[Gideon Johann 01.0] Last Stand

by Duane Boehm

  The sun was setting as Gideon neared Silverton, causing him to decide to stop for some food and take a nap until nightfall. He worried whether Bug Eye and Pasty had enough money left that they were still coming to town to blow it. Otherwise, tracking the two men down might prove hard to do. His meal was the same as every other meal on the trip, jerky and hardtack. He gulped it down before falling into a deep sleep. All the pondering on his life had left him exhausted.

  When he awoke, the full moon was rising, casting shadows with its light. Riding towards Silverton, he could hear the town before he could see it. The place was loud and boisterous. Bug Eye and Pasty had always claimed that Silverton was one wild town and they apparently had not been exaggerating as he easily followed the sound to Blair Street. Over the years, he had been to many cattle towns, but never a mining town. Looking down Blair Street, he decided that Dodge City had nothing on this place. There had to be over forty saloons and brothels with enough men around to fill them. Miners were everywhere, some talking in what he believed to be German and French, while others talked in exotic sounding languages that he had never heard before. Everywhere he turned, somebody was laughing, cussing, or fighting, and up on the balconies, scantily dressed girls were calling down to the men, trying to drum up business.

  Gideon tied Buck up at the end of the street and started walking down it as anonymously as possible. There were not many cowboys in town, and his dress and gun made him stand out from the miners. Everybody seemed too preoccupied with raucous behavior to pay him any mind. He realized that tracking down Bug Eye Carter and Pasty Collins was going to be difficult amongst all the crowd.

  He heard a loud whistle and looked up at a balcony to see a girl dressed only in undergarments looking at him. She yelled, “Hey, cowboy, we don’t get many pretty ones like you. Come on up here and I’ll let you ride me bareback and you can even put your spurs to me if you like.”

  Gideon pulled his hat down and kept walking as the miners in the street burst out laughing and hooting. He could not help but smile even if she had brought him attention. His vanity made it hard to be upset with a whore that paid him a compliment.

  Locating the horses that Bug Eye and Pasty rode seemed to be his best bet. He worked his way down the street, checking out the tied mounts. About half way down Blair, he saw a pinto and sorrel together. As he got closer, he recognized the horses and tack as their mounts. A sense of relief came over him in knowing that he would not have to track them all over the West. Now all he had to do was wait them out.

  Just before midnight, Bug Eye and Pasty came stumbling out of the saloon in front of where their horses were tied. Pasty used a crutch, barely putting any weight on his right leg. Gideon had heard a scream when he held them off during the ambush, but at the time he was not sure if he had hit one of them or had only sprayed him with rock chips from a shot. It looked as though he had hit Pasty pretty good.

  They staggered up onto their horses and headed northwest out of town. Gideon walked back to Buck and started following them. Staying a good distance behind, he was able to keep sight of them in the moonlight. They were making so much noise singing and arguing that he probably could have ridden with them and they would have never noticed. About a mile out of town, they turned off the main trail into the woods. By the time Gideon rode up to where they had left the path, he could see light coming from what looked to be a miner shack where they had taken up residence.

  Now all Gideon had to do was wait until the following night to use the element of surprise to his advantage to make sure he took care of both of them. He found a good spot in the woods out of sight of the shack and made camp. His body was still adjusting to sleeping on hard ground again. He tossed about trying to get comfortable while thinking about how good it would be to sleep in a bed every night if he ever did settle down in one spot.

  The next day Gideon kept an eye on the shack. It was close to noon before there was any sign of life when smoke started to plume from the chimney. One at a time, the rustlers ambled out, stretching and taking a piss off the front step before retreating back inside the cabin. For the rest of the day, the only times he saw them were when they answered nature calls. They appeared to be living the good life, lazing about all day and carousing at night. The day seemed like it would drag on forever for Gideon, swatting gnats and watching the place. Finally, a half–hour before sunset, they saddled their horses and rode away.

