“I reckon,” Tanner agreed. He reached down and pulled the bandanna away from the dead man’s face. It was the same man who had been talking to the corporal in the store.
“Has he got anythin’ on him that’s worth anythin’?” Jack asked, and dismounted to see for himself. As he relieved the corpse of gun belt and weapon, he paused to ask, “Can you really pull that pistol of your’n in less than half a second?”
Tanner laughed. “Hell no. I haven’t any idea how long it would take me to pull it. More like a half an hour, I guess. I’ve never had reason to time it.”
“I figured you was just tryin’ to bluff that feller.”
“I suppose we oughta drag him outta the path,” Tanner said. “We can dump him in that gully over there. I doubt if anybody’s gonna miss him.”
After the body had been disposed of, Jack took a long look at the deceased’s horse and decided it was little more than buzzard bait. “Saddle ain’t worth much, either,” he said. “Might as well leave it here, and let the horse go free.” Neither man felt any guilt over salvaging the dead man’s property. There was no sense in leaving any useful items for someone else to find. “What did you find out about that man you’re huntin’?” Jack asked when they were ready to leave.
“Like you figured,” Tanner replied. “Leach came through here, all right, headed for Virginia City.”
“That a fact?” Jack said. “How come you ain’t on your way to Montana?”
“I’m havin’ me some warm winter boots made. Then I’ve got to find a guide who knows the country.” Suppressing a smile, Tanner waited for Jack’s response.
“Hell, don’t nobody know the country between here and the Judith better’n me,” Jack proclaimed. “I hunted elk in Alder Gulch before they ever stuck the first pick in the ground, camped on Alder Creek and Stinkin’ Water Creek before folks ever started tearin’ up the soil in Daylight Gulch. Hell, when I warn’t huntin’, I picked gooseberries, and serviceberries, and chokecherries on the sides of the gulch. Lost a horse one year at Daylight Gulch—stepped in a stripped badger hole and broke his leg. Had to shoot him.”
“I know you know the country,” Tanner interrupted, lest the old-timer go on forever, “but you’re goin’ back to Denver City for the winter.” He shook his head as if perplexed. “I need a guide.”
“I’d go if you asked me,” Jack quickly replied.
“What about all that talk I heard about you wantin’ to winter with the Arapaho? I remember you said it was a bad time to start for the mountains. What changed your mind?”
Jack shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “I don’t know.” Then he flashed a wide grin. “I just figured somebody oughta look out for you.” In his heart, he didn’t really know why he was eager to go with Tanner. He just had a feeling that he was getting ready to die every winter he gave in to the lure of a warm tipi in an Indian village. If he had delved deeply enough into his soul, he might have admitted that he was lonely, a lonely old man facing the end of his life. In Tanner, he saw courage and determination, and he felt a strong need to be part of it.
“A lot of folks would tell you it’s the wrong time of the year to head up that way,” Tanner reminded him.
“Hell, I’ve wintered up that way before,” Jack replied. “Bitterroots, Bighorns, Wind River. Besides, it ain’t even really winter yet.” When Tanner didn’t respond right away, Jack added, “You wouldn’t have to pay me. I’ll go for nothin’.”
Tanner smiled. “How ’bout we go as partners, and I’ll pay for whatever we need as long as the money holds out.” Jack’s wide grin more than adequately showed his gratitude. They shook hands on it.
Chapter 17
Ike Leach had wasted no time establishing himself in Alder Gulch. The first week after he arrived, he looked Virginia City over thoroughly. Although still sprouting plenty of tents, shacks, and log huts, the mining center was rapidly becoming a city with some houses built of stone quarried from the sides of the gulch. Stores, saloons, stables, bawdy houses had become commonplace. But even with these signs of permanence, there was already ample evidence of the town’s coming decline. Gold discovered in Last Chance Gulch the year before was already drawing much of the town’s population to that new strike. There was a nucleus of citizens who still saw real progress, with talk of Virginia City becoming the capital for the territory. But it was not a desirable situation for a cutthroat outlaw like Ike.
There was law in force in the settlement. Vigilante law, long a factor in Virginia City, did not trouble Ike. It was the coming of real law enforcement, territorial lawmen, that worried him. Unlike his older brother, Garth, Ike was a careful man. For these reasons, he decided to ride farther down the Gulch to seek his fortune. There were more towns to choose from in Alder Gulch—Junction, Pine Grove, Adobetown, Nevada City, and a few others, all in a fourteen-mile stretch of the gulch. The town that suited Ike best was Junction.
The first thing Ike did when he arrived in Virginia City was to have himself fitted for a fine suit of clothes. He could afford it, and he considered it essential for his planned occupation. When he moved down to Junction, he wanted to look well-heeled, so people would expect him to have money. Tall and lean in his dark suit, he was welcomed into the poker game at the Nugget on his first night.
