Frank was just about to say that he had nothing better to offer when the voice came from the scrubby pines at the base of the ridge. “Hello the camp. Are you folks all right?”
Startled, both brothers jumped, then craned their necks in an effort to see from where the call had originated. “Keep your eyes on those trees in front of us,” Jonah warned. “It might be a trick.” Then he called out, “Yeah, we’re all right. Who are you? Are you part of that gang?”
“My name’s Carson Ryan. I’m not part of any gang. There were three of them outlaws, but now there ain’t but one, but he’s the dangerous one.” He waited a few moments to see if they were going to tell him to come on in. When they didn’t, he asked, “All right if I come into your camp?”
“Whaddaya think, Frank?” Jonah asked.
“Well, he did shoot two of those outlaws and probably saved our bacon. I guess we can trust him, but keep your rifle handy and we’ll keep our eyes open. The first hint of trouble from him and we’ll cut him down. All right?” Frank nodded. “All right,” Jonah called. “Come on in.” Frank took a few steps closer to his wife to take a protective stance over her. They waited. Then after a few moments, a tall strapping figure walked out of the pine shadows leading a horse.
“Mister,” Jonah said, “you’re walking awful casual-like across that clearing. Ain’t you afraid you’ll get shot?”
“He’s gone,” Carson replied.
“What makes you think that?” Jonah asked.
“I saw him from the ridge back there, leading three horses toward the river. I can’t say for sure that he won’t be back for another try, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he figures it better to get rid of the horses first. He knows now that it’s just one of him against three of us.” He stopped short of the fire that had been abandoned when the first shots rang out. “Any coffee to spare in that pot there?”
“What?” Jonah blurted, still confused by the sudden appearance of the lone rifleman. “Coffee?” he echoed, and glanced quickly at Frank to see if he had any objection.
“I think you certainly earned it,” Nancy interrupted Jonah, who seemed to be having trouble with the proper response. “I’m sure we can spare some for someone who appears to have saved us from being murdered. If there’s none left, I’ll gladly make you a fresh pot.”
“I’d appreciate it, ma’am,” Carson said.
“Sure!” Frank suddenly bellowed after his wife put the situation in proper perspective. “Nancy’s right, you damn sure earned it, and something to eat to go with it.” He, like Jonah, had been befuddled by the unexpected help that had led to the routing of the outlaws attacking them.
“I’d settle for the cup of coffee,” Carson said. “There’s a few more things to take care of before I can think about eatin’.” He was thinking of the bodies of Swann and Tice lying on the other side of the creek, and the weapons and ammunition on them. “I’m gonna take a look in that bunch of pines, just to make sure Red Shirt didn’t double back, and I’ll drag those two bodies out of the clearin’. Ain’t no use for the lady to have to look at ’em when the sun comes up.”
“We can help you with that,” Frank immediately offered.
“Did you say Red Shirt?” Jonah asked. Carson nodded. Jonah turned to his brother then. “Ain’t that the name of that Indian who was raiding some of the claims near Custer? It was something like that, Red Shirt, or Red Wolf, or something. He was raiding the small claims, murdering the miners, scalping them.” He turned back to Carson then. “Are you saying that’s the same one who tried to attack us?”
“It’s the same man,” Carson replied.
“Well, glory be,” Jonah exclaimed, “I’m sure glad you came along when you did. How’d you happen to be here?”
Carson thought a moment before answering. Maybe it might not be best to tell them the truth, that he didn’t just happen along, that he had arrived with them. “Just luck, I reckon. I ain’t really headin’ on any certain trail, just ridin’ in the general direction of Montana.”
“Well, friend,” Frank chimed in, “you picked the right trail as far as we’re concerned, and we’re beholdin’ to you.” He paused when Nancy stepped up to hand Carson his cup of coffee. Then realizing it was overdue, he introduced his party. “My name’s Frank Thompson. The pretty one there is my wife, Nancy. The ugly one is my brother, Jonah. Welcome to our camp.”
