Montana Gundown

by William W. Johnstone

  Frank shook his head. “Sorry. We’re just passing through.”

  “If you change your mind, the headquarters of the B Star can be found at the eastern end of the valley.” Baldridge nodded politely. “Good day to you, sir.”

  He left the café. When the door was closed behind Baldridge, the marshal said, “Don’t let the way he looks and talks fool you, mister. Gaius Baldridge was the first white man to settle in this valley. He’s fought Indians, rustlers, and Montana winters for a long time, and he’s plenty tough. My name’s Trask, by the way. Roy Trask.”

  “This is Salty Stevens,” Frank said with a nod toward the old-timer. “My name’s Frank ... Browning.”

  He hoped Trask hadn’t noticed the slight hesitation, or thought anything about it if he did. Frank had decided on the spur of the moment that it would be wise to conceal his true identity, and he’d come out with the first name that sprang to mind, that of the woman he had once loved and of the son she had given him.

  Appropriate, he thought, since for the time being he didn’t want that hired gunman who might also be his son to know who he really was.

  “What did you do to get on Brady Morgan’s bad side?” Trask asked.

  “Poked our noses into somethin’ that didn’t concern us,” Salty answered.

  “Morgan and more than a dozen other men were trying to kill Hal Embry and some Boxed E hands while they were on Boxed E range,” Frank elaborated. “We happened to be riding through there, saw what was going on, and pitched in to give Embry and his punchers a hand.”

  “Yeah, I reckon that’d do it, all right,” Trask said. “Baldridge keeps Morgan on a pretty tight rein here in town, or at least tries to, but everywhere else in the valley, Morgan seems to think he’s a law unto himself.” The marshal grunted. “He’s just about right, too.” He straightened and went on, “You say you’re just passing through?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Probably a good thing for you to keep moving, then, as soon as you finish that food.”

  “It’s gone cold by now,” Salty complained.

  “I’ll get you some food that’s hot,” Katie offered.

  “We’d be obliged to you, Miss Storm,” Frank said.

  “Remember what I said about moving on,” Trask advised.

  “We’re not likely to forget,” Frank told him.

  But they might not be following that advice, either, he thought.

  Chapter 6

  Katie offered Marshal Trask a cup of coffee, and the lawman accepted.

  “Might be a good idea for me to stay here while you fellas finish your dinner,” he said as he settled onto the stool to Salty’s right. Frank had sat down again already on the stool to the old-timer’s left. “Morgan and the others are probably on their way back to the B Star with Baldridge by now, but it never hurts to be careful.”

  Katie poured the coffee for Trask, then pushed open the kitchen door and said, “Solomon, I need a couple more plates out here.”

  “I heard, I heard,” came the quarrelsome reply. “Just gimme a minute.”

  Trask nodded toward the kitchen and asked, “Did you meet Solomon?”

  “We did,” Frank said.

  “His bark’s worse’n his bite, as the old saying goes. He’s really a pretty nice fella.”

  “That’s what I told them,” Katie said. She took away the plates with the cold food and replaced them with fresh meals a few minutes later.

  As they dug in, Frank leaned forward to look past Salty at Marshal Trask and said, “What’s behind all the trouble between these two ranches, anyway?”

  Trask blew on his coffee for a few seconds before asking, “And what business of yours would that be, Mr. Browning?”

  “Well, since Salty and I got shot at once today because of it and nearly did a second time, I figure that gives us a right to know what it’s all about.”

  “You could have a point there,” Trask said, nodding slowly. “Like I told you, Gaius Baldridge was the first white man in this valley. The first one who came to stay, anyway. Reckon there were probably a lot of explorers and fur trappers who passed through here, back in the Shining Times. But Baldridge came and started a ranch. The place didn’t even have a name at first, because there wasn’t any need for one, or for brands on his cattle. All the cows in this valley belonged to Gaius Baldridge.”

  “Then Jubal Embry came in and started his ranch,” Frank guessed.

