeasterly toward the Black Hills. Clouds scudded across the steel-gray sky, and the temperature dropped steadily. Stone wished he had Muggs watching for injuns, but he’d have to do it himself.

  His eyes scanned hills, gullies, ravines, stands of forest, and even the grass itself, because injuns could hide themselves anywhere. Winter and hard times lay ahead, but he intended to keep moving steadily north, avoiding towns, ranches, and caves. I’d rather freeze in a snowdrift than see another saloon.

  He thought of Robert Spruance, aide-de-camp turned gun-fighter, and the strange twists and turns a life would take. If it hadn’t been for the flip of a coin, I’d be him, and he’d be on the trail. I hope he lives, and comes to the Black Hills. It’s all in the hands of God.

  In another month, I’ll be with the Sioux. Everybody’ll forget me, I hope. Let some other fool be the fastest gun alive.

  ~*~

  Leticia thought of running to the fort and saying good morning to her dashing cavalier, but decided there was no time. Instead, she rushed across the Blodgetts’ front yard and into the alley across the street, because she didn’t want to be late for school.

  She felt happy, optimistic, and excited about life. She’d have a handsome husband and a wonderful life. Someday I’ll write Papa and tell him what happened. He’ll have to accept it. I’m almost eighteen.

  When she was halfway through the alley, the figure of a man appeared at the far end. A flash of fear came over Leticia, but then she realized the range war was over, all the bad men gone.

  She breathed a sigh of relief as she continued down the alley. So many things to do. Design, supervise construction, and furnish new quarters for the commandant and his wife. Proceed with the education of the town’s children. Make wedding plans. Life seemed a long pleasant trail, with one fabulous event after another.

  The man came closer, and it didn’t appear that he’d make way for her–so she moved to the side. The man stopped, and looked strangely undeveloped. Leticia realized with a jolt that it was a woman in man’s clothes!

  “Do you know who I am?” the woman asked, drawing the gun from her pocket. “I’m Eunice Mulgrave, and I’m going to kill you.”

  The heavy gun wobbled in her hand, and Leticia didn’t hesitate. With the instincts of a mountain cat, she dived on Eunice, tore the gun out of her hand, and elbowed her in the mouth. Eunice found herself lying on the ground, while Leticia stood above her, gun in hand.

  Leticia’s heart pounded as she took a step backward, holding the gun steady on Eunice’s bust. “I’m sorry about your ranch, but I didn’t set fire to it, and I’m not really married to John Stone. I don’t know what you’re mad at me for.”

  I can outsmart her, Eunice thought desperately, and she forced a smile. “You might as well turn me over to the sheriff, and let them hang me.” Casually, she unbuttoned her coat.

  “You’re talking foolishly,” Leticia replied. “There’s lots of jobs. I didn’t have any trouble getting mine, and I didn’t have any experience either.”

  Eunice’s finger slipped into her shirt as Leticia tried to be helpful, like a good little girl. Eunice hated her as she closed her fingers around the handle of the derringer.

  “Perhaps you’re right,” Eunice said. “I could be a school-marm. Or teach young ladies how to ride horses. I’m so sorry I tried to kill you, but you see, I still haven’t forgiven your

  She pulled the derringer, and Leticia, who had never shot anybody in her life, recalled the resounding words of John Stone: Pull the trigger, and don’t even think about it.

  She followed instructions, the gun fired, and Eunice Mulgrave felt her breast explode. Shrieking, she dropped to her knees, as everything became murky before her eyes. She struggled to breathe and raise the derringer for another shot.

  Leticia pulled the trigger again, and the shot blew Eunice against the ground. Eunice gazed at the young warrior maiden who’d killed her, and the alley filled with armed townspeople. “It’s Mulgrave’s wife!”

  “Dead,” said Dr. Horbach.

  Leticia couldn’t feel the ground through her feet. The preacher placed his arm around her shoulders and led her out of the alley, while her fingers tightened around the warm gun in her pocket. “That son of a bitch was right,” she mumbled.

  “You say something?” the preacher inquired, trying to comfort her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Five riders left the Pierce ranch in early November, and began an arduous journey south. Old Man Winter blew his icy breath into the moun
tains, but the riders continued through sleet and snow. Sometimes they holed up for a few days until the trail cleared, and whenever they came to a town, Caleb bought them everything they wanted except whiskey, which they managed to acquire on their own.

  Love of his daughter and hatred of John Stone kept Caleb moving inexorably toward Woodlawn. He set his jaw and led his men over rocky trails and through tenebrous canyons. Some nights they stayed in fine hotels, but mostly slept in the open. They were hard men who never flinched at obstacles, and no one spoke of turning back.

