Day of Reckoning

Home > Western > Day of Reckoning > Page 4
Day of Reckoning Page 4

by William W. Johnstone


  He set the bucket on the edge of the well and waited until the two were close enough to engage in conversation.

  “Howdy,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  “We’d like to fill our canteens at your well if you don’t mind,” one of the riders said. The rider had a prominent purple scar on his cheek.

  The other rider nodded toward a watering trough. “’N maybe water our horses?” he added.

  “Sure, climb down, help yourself to the water,” Culpepper offered. He extended his hand. “I’m Captain Culpepper and this is my place.”

  “Captain?” one of the two men said.

  Culpepper chuckled. “I’m sorry, in truth I’m no longer a captain. But I was for quite a while and many of my neighbors still refer to me in such a way.”

  “Well, Cap’n, I’m Dooley Cooper, this here is Pogue Morris,” the taller of the two men said.

  “Been traveling long?”

  “Most of the day,” Cooper said. “We’re goin’ to Cheyenne to see a couple of friends of our’n.”

  Morris took the two horses over to the watering trough as Cooper began filling the canteens.

  “You got no hands on the place?” Cooper asked.

  “No need for ’em at the moment,” Ed said. “We just sold off what cattle we’re goin’ to for the year, and I’m afraid I don’t have a large enough operation to afford any full-time employees. What cows we got left can shift for themselves until roundup time next spring. Why, are you looking for work?”

  “We’ll probably be goin’ into business with our two friends in Cheyenne,” Cooper said.

  “Oh? What kind of business would that be?”

  “First one thing and then the other,” Cooper replied.

  “Ed?” Julie called from the porch. “I see that we have visitors. Dinner’s about ready and there’s plenty. Why don’t you invite them to sit at the table with us?”

  Culpepper chuckled. “My wife is big on having company. I’m sure it comes from living in such an isolated place. Would you like to eat with us? That is, if you aren’t in any particular hurry.”

  Morris was returning at that moment, leading the two horses who had drunk their fill at the trough.

  “Did you say come eat with you?” Morris asked.

  “Yes. Unless you are on some schedule and have to move on.”

  “No, we ain’t got no particular schedule,” Morris said. “I don’t know about Dooley here, but I’m hungry and appreciate the invite.”

  By the time the three went into the house, Julie, anticipating that the invitation would be accepted, had already set two extra plates at the table.

  “This is my wife and this is my daughter, Ina Claire,” Ed said, introducing the two men to the women of the house. “Ina Claire will be turning sixteen soon, but she’d have you to think it’ll be twenty-one,” he added with a little laugh.

  “Well, I for one appreciate that she shows such maturity,” Julie said. “Think of how many girls her age give their parents nothing but grief.”

  Ed smiled at Ina Claire. “I agree,” he said. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Conversation flowed during the meal. Cooper and Morris said that they had been soldiers once, and since getting out had spent some time in the Medicine Bow Mountains looking for gold.

  “We didn’t find none, though,” Morris said.

  “I have to confess that I don’t know much about the Medicine Bow Mountains,” Culpepper said.

  “I’ll tell you this about ’em. If ever a fella was wantin’ to hide out, you could stay in them mountains ’n nobody would ever find you,” Morris said.

  “Oh, heavens,” Julie said with a little shiver. “I would hate to think that I would have to be somewhere totally devoid of civilization.”

  “Why would you want to do that, anyway?” Culpepper asked.

  Cooper shot a reproving glance toward Morris.

  “Oh, uh, no particular reason,” Morris said. “What I was talkin’ about was if some fella was wantin’ to hide out.” He smiled at Julie. “But I’m like you, Miz Culpepper. Them mountains ain’t a place I’d ever want to spend any time in, to speak of. I’m just glad that I ain’t someone that needs to hide out from anybody.”

  “Did you men like soldiering?” Ed asked.

  “None too particular,” Cooper replied. “That’s why me ’n Pogue got out, quick as we could.”

  “Ed was in the army,” Julie said. “We lived at Fort Lincoln.”

  “Yes, I told them, dear,” Ed said.

