Dodge City

by Randy D. Smith

  Collier slipped the old flintlock into his scabbard and looked for the wolf. It was sitting in the middle of the trail thirty yards behind, still watching, still quiet. Collier cocked the hammer on his Remington. "Yes, I'm coming."

  CHAPTER XXI

  The cave was situated half way up the south wall of the canyon above the lake. The old man halted at the base and waited for Collier. "You'll have ta leave yer pony here. I'd think he'd be alright."

  Collier studied the steep climb to the cave. "I'd reckon so. You get over where I can watch you and hobble him at the same time."

  The old man sat on the ground without argument. Collier decided to jerk the saddle before hobbling the gelding. He pulled the saddle down and slung it heavily to the ground, rifle, scabbard and all.

  "Careful with that gun a mine. It's the only shooter I got left," the old man said.

  Collier pulled his hobbles from the saddle bags. "Sorry bout that, old timer. I'd hate to damage it in case you want ta try to blow my head off again."

  The old man sighed. "I'd probably just miss again. I'm getting too old fer such things. If'n you'd been an Injun, I'd probably be under by now."

  As Collier hobbled the horse he looked for the wolf. It was waiting thirty yards away.

  "You say your name's Collier?" the old man said quietly.

  "Yeah, Lane Collier. I'm a buffalo hunter."

  "You know your parents?"

  "Lost both my parents when I was a sprout."

  "Lost yer mother, did ya?"

  "Small pox got her bout two years after my father disappeared on the Santa Fe."

  "She never remarried?"

  "No. She never remarried. Why?"

  The old man shook his head. "I been out here too long. Guess I just let my snoop'n get the best a me."

  Collier smiled. "Yeah, I can see how a man could do that. You've chosen a lonely life."

  The old man began a small design in the dirt with a stick. "Didn't have a great lot a choice. Jus' kind a the way things worked out."

  "You could have left."

  The old man smiled. "Maybe so. Just never was sure which way was out."

  Collier tipped his hat back on his head. "You got in here didn't you?."

  "I got in here. I was wondering about without water for more than five days. Don't even remember finding this valley. I was out a my head. I sorta woke up down there by that pond. I didn't know if'n I came in from the north, south, east or west. It was a hell of a feelin'. And besides, there was the ghosts. They didn't take kindly ta my leavin'."

  "Ghosts? What ghosts?"

  The old man straightened to his feet. "Come on. I'll show ya."

  He led Collier up the canyon wall trail to the cave. It was a steep climb but not difficult. "I found this here cave about two months after I was stranded here. I had already killed me an Arapaho. Took his bow and his traps. Couldn't catch his pony though. I figured I get the next un's pony. Then I found this here cave." He had to bend to the waist to get through.

  Collier waited outside.

  "Come on in. I ain't a gonna jump ya. You got nothin' ta fear from me."

  "I couldn't tell that earlier."

  The old man stepped out of the cave. "My eyes ain't so good. I just see shapes now a days. You could a been an Injun. Another one's bout due."

  Collier looked at the old man's eyes. They frosted look to them. "You could try to make peace with em."

  "What fer? Kinda late fer that ain't it?"

  Collier looked down to the base of the canyon. The wolf was sitting near his horse, watching. "I guess so.” He entered the cave with his rifle held in front. He made out a small fire pit in the center full of hot embers in the dim light. He waited for his eyes to adjust. The old man threw a few sticks on the embers. Collier made out shapes along the wall. The forms of men rested against the walls. Old Spanish armor was arranged like men sitting in a circle."These your ghosts?"

  The old man sat next to the fire and made a broad sweep with his arm. "These fellers a been my only company for years. That big feller over there is Pedro. Then there's Juan, Amigo and Julio. I call the little fellow Gomez."

  Collier shook his head. "Kinda poor company, ain't they?"

  "Better company than those Injuns. They don't talk back and they damn sure don't try fer your scalp. Besides they saved my life once."

  Collier dug out his coffee and a small pot from his saddle bags. "How's that?"

