Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Teaser chapter
Charles G. West
WELCOME TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD
“What I’m sayin’ is, if you stick your hand on my coat, you might not get it back.”
“Whoa!” Leather Vest mocked, and threw his hands up, pretending to be terrified. “I believe we’ve got us a rattlesnake here, Rafe. Better jump back before he bites ya.” He took an exaggerated step back then to Rafe’s amusement before the smile of contempt returned to his face, and he focused his gaze upon Adam as he issued his warning. “Now I’m gonna teach you a little respect, and show you what happens to jokers who threaten me.” He reached for one of his pistols.
Before he could pull it, Adam threw the glass of beer in his eyes, at the same time grasping his rifle by the barrel. Swinging it like a club, he cracked Rafe on the side of his head before the startled bully could pull his revolver halfway out of his holster. In almost one continuous move, he spun around to face Leather Vest, who was sputtering and spitting, trying to wipe the beer out of his eyes. One quick thrust with the butt of his rifle smashed Leather Vest’s nose and dropped him to the floor....
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First published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library,
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First Printing, October 2011
ISBN : 978-1-101-54478-5
Copyright © Charles G. West, 2011
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Chapter 1
“Mose said you were lookin’ for me,” Adam Blaine said when he met his father coming from the barn. “If you’re still worryin’ about those missin’ cows over on the north range, I found ’em this mornin’ holed up in a ravine near the creek.”
“No,” Nathan Blaine replied. “I figured you’d find’em. I knew they wouldn’t be far. Mose always blames the Indians when we’ve got cattle missin’. I keep tellin’ him that if there’s one or two missin’, then it might be hungry Injuns cuttin’ out some of the stock—but not when we’re talkin’ about twenty or thirty at a time.”
Adam smiled, picturing the worried face of the old Indian scout. Mose Stebbins had come to work for Adam’s father when his eyesight began to fail him and he no longer trusted himself to lead a cavalry scouting party. The old man had gone on many a hunting trip with him in the mountains to the north and the Absarokas to the south. Now his eyes were no longer sharp enough to be accurate on shots of any distance. Never one to admit to this weakness, he always tended to give Adam the longer shot, saying the young man needed the practice. “I counted thirty-two head,” Adam said, “all bunched up together.”
“I figured,” his father repeated. “That ain’t why I sent Mose to find you, though.” He waited for Adam to step down from the saddle. “I think it’s time you went to look for your brother.”
“Yessir,” Adam replied without emotion. Jake, three years his junior, had been away from home for over a year. That in itself was not cause for concern for Adam and his father. Jake had sent a message that he was planning to leave Bannack and head for home that very day. Now, two weeks later, Jake had failed to show up from what should have been a five-day ride at most. There was no concern on his father’s part for the first week. Jake was always his free-spirited son, prone to drift with the wind, and Nathan was not surprised when he didn’t show when he was supposed to. Never content to work at raising cattle, Jake had hurried off to join the horde of other dreamers when news of a major gold discovery in Bannack reached their little settlement on the Yellowstone. Adam had to smile when he remembered Jake’s promise on the day he left. “I’ll find enough gold to buy all the stock we need to make the Triple-B the biggest cattle spread in the Gallatin Valley.”
His father had responded with the statement that the Triple-B was already the biggest. “But if you have to chase your tail in a circle around Bannack, go to hell on. When you run outta grub, come on home.”
Nathan’s claim was not an exaggeration. The Triple-B was the largest, but it was because it was the only cattle ranch in the valley. He had built it up from its simple start as a small herd he had driven up from his home in Briscoe County, Texas. The old man was now fully aware that his was a situation that was bound to change, and soon. More and more settlers were showing up on the trail that led from Fort Laramie to the gold strikes in Bannack and the more recent one in Virginia City. These were not the folks that worried Nathan; they were just passing through. It was the people looking for space to build new homes who concerned him, and the ferti
le land of the Gallatin Valley was a strong attraction to many of these farm families. Nathan knew the fences would be coming, and his free range would be shrinking with each new arrival. John Bozeman, along with Daniel Rouse and William Beall, was already rumored to be thinking about laying out a town. For now, there was room for everybody, but how long would that be the case? These were the issues he would deal with in the not too distant future. His concern on this day, however, was for his son, and what trouble he might have gotten himself into in the mining camps. In sharp contrast to Jake, Adam was as steady as a granite cliff. Taller by a couple of inches on a powerful frame, Adam was truly Jake’s big brother, and Nathan was confident that his elder son would ensure the continued success of his ranch long after he was gone. Adam had been getting his younger brother out of scrapes since they were boys, so it was not unusual that Nathan was sending him to find Jake once again.