The players, all miners, gambling with dust for stakes, welcomed the opportunity to win currency and occasional gold coins from the stranger. The fact that he did not always win made him welcome to the game, and right from the first he was there every night. At about the same time the stranger arrived, there began a series of claim robberies, all resulting in the murder of the owners. But no one suspected the gaunt dark man who worked for a big mining company soon to locate in the gulch. Besides, the claims hit were not in Junction. No one seemed to notice that, after a few nights, Mr. Leach played with dust only, and no longer with coins or currency.
At last the sun dropped below the hills to the west of the gulch. Soon the long afternoon shadows would disappear into the darkness of the evening. Bundled up in a heavy coat, Ike shivered in the cold snowy thicket where he had been watching a lone miner load the last wheel-barrow of dirt to take to his sluice box before darkness forced him to quit for the day. “Get it all,” Ike whispered under his breath, which he could now see with each breath taken.
Finally the miner combed the few flakes of gold and emptied them into a pouch. Ike moved a little closer, straining to see. “I’da been a while findin’ that,” he whispered, as he watched the miner remove a flat rock from the edge of the creek. After the unsuspecting miner replaced the stone and went about the business of supper, Ike moved back out of the thicket to retrieve his horse. He then rode back up the creek before crossing over and approaching the claim along the path.
“Hello the camp,” Ike called out as he walked his horse toward the campfire.
The miner quickly grabbed his rifle, and stood ready to challenge his visitor. “Who the hell are you?” he called back.
“Ike Leach,” Ike replied. “I’m workin’ with the law enforcement committee. We’re tryin’to track down some of these claim robbers. You ain’t seen no suspicious strangers down your way today, have you?”
“Law enforcement committee?” the minor replied. “Well, I reckon it’s about time somebody done somethin’. It’s got so you gotta sleep with your gun around here.”
“It’s been a long day,” Ike said. “Mind if I step down and warm up a little by your fire? I’ve gotta ride all the way back to Nevada City tonight.”
The miner lowered his rifle. “Why, ’course not. Step on down. I was just fixin’ to boil a little coffee and fry up some bacon. You’re welcome to share.”
“Why, that’s mighty neighborly of you,” Ike replied. “I don’t mind if I do.”
The miner put the rifle aside and started to prepare his supper. “My name’s Ellis. I’m sure glad to see some law around here. There’s been killings up and down the gulch the past week or two. A man can’t be too caref
ul. I ain’t had much luck myself, so I don’t reckon nobody would waste their time robbin’ me.”
“Is that a fact,” Ike said. “Well, maybe your luck’ll change.” Since his stomach had begun to growl, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten for a while, he decided there was no hurry. He might as well let Ellis cook him some supper. “Anything I can help with?” he asked politely.
“You can get some water from the creek with that coffeepot,” Ellis replied. Ike graciously complied. When he returned with the coffeepot, Ellis asked, “When did this law enforcement committee get started? I ain’t heard a word about it.”
“Just since I got here about a week ago,” Ike replied, entertained by his charade. “I’m kind of a specialist, so they sent for me.”
“Who did?” Ellis asked.
Ike cocked a suspicious eye at his host. Ellis seemed to be asking a hell of a lot of questions. “Some folks in Virginia City,” he tossed off casually. Then attempting to change the subject, he asked, “Is that coffee startin’ to boil yet?”
“It’ll be a minute,” Ellis replied. He busied himself slicing some strips of bacon from a slab of salt pork. “It strikes me as odd that I ain’t heard nothin’ about your committee.”
Impatient, but still trying to maintain the charade, Ike said, “We try to keep it quiet. We don’t wanna warn the folks doin’ the killin’.”
Ellis paused to think about that before continuing with the meat. “I suppose so, but it looks like somebody woulda heard about it.”
A man of little patience to begin with, Ike finally reached his limit with the man’s incessant questions. Moving around the fire to place himself between Ellis and his rifle, he pulled his pistol from his belt. “Here’s your damn committee,” he growled.
Already harboring suspicions about his mysterious visitor, Ellis immediately dived to the side, snatching a revolver from under the blanket he had been kneeling on. He was not fast enough to avoid taking a bullet in the chest, but he managed to fire once before falling back. His bullet grazed Ike’s cheek, leaving a red trail across his face.
“Why, you son of a bitch!” Ike roared indignantly as he grabbed his cheek. “You shot me!” Furious at the man’s sneaky attempt, he planted one foot on Ellis’ gun hand and administered a stout kick to his ribs with his other boot. Ellis grunted with pain. Unable to free the hand grasping his pistol, he grabbed Ike’s boot with his other hand in a desperate attempt to fight for his life.
“Let go my boot!” Ike growled between teeth clenched in response to the pain in his cheek. He cracked Ellis sharply across his skull with the barrel of his pistol before pointing it directly at his forehead. “If you hadn’ta been so nosy, you coulda had a cup of coffee before you went to hell,” he snarled as he pulled the trigger.