  Once they were out of sight, Gideon walked to the shack and went inside. The structure was only one room with a dirt floor, cobwebs, and filth everywhere. It smelled like farts and sweat. The only things in it were two pallets, a lantern hanging by the door, and an old table with a bench. How they could spend their whole day lying around this place was beyond him. He started looking for where they hid their money, wondering if he could catch a disease touching the nasty place. If they had any left, he was sure that it had to be in the shack somewhere. Rifling through the pallets, he found nothing but dirt and bugs. The fireplace was the next logical place and he began checking each stone to see if there were any loose. He found one and began working the stone out. Stashed in the hole was one hundred and forty dollars in twenty–dollar gold pieces. He put the money in his pocket and sat down on the bench. There was nothing else left to do but more waiting.

  Gideon lost track of how many hours he sat in the dark waiting for them. His ass was so numb that it was past the point of aching and his belly growled from not eating since that morning. If he had ever experienced a longer day, he could not remember when. He was so ready to end this. When singing finally broke the silence, Gideon drew his pistol and cocked it. He had no intention of this being a fair fight.

  The two men, now arguing, entered the shack. One of them struck a match and lit the lantern. As the room washed with light, Gideon said, “Good evening, boys. Good to see you again.”

  Bug Eye went for his gun and Gideon shot before the man even touched the grip. The bullet hit him square in the center of the chest, sending him crashing into the doorframe before he slid down in an upright position. He was not dead yet, but foam started bubbling out of his mouth and a sucking sound came from the bullet hole. Gideon cocked the gun and pointed it at Pasty, but the man did not move while encumbered with the crutch that he would have had to discard before getting to his gun.

  “Bug Eye, these ambushes are not so fun, are they? Maybe if you had been better at it, you would not be dying now,” Gideon taunted. He wanted to make sure the man knew his executioner.

  Bug Eye’s bulging eyes were already glazing over and after a couple of gurgling sounds, he stopped breathing.

  “Pasty, it’s your turn. Drop your crutch and draw,” Gideon instructed.

  “Gideon, I don’t have any chance with you already aiming at me,” Pasty cried out.

  “It’s the same chance that I had when you ambushed me.”

  “That was Bug Eye’s idea. I didn’t want to do it. Me and you always got along just fine.”

  “Nevertheless, you both shot me. I had three bullets in me before I even slid off my horse.”

  “Please don’t shoot me,” Pasty begged. “There is money hid in the fireplace. I think you have already made me a cripple for life as it is.”

  “I already got the money. You were a pretty good ranch hand. I don’t know why you thought you had to steal,” Gideon said.

  “It was all Bug Eye’s idea. He kept talking and talking about how easy it would be until he wore me down. He had the cattle sold before we even took them. I never stole nothing before in my life. My momma would have worn the hide off me for stealing. I went to church as a boy,” Pasty said.

  “Draw, Pasty.”

  Pasty dropped his crutch, standing the best he could while bearing most of his weight on his left leg. “Gideon, I am not going to draw. You can shoot me if you want, but I’m not going to cause you to do it,” he said as he slowly used his thumb and index finger to grab the butt of his gun and drop it to the floor.

  Gideon w
atched, trying to decide what to do. In the past, Pasty would have been dead already, but now he didn’t have much of a stomach for it. He suspected Pasty was telling the truth, and that until Bug Eye convinced him otherwise, he had been just another honest hard–luck cowboy. The need to kill Pasty just to prove that his stay in Last Stand had not changed him waged battle against his inclination to let him go. It seemed to Gideon as if his time back home had made him soft and taken away his edge that had served him so well for so long.

  “Pasty, you don’t know how lucky you are. I know I should kill you just to keep things nice and simple, but I’m not. How much money do you have?” Gideon asked.

  “Five dollars.”

  Gideon stood and reached into his pocket, pulling out two of the gold pieces and throwing them on a pallet. “I am going to Silverton and after that I’m headed back to New Mexico the same way that you two came. If I were you, I would get rid of Bug Eye and then head some other direction than the one I’m going. Find yourself another ranch to work. And don’t ever make me regret that I spared you. I’ll track you to hell and back if you do.”