It was all the same to Adam. Unlike his brother, he never crowded his mind with thoughts of country he had never seen, or places he had not been. To him, life was what you made it, with whatever tools or weapons were at your disposal. He didn’t fault Jake for being a dreamer. That’s just the way Jake was. In fact, Adam sometimes envied his younger brother’s longing to see the valley beyond the next mountain, or to follow the river to its beginning. Jake often teased his brother about his emotionless approach to each new day and the work that was waiting to be done. But he knew and appreciated the fact that the rock that was Adam was always there to lean on. Mose said Adam was soulful, born without a funny bone, but Nathan suspected his son’s serious approach to just about everything was due to his mother’s early death and the subsequent burden that had fallen upon him to look after his younger brother while doing a man’s share of the ranch work. It was Adam who had convinced his father to let Jake follow the prospectors to the gold fields. “He’ll get it out of his system pretty quick,” Adam had predicted, “when he finds out all his hard work won’t result in much more than a little grub money.” As it turned out, however, Jake had evidently stuck with it longer than Adam had figured. And according to the message he sent, he was coming home with a little more than “grub money.” Adam wasn’t surprised in one respect, however, knowing how important it was to Jake to prove that he was his own man, and was not dependent upon his father or Adam to make his mark. Still, it was hard to picture Jake with a pick or shovel in his hand. No matter what he did, though, Jake was always going to be Jake, wild, sometimes to the extent of recklessness, and that was more than likely the reason for his failure to arrive when he said he would. Maybe he had encountered a saloon along the way that had tempted him to risk some of his fortune on cards and women. It wouldn’t be the first time. I wouldn’t be surprised, Adam thought. Well, I’ll go see if I can find him.
“I figured you’d be ridin’ Bucky,” Nathan Blaine remarked when he walked into the barn where Adam was securing his saddlebags on a red roan named Brownie. Bucky was Adam’s favorite horse and almost always his first choice when considering a ride of any length.
In response to his father’s comment, Adam turned to gaze at the big bay gelding in the corral. “I decided it’d be best to let Bucky rest for a few days,” he said. “He’s tryin’ to get a split hoof on his left front, and I’m hopin’ it’ll heal on its own, given a little time. Tell Mose and Doc not to work him till I get back.”
“I will,” Nathan responded. “Here,” he said, and handed Adam a roll of bills. “You might need some extra money in case you have to bail your brother out of jail or somethin’.” Then he gave him a small pouch. “There’s three gold double eagles in here. That ain’t but sixty dollars, but you might need it in case they won’t take any paper money in that damn place.” Adam nodded, took the money, and put it away in his saddlebag. Nathan stepped back then while his son climbed up in the saddle. “You be careful, Adam.”
“I will, Pa,” Adam said, and slid his Henry rifle into the saddle scabbard. With no further words of parting than this, Adam wheeled the roan and set him on a southwest course toward the Yellowstone. His father spun on his heel and returned to the house, confident that Adam would find his brother. Passing the back corner of the corral, Adam saw Mose and Doc replacing a broken rail. He pulled up when he was hailed by Mose, who walked out to meet him.
“Boy,” Mose addressed him—he always called him boy. Adam figured the old man would always think of him and Jake as the two scrappy little fellows in their childhood. “You be damn careful, you hear? There’s a lot of wild, godless outlaws preyin’ on the hardworkin’ folks around them diggin’s. You mind your back.”
“I will, Mose. I’ll find Jake and be back here before you know I’m gone.”
