Nathan stretched her out, belly-down, across the bed. He then rubbed sulfur salve into all her saddle sores, while she groaned. But after being out of the saddle for a while, the salve soothed her sores enough so that she could sit down and enjoy supper. When it was time to turn in for the night, Nathan again applied sulfur salve.
“I’m not going to be good company tonight,” she said.
“I’m not expecting you to be,” said Nathan. “I’ve never seen so many saddle sores at one time, in the same place. Most folks get used to it, after a day or two, but before we ride out of here, I’ll get two more tins of sulfur salve.”
“I’ve never had anybody fuss over me like this,” she said. “I was twenty-four before I was with men, and I can’t imagine any of them caring enough to rub salve into my sore behind.”
“They might have if you had been riddled with saddle sores,” said Nathan, “because you wouldn’t have been able to lie on your back.”
She stiffened, and it took a moment for Nathan to realize what he had implied.
“I’m sorry, Vivian. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Why not? It’s true. A whore makes her living on her back.”
“Damn it,” Nathan shouted, “you said you were putting all that behind you. If I’m not thinking of you in that light, why must you think of yourself that way?”
“I don’t know,” she sobbed. “You’ve been decent to me since the day I met you, and I suppose I ... I just don’t feel deserving of it.”
“Then you need to rid yourself of that feeling before you face your brother,” Nathan said, “unless you’re prepared to tell him all you’ve told me.”
“Oh, God,” she cried, “I could never do that. Harley has always been so fiercely and unwaveringly proud; if he didn’t kill me, he’d disown me.”
“Then Harley has some growing up to do,” said Nathan. “My little sister was raped and murdered by renegades when she was just sixteen, while I was with the Confederacy. If she had managed to stay alive, I wouldn’t care what she had done, she would still be my sister.”
“When we find Harley—if we find him—I hope you’ll stay with us for a while. He’s in need of a friend, unless things have changed since I last saw him.”
“I reckon I’ll be around for a spell,” Nathan said. “I haven’t seen Bill Hickok in a long time. There was an unfortunate incident in 1871, when he shot and killed his own deputy, and as far as I know, he hasn’t worn a lawman’s star since. Bill’s a hard drinker, and I get the feeling he may be nearing the end of the trail.”
Despite the sulfur salve, Vivian was stiff and sore when it was time to mount up and leave Hays. Nathan helped her to mount, and she groaned as she settled into the saddle. He stopped often, presumably to rest the horses, but mostly to allow the girl to dismount and walk out some of her misery.
“God,” she said, as they approached a swift-running creek, “if it wasn’t February, I’d strip and jump in there.”
“The wind’s out of the northwest,” said Nathan, “and by dark, it’ll be downright cold. The next town will be North Platte, Nebraska, if my memory serves me right. It’s maybe a hundred and seventy miles north. There we’ll have us a bed for the night, and a chance to replenish our grub. If you do a lot of riding on the frontier, you have to develop a taste for beans, bacon, and coffee. There won’t be much else, unless you take along a packhorse.”
“Until my backside gets used to this saddle,” she said, “everything else takes second place, including food.”
Despite Vivian’s difficulties, Nathan estimated that their first day out of Hays, they had covered seventy miles. They made their camp near a spring, on the lee side of a hill, out of reach of the chill night wind. They remained dressed except for their hats and boots, combining their blankets for extra warmth.
North Platte, Nebraska. February 8, 1876
North Platte was strictly a railroad town, owning its very existence and its survival to the Union Pacific. A westbound was departing as they rode into town.
“We’ll find a livery and have the horses seen to,” Nathan said. “No larger than North Platte is, we can walk to the hotel and the cafes.”
“I’ll be glad to walk,” said Vivian, “if my legs still work. Let’s find the hotel first. I may just forget all about eating.”
But after resting, she changed her mind, as her misery had begun to subside. Reaching a cafe, Nathan arranged to have Empty fed. Being strangers in town, Nathan and Vivian drew some attention, most of it unwelcome. A man got up from a nearby table and approached. He was gray haired and wore town clothes, including a tie and boiled shirt.