  “That’s right. From what I hear—because I wasn’t around these parts then—Baldridge wasn’t too happy about it, but he figured there was enough range for both of them. They weren’t what anybody would call friends, but they got along all right. They even closed ranks now and then and worked together to keep out anybody who wanted to come in and start a smaller spread.”

  “But that all changed when Embry filed on the half of the valley west of Loco Creek.”

  Trask frowned at Frank and said, “How come you asked me about this when you seem to have all the facts already?”

  “I don’t know all of it,” Frank said. “Brady Morgan said that the claim Embry filed was no good.”

  “That’s what Baldridge’s lawyer down in Helena says. Accordin’ to him, when Embry filled out the paperwork, he got some of it wrong. Of course it was really Embry’s girl Faye who filled out the papers, more than likely, or at least told Embry what to put on them. That girl’s got plenty of smarts.”

  “So I’m guessing Baldridge filed a counterclaim on the western half of the valley, and now the whole thing is waiting for a judge to come along and straighten it out.”

  “That pretty much sums it up,” Trask agreed. “Except Baldridge has gotten impatient and brought in Brady Morgan and some other men who don’t have any rope burns on their hands, if you know what I mean.”

  Frank knew exactly what the lawman meant. Brady Morgan and his men hadn’t been hired because of their skills as cowboys.

  They had been hired for gun work.

  “I don’t know who’s right and who’s wrong,” Trask went on. “All I know about the law is how to enforce the town ordinances. I don’t mind tellin’ you, though, I’m not real happy about Baldridge bringing in regulators. Sooner or later there’s gonna be bloodshed, and I don’t want it in my town.”

  “Can’t blame you for that,” Salty said. “Why don’t you send for the sheriff or the deputy U.S. marshal and let him keep the peace in the valley?”

  Trask said, “The folks down in Helena know what’s going on up here. You’d have to ask them why nobody’s done anything about it yet.”

  “I never heard of this Brady Morgan,” Frank said. “Has he got a reputation?”

  “As a fast gun, you mean? Well, sure. He’s the son of Frank Morgan, after all. You’re bound to have heard of him. The gunfighter they call the Drifter?”

  “I’ve heard some about him,” Frank said, nodding.

  “Brady inherited Morgan’s speed with a gun, I guess. He’s killed several men in fair fights. I don’t know exactly how many. And the men he brought in with him still have all the bark on ’em, too.” Trask shook his head. “Nobody on the Boxed E can match up to that bunch when it comes to gunfighting. What I worry about is that Jubal Embry will bring in some hired killers of his own, and then it’ll be outright war. Not much doubt about that.”

  Katie Storm had been moving around some behind the counter, doing this and that, but she stopped across from the three men and said, “Marshal, don’t be so gloomy. Hal will figure out a way to keep things from getting that bad.”

  “I know you’d like to think so, Katie. So would I. But I’m not sure it’s gonna happen that way.” Trask swallowed the last of his coffee and set the empty cup on its saucer. He started to reach into his pocket, saying, “I’d be glad to pay you—”

  “Not for coffee,” Katie said. “It’s on the house.”

  “In that case, I’m obliged to you.” Trask grunted as he hauled his heavy carcass off the stool. He picked up the shotgun he had se
t down on the counter and looked at Frank and Salty. “I don’t mean to be inhospitable, but I really would like for you fellas to be out of town by sundown.”

  “Oh, no, ain’t nothin’ inhospitable about that,” Salty said in a tone dripping with sarcasm.

  Trask grinned. He nodded to Katie, touched a finger to the brim of his hat, and left the Feed Barn the same way he had entered, by the back door.

  Frank and Salty were the only customers in the place now. The ones who had fled earlier from the impending gunfight hadn’t come back.

  “Looks like we cost you some business,” Frank said as he glanced around the place.

  Katie shook her head. “Don’t worry about that,” she said. “When it gets closer to suppertime, they’ll be back.”

  “After eatin’ your uncle’s food, I would be, too, if I had my druthers,” Salty said. He used the last bite of a biscuit to mop up the remaining gravy from the pot roast and popped the succulent morsel into his mouth. Around it he said, “But we just got run out of town by the marshal.”