“Thank you,” Carson said. “My name’s Carson. . . .” He paused when it struck him that he was still a wanted man, and maybe it would not be a good idea to tell them his last name. “Carson,” he repeated, “John Carson.”
“Well, pleased to meet you, John,” Jonah said. “I thought you said something else when you first came up, but to tell you the truth, my mind was kinda spinning at the time.”
“Sometimes I guess I mumble too much,” Carson said. No one seemed to make anything of the misunderstanding, judging by the expressions on the faces of Nancy and Frank, so he drank his coffee, then started to cross over the creek.
“We’ll help you with those bodies,” Frank volunteered again.
“Might be better if you let me take a look around over there first,” Carson replied, “just in case. I’ll give you a holler when I’m sure I wasn’t wrong about them all bein’ gone.” He stepped up in the saddle, having no actual concern about anyone’s safety at this point. His real purpose was to strip the bodies of weapons and ammunition. When he had been arrested, he had lost everything he owned, so he wanted to make sure he had plenty of ammunition for his Winchester, and hoped to trade the other weapons for supplies he was now without.
Frank shrugged. “All right, just give a holler when you’re ready.”
The bodies were lying approximately thirty yards apart. He dismounted when he came to the first one. It was Ed Tice. Looking as irritable and dyspeptic in death as he had looked when alive, Tice caused no feelings of guilt in Carson’s mind. The man had held no value for the lives of other human beings, male or female. Carson relieved him of his rifle and handgun and pulled a cartridge belt from his body. He was not interested in anything to be found in his pockets other than the small amount of cash. He then led his horse over to Orville Swann’s corpse.
Looking down at the relaxed features of the simple man, Carson felt the first hint of regret, and it struck him only then that he had killed two men. It could be easy to justify and say that he had done the world a favor, maybe even have saved lives that might have been their future victims. It did not cancel the fact that he had taken the lives of two human beings. That fact could never be reversed, no matter what happened from this point forward. Back on the darkened ridge, the two men had been nothing more than targets, and he hadn’t hesitated a moment to knock them down. As he looked now at the results of his marksmanship, they conveyed a sobering thought for him to deal with. He, too, was a killer, a murderer. It was not something that he could take lightly, no matter the guilt of those he had killed. It had to be done, he thought. Those innocent folks might have been killed if I hadn’t. There had been no choice left to him, and right or wrong, the boy in Carson Ryan also died on this fateful night.
He took Swann’s weapons and cartridges and tied them on his saddlebags with Tice’s. I’ll have to come up with a better way to carry these, he thought as he led the bay toward the trees where the other horses had been. The packhorse would be sorely missed. He didn’t know what he expected to find, but he scouted the woods anyway. When he was sure there was nothing there, he called out to Frank that it was all right to come for the bodies.
“Be right there,” Frank called back, but before crossing the creek, he paused to confer with Jonah and Nancy. “Whaddaya think about this fellow? You reckon he’s got any tricks up his sleeve?” He was especially concerned for his wife, who was still visibly shaken by the events that had occurred on this night, even though she had done her best to appear in control.
“I d
on’t know,” Jonah replied, making an effort to keep his voice down. “He just showed up out of the blue and says he ain’t going anywhere in particular. But, hell, he seems like a nice enough young fellow. Wouldn’t hurt to have him ride along with us, as handy as he is with that rifle, especially if that devil Red Shirt decides to get on our trail. That is, if he ain’t got anything up his sleeve.”
“He’s got an honest face,” Nancy remarked. “I think he’ll be all right.”
“All right,” Jonah decided. “We’ll see what he says about traveling with us. Heck, if he had murdering us in mind, he could have shot us in the creek when he was shooting those two in the clearing. Let’s go, Frank.”