“I’m Bradford Scott,” he said, “editor of the North Platte Journal, and I never forget a face. Haven’t I met you before?”
“No,” said Nathan shortly.
“Ah,” Scott said triumphantly, “now I remember. An etching in the Kansas City Liberty-Tribune. You’re Nathan Stone, the gunfighter.”
“I’m Nathan Stone,” said Nathan coldly, “and I don’t claim any titles.”
“Ah, but you should,” Scott said. “You’re a legend on the frontier. Tell me something I can print. Anything.”
“All newspapermen worry the hell out of folks who only want to be left alone,” said Nathan. “Now, vamoose, damn it.”
The rest of the patrons in the cafe had heard, and they all laughed. Except for one rider who had a Colt thonged to his right hip. He finished his coffee and left the cafe, but lingered outside, near the corner of the building. He waited until Nathan and Vivian left the cafe, and then issued his challenge.
“Nathan Stone, I’m callin’ you out.”
“Not until the lady returns to the cafe,” said Nathan.
“No,” Vivian cried, “no.”
“Back to the cafe,” said Nathan, his voice cold and brittle. “Now.”
She obeyed, standing behind the door so that she could see through the glass pane.
Nathan’s eyes never left those of his adversary, for they would warn him when the deadly moment arrived. Nathan judged him to be maybe nineteen. Maybe not even that.
“You’re a fool, boy.”
“I’m not a boy, damn you,” the kid snarled. “I aim to beat you.”
“When you’re ready, then,” Nathan said.
Nathan waited until the last possible second to draw, and his hand didn’t move until the kid had cleared leather. Nathan fired once, and the kid stumbled backward. His Colt roared, the slug kicking up dust at his feet. For an agonized second, he seemed suspended, on his young face a look of surprise. Then he folded like an empty sack, his pistol still clutched in his hand. Swiftly Nathan ejected the spent shell from his Colt, reloading the empty chamber. In an instant, Vivian was by his side, weeping. Everybody, including the cook, spilled out of the cafe.
“Is there a sheriff in town?” Nathan asked.
“Otis Babcock,” somebody said. “Here he comes now.”
Babcock looked at the dead man and then at Nathan. Nathan said nothing, waiting.
“Who the hell started this?” Babcock demanded.
“The kid,” they all responded in a single voice. “He drew first.”
“Self-defense, then,” said Babcock, turning on Nathan.
“Yes,” Nathan said. “He pushed it.”
“I reckon I can’t contest that, but I want you out of here, just as quick as you’re able to saddle up and ride. You’re bad medicine.”
“I’m also minding my own business and I have a room at the hotel,” said Nathan. “I’ve broken no law, and I’ll be here for the night. Now, if you have another hombre aiming to gain himself a reputation at my expense, you can talk some sense into him or measure him for a pine box.”
With that, he took Vivian’s arm and hustled her toward the hotel. Empty brought up the rear, knowing there had been trouble, not trusting these strangers. Most of those who had witnessed the gunfight were relating the details to those who had missed it. Scott, the newspaper editor,
was in his glory. Nathan and Vivian reached the hotel, and when they were safely in their room, Nathan locked the door.
“My God,” Vivian cried, “what did he have against you? What had you done to him?”
“Nothing,” said Nathan. “He wanted to prove his gun was faster than mine.”
“But he was only a boy.”
“A boy with a gun,” Nathan said.
“That wasn’t the first time, was it?”
“No,” said Nathan, “and it won’t be the last. Not until I come up against the hombre whose gun is faster than mine.”
“You’re living in the very shadow of death.”
“I reckon,” he said, “but it’s better than the alternative.”
The wind had risen, and sleet rattled against the windowpanes. Nathan hadn’t lighted the lamp, and he went to the window and looked out. Dirty gray clouds had moved in and the blackness of the night attested to the lack of moon and stars.
“There’ll be snow before morning, Vivian. Unwelcome as I am in this town, I don’t aim to ride out in a blizzard. Winter can be hell on the high plains, with the temperature dropping to forty below zero. We’ll just have to make the best of it. Let’s begin by getting to bed before it turns colder.”