  Pasty looked as if he was going to cry. He kept mopping the sweat off his brow with his sleeve. “Thank you, Gideon. And don’t you worry about me. My outlaw days are over. This is as close to getting shot or hung as I ever plan to get again,” he said.

  “Get over on one of those pallets and stay there and don’t come out of this shack until morning or I will shoot you yet,” Gideon said as he picked up the two guns.

  Without another word, Gideon walked outside to retrieve their rifles. He carried all the guns to the edge of the yard and left them where Pasty could find them in the morning. Exhaustion was setting in as he started making his way through the woods to Buck. The walk back seemed to be a lot farther than the trip in the morning had, and when he got there, he devoured a couple pieces of hardtack and washed it down with whiskey before dropping off to sleep.

  The next morning, Gideon headed to Silverton. He had no qualms over killing Bug Eye, but conflicting emotions over sparing Pasty. Moments of weakness could lead to regret or even one’s own death, and besides that, he had no idea what he was going to tell Mr. Chase concerning sparing Pasty.

  In Silverton, he left Buck at the livery stable and then found a decent hotel that did not double as a whorehouse. After a large breakfast, he treated himself to a hot bath and a barbered shave. Afterward, feeling like a new man, he concluded that he had done the right thing in sparing Pasty’s life. He decided to stay away from Blair Street with its whores and saloons, and just enjoy the day. Tomorrow would begin the long trek back to New Mexico.

  Chapter 19

  Frank walked into the bunkhouse just as the men were sitting down to have their breakfast. They looked up groggy eyed in surprise. The boss setting foot in their quarters was a rare occasion and even rarer when he came in not raising hell about something.

  “Hank, I need to see you at the house when you get finished. Make it snappy, I got a job for you. Just come on in when you get there,” Frank said before turning towards the door.

  Hank had a pretty good idea what DeVille was talking about, but decided to bitch about it to make things look normal. “I wonder what damn errand he wants me to run this time,” he said as he shoveled eggs into his mouth.

  Sligo hurried to the house to find DeVille sitting at his desk waiting impatiently. “About time you got over here. That must have been some good eggs and bacon,” Frank said.

  Hank ignored the barb, and said, “What’s up, boss?”

  “Today is the day. Have you got a hood to put on the kid and found a good spot to grab him?” DeVille asked.

  “I got it all taken care of. Just been waiting for the word from you.”

  “I’ll talk to Walter and Jasper this afternoon. They should have blown most of their paycheck Saturday so that nobody will be expecting them in town any time soon. I’ll send them out with a packhorse at nightfall,” DeVille said.

  “What happens if they aren’t interested?” Hank asked as he put his hands on the desk and leaned over it.

  Frank ignored Sligo’s habit of getting too close. “Those dumb bastards would do anything for a thousand dollars. Don’t worry about it.”

  “You want me to stay with the kid in the cave until they get there?”

  “Yeah, make sure you don’t leave tracks. Here is the ransom note,” Frank said as he handed Hank the letter.

  “That shouldn’t be hard to do on that rocky ground. Do you know what the kid’s name is?”

  “Benjamin, I think. You better get going. You don’t have much time to get over there,” Frank warned.

  “See you tonight, boss,” Sligo said and left to saddle his horse.

  Sligo rode the couple of miles to the spot where he planned to kidnap Benjamin. After concealing his horse, he walked to the road and hid behind a crop of rocks. Fifteen minutes later, he watched as Benjamin sauntered down the road. The kid looked as if he didn’t have a care in the world, oblivious to his surroundings. As Benjamin walked past the rocks, Sligo moved out from behind them and slung the hood over the boy’s head without a sound. He grabbed Benjamin around the throat and growled, “If you make a sound, I’ll snap your head off like a twig.”

