No Justice in Hell

by Charles G. West

  Hawk thought about that for a moment while the possibility of some fresh meat began to take hold in his mind. “I reckon I could go out now and see if I can run up on somethin’, but I need to rest my horses, too. Tell you what, why don’t I hang back here till Rascal’s ready to go back to work? You boys can go on ahead. You don’t need me to lead you back. I’ll catch up with you at Three Forks, same place we camped before, and we’ll see what kinda luck I’ll have.”

  “I don’t know,” Conner replied, thinking it over. “There isn’t any reason not to do it.” If Hawk was as successful in the hunt as he usually was, the men could enjoy a feast without being a half day behind. “All right, that sounds good to me.”

  * * *

  While Hawk and Conner were making plans for a deer supper, Private Solomon was relieved at guard over the prisoners by a reluctant Private Rakestraw. Unlike Solomon, Rakestraw had taken advantage of the opportunity to buy whiskey the night before in a quantity sufficient to turn his head into a gigantic bass drum on this morning. Two of the men had had to help him stagger back to camp the night before, and now that drum was pounding inside his temples. It was no secret that Corporal Johnson had put him on the guard detail to teach him a lesson on the evils of overindulgence.

  Rakestraw’s hungover state was recognized at once by Bevo Brogan. He studied Rakestraw’s attempt to keep the bright sun from piercing the pupils of his eyes, trying to watch the prisoners through eyelids that were little more than slits. “Hey, stud,” he said, “how ’bout takin’ your knife there and cuttin’ up this slab of bacon, so I can eat it?”

  The question seemed to make Rakestraw’s head pound harder. “Just chew it off,” he replied.

  “That’s what I’ve been tryin’ to do, but my teeth ain’t too good. That’s why I need it cut up.”

  Listening with great interest, Slim had to remark. “I never knowed your teeth weren’t no good.”

  “Shut up, Slim,” Bevo barked, then back to Rakestraw, he said, “It wouldn’t take much. If I had my knife, I could cut it up in a jiffy, even with my hands tied together.” He waited for a few seconds with no response from Rakestraw. “If you was to let me borrow that knife on your belt, I could save you the trouble. I’d just need it long enough to cut some of this bacon so’s I wouldn’t have to tear it off with my bad teeth.” Rakestraw still hesitated. “You can watch me the whole time, hold your rifle on me, and I’ll give the knife right back.”

  “All right,” Rakestraw gave in. “Just cut it up and shut up about it.” He drew the knife from his belt, tossed it toward him, and watched for a minute or two while Bevo made a big show of cutting the bacon with both wrists firmly tied. In a few more minutes, he grew tired of watching and tired of trying to force his eyes to remain open. The next thing he was conscious of was someone shaking him by his shoulders.

  “Damn you, Rakestraw,” Johnson cursed. “Wake up! Get on your feet! You sorry drunk, get over there and stick your head in the water. How the hell did you stay on your horse till we got here?” He gave the stumbling trooper a shove toward the river’s edge and yelled, “McQueen! Get over here and keep your eye on these two birds.”

  A more-than-casual observer, Bevo Brogan watched the changing of his guard with Rakestraw’s knife tucked neatly away up his shirtsleeve. He glanced over and shook his head at Slim when the simpleton nodded excitedly and grinned, looking as if about to say something. In a little while, Conner gave the order to mount up and the column moved out on the trail to Three Forks, all save one. Hawk watched them depart before turning Rascal toward the northeast and heading for the line of hills in the distance, leading the red roan gelding that had once belonged to Johnny Dent.

  * * *

  It was still an hour before sundown when Hawk rejoined the soldiers at Three Forks. He rode into the camp with the carcass of a six-point buck riding across Johnny Dent’s saddle. His arrival was met with great enthusiasm in spite of the fact that most of the men had already eaten their meager rations of bacon and hardtack. And there was no shortage of volunteer help in skinning and butchering the deer. Corporal Johnson took charge of most of the butchering after Hawk skinned the deer, and Solomon promptly took on the actual cooking duty. Even Rakestraw, whose head was finally down to normal size, was eager to help, although lamenting the fact that he had lost his knife. “I left the dang thing back yonder at that last camp,” he complained. A large campfire was built, started up with the burning branches of two smaller fires, and before much longer, fresh strips of venison were roasting over the flames.