The storm struck with a vengeance during the night, and by morning, the snow and the cold had an icy grip on the high plains. The wind howled mournfully.
“God, it’s cold in here,” said Vivian. “My ears are like ice.”
“Imagine what it’s like outside,” Nathan said.
“I don’t want to think about it. Let’s just stay here.”
“We can’t,” said Nathan. “We have to eat, and Empty needs to go outside.”
“So do I,” she said, “but I’m not baring my behind in this kind of cold.”
“There’s the chamber pot,” said Nathan. “That’s the best you’re likely to get, unless you aim to fight your way to the outhouse.”
“I’ll take the pot,” she said, “and blizzard or not, I’m hungry. Besides, your poor dog is miserable. He wants out.”
“Won’t do him much good,” said Nathan. “I look for the snow to be so deep, he can’t hoist a leg.”
The snow was deep, and it would be drifted much deeper at higher elevations. In the mountainous Dakota Territory, a horse wouldn’t stand a chance. A path had been shoveled from the hotel to the outhouse and from the hotel to the cafe across the street. The wind swept in from the west, bringing with it more snow. The stove in the cafe roared, while a fire crackled in the fireplace. There was an enormous coffeepot, and one of the cooks made the rounds, refilling tin cups. One of the cooks who had fed Empty paused to speak to Nathan.
“Maybe I’m out of line, but there’s some things you should know. The kid that forced the fight yesterday was Dobie Sutton. He’s got two brothers, Dal and Dent, and there’s their Ma, Subrina. They’re the kind, if you cut one, they all bleed. They’re hell on wheels, the lot of ‘em. That’s why Sheriff Babcock wanted you out of town. The rest of ’em will likely be after you.”
“I’m obliged,” said Nathan.
“God,” Vivian said, “you only defended yourself. Can’t the sheriff protect you from the others?”
“No,” said Nathan, “and I don’t expect him to. The law offers no protection, because these family clans are devilishly persistent, and they’re all alike. Hurt one, and you have to fight the rest of them. You never know where the next bullet is coming from.”
“If it wasn’t for this damn blizzard, we could just ride on.”
“Hell, it does me no good to ride on,” Nathan said. “If there’s settling to be done, I’d as soon settle it here. We’ll wait out this storm right here in the hotel, and if this Sutton bunch wants my hide, they’re welcome to try and take it. But I don’t want you near me, out in the open. You’ll cross to the cafe first, and I’ll follow. When we’re done, you’ll go on across to the hotel, and I’ll follow.”
“I don’t like it,” she said. “Get me a gun and I’ll stay with you.”
“No,” said Nathan. “I’m obliged to you for feeling that way, but I won’t have them shoot you, trying to get to me.”
When they were ready to leave the cafe, Nathan sent Vivian out first. She crossed to the hotel, and with Empty at his heels, Nathan followed. Visibility was poor, with the wind-whipped snow, and nothing happened. Nathan and Vivian took to the bed for warmth. They would take only breakfast and supper as long as they remained in North Platte. In the late afternoon there came a knock on their door. Nathan cocked one of his Colts and then issued a challenge.
“Who’s there?”
“Otis Babcock. I want to talk to you.”
“I can’t see that we have anything to talk about,” Nathan said. “I’m going nowhere until this storm blows itself out.”
“I don’t expect you to,” said Babcock, “and that’s not what I want to talk about. I’ll wait in the lobby, so as not to disturb your missus.”
“Damn it,” Nathan said. “I’ll have to go talk to him.”
He got up, and with chattering teeth, got into his clothes. He stomped into his boots, strapped on his guns, and shrugged into his coat. Closing the door behind him, he made his way to the hotel lobby. A red-hot stove roared, and there Babcock waited. Nathan took a chair with his back to the wall, waiting for Babcock to speak. He did.