  "One a those Injuns snuck in this cave whilst I was a sleeping. When he saw these fellows a waiting fer him, he let out a war hoop that would a raised the dead. Thought they was the ghosts of the old Spaniards, I guess. Anyways I killed him with this here knife afore he recovered his senses."

  The wolf entered and laid down next to Gomez.

  Collier filled the pot and placed it on the fire. "It shouldn't take long for it to brew.”

  The old man settled back against a bed made of hides. "I waited this long. I can wait a while longer."

  Collier reached for his rifle and sat in a position to watch both the old man and the wolf.

  "Your mother was a pretty woman?" the old man asked.

  "Yeah, she was pretty. She was halfPawnee. Not so dark as most Indians. I remember she had beautiful hair."

  "She have a name?"

  "Ellsbeth. Her name was Ellsbeth."

  "Kind a unusual. That name.”

  "Yeah, I've never known anyone else to have that name."

  Collier fished some jerky from his bag. "You want a piece of this?"

  The old man shook his head. "I don't eat no more. Can't keep anything down."

  "No wonder you’re weak. How long has it been since you ate?"

  The old man shook his head. "Oh, I eat. Mostly broth with some meat. I can keep that down."

  "Don't sound good to me."

  "Depends on your age. I figure my time's bout up. My teeth’re played out as well. That's probably why you're here, ain't it?"

  "What do ya mean?"

  "I guarded it as long as I could. I figure these fellers needed someone new. I figure that's you."

  "Guard what?"

  "Why else would you come here? You of all people. The only white man I seen in thirty years.”

  "I just wondered in here. It was just a coincidence."

  The old man sat up. "You didn't just wonder in here. You know better than that. Someone told you bout this place. My guess is, it was some Injun."

  Collier thought of Elk Heart.

  "I knew it. It was an Injun. Your face don't lie, Lane Collier. You were sent to relieve me of the curse. It's all too perfect. Who better to become the Death Spirit than you?"

  "Not me? I ain't staying here. I'm riding out first thing in the morning.”

  "Maybe you're supposed ta leave? Maybe that's why you were sent? Maybe it's time? Why else would it be you?"

  The coffee boiled through the spout, hissing as the drippings hit the fire. The wolf sat up and Collier shifted the muzzle of his rifle toward him.

  "Settle down,” the old man snapped. “You ain't no pup. Quit acting like that!"

  The wolf laid back down and Collier lowered his rifle. He turned to his saddle bags and pulled out a tin cup. "I only got one."

  The old man reached into a hide bag by his bed and pulled out a Spanish goblet. "I can drink out a this.”

  Collier examined the goblet. "What is this thing? It looks valuable."

  “I'm a thinkin' it was some type a church cup. There were several things like this stored here with the armor."

  Collier shook his head and filled it with coffee. “It ought to do, I guess." He handed the coffee to the old man.

  He took his time smelling the coffee before taking a sip. "Lord, I'd forgotten just how good this stuff was." He held his stomach.

  "Don't look like it agrees with you."

  The old man shook his head. "Don't matter much now. I'm a gonna drink it whether it agrees with me or not. It's been many a year since I've had me a cup a coffee and I d
on't intend to miss out on it now."

  Collier realized the sky was growing dark outside. He stepped to the cave entrance.

  "You'll have to stay the night in here. The canyon belongs to them dead Injuns after dark. It wouldn't be wise to go out there at night."

  Collier didn't like the idea of spending the night with a wolf, a halfcrazy old man and a collection of Spanish ghosts.

  "You can tie me up if you'd feel better," the old man said. "A course, I don't know who'd tie up the wolf. He probably wouldn't take kindly to it."

  Collier smiled. "I suppose we'll get by without tying up you or the wolf."

  The old man crawled up on his bed. "That's good. The wolf keeps a pretty good watch on the front door."

  It wasn't long before the old man was sound asleep. Collier sat alone in the firelit cave. He noticed the wolf watching him. "I suppose I can either get some sleep or spend the rest of the night watching you, huh?"

  The wolf yawned and seemed to relax. Collier drifted off to sleep in a sitting position with the cocked Remington in his lap.