* * *
It didn’t take long to dispose of the two bodies lying in the clearing. When they had been dragged away into the pines, the three men returned to the camp, where Nancy had built the fire up again. There were a few hours left before sunrise, but there was very little sleep in the waning darkness except for Carson. He was tired and still felt the weight of his conscience, but he was secure in the belief that he had nothing to fear from these people. As for the two brothers and the woman, sleep was out of the question. They had heard of the atrocities carried out by Indians and outlaws in the Black Hills, but this was their first exposure to it personally. The experience tended to convince them that extra protection would be a very good thing, considering the distance they had to cover. All three tried to sleep, but soon gave it up, Nancy first, and then one by one they joined her sitting by the fire where they talked in hushed tones until the sun rose above the distant hills. When Carson threw his blanket back and walked downstream to take care of nature’s business, the Thompson family roused themselves to get ready for the new day.
While the men saddled the horses and loaded the packs, Nancy prepared breakfast. Nothing had been said to Carson concerning a parting of the ways, so Jonah broached the subject. “What are you figuring on doing now, John?”
His attention concentrated primarily on the cup of fresh coffee in his hand, Carson did not respond immediately, until he glanced up to find Jonah waiting for a response. Realizing then that the question had been aimed at him, he silently reminded himself that his new name was John. “I was just thinkin’ about that. I reckon I’ll just set out for Montana country again.”
“Sounds like we’re all heading in the same direction,” Jonah commented. “It might work out for all of us if we traveled together. It would be handy to have you and that rifle of yours along with us, and it would be handy for you to have somebody to do your cooking. And three guns are better than two. That’s for sure.” He gestured toward Carson’s horse. “We’ve got two packhorses, so maybe we could carry some of those extra weapons for you, too. Whaddaya think?”
Carson glanced at Frank and Nancy, who had both paused to hear his response. From their expressions, he could see that they were in favor of it. “It might be a good thing at that,” he replied, “if you folks are sure you can put up with me.” He saw smiles on all three faces. “I don’t have any supplies to amount to much. I lost my packhorse in a river crossin’ on the way up from Texas,” he lied. “But I’m a pretty good hunter. Maybe I can supply us with some fresh meat.” He shrugged apologetically. “About those extra guns and such, I was fixin’ to ask you if you needed to trade for any of ’em. There’s a couple of good Winchester ’73s there.”
“I might wanna take a look at one of ’em at that,” Frank said. “I got a better chance of hitting something with my shotgun, though.”
After a night that had threatened disaster, the Montana party set out with a new sense of optimism. Even though their new member was younger by half than Jonah, he presented himself as quite capable and obviously more experienced in life on horseback. As Nancy had fittingly expressed to her husband, “When John gets on his horse, it seems like the horse just becomes a part of him.” When they came to a small creek in the middle of the day, they decided it was a good place to rest the horses and fix the midday meal. While the men waited for Nancy to cook the bacon and beans, Carson took the opportunity to learn a little more about the party he was now riding with.
“I’ve been tryin’ to figure out how you folks happened to be in the Black Hills, and why you’re headin’ to Montana.”
“To tell you the truth,” Jonah offered, “we started out for Montana, but we got a wild notion to see if first we could strike it rich with the other dreamers that rushed to the Black Hills.” He went on to explain that they were going to join Nancy’s father near Big Timber, and hopefully help him expand an already sizable cattle ranch. But when they had reached Fort Laramie, there was so much talk about the mining prospects near Custer and Deadwood that they decided to wire Nancy’s father and tell him they were going to join the gold rush in hopes of providing a bigger investment in the ranch.
“He wired back and said we were crazy,” Frank chimed in. He looked at Nancy and laughed. “He thinks Nancy married a crazy man, anyway, so it didn’t matter much to me what he thought about our gold digging.”
“Oh, he doesn’t think you’re crazy,” Nancy protested.
“Well, anyway,” Jonah went on, “that’s how we ended up near Custer. We didn’t make any investment money, but we made grub money, and so far, we’ve still got our hair. How about you, John, how do you happen to be here?”
