The saddle in place, he stepped up in the stirrup, and the gray started to buck before Tanner could throw a leg over. Holding on for all he was worth, he managed to get his seat in the saddle. Letting the horse have free rein then, he held on while the horse galloped around the narrow valley in a wide circle. Finally, when Tanner began to think he was going to have to shoot the horse to make it stop, the gray suddenly surrendered and let Tanner guide it back to the other horses at a walk. He had to conclude that it was a relatively short adjustment period, and figured that it was because the horse was already broken to an Indian saddle. He hitched the other two horses on a lead rope and set out again to track down Garth Leach.
Chapter 13
“Looks like the cards just ain’t your friends tonight, mister,” the rotund man with the bald pate commented as Garth Leach lost another large pot to a pair of kings. “I didn’t catch your name.”
Glowering out from under bushy black eyebrows, Garth replied, “I didn’t give it.” The cards had not favored him with one winning hand since he’d joined the three men at the table. The round bald man on his right had enjoyed no better luck than Garth, but he had always folded early instead of staying in and calling the last raise on each hand. The bony dark-haired man in the frock coat, seated across from him, seemed to be the one Lady Luck was smiling upon this evening. The fourth player had won a couple of small pots, but was probably showing a loss for the evening. As the stack of gold coins grew across the table, Garth’s anger continued to rise. He could not, would not, accept the loss of any of the gold coins he had taken from Jeb Hawkins.
While the bald man shuffled the cards, the man in the frock coat picked up one of the coins and examined it. “I haven’t seen coins like these around here,” he commented. “How did you happen to come by them?”
Garth, his steely gaze riveted upon the cards being shuffled, shifted his eyes to lock onto those of the bony man. He continued to stare at him for a long moment before answering. “I don’t see that as any of your business,” he stated flatly. The spectators around the table grew very quiet. Looking back at the dealer, Garth demanded, “Are you gonna shuffle the faces offa them cards?” Baldy immediately offered the deck to be cut. “Deal ’em,” Garth said, declining the offer.
All conversation stopped at the table as those in the game sensed the violent explosion that threatened, and no one was eager to test the huge man. The cards dealt, Garth watched with suspicious eyes as each man discarded. He discarded two, holding a jack, a nine, and a ten. Frock Coat discarded only one card.
Garth’s brother Ike walked over to the table as new cards were dealt. He stood there watching for a moment, sizing up Garth’s losses. “You ain’t doin’ too good, are you?” He received an angry glare in answer. “I’m headin’ back,” Ike said. “When are you comin’?” Ike wasn’t pleased with the size of the pile of coins across the table, and he was worried that Garth might lose more than his share of the gold coins. He knew that Garth didn’t have the brains to win at cards.
Garth didn’t answer until he looked at his two new cards. “Right now,” he said. “I’m done here.” Without a word to any of the other players, he stood up and shoved his chair away from the table.
Fearful that some form of violence was about to erupt, the round bald man leaned away from the table, figuring that if the huge man exploded, the force of the explosion would be directed at Garner, the man in the frock coat. Garner, equally concerned for his safety, had taken the precaution of pulling a double-barreled derringer from his boot as soon as Garth stood up. He held it under the table until Garth turned around and followed Ike out the front door of the saloon.
“Damn, Garner.” Baldy exhaled. “You picked a helluva man to clean out tonight. I thought for a minute there that we was all gonna get shot. That man’s got a mean streak in him a mile wide.”
Garner smiled, relieved to see the two brothers go out the door. He held the derringer up for the others to see. “I was ready to use it if he came at me. He acted like I was cheatin’. Fact is, he just ain’t a very good poker player.”
The mood improved considerably after the gruff departure. Conversation that had been stifled for a few minutes resumed its volume. “I ain’t sure you coulda done much damage with that little popgun,” the third player commented. “Mighta just made him mad.”
“You might be right,” Garner said with a grin. “Might take a buffalo gun to stop that fellow.” He picked up his cards again. “Whose bet is it?”