  “This escort detail turned into a damn Sunday picnic,” Lieutenant Conner was prompted to say to Hawk, as they stood back to watch the men take over.

  “I had a taste for deer meat,” Hawk replied. “And you needed extra food for those prisoners you have to feed. They sure as hell didn’t have much with ’em.”

  “That’s a fact,” Conner admitted. “I sure as hell didn’t bring along provisions for prisoners.” He glanced over at Bevo and Slim, eagerly consuming the portions of venison that Solomon had brought them. “They won’t get that kind of feed where they’re going.”

  “Reckon not,” Hawk agreed.

  * * *

  Almost as if he had heard the lieutenant’s comment, Bevo Brogan turned to look in his direction, the trace of a smile parting his whiskers. “That was downright thoughtful of them boys to put on this big feed for our last night as their guests,” he said when their guard walked over to the fire to get another piece of meat. When Slim stared at him with one of his typical wide-eyed expressions of confusion, Bevo smiled broadly, without his usual harsh response to his partner’s childlike reactions. Before Slim could ask what he meant, Bevo said, “Me and you are leavin’ this little party tonight.”

  “We are?” Slim responded, instantly excited. “How we gonna do that?”

  “Look at ’em,” Bevo said, nodding toward the soldiers gathered around the fire. “Eatin’ their bellies so full of that deer, ever’ one of ’em’s gonna be sleepin’ like a baby tonight. Then we’ll just slip on outta here and say good-bye to the army. And this is the best place they coulda picked to camp. We can run straight down the valley to Nevada City.”

  “Hot damn!” Slim exclaimed, then paused when he thought further. “How we gonna do that? We’ll be tied to a tree again, just like last night.” Bevo didn’t answer, but looked back at the guard to make sure he wasn’t watching them. Then he let the knife slide down his sleeve until the tip of the blade fell into the palm of his hand. With a shift of his eyes, he directed Slim’s gaze down to the knife blade. Slim’s mouth dropped open, losing the generous bite of venison he was currently working on, but he managed not to exclaim.

  Lowering his voice to a whisper again, Bevo said, “We’ll wait till they’re all asleep and cut ourselves loose. Then we’ll get to the horses and be gone from here.”

  “What about the guard?” Slim whispered. “They’ll have a guard watchin’ us.”

  “We’ll just have to wait and see,” Bevo said, having already been thinking about that problem. “Maybe he’ll go to sleep, too. If he don’t, then I reckon I’ll have to use this knife to make sure he don’t make a sound.”

  “Maybe he’ll go to sleep,” Slim echoed. He thought about what Bevo proposed. It might work if they were lucky. Thinking about other things that could cause a problem, he asked, “What about that big feller in the buckskin shirt?”

  “What about him?” Bevo asked.

  “We might notta been caught in the first place if he didn’t wander around in the woods at night. I ain’t sure he ever sleeps.”

  “He better hope he ain’t walkin’ around tonight,” Bevo answered him. “Now, hush up, that guard’s comin’ back.”

  * * *

  Bevo’s predictions turned out to be pretty accurate. Although most of the men stayed awake much later than usual, eventually their full bellies drove them to their blankets for a deep sleep. In spite of his excitement about the daring escape the
y had planned, Slim also succumbed to the sandman’s call. I ought to leave him here, Bevo thought when Slim began snoring before the first guard was relieved by a second right at midnight. Shortly after midnight, he relaxed the pressure in his left arm that held the knife firmly against the tree trunk. He had pressed the knife inside his sleeve hard up against the trunk to keep it from falling out when his hands had been tied to Slim’s. It was difficult to suppress a grunt of relief when he could finally move his arm to free the knife and he had to raise up enough for the knife to drop to his hand. But as soon as it did, he began sawing on the ropes that held Slim and him to the tree. Their luck seemed to hold, because the guard that came on then was already having a great deal of trouble staying awake. Bevo pretended to be asleep when the new guard came close to check on them. With Slim’s steady snoring, it appeared to the soldier that he had nothing to worry about concerning his prisoners.