  “I thought you wanted to ride on anyway,” Frank said.

  “I did. I do. I ain’t in the market for trouble. But this food is mighty good.”

  Katie smiled. “I’ll be sure to tell Solomon that you liked it.”

  Frank was thinking about several things she had said. He commented, “From the sound of what you told the marshal, you and Hal Embry are acquainted.”

  A faint flush appeared on Katie’s face, confirming Frank’s hunch.

  “No offense, Mr. Browning, but who I’m acquainted with isn’t any of your affair, is it?”

  Frank smiled and shook his head. “No, ma’am, it certainly isn’t. But from what I’ve seen of him, he seems like a fine young fella.”

  “He is. He just doesn’t need to always let his father and his sister tell him what to—” She stopped short and shook her head. “Never mind. That’s—”

  “None of my affair,” Frank finished for her.

  After a moment, she said, “I’m sorry I misjudged you earlier, when I thought you were here in Pine Knob to hire on with Baldridge. I didn’t know you’d already had trouble with Brady Morgan.”

  Frank sipped his coffee and then said, “No way you could have known. And I’m sorry there was almost blood all over your floor and bullet holes in your walls.”

  She laughed. “When you put it that way, I feel guilty. I just didn’t want anybody getting hurt.”

  “Don’t blame you for that.” Frank reached in his pocket. “We’d better settle up. We owe you for four meals.”

  “You only ate two.”

  “Yeah, but it wasn’t your fault the first two went to waste.” Frank slid a ten-dollar gold piece across the counter. “Is that enough to cover it?”

  Katie’s eyes widened for a second before she controlled the reaction. “More than enough,” she said. “That’s too generous, Mr. Browning.”

  “Well, I thought maybe I ought to pay for the marshal’s coffee, too, since I had something to do with him being here in the first place.”

  “Even so ...” Katie shook her head. “It’s not going to do any good to argue with you, is it?”

  Salty said, “It never does me a blasted bit of good.”

  She picked up the coin and said, “All right, then. Thank you, Mr. Browning.”

  “You’re welcome,” Frank told her as he stood up.

  Money didn’t mean much to him. Vivian Browning, Frank’s old flame and Conrad’s mother, had been a very, very rich woman, with lucrative business interests scattered all across the country. After she’d been murdered by outlaws, Frank and Conrad had inherited equal shares of her estate. That made Frank one of the richest men west of the Mississippi, even though no one would know it to look at him.

  That was because most of the money went into the bank and was administered by trusted teams of lawyers in Boston, Denver, and San Francisco. As long as Frank had enough funds for trail supplies, feed for his horses, ammunition, and books, he had everything he needed.

  Salty climbed off his stool, too, and doffed his battered old hat.

  “We’re much obliged to you for the fine meal, ma’am,” he said with rough gallantry.

  Katie smiled and said, “Stop by any time you’re in Pine Knob, Mr. Stevens.”

  “After today, it ain’t likely we will be, ma’am. You heard the marshal.”

  Katie glanced at Frank, who kept his face expressionless. “Yes, I did,” she said.

  Salty looked at the kitchen door, where Solomon Storm was peeking through the narrow gap again, and called, “So long, fella!”

  Solomon’s head jerked back, and they heard him muttering and stomping back across the kitchen.

  Frank and Salty left the Feed Barn. The horses stood at the hitch rack, with Dog sitting nearby. Frank had worried a little that Brady Morgan and his men might have tried to mess with the animals, but he didn’t think that was likely.

  If that had happened, they would have heard the ruckus inside the café as the big cur tore into the gunmen.

  “We should’ve seen if we could beg the bone from that pot roast for ol’ Dog,” Salty said as they mounted up. “Still can, if you want.”

  “No, I think we’d better get on out of town,” Frank said. “You heard what the marshal told us.”

  Salty frowned. “Yeah, I heard it, but I didn’t expect you to pay no attention to it. You ain’t in the habit of worryin’ about what a lawman thinks.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Frank said. “I’m a peaceable man.”