  The journey became a sacred quest. Knights in cowboy hats, they’d rescue the young maiden, and the king would give them a fabulous reward. Night followed night, and great constellations spun in the starry heavens.

  Toward the end of the month, the proprietor of a remote stagecoach stop told them Woodlawn was dead ahead.

  ~*~

  In Woodlawn, hammers bashed nails into new construction, investment had increased steadily since the range war ended, and rumor said the Army would expand the detachment at Fort Lloyd into a full company, with a platoon of artillery. A telegraph line was sure to follow, and could the railroad be far behind?

  Mayor Blodgett planned a trip to Saint Louis, to argue the town’s cause with officials of the Union Pacific, but first needed more discussion with citizens, who’d foot the bill for the trip. He was on his way to a meeting with aldermen, when he spotted five strangers, with packhorses, riding down the middle of the street. His heart fell, because somehow they had the look of gunfighters, and he hoped Woodlawn wasn’t in for another reign of terror. Changing direction, he ran on stubby legs to the sheriff’s office.

  The new sheriff was Gomez, former ramrod of the Reynolds spread, and he lay on his cot, sleeping late after a night of patrolling saloons, and sampling too much of the bartenders’ wares. The mayor burst into the sheriff’s office, and Gomez leapt to his feet, whipping the gun from beneath the pillow.

  “Don’t shoot!” screamed the mayor, waving his arms. “We’ve got trouble! A bunch of hardcases just arrived in town, and you’ve got to get rid of them!”

  Gomez reached for his gunbelt, trying to wake up, and had a terrific hangover. The mayor glanced anxiously into the street. “Oh, my God – they’re headed in this direction!” Gomez tried to sit on the edge of his bunk, but missed and fell on the floor. He grabbed his boots and pulled them on, as a lean man with silver hair and bearded weather-beaten features entered the office, followed by four in similar condition.

  “I’m a-lookin’ fer a girl,” Caleb said, “and her name’s Leticia Pierce. She’s seventeen years old, about this tall. Ever know her?”

  Gomez sleepily buttoned his shirt out of line. “We only gots one Leticia een thees town, and that ees Leticia Stone, the school marm. What you want her for, senor?”

  “She’s my daughter,” Caleb said, “and I’m a-takin’ her home. Can you tell me whar I can find John Stone?”

  “Gone,” Gomez replied. “Long time ago. Prob’ly dead.”

  Mayor Blodgett decided it was time to step forward, and introduced himself. He shook Caleb’s hand as if campaigning for the next election. “What do you mean, take your daughter home?”

  “John Stone stole her from me, and I want her back.”

  “But she’s the schoolmarm of this town, and we need her. Besides, she’s getting married. Haven’t you heard?”

  Caleb leaned forward and snarled, “Married to who?”

  “Lieutenant Daltry, the commander of Fort Lloyd.” The mayor sidled closer and whispered, “They say his family is quite well off.”

  “That so?” Caleb’s brow furrowed with bewilderment. “Where’s she now?”

  “Teaching her students, where else? Let me tell you, sir, your daughter has been a godsend to this town. Why, I don’t know what we’d do without her. And she’s so smart, and pretty too. No wonder the lieutenant fell in love with her, and he’s quite a catch, you know. There’s many a father who wished his daughter might marry Lieutenant Daltry. Everybody says he’ll go a long way in the Army.”

  Caleb cocked an eye suspiciously. “Does Leticia teach the Good Book?”

  The mayor clasped his hands together. “Not only does she teach it, she also lives it. To my mind, she’s a fine example of a Christian woman, and you should be proud of her.”

  Caleb thought he’d rather spank her, but then heard footsteps on the sidewalk. The door opened, and Leticia stood there in her long blue coat, wearing a bonnet, her face wreathed with a smile. “I was at recess, and thought I saw you on the street! Oh, Daddy, please don’t be mad at me! I’ve missed you so very much!”

  She fell into his arms, and all he could do was hug his beloved little girl. A tear of thanksgiving came to Caleb’s eyes, and he patted her shoulder. “There, there, everything’s going to be just fine.”

  ~*~

  And sometimes in the dark of night, when she was about to pass into slumber, she thought of a lone cowboy on an endless plain, riding steadfastly into the frozen north country.

  And she remembered the strength of his body, and the sweet words he’d whispered into her ear, and the many things he’d taught her, and how he’d stolen her young heart away.

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