  Bevo maintained his patience as the guard made an attempt to remain alert, but he soon settled down to await his relief. In a short time, he began to snore. A slow smile crept across Bevo’s face as he looked back at the sleeping soldiers. It was just as he had envisioned it, but he had to look again at the blanket belonging to the scout to make sure he was in it. He was, so Bevo sawed away. Still snoring, Slim didn’t even wake up when his hand was suddenly free and his arm dropped to the ground. Bevo paused when he heard the guard grunt and seem to be talking in his sleep. After a moment, the guard settled down again and Bevo clamped his free hand over Slim’s mouth and nose and held tightly until Slim suddenly jerked back, trying to breathe. “Don’t make a sound,” Bevo whispered, and held his hand over Slim’s mouth until he was sure he was awake. “Help me get our hands untied.”

  It took a few moments for Slim to understand what was happening, but when he did, he could hardly contain his excitement. In a matter of minutes, they were free of their bonds. “We gotta get to the horses,” Bevo told him. “You go ahead, I’ll be right behind you.” He waited to see that Slim sneaked away toward the horses that had been tied to a line between two trees at the water’s edge. When no cries of alarm rang out, he crept up carefully behind the guard, who was sleeping with his back against a small tree. Reaching around the tree, he suddenly grabbed the guard’s mouth, jerked his head back, and slit his throat, almost in one motion. He picked up the guard’s rifle, took one more look in the direction of the sleeping camp, then hurried over to join Slim.

  “What was you doin’?” Slim whispered when Bevo got there.

  “Makin’ sure that guard didn’t wake up.”

  “Damn, Bevo, you reckon you oughta done that? It they catch up with us now, they’re liable to hang us.”

  “Reckon so, but if that guard happened to wake up before we could get outta here, he woulda had the whole camp on us. And we need time to get saddled up.” He had no intention of leaving their saddles and saddlebags behind. Time was important, but they had a long run to Nevada City and it would be damn difficult without guns and supplies. So they took the time to reclaim their saddles and saddlebags, hurrying as much as they could, and when they were ready to ride, the camp was still sleeping. The last step they took to slow down pursuit was to untie the other horses. Then they herded them down toward the river ahead of them. When they were well clear of the camp and there was still no sound of alarm behind them, they let the horses scatter, then cut back to head south.

  * * *

  Hawk awoke with a start, thinking the camp was under attack. He grabbed his rifle and rolled out of his blanket ready to defend himself. He realized then that the alarm that had awakened the whole camp was the outcry of the soldier relieving the guard. Upon running to discover the trouble, he immediately saw that the prisoners were no longer tied to the tree. Looking toward the river then, he saw that the horses were also missing. “What the hell’s going on?” he heard Conner demand.

  “It’s Anderson,” he heard another soldier reply to the lieutenant. “He’s dead! They cut his throat and escaped! I found him like this when I came to relieve him at guard.”

  One of the other soldiers came running up to report. “They drove the horses off with ’em!”

  Conner was too concerned about the loss of one of his men at that moment to think about the loss of his horses. But before long, he couldn’t help worrying about the mark this whole incident would leave on his record. Starting with his decision to let the men go to the saloon on the first night before starting back. Then letting them feast on venison the next night might make him the favorite officer among the men, but it might also cause him to lose his commission. Now if his men had to walk back to Fort Ellis because his prisoners stole his horses, he might find himself eating in the enlisted men’s mess hall. Guessing his friend’s predicament, Hawk tried to reassure him. “I doubt they stole your horses,” he said. “They were most likely in too big a hurry to try to drive a herd of horses. I expect they just wanted to run ’em off to keep you from catchin’ up to ’em. They won’t go far.” To demonstrate, he whistled, and in a few moments, Rascal appeared from the shadows and trotted up to be saddled. “I’ll see if I can round up the other horses while you decide what you’re gonna do.” He knew that Conner was left with a critical decision to make. The two would-be robbers were now murderers because they had killed a soldier. There was no question but that the two men must be pursued and brought to justice. But Conner’s patrol was not supplied with provisions to mount a long chase. They were already down to practically nothing and he couldn’t afford the time it would take to return to the fort to be resupplied. Hawk stepped up into the saddle, wheeled the buckskin around, and paused. “I can try to track those two down. I’ll move faster than a patrol and I won’t be as easy to spot. Just wanted you to know you have that option. I’ll go round up your horses now. I can’t do much trackin’ till daylight, anyway.” There was no way of knowing if the two fugitives purposefully did it or not, but by riding out with the army mounts they would effectively lose their tracks among those left by the other horses. He would need daylight to try to distinguish between the two. It would be time lost, but he didn’t see any choice in the matter. He gave Rascal a nudge and went after the horses.