Mose remained there for several minutes, hands on hips, watching Adam until he turned Brownie toward the river. Of Nathan Blaine’s two sons, he admitted to himself, Adam was his favorite. Maybe it was because Adam had always been interested in learning everything Mose offered to teach him, whether it was stalking and killing an elk or knowing a horse’s mind. Unlike Jake, who openly flaunted his self-reliance, Adam seemed secure in a quiet confidence that he was prepared to handle whatever confronted him. In spite of their differences, Mose had to concede that the two brothers were close. He attributed that to Adam’s maturity and the fact that he had more or less watched over his younger brother since their mother died. Mose’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Nathan Blaine calling for him from the house. I don’t know how long this place would survive without me to take care of everything, he thought as he turned and started toward the back door of the house.
Adam arrived at the bank of the Madison River at the end of the second day’s travel, his first day having been shortened considerably by his late departure from the Triple-B. He made his camp a hundred yards up a stream that emptied into the river where the light from his fire might not be noticed by anyone passing by. After an uneventful night, he was out of his blanket at first light and saddling the roan, preparing to ride for ten or twelve miles along the river before stopping to rest his horse and have his breakfast. Following an already well-traveled road, the roan maintained a steady pace, so much so that Adam decided to push on until Brownie showed signs of getting tired. Consequently, it was close to noon when he decided the horse had earned a good rest.
While he sat by his small fire, drinking a cup of coffee and gnawing on a strip of jerky, he idly watched the red roan as it nosed around in a patch of green lilies at the water’s edge. There had never been any reason for him to travel to Alder Gulch, so all he knew about Virginia City, Nevada City, and the other towns along that gulch was what he had heard—that they were wide-open and lawless towns with thousands of new people streaming in every day. Based on these stories, he had halfway expected to meet other travelers on the road along the Madison, but so far, he was the only traffic. Back in the saddle, he continued his journey.
Leaving the river, he followed the road up into the hills for another nine or ten miles before sundown once again called for him to make camp. Virginia City couldn’t be more than another half day’s ride, he figured, and Bannack was supposed to be about sixty miles beyond Virginia City. And although Jake was supposed to be in Bannack, Adam planned to start looking for his brother in the saloons and bawdy houses in Alder Gulch and Daylight Gulch before moving on to Bannack. If he was lucky, he might find him holed up there, delayed by a run of luck at the poker table, or a fancy lady who happened to catch his eye. He shook his head and sighed, much like a harried parent thinking about a rambunctious child, as he guided the roan toward a stand of cottonwood trees that suggested the presence of some form of water. Sure enough, he found a small stream cutting a shallow gully between the trees. In short order, he had his horse taken care of and a fire glowing cheerfully. With his coffeepot bubbling on the edge of the fire, he broke out his frying pan and started to prepare some more of the jerky he had brought. It was then he noticed the ears perking up on the roan grazing nearby, followed a few seconds later by an
inquisitive nicker. Knowing it could be anything out in the darkness that caused the horse to inquire, a mountain lion or a bear, he nevertheless casually rolled away from the firelight, drawing his rifle from the saddle behind him as he did. “Hello the camp,” a call came a few minutes later. “Saw your fire back there. Mind if we come in? There’s just the two of us.”
Adam’s first thought was that he hadn’t hidden his camp very well, but there was nothing to remedy that now. “Come on in,” he called back while edging his way a little farther from the firelight until his back was against the trunk of a cottonwood.
In a few moments, two riders approached the fire, slow-walking their horses through the trees beside the stream and leading a packhorse. Pulling up in the small clearing, they looked right and left before sighting Adam sitting with his back to the tree. “Howdy,” one of the men said. “Don’t blame you for bein’ careful. There’s a helluva lot of road agents ridin’ these trails around here. We all have to be careful.”
“That’s what I hear,” Adam replied, and got to his feet, his rifle still in hand. “You’re welcome to some coffee. I don’t have much food to offer but some jerky I was fixin’ to fry when you rode up.”
“’Preciate it,” the rider said. “Me and Jim here would love some of that coffee, but we’ve got plenty of fresh-kilt deer meat that needs to be et before it starts to turn. Jim shot a young buck a few hours ago right when it was crossin’ the river. So if you’ll furnish the coffee, we’ll furnish the meat.”
“That sounds like a fair deal to me,” Adam said, still watching his visitors with a cautious eye.
Outlaw Pass (9781101544785) Page 1