  “I remember when we were in the army,” Ina Claire said. “I don’t remember it very well though.”

  “Well, I don’t see how you could. You were only six years old when your father resigned his commission,” Julie said.

  “That’s when you was a captain?” Cooper asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Was you in the war?” Morris asked.

  “No, I graduated from West Point in sixty-seven, after the war was over. I was with the Seventh Cavalry, but during Custer’s last fight, I had been detached from the Seventh and was with General Cook. By the time General Cook arrived at the battlefield, it was all over.”

  “He was very lucky that he wasn’t with Custer on that fateful day,” Julie said. “It was after that battle, when Custer, Keogh, and so many of Ed’s friends were killed, that I begged him to leave the army.”

  Ed chuckled. “And if you men ever get married, you will learn that the most important thing you can do is keep your wife happy.”

  An hour later, Dooley Cooper and Pogue Morris, with food provided by Julie so they “would have something to eat for their supper,” said good-bye and rode off, headed north.

  “I’m glad they’re gone,” Ina Claire said.

  “Why?”

  “They were frightening looking. Especially the one with the scar on his face. I’ve never seen such a scar.”

  “You heard them,” Ed said. “They were in the army. It could be that Mr. Cooper got that scar from an Indian war club.”

  “I suppose so,” Ina Claire said. “But still, I’m glad they’re gone.”

  Chapter Five

  Chugwater

  That same day Duff was standing at the bar of Fiddler’s Green Saloon, nursing a scotch whiskey that the proprietor, Biff Johnson had just poured from the private stock he kept exclusively for Duff.

  “How did you find Cap’n Culpepper?” Biff asked.

  “It wasn’t hard, I just went a bit west from m’ ranch, and there he was,” Duff replied.

  For a moment Biff was confused, then, seeing the smile on Duff’s face, he realized that it was a joke and laughed.

  “’Twas not much of a joke, I admit,” Duff said. “But to answer your question, the captain seemed to be in fine spirits, aye, ’n his wife ’n daughter, too. The wee lass ’n I played the pipes and drum together.”

  “I saw them when they were in town last week. The ‘wee lass’ as you call her isn’t so wee anymore. She’s growing quickly into a handsome young lady.”

  “Aye, ’n ’tis sixteen she’ll be soon,” Ed said.

  “Sixteen is it? And I remember well the day she was born,” Biff said. “Born at Fort Lincoln she was, and you never saw anyone any prouder than Cap’n Culpepper was that day. He gave cigars to all the NCOs in his command. He was a good officer, as fine an officer as I ever served under. I’ve no doubt he would’ve made general if he had stayed.”

  “As I understand, ’twas the missus who talked him into leaving,” Duff said.

  “Yes, when he was detached from the rest of us, and sent to be a liaison with General Cook, it was that, and that alone, that kept him from being killed. He had just taken over C Company, which was Tom Custer’s company, and the general was goin’ to make his brother his adjutant. But, when General Terry detached Cap’n Culpepper from the Seventh, Tom Custer kept his company for one more scout. If Cap’n Culpepper had taken the company as originally intended, he would’ve been killed.
/>
  “Anyway it was after that, that Mrs. Culpepper was convinced that was God telling him to get out of the army, and he listened to her.”

  “You left soon after as well,” Duff said.

  “Yes. When Cap’n Culpepper was detached to be with Cook, I was reassigned to Benteen, and when Cap’n Culpepper left the army, my assignment to Benteen became permanent. I tell you the truth, Duff, I hated that son of a bitch, and I knew that the day would come when I wouldn’t be able to keep myself from knocking him on his arrogant ass. What with Benteen being a captain and me being a sergeant, well, I don’t have to tell you that would not have turned out well for me. I had enough time in for my pension, so I retired.”

  “And ’tis happy I am that you did, for had you not, where would I go for m’ Glenlivet?” He lifted his glass.

  “It’s always a pleasure to serve a man who has a genuine appreciation for the finer things,” Biff said. He chuckled. “Now you take someone like Elmer, he’ll drink anything I put in front of him.”