  * * * *

  Collier awoke with a start. The wolf was still in his place, watching. Collier decided to make another pot of coffee. The coffee woke the old man. He talked of the canyon and seemed totally comfortable with Collier. Collier offered him some food which he refused.

  Collier came to his feet. "I got to go. I'd be willing to take you out of here with me if you'd like."

  The old man shook his head. "No, I ain't leaving now. It's too late for that."

  "I doubt you'll last too much longer by yourself. You can't go on like this for long."

  The old man smiled. "I figure that. That's why they sent you."

  Collier packed his saddle bags and started out of the cave. "Don't get any ideas, old timer. I ain't about to stay here to babysit wolves and Spanish ghosts."

  "Don't expect ya to. I don't figure that's why you were sent."

  Collier went to his horse and saddled him. When he was ready to leave the old man stepped from the cave carrying a box.

  "I'll leave the musket at the graves. You'll be able to find it," Collier said.

  "Take this,” the old man said. “It's what you were sent to get."

  Collier placed the box on the ground and opened it. "What the hell? These are Spanish gold coins!"

  The old man nodded. "A thousand coins in that box. I reckon it's worth a fair amount."

  "I can't take this. This is yours."

  "Ain't mine. Never was. I don't have no use for it. I figure that's why you were sent."

  Collier shook his head.

  "Alright. I'll buy the coffee from you with it."

  "Hell! You can have the coffee.”

  "No. I'm a buying it."

  Collier fished out the small bag of coffee and some black powder that he used in his Colt revolver. "This is all the loose powder that I got."

  "I'm a thanking ya."

  Collier emptied the coins into his saddle bags and placed them on his horse. "I guess I'll just leave the musket here with you. Are you sure you don't want to leave with me? The next Injun'll probably get ya."

  "He'll have ta hurry. Anyhows, don't be too sure. I ain't as harmless as I look."

  Collier swung into the saddle. "I never did think of you as harmless, old timer."

  "Well, I ain't. If it hadn't been that the ghosts wanted you to live, I'd a blown your head off fer sure."

  Collier shook his hand. "I believe it. If you want out of here, there’s a trail north two days to the west. Look for a red rock formation that looks like three men standing.”

  “West, huh. I’ll never leave. I been here too long and I got no place to go now. This is my life. Has been for some spell. You take care, Lane Collier.” His grip tightened on Collier’s hand. “I’m glad I got to meet you.”

  Collier nodded but couldn’t find the words. As he rode away from the canyon, he thought that the old man would be about the same age as his father. He considered the possibility that the old man may have known him. That would be why he was so curious about his mother. He turned in the saddle to look back at the canyon. The wolf was sitting at the edge of the rim, still watching. "Surely, it couldn't be. No, it couldn't be," he said to himself. He turned back in the saddle and urged the gelding on.

  As Collier drifted out of sight, the wolf followed the game trail back to the lake. The old man was sitting on the bank studying the reflection of the trees in the water. The wolf went to his side wagging his tail and licking at the old man’s face. The old man gently made the wolf sit beside him stroking his neck and back. The wolf settled down next to him relieved that he was again alone with his old friend. The old man sat quietly for some time. He looked to the sky and whispered, "Ellsbeth."

  The wolf studied his master's face but could not recognize the tear rolling down his cheek.

  CHAPTER XXII

  A late summer rain storm in Dodge City was not unusual but this type was rare. It had been raining steadily throughout the day and the streets were a quagmire of mud. Rather than wait, McKnight delivered his hides straight to the Wright and Rath yard. He needed money to party and pay off the men. Since he couldn't be sure of Collier, he needed to sell the hides.

  As he worked his deal Stub Moore and Bugs Burton waited under the cover of the small porch roof of the store. The odor of the piles of green hides numbering more than ten thousand, permeated the whole town. Even Bugs was having trouble getting used to the odor. McKnight emerged from the store with a check for seven hundred dollars.

  A largeframed man named BobAllen followed. "Tell me what you decide about those wagons, Abe. I'd pay top dollar for that flatbed. What with General Miles going down into the Llano to straighten this mess out, the demand for that type of wagon is going to be good."