  Benjamin stood frozen, too confused to even think. He had no idea what was going on as Sligo released his grip on his neck long enough to tie the drawstring on the hood. He could see absolutely nothing through it. The huge hand returned to his throat and started walking him backwards before shoving him to the ground. A knee pinned him, pushing down so hard that Benjamin thought his chest might cave in. His hands and feet were being bound so tightly that it felt as if the bindings were cutting through his skin. He was scared, wanting to cry, but he kept telling himself to be strong like his pa and Mr. Gideon would be. They were the two bravest men he knew and he would try to act as he thought they would.

  Satisfied that the leather strips held the boy secure, Sligo then returned to the road, stuck the note in Benjamin’s books, and used a stick to cover his foot tracks. He then threw the boy over his shoulder and started walking to his horse. The animal was hid about a hundred yards away, and as he walked, he zigzagged to stay on rocky ground. By the time he made it back to his mount, he was winded and his shirt was sweat stained from the effort. He threw Benjamin across the saddle horn and mounted.

  “Just keep your mouth shut and you will come out of this unharmed. We have a bit of a ride in front of us. Do you understand?” Hank said.

  “Yes, sir,” Benjamin said while nodding his head.

  Benjamin recognized that they were traveling a rocky trail from the clack of the horse hoofs and the jarring ride that felt as if the saddle horn was going to push through his belly and out his back. It made it hard to breathe and he was dizzy from hanging with his head pointed towards the ground. He was at a loss as to why he had been taken or what would happen to him. Even though the man that took him made sure that he did not get a look at him, Benjamin recognized the southern accent the moment he spoke. He did not know his name, only that he was the man that worked for Frank DeVille, but he decided that he would keep that to himself or it might get him killed.

  Sligo finally arrived with Benjamin at Moccasin Cave. Taking rocky paths to the cave had made the trip a lot longer and his ass felt as if it were rubbed raw from being pressed tightly against the cantle because of the space the kid was taking. He led the horse into the mouth of the cave, pulled Benjamin off the saddle, and sat him against the wall where the light shone in. “I’ve got to go gather some wood. You sit tight and don’t make me shoot you,” he warned.

  ∞

  Sarah had started preparing supper when Ethan walked in from working all day moving the cattle to fresh grass. “Your son is not home from school yet. When he walks through that door, I’m going to tan his britches, and don’t you try to stop it,” she said.

  “I haven’t unsaddled Pie yet, maybe I better ride out and check on him,” Ethan said.
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  “I’m sure he is just lollygagging down the road. You know how he gets.”

  Ethan rode out expecting to find Benjamin just down the road. Seeing no sign of his son, he put the horse into a trot. He was starting to grow concerned. Benjamin was never this tardy. A half mile from the cabin, he saw the books and lunch pail lying in the road. Climbing down from his horse and picking up the pail, Ethan felt the weight of the lunch still inside it. Foreboding ran through him before he even saw the note sticking out between the books. It read, “Mr. and Mrs. Oakes, We have kidnapped your son and are holding him for $5000.00 ransom. Take the money in $20.00 gold pieces to Sand Creek Bridge on Saturday noon. No harm will come to your son if you follow our instructions.”

  The magnitude of the news forced Ethan to squat and gulp in large breaths of air to fight off faintness. As he tried to reread the letter, the paper trembled in his shaky hands as if he had palsy and his vision was obstructed by blackness on the edges of his periphery. Kidnappings were something that happened back East, never around here that he had ever heard. His mind raced to try to think of possible culprits, but fear for Benjamin’s safety made it impossible to concentrate.

  Ethan put Pie into a gallop towards home. Breaking the news to Sarah was going to be the hardest thing that he had ever done in his life. He wasn’t sure that she was strong enough to endure another heartbreak. It seemed inconceivably cruel that after all the years that Sarah and he had tried to have a child that their son would now be snatched away by evil. He wondered how God could let such a thing happen.

  Sarah was standing with her hands on her hips ready to pounce when they walked through the door, but Ethan came in alone carrying the pail and books, looking as white as a sheet. “Oh my God, what has happened?” she asked.

  Ethan held out the note in front of her. “Somebody kidnapped him. It happened this morning, his lunch hasn’t been eaten,” he said.