“I reckon you think I’m just an ornery old mossyhorn that likes to make it hard on folks, but that ain’t the case. I got to live here, and it’s a mite easier when there’s nobody shootin’ or bein’ shot. In case you ain’t found out, the Sutton kid you salted down is the youngest of three brothers. Dal and Dent is as bad or worse than Dobie was, while their Ma, old Subrina, is a ring-tailed wampus kitty. She carries a double barrel, sawed-off scattergun that’d drop a moose.”
“I’ve heard most of that,” said Nathan. “What are you leading up to?”
“For your own protection, until this storm blows over and you can leave town, I want to lock you up.”
“I appreciate your concern, Sheriff, but I can protect myself. Put me behind bars, and I’d be fair game. Let me remind you that when I gunned down Dobie Sutton, he was about to shoot me. If you’re so concerned with keeping the peace, I have a suggestion. Just lock up the Suttons until I’m gone.”
“That’s impossible,” said Babcock.
“Then allow me to suggest something,” Nathan said. “You go to the Suttons. Tell them I’m not going to be pushed around. If they come after me—one at a time or all at once—I’ll defend myself. And I’ll make you this promise, Sheriff. I’ll not harm a one of them, unless I’m forced to. If they come shooting, I’ll shoot back, and I don’t miss.”
Sheriff Babcock sighed. “That’s your last word?”
“It is,” said Nathan. “You keep that bunch away from me, and there’ll be no trouble.”
He turned away, and when he returned to his room, the door was standing open and Vivian was gone. He reached the lobby just as Babcock was about to leave.
“Damn you,” Nathan shouted, seizing the sheriff by the shirtfront. “Vivian’s gone. You lured me away so they could take her.”
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Babcock said. “If they took her, it wasn’t my doing. Come on, I’ll help you find her. With all this snow, there’ll be tracks.”
The sky was still overcast and gray, and the storm wasn’t over, but the snow had dwindled to a few flurries. There were two sets of footprints leading from the back door of the hotel. Deep as the snow was, the abductors had brought horses, and their tracks were easily followed. Few had ventured out into the snow, and it soon became obvious the trail was leading away from town.
“By God,” said Babcock, “there ain’t nothin’ up this way but the railroad depot.”
“I reckon it has a stove,” Nathan said. “All they need is a place to hole up just long enough to force me out into the open. Then they’ll offer to swap Vivian for me.”
�
��You don’t have to agree to that,” said Babcock. “If they harm the woman, they’ll be breaking the law.”
“Sheriff, before this day’s done, you’re goin’ to learn that some folks have no respect for the law. Get in the way, and this bunch will shoot you as quick as they’ll shoot me.”
Almost immediately a Winchester cut loose and a slug sang over their heads. From the depot came a taunting voice.
“You’re in bad company, Sheriff. This ain’t your fight. Get on back to town.”
“You Suttons pay attention,” Sheriff Babcock shouted. “You have a woman in there who’s done nothing to you. Let her go, or I’m placing you all under arrest.”
“Not by a jugful,” the voice shouted. “We want the bastard that gunned down Dobie, and when we get him, we turn his woman loose.”
“Dobie was gunned down in a fair fight, a fight that he started,” Sheriff Babcock shouted, “and I’ll have no more shooting as a result of that. You’re breaking the law.”
“You got just five minutes to start that gun-thrower walkin’ this way,” the voice shouted in response. “You don’t, then we’ll strip this little gal an’ do some interesting things with her.”
“Subrina Sutton,” Sheriff Babcock shouted, “are you in there?”
“I’m here,” she replied.
“You and your sons are breaking the law,” Babcock shouted. “This is your last chance to back off and come out of it clean.”
“You heard our terms,” Subrina shouted back. “You send us that killer, and we’ll turn the woman loose.”
“I’ll come,” Nathan shouted, “but only if Dal and Dent have the sand to face me. Dobie was a shorthorn, full of brag, but not a grain of sand in his craw. I’m guessing it runs in the family, that his two big brothers are all mouth. Am I right?”
“Hell, no,” a voice bawled. “Start walkin’. We’re comin’.”
“My God,” said Babcock, “you’re not going to face them both?”
The Killing Season Page 44