  McKnight shook his head. "I don't know what I'm a gonna do jest yet, Bob. I may try to pardner up with someone else or try to get up an outfit on my own."

  Bob Allen shook his head. "I can't imagine a man like Collier just calling it quits like that. I figured Collier and McKnight would be out there shooting until the shooting was no more."

  McKnight shoved his hands in his pockets and started for his horse. "Well, ya kin figure McKnight'll be out thar until the bitter dregs." He waved his crew after him and led the way down Front Street. "Let's get these outfits put away and meet at the Alhambra!" Stub and Bugs turned their wagons and followed. As the teams slopped their way down the muddy street, another wave of heavy rain engulfed them. Both wagons began to slide as they lost their tracking ability in the mire.

  "Hey McKnight! Where the hell are we going?" Stub called.

  McKnight turned in his saddle. Rain water was running off the brim of his hat in sheets. "We are going to put the teams away and go to the Alhambra to settle up! But, if we sit out here in the rain long enough and argue then I'm not sure what the plan will be! Now, do we jaw or do we move?"

  Stub mumbled some obscenities under his breath before he picked up his whip and cracked the team forward. The mules jumped and one almost went down as it lost footing. The supply wagon drew itself in behind the animals. Bugs followed with the iron wheeled wagon. It didn't take the men long to unharness their animals and leave them in the corrals at the livery. Within minutes the three were on their way to the Alhambra. McKnight and Burton easily outdistanced the peglegged Stub. Moore was struggling to keep his footing as he worked his way across the street. He cursed as he slipped and slide his way toward the Alhambra.

  McKnight swung the doors of the saloon wide. "Hello, girls! He's back! That ringtailed son of a mountain lion is here to satisfy you're every desire!"

  Big Sally was at the end of the bar and squealed. She opened a door leading to the kitchen. "You kids get out here! You'll never guess who's back!" She rushed to McKnight and threw her arms around him. “Abe, honey! I didn't expect you back till this winter! Honey, you're a sight for sore eyes!"

  McKnight whirled her around. "Big Sally, that ain't all that's a
gawing to be sore before this night's out!"

  She laughed. "Abraham, you are an embarrassment!"

  "You bare it! I'll take care a the rest!"

  Anson Jones worked his way through the kitchen door using a crutch under his right arm. Emmy followed and giggled.

  McKnight set Sally back to her feet. "Carrottop! Boy, you're a lookin' good!"

  Anson shifted his crutch to free his right hand holding it out for the hunter to shake. McKnight took hold of the boy's hand and shook it vigorously. Anson worked to keep his balance.

  "Be careful!” Emmy said. “He ain't completely healed yet! You're hurting him!"

  "What, little missy? You say somethin' ta me?"

  "I said you're hurting Anson!"

  McKnight released Anson's hand and stepped back. "Oh, I'm sorry, Spud. I didn't realize you were still on the mend. Step up to the bar and I'll buy you a drink!"

  Anson repositioned his crutch and smiled. "That's alright, Mr. McKnight. I'm fine.”

  McKnight nodded and banged the bar with his fist. The bartender complied with a large bottle of RedEye and several glasses.

  "Good! That's Good!" McKnight blustered as he pulled the cork, threw it over his shoulder and started filling glasses. "Here. Have a dose of WhoHitJohn!"

  Big Sally gave him a squeeze around the waist. "Don't forget me, honey!"

  McKnight slung a full glass in her direction as he poured a full glass down his gullet. He laughed and slapped her butt. "Well, drink up, Spud! There's more where that came from."

  "But...Mr. McKnight....I ain't never..."

  "Drink up, boy! Drink up!"

  Emmy put her hand on Anson's shoulder. "Just take a little sip, Anson," she whispered. "He'll be satisfied with that."

  Anson took a very small sip. He set the glass on the bar and shook his head.

  "Carrottop, I can't believe it. You a been staying in this here whore house for over a month and you ain't even had yerself a glass a whiskey! What have you been a doin' with yerself?"

  "Well, sir. Mostly I've been working in the kitchen."