  “Aye, Elmer does have what you might call an eclectic taste,” Duff replied with a grin.

  “Eclectic?” Biff laughed. “Does that mean he’ll drink anything?”

  “Aye, within reason.”

  “How long do you reckon Elmer and Wang will be gone?”

  “A week, maybe two.”

  “That’s left you sort of short-handed, hasn’t it?”

  “Not terribly so. This is a slow time, and I have half a dozen men who are watching over things.”

  “Will you be calling on Miss Meagan today?” Biff asked.

  Duff chuckled. “Sure now, and ’tis necessary for me to visit with the lass from time to time. After all, she is my partner, so ’tis a matter of business, as I’m sure you ken.”

  Biff laughed. “Don’t tell me it’s all business. You could buy her out as easily as snapping your fingers.”

  “Aye, but would ye be for telling me, First Sergeant, why I would want to buy her out?”

  “Why indeed? There’s not a prettier woman in town, that’s for sure. But don’t let my wife know I said that,” he added with a smile, and holding his index finger up in warning.

  “Your secret is safe with me,” Duff said. Finishing his scotch, he held up the empty glass. “Bacchus’ blessings are a treasure, drinking is a soldier’s pleasure.” Setting the glass on the bar, and with a good-bye nod, Duff took his leave.

  Before heading back to Sky Meadow, Duff went to see Meagan.

  “I saw you ride into town earlier today, and I was hoping you would stop by to see me,” she said by way of greeting.

  “Meagan, m’ lass, ’n did you think I would come to town ’n nae stop to see ye?”

  “I’ve something I would like to show you,” Meagan said. She took a dress down from a rack.

  “I made this for Ina Claire for her birthday. I had to look through some old books that I had, but I found it,” Meagan said. “Here it is. What do you think?”

  The dress was white, with a plaid of small stripes of black, blue, and red. It was bound by a silver buckle just below the breasts.

  “Och, you did a wonderful job with it, Meagan. I remember such dresses worn by all the ladies back home.”

  “What is it called?” Meagan asked.

  “This is called an arisad. ’Tis the traditional lady’s dress of Scotland.”

  “Do you think it’s wrong of me to give her such a gift?” Meagan asked. “I wouldn’t want her mother or father put out with me for imposing myself into the family with such a gift.”

  “Hasn’t the lass learned the Scottish drum? And isn’t her mother half Scot?” Duff asked.

  “Of course the answer is yes, to both questions,” Meagan replied.

  “Then I think the lass and her parents would be most pleased for you to think of her in such a way.”

  “I got the idea when I heard the two of you discussing performing together at the upcoming Chugwater Festival. What a treat that will be,” Meagan said with a broad smile. “Would you come with me to present it to her?”

  “Nothing would please me more,” Duff replied.

  * * *

  Night had fallen, and all in the Culpepper house had gone to bed.

  “Oh, Ed, were you serious when you said that we would go to Scotland?” Julie asked.

  “Quite serious,” Ed replied. “I know that you have always wanted to see the land of your mother’s birth, and I confess, I’ve always been curious about it myself. We’ll visit Scotland, England, and Ireland. It will be a fine trip.”

  “Oh, and how wonderful it will be for Ina Claire,” Julie said. “It is something she will remember for the rest of her life.”

  Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory

  Cooper and Morris were in the Rendezvous Saloon, standing at the end of the bar and separated from many of the other customers who were at the same bar.

  “We shouldn’ta told that feller we was in the army,” Cooper said.

  “We ain’t in the army no more,” Morris said.

  “Yeah, we are. I mean, yeah, we ain’t actual in the army, seein’ as we ain’t still at the post or nothin’ like that. But we didn’t get discharged, we deserted, ’n that means if we was to get caught, we’d more’n like be brought back to the army to be court-martialed.”

  “I reckon that’s right, but why did you say we oughtn’ta tole that Culpepper feller that we was in the army?”

  “On account of because he was a captain, ’n officers kinda all stick together. We told him our real names, ’n he might find out we was deserters.”

  “What difference does that make, anyhow? It ain’t like we’ll ever see ’im again,” Morris said.