  Salty just snorted as they turned their horses toward the eastern end of Pine Knob.

  When they reached the edge of town, they could see the slight elevation that gave the settlement its name. As Gage Carlin had told them, it had been cleared of trees, but a number of stumps remained. It was an ugly sight, sad in its way.

  They rode past the knob and followed a fairly well-defined trail that ran toward the eastern end of the valley. They would have to go past the headquarters of the B Star if they continued in that direction. After the settlement had fallen out of sight behind them, Salty said, “Those hills to the south don’t look too rugged. I’ll bet we can cut through that way.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Frank agreed. They swung their mounts off the trail and led Stormy and the pack horse toward the hills.

  Before they reached that long line, however, Frank pointed to the west and said, “Maybe we’ll turn back that way.”

  Salty reined his paint to a halt and let loose with a blistering stream of profanity, which Frank endured stoically. Finally, Salty said, “You just can’t stay out of it, can you? If there’s bullets flyin’ around, you got to be in the big middle of ’em!”

  “I don’t know who started out right and wrong in this,” Frank said, “but it looks to me like Baldridge has stacked the deck against the Embrys, and that’s wrong. I’ve got a hunch that if Baldridge really believed he could win in court, he wouldn’t have brought in a bunch of hired guns.”

  Salty tugged at his beard and grimaced. “You’re probably right about that,” he admitted. “So what are we gonna do? You heard Jubal Embry. If we go back to the Boxed E to try to help him, he’s liable to shoot us both on sight!”

  “Well,” Frank said with a smile, “we’ll just have to change his mind.”

  Chapter 7

  When they came to Loco Creek, they had to ride along the winding stream for a ways before they came to a place where they could ford it. The creek widened and grew shallower as it leaped and brawled over a gravel bed dotted with sandbars. With pine-covered hills and grassy meadows all around, and snow-capped mountains rising majestically in the distance, the scene’s beauty was a vivid reminder of why Frank loved the West so much.

  Once they were back on Boxed E range, Salty kept turning his head from side to side, peering around suspiciously.

  “You reckon there are bushwhackers behind every tree or something?” Frank asked.


  “There could be!” the old-timer replied. “After seein’ how all Hades usually breaks loose wherever you are, I wouldn’t doubt it a bit. Anyway, we’ve already seen some Boxed E stock since we crossed the creek, and where there’s cows, there’s bound to be cowboys. Embry could’a given his punchers orders to ventilate us.”

  “I suppose you’re right. It won’t hurt to keep our eyes open.”

  “Durn right it won’t,” Salty said with a satisfied nod.

  They angled back toward the center of the valley, and soon Frank began to spot some landmarks he recognized from their ride through here earlier in the day, accompanied by Gage Carlin and the other two Boxed E hands. They were retracing their path, and if they continued in this direction, it would take them straight to the ranch headquarters.

  Frank reined in and said, “Maybe we’d better be a mite more discreet about this. See that little ridge off to the left? There are enough trees on it to keep us from being spotted easily.”

  “Good idea,” Salty agreed. “Out in the open like this, I always get the feelin’ somebody might be lookin’ at me over the barrel of a rifle.”

  They headed for the ridge and climbed into the pines. When they reached the top of the slope, Frank turned to the right. That would take them in the general direction of the Boxed E headquarters.

  It was past the middle of the afternoon, but the sun was still fairly high in the sky. The days were long at this time of year. Every now and then Frank and Salty saw a puncher or two on horseback in the distance, but none of the riders came close to them.

  Frank reined in and motioned for Salty to do likewise when he caught a glimpse of movement through a gap in the trees to their left. At first he thought it might be one of the Boxed E ranch hands he had spotted, but as he looked closer, he made out two riders, and there was something furtive about the way they were ambling along, using the pines as cover in much the same way Frank and Salty were doing.

  “Who do you reckon they are?” Frank asked in a whisper as he pointed them out.

  “Danged if I know,” the old-timer replied. “Some o’ Embry’s men, maybe?”