Carson shrugged, reluctant to say much to avoid making statements that might end up contradicting earlier remarks. “Like I said, I came up from Texas with a herd of cattle. We dropped ’em off in Ogallala and I came on up this way, figurin’ on goin’ to Montana.”
“Why are you going to Montana?” Nancy asked.
“’Cause I ain’t ever been there,” he answered, just as he had answered Duke Slayton when Slayton asked him the same question. In truth, Carson could not really say why he wanted to go to Montana Territory. It was a calling inside him, as if he were going home, even though he had never been there. There was a deep need to see the vast plains of rich bunchgrass, and a natural desire to feel the mystique of the rugged mountains that reach all the way up to heaven’s backyard. These were the reasons he wanted to go to Montana, but he could not put them in words.
“Do you have family in Texas?” Nancy wanted to know.
“No, ma’am, not anymore. They’re all gone.”
“Oh,” she responded, sensing that he didn’t care to volunteer any additional information. He was an interesting young man, she decided, and she suspected he was a lot more complicated than the simple facade he presented. “You might find Big Timber a good place for you, since you’ve worked with cattle before. My father has a large ranch, and he might need someone with experience.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Carson replied. “I know how to run cattle. That’s about all I know how to do.” He had one more question that had puzzled him since he joined them. “How far is Big Timber from here?”
“I don’t know for sure,” Jonah answered. “But I’d guess about three hundred miles, maybe a little more.”
“And you know how to get there?”
“Near enough,” Jonah replied. “I went out there with Mathew Cain, that’s Nancy’s father, when he got his first herd up there. That was the only time I’ve been there, and that was a couple of years ago. We went up the old Bozeman Trail that time and it was still a little bit risky, what with the Sioux and the Cheyenne on the warpath. It ought to be a whole lot quieter now since the army’s taken care of that.”
“If you went up the Bozeman,” Carson said, still uncertain, “you musta gone through Fort Laramie.”
“That’s right, we did. But I’m pretty sure we can still head northwest and eventually strike the trail up to the Yellowstone. And once we get there, it’s just a simple matter to follow it to Big Timber.”
Carson nodded thoughtfully. Well, he thought, I wanted to see the country. I might see a hell of a lot more of it than I’d planned. He had no
real concerns, however. He figured that if they got lost, they could always head straight north until they struck the Yellowstone.
* * *
A little before noon on the third day, they reached the Belle Fourche River. The horses were showing signs of fatigue, so much so that Jonah thought it best to camp there the rest of the day and start out again in the morning. Carson was not surprised. While his bay was still fresh, the horses Frank and Jonah rode were of poor quality in comparison. It caused him to wonder if the brothers knew any more about cattle than they did about horses—or panning for gold, for that matter. The delay was of little consequence to him, however. He was in no particular hurry, as long as they reached Big Timber before heavy snows set in. Besides that, he welcomed the opportunity to do a little hunting. He was already craving a change from the steady diet of bacon, and he had noticed deer sign along the trail into the river. So after he had given the brothers a hand with the horses, he rode off up the river to test his luck.
There was a feast that night of roasted venison and, since she had plenty of time to make them, fresh biscuits to go with it. It was a welcome change of diet for everyone. In fact, it was the first time that Nancy had ever eaten venison, a fact that left Carson shaking his head in wonder. “She always said that deer were too pretty to kill and eat,” Frank said. “She most likely wouldn’t be eating right now if she had watched you kill it and do the butchering.” She pretended to give him a stern look as she sliced off another portion for herself.
It was an enjoyable evening for Carson as well as the Thompsons. He almost felt like one of the family, and thoughts of Duke Slayton and his gang of outlaws and Red Shirt and the others were left behind. The future looked promising with notions of working with Jonah and Frank in the cattle business. He decided that meeting up with them was a genuine stroke of good luck.
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