  “Yeah, I reckon you’re right about that.”

  The two were quiet for a moment, as if lost in thought, then Morris spoke again.

  “Are we going to the trial?”

  “Yes, we’re going to the trial. Why the hell do you think we came here in the first place?”

  “I was just wonderin’, I mean, seein’ as what we done in Hartville ’n all. I thought maybe we ought to lay low for a while.”

  “Why? We spent two more days in Hartville without nobody suspectin’ anything a-tall. If nobody suspected us in Hartville, what makes you think they would suspect us here?”

  “I don’t know. I was just thinkin’, if somebody found the deckhand’s body, they might start wonderin’ who it was that actual done it.”

  “More’n likely that deckhand has done been ate up by bears or wolves or somethin’,” Cooper said. “And even if they do find him, all they’ll know is that he warn’t the one that done it. They still won’t have no idee who it really was.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Morris said.

  “Damn right, I’m right. There didn’t nobody see us, did they? I mean, if anybody was suspectin’ us, Cap’n Culpepper would’ve maybe knowed about it. Only he didn’t know nothin’, which is why he brung us in to eat with ’em ’n all.”

  Morris smiled. “We did get away with it, didn’t we, ’n we still got money.”

  “Yeah, ’n after we get Clay ’n Zeke out, we’ll have even more money.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know because Clay is real smart about things like that. He’ll figure out just real quick where we’ll be able to come up with some more money. ’N knowin’ him, I expect it’ll be a lot of money.”

  “Yeah, well, he didn’t do all that good with the bank he tried to rob in Archer, did he?”

  “More’n likely it was because of them LaFarge brothers,” Cooper said. “I knowed all three o’ them LaFarge brothers, ’n there warn’t none of ’em was worth a tinker’s damn.”

  Morris looked up at the clock. “Yeah, well, if we really are a-goin’ to the trial, we prob’ly need to get goin’. It’ll be startin’ just real soon now.”

  * * *

  Callahan saw Cooper and Morris as soon as the deputy brought him and Manning into the courtroom. Like Manning, his hands we
re shackled in front of him and secured to a chain that went around his waist. His ankles were shackled as well, not only to each other but also to the shackles around Manning’s ankles. As a result, they were able to move only with very small and coordinated steps.

  Callahan nodded at Cooper, who returned his nod, then inclined his head toward the door. Callahan correctly interpreted that as a signal that Cooper and Morris would break them out of jail. He smiled.

  “What are you smilin’ at?” Manning asked. Callahan realized then that Manning hadn’t seen them, and he decided not to tell him. Manning was too easily excitable and might not be trusted with the secret.

  “I just thought of somethin’ funny is all,” Callahan said.

  “There ain’t nothin’ funny ’bout this,” Manning replied in a whining tone. “There ain’t nothin’ funny about it a-tall.”

  * * *

  When Circuit Judge Commodore Butrum stepped into the courtroom, the bailiff gave a loud shout, bringing an instant halt to the buzz of conversation.

  “All rise!”

  There was a scrape of chairs and the rustle of skirts and trousers as more than one hundred people responded to the bailiff’s call.

  A black judicial robe covered the judge’s rather corpulent frame, and his head was bald. He took his seat behind the bench.

  “You may be seated,” he said.

  As the defendants, counsel, and gallery sat, Judge Butrum removed his glasses and began cleaning the lens, doing so as if totally unaware that his action was being observed by so many people.

  “Why the hell don’t he get on with it?” Zeke Manning hissed. Their lawyer, Dan Gilmore, had tried unsuccessfully to separate the trials.

  “Shh. You’ll be found in contempt,” Gilmore whispered.

  “What’s that mean? He’ll give us thirty days in jail before he hangs us?” Callahan asked with a mirthless laugh.

  Judge Butrum put his glasses back on, very methodically hooking them over one ear at a time. He nodded at the bailiff, and the bailiff opened the door to allow the jury to enter.

  Twelve men came in, and without looking at anyone in the gallery, or either of the two defendants, they took their seats in the jury box. Judge Butrum addressed them.

 

‹ Prev