The three of them played a few more hands before deciding that they had all lost enthusiasm for the game. “Well,” Garner said, “since I’m the big winner tonight, I reckon I can afford to buy you boys a drink.”
After a couple of drinks of whiskey, Garner announced that he was heading back to his place. His bald fat friend offered a word of advice. “I ain’t ever seen that feller before tonight, but I sure as hell don’t like his looks. If I was you, I believe I’d go out the back. He’s liable to be waitin’ for you out front.”
“I was thinkin’ that myself,” Garner said. “He probably stole these gold coins in the first place.” He patted the heavy bulge in his coat pocket.
“I’ll take a peek out front to see if he’s out there,” Baldy said. “If he is, I’ll signal you like this.” He made a motion with his hand. Garner nodded.
Baldy walked to the door of the saloon, a structure that was actually a long tent with a facade of boards, like most establishments in Denver City. He cracked the wooden door just enough to peer out. There, waiting by the hitching post, stood the huge man and his brother. “Uh-oh,” Baldy uttered and quickly signaled Garner.
“I’m gonna use your back door, Jake,” Garner quickly said to the bartender. Jake nodded. He had not heard all that passed between the poker players at the table, but he had caught enough of the last of it to understand Garner’s concern for caution. Outside the tent, Garner stepped into the dark alley behind the saloon. There was a dank odor of urine hanging over the alleyway, as this was the place where most of Jake’s patrons completed the final processing of his beer and whiskey. Garner sniffed contemptuously before turning and running headlong into the dark bulk of Jesse Leach.
At once terrified, Garner staggered backward, thinking it was Garth. “I was just lucky!” he pleaded in his defense before realizing that the imposing form before him was not the belligerent man at the poker table. He recovered his senses enough to explain. “Sorry. I thought you were somebody else.” He waited then, wondering why the stranger remained standing in his way, a brainless grin plastered across his face.
“Just lucky, was you?” Jesse replied. “Well, your luck just run out.” In the darkness, Garner had not noticed the long skinning knife Jesse held down by his leg. Striking like a rattlesnake, Jesse’s arm came up hard under Garner’s ribs, the force of the upward thrust lifting the slight man off his feet. Garner inhaled sharply as the knife ripped through his insides. “How you like this kinda luck?” Jesse chuckled as he withdrew the knife and thrust it deep into Garner’s gut a second time. Withdrawing the bloody blade again, Jesse stepped back and let Garner’s body crumple to the ground, where he lay whimpering pitifully as the life drained from him.
“Did you get all my money?” Garth questioned when Jesse appeared at the front corner of the saloon.
“All our money,” Ike quickly corrected, still irritated that Garth had gambled with the sack of gold coins found in Jeb Hawkins’ saddlebags.
Ignoring Ike’s comment, Garth remained focused upon his simpleminded brother. “Did you get my money?” he repeated.
“Yeah, I got it,” Jesse answered. “Them coins and more to boot. That feller had a sizable stash of paper money on him.”
“What did you do with him?” Ike asked.
Jesse snickered, eager to impress with his originality.
“There was a hook outside the back door. I hung him up by his collar. Won’t that pucker the first feller’s ass that walks out the door?”
“You dumb shit,” Ike hissed. “Why didn’t you drag him off in the bushes somewhere? When they find him, they’re liable to come lookin’ for us.”
Garth answered for Jesse. “What if they do?” he demanded. “What are they gonna do about it? There ain’t no law in this town.”
“Maybe so,” Ike conceded, “but a lot of these little towns have a vigilante committee that loves to have a necktie party every chance they get.”
“You let me worry about that,” Garth said.
Ike didn’t reply for a moment, trying to decide if this was the time to spill something that had been on his mind for a long time. His mind made up, he spoke his peace. “That’s just it, brother. I figure I’d just as soon worry about my share of things myself.” His comment caught Garth’s attention, and the big man cocked an eye in his brother’s direction. Ike continued. “You lost a lot of that gold in there tonight—some of it my share, some Jesse’s. What if that feller had slipped away somewhere where we couldn’t find him?”
“But he didn’t,” Garth interrupted.