  As he suspected, the army’s horses had not wandered far. He found them gathered together in a pocket of fir trees near the riverbank no more than a quarter of a mile from the camp. He grabbed the reins of a couple of them and started walking them back and, as he hoped, the others fell in behind him. He found Conner standing by the fire, waiting for him, and while the men took charge of their horses, he dismounted to talk to him. “Whaddaya wanna do?” Hawk asked.

  “Damn it, Hawk,” Conner started. “This thing has put my ass in a vise. I’ve lost one of my men on a simple escort patrol and I’ve let two prisoners escape.” He looked at his friend and shook his head. “And none of it should have happened. It’s all my fault. I got sloppy with the discipline of the patrol, and I’m going to have to answer for it.” He grimaced as if reluctant to go on. “We’re not provisioned to go after those two murderers and I can’t take the time to go back for supplies. So I’m going to take you up on your suggestion. I know your job is a scout and not a lawman, but I know you’ll find them. When you do, I only want you to report their whereabouts. I can’t ask you to make any attempt to capture them. The army doesn’t expect you to risk your neck, trying to arrest murderers. Just tell us where they are, all right?”

  Hawk shrugged indifferently. He hadn’t given any thought toward what his actions would be if he actually was able to track them. He was just leaving that to take care of itself, depending upon what circumstances he found himself in. “Don’t worry, I won’t stick my neck anywhere I think it might cost me my head.”

  “All right,” Conner said. “While you see if you can find them, I’ll ride on back to Fort Ellis and see if I can make out a report that doesn’t look as bad as it is.”

  * * *

  Daylight found the patrol mounted and ready to depart for Fort Ellis with
a final word from Conner to Hawk. “Good luck, and remember, I don’t expect you to make any arrest.”

  “I don’t have any authority to arrest anybody,” Hawk answered. He watched for a moment while the patrol pulled out, leading Private Anderson’s horse with his body draped across the saddle. Hawk promptly turned and went to the trees where the horses had been tied the night before. The tracks were easily picked up where they had been herded away from the trees before scattering some few hundred yards farther along the river. At this point, he took time to study the tracks carefully, searching for two sets of tracks that would continue to veer off together and maintain a more or less definite direction. After a while, he found what he felt he was looking for, so he stopped to examine the tracks more carefully, trying to determine if the two horses that left them were carrying riders. From the depth of the impressions left in the sand near the water’s edge, he decided they were the two he sought. He stood up and looked across the river to see what might lie ahead in that direction, but he knew he would have to find where they came out on the other side to know for sure. What he hoped to determine was a general direction that might give him a clue where they were heading. He figured there weren’t many choices for directions they could run. Either north or south, for to go east or west would likely lead them into an army patrol.

  When he crossed the river, he found their exit tracks right away. They had made no effort to lose anyone who might be tracking them, but struck out to the south, following the Madison River. Since they stuck close to the river, it made tracking them fairly easy, that and the fact that it was dark when they made their escape, so they were not as conscious of the tracks they were leaving. Since their trail continued down the valley, he had to wonder if they had a destination or were just running. There was not much in the way of towns down this valley between the Tobacco Root Mountains and the Madison Range. It was once a more heavily traveled trail to Virginia City before that town dried up, but there was nothing much to attract outlaws, unless their intention was to get lost. Maybe that’s what these two had in mind, he thought.