“But he coulda,” Ike insisted. “Anyway, dammit, I’ll be holdin’ my share of the money from now on. We got a sizable sum right now, with them coins, and the sale of them hides. I don’t want my share to disappear in no damn poker game.” He paused then to see what effect his bold statement would have on his violent brother.
Garth said nothing for a long moment, his eyebrows lowered over dark eyes that glowered at Ike, causing Ike to drop his hand to rest on the handle of his pistol. Garth’s authority had never been challenged before, although Ike quite often questioned his decisions. Garth was the oldest, the biggest, and by far the meanest. He had been the undisputed leader of the family ever since the brothers were boys. There had been many times when he had seen fit to administer physical punishment if his orders were not satisfactorily obeyed, but there had never been outright mutiny. Now, within a few weeks’ time, Joe had split off to remain with Yellow Calf’s Kiowa and Ike was threatening his authority. Finally, the intimidating man spoke, his words slow and softly delivered. “You sayin’ you’re the one to give the orders around here?”
Ike, matching Garth’s deadly gaze with one of his own, responded immediately. “No, I ain’t talkin’ about givin’ orders to nobody. I’m just sayin’ I aim to have what’s rightfully mine.”
Garth glanced at Jesse, standing with mouth agape while his brothers faced off. Then he looked back at Ike, whose hand still rested on his pistol. If it had been Joe or Jesse, Garth would have simply kicked the hell out of him, and that would have been the end of the insolence. But Ike was different. Lean and hard, Ike was as lethal as a rattlesnake, and Garth knew he would not hesitate to draw that pistol if Garth, God Almighty, or anybody else threatened him. Garth considered his next move carefully before he spoke again. “All right, but let’s get the hell back to camp before somebody finds that body.” The time may have come for blood to be spilled between brothers. If this was to be, Garth preferred not to risk Ike’s getting a shot off quicker than he could. He would wait for a better time.
Back in camp the two brothers resumed the discussion started outside the saloon. An interested and mystified spectator, Jesse busied himself with bringing life to the coals in the campfire, not realizing the seriousness of his older brothers’ disagreement. With plenty of cash in their possession, they could have afforded to stay in a hotel, had there been one in the rough tent city near the confluence of the South Platte and Cherry Creek. After selling the load of buffalo hides at Fort Lyon, wagon, mules, and all, they had not lingered—too many soldiers for their liking.
There had been some minor discussion between Garth and Ike before this, with Ike ready to move on to a mining settlement thirty miles north of Denver City. But Garth favored remaining in Denver City. There was gold being taken from Cherry Creek, and the tent city was wild and lawless, an environment that suited Garth’s nature. After looking the area over, Garth had picked a spot on the creek close to a mining claim run by two old men. Jesse still had to smile when he thought of the reaction of the two men when they got a look at their new neighbors.
Jesse was concerned that Joe had not caught up to them at Fort Lyon, but Garth had said they would wait for him in Denver City. It had been quite a while, and still Joe hadn’t shown up. Jesse had to figure Joe was enjoying tipi living with that little Kiowa girl who had dressed his wound. His thoughts of his younger brother were forgotten when he was distracted by sounds of the argument heating up between his other two brothers.
“I say we stay here for a spell while the pickin’s are good,” Garth rumbled. “And, dammit, I’m the one who decides.”
“Not anymore you ain’t,” Ike roared back. “Leastways not for me. I’m headin’ up to Black Horse Creek. They’re just startin’ to pull gold outta there. This place here ain’t gonna last long. It’ll be dried up before next winter.” The two brothers locked eyes for a few tension-filled moments, and Jesse thought they were about to kill each other. Finally Ike broke the silence. “Dammit, Garth, you’re my brother, and I don’t wanna cause no trouble between us. But I wanna be my own man, and so help me, I’ll not hesitate to put a bullet between your eyes if you try to stop me.”
Garth studied the angry man for a few moments longer before deciding that maybe it was best for Ike to move on. It wasn’t good for brothers to go against each other. “Ain’t no use one of us gettin’ killed. You go your own way. Me and Jesse’ll stay here for a spell. We’ll split the money up right now.” He started to go to his saddlebag, but paused to add, “Joe ain’t here yet, but he gets an equal share. I’ll keep it for him till he catches up.”
“That’s mighty Christian of you,” Ike replied sarcastically.
“When you plannin’ on leavin’?” Jesse asked, genuinely disappointed by the outcome of the argument.
“In the mornin’, I reckon,” Ike replied. “I ain’t in no hurry. You’re welcome to go with me if you want to.”
“I expect I’ll stay with Garth,” Jesse said. He had depended on Garth to tell him what to do all his life. He was mentally incapable of leaving the dominance of his older brother.
Chapter 14
“I don’t know about you, brother, but I think we put in a pretty good day’s work.” Travis Bland sat down on the step beside his brother. “I’m thinkin’ another day or two and we’ll have her done, plenty of time before the really cold weather sets in.”
“Looks that way,” Trenton agreed, though with little of the enthusiasm reflected by his brother. He reached down beside the step and picked up a jug that had been resting there. Bringing it to his mouth, he took a long pull from it before offering it to Travis.
Declining with a shake of his head, Travis said, “You oughta take it easy with that stuff. You’ve been hittin’ it pretty heavy lately.”
“I’m only drinkin’ after the work’s done,” Trenton replied with a hint of agitation. “It ain’t slowin’ me down none.”
“It ain’t no way to go home to your wife,” Travis lectured.
“Hell, she’d rather have me pass out drunk,” Trenton replied.
“That ain’t no way to talk about Ellie,” Travis said. “You ain’t still thinkin’ about her and Tanner, are you? Hell, they were just kids then. You’ve got yourself a fine wife. You oughta appreciate it.”
“Oh, I do,” Trenton shot back, making no attempt to hide the hint of sarcasm. “I appreciate it a lot.”
Travis gazed at him for a moment before shaking his head in exasperation and getting to his feet. “I’m ready for some supper. You comin’?”
“I think I’ll sit here for a while,” Trenton said. “I’ll see you in the mornin’.” He waited until Travis disappeared past the corner of the field before lifting the jug again. He welcomed the sting of the strong whiskey on his throat. He only wished it could burn away the agony he felt in his heart. Travis had said that Tanner and Ellie were just kids before, but they were not kids when they had become engaged to
be married, before the war interrupted their plans. Trenton felt that he had cheated Tanner, although that was not what he had meant to do. He loved his brother, and he had stolen his wife. Although he had never confided this to anyone, this was the real cause for his bitterness. If I was half a man, I’d go after him and set things right. He feared that regret would curse him for the rest of his life. Tanner was gone, his father said to Kansas, and who knew where beyond that. He picked up the jug again.
Tanner Bland held the Indian pony to a steady pace, knowing he had lost a lot of time, but also knowing that time made no difference in his hunt. He was determined to track down the other three murderers no matter the time it took. After striking the Arkansas, he followed it west into Colorado Territory until he came to what he assumed was Fort Lyon. He was told by a soldier driving a wagon that the place was actually Bent’s New Fort. Fort Lyon was a mile beyond.
“Much obliged,” Tanner said, and continued on. Upon reaching Fort Lyon, he looked for the stables or a blacksmith, reasoning that the Leaches might have had need for one or the other.
“I expect I know the three you’re lookin’ for,” Bill Bramble said in response to Tanner’s inquiry. “A man ain’t likely to forget them three—two of ’em as big as buffalos and the other’n lean as a whip.” He eyed the dark-haired stranger wearing beaded moccasins and a flat-crowned hat pulled low over his eyes. “Buffalo hunters. At least I reckon that’s what they was. They sold a whole wagon load of buffalo hides. Then they came over to my place and sold me their wagon and mules.” He scratched his head as if finding his words hard to believe. “I give ’em next to nothin’ for that outfit, but they took it, and I think I heard ’em talkin’ about headin’ to Denver City.” He continued to study Tanner while he thought about what he had just learned. “Are they friends of yours?”
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