Jerking his leg out of the dead fingers that held his boot, Ike spat upon the corpse, fuming over the deviousness of the man. In pure anger, he wasted another bullet on the corpse, attempting to vent his ire. Then it occurred to him that others in claims down the creek would hear the shots and might come running.
Realizing a need for haste now, he turned toward the flat rock at the edge of the water. Feeling blood seeping down his neck, he paused to grab Ellis’ shirt. He attempted to rip off a piece of the shirt, but he couldn’t tear it. Frustrated, he picked up a corner of the blanket Ellis had been kneeling upon, and furiously mopped the blood from his face and neck. Permitting his anger to get the best of him, he almost fired another shot into the dead man. Checking himself, but still frustrated, he picked up the knife Ellis had sliced the bacon with, and with one forceful plunge, left it sticking up in the dead man’s belly.
Working feverishly now, tugging at the flat rock, while pausing every few seconds to curse and blot the blood from the crease in his cheek, he uncovered Ellis’ treasure. Taking a small canvas pouch from the hole under the stone, he hefted it, trying to estimate its value. Fifty dollars, he decided, maybe seventy-five. The man wasn’t scraping a fortune from the claim, but he had more than he had let on. “The lying son of a bitch,” Ike muttered. He was about to hurl more abuse at the corpse when he was stopped by sounds of voices coming from down the creek. “Damn!” he exclaimed. He had hoped to have some coffee and supper before departing.
Hurriedly climbing in the saddle, he rode through the creek and up through the thicket where he had watched Ellis’ camp. He knew he would leave a plain trail through the snow, but he counted on the darkness to hide it until morning. By then it wouldn’t matter. The night’s work had not gone well. He could very well have been killed by the man. The miners were becoming much too alert to the possibility of being victimized by a claim robber. It might be time for him to think about moving on to Last Chance Gulch, a hundred and twenty-five miles away.
It had been a proper decision. Tanner was certain of that. The weather turned before they reached Bridger’s Ferry on the North Platte, blowing in a light snow that left a thin frosting on the trail. And he shivered to think of how cold his feet would have been had he not waited for his new moccasins. Up ahead of him, Jack Flagg hunched his frail little body in the saddle, never wavering or hesitating before a fork or mountain pass. Both men wore heavy buffalo robes draped over their shoulders, Injun style, as Jack referred to it. He claimed that the tentlike style trapped in more body heat than a coat made from the hides would have. Tanner couldn’t argue. He’d never had a buffalo coat, but he was beginning to believe his new partner knew a hell of a lot more about surviving in the cold than most folks.
They had already been in the saddle for over a week, and Jack figured they’d spend at least that much longer before they got to Alder Gulch. This was the easiest route, he explained, but the Sioux were not in a gracious state of mind after the so-called Powder River Expedition at the end of the summer.
“Some general name of Connor took a couple thousand soldiers or more up this way lookin’ to punish the Sioux and Cheyenne,” Jack explained. “All they found was Black Bear and Old Devil’s Arapaho people in a peaceful village on the Tongue. They destroyed the village and killed a lot of Injuns that wasn’t causin’ any problems to anybody. Connor and his soldiers come draggin’ ass back to Fort Laramie half starved and lucky to be alive after the Injuns got on their tail. The whole mess didn’t set too well with the Sioux, so I expect we’d best keep our eyes open to avoid any Sioux hunting parties.”
They continued cautiously, following the Bozeman route up through Powder River country toward the Yellowstone, camping a few days later at Bozeman City, approximately seventy miles from Virginia City.
Jack sat before the fire, cross-legged like an Indian, studying his young partner, who was absorbed in the cleaning of his rifle. Jack prided himself on being able to figure out most every man he met, but he found it difficult to figure Tanner. The dark-haired young man with ox-yoke shoulders was a quiet man who seldom wasted words. Tanner’s silence didn’t bother Jack, since he could do enough talking for both of them. What intrigued Jack was the feeling that Tanner was deep in thought about something far away, maybe something very serious. Yet he was not without a sense of humor. He could smile on occasion. Of course, Jack conceded, when you’re out to kill a man, it ain’t much to giggle about. Sometimes Jack would question his decision to partner up with Tanner, knowing so little about the man. It wouldn’t make sense to a lot of people to team up with a man who was on his way to murder somebody. For want of a better reason, he decided that it was because he believed Tanner when he said Ike Leach needed killing. Besides, he was a nice young fellow who could benefit from Jack’s years of experience in the mountains. Jack would never admit, even to himself, that he was drawn to Tanner because of the young man’s strength of character and his quiet courage. And Jack was of an age where he needed someone strong to back him up.
Feeling the old man’s gaze upon him, Tanner looked up from his rifle. “How long?” he asked.
“Two days,” Jack answered. When Tanner turned his attention immediately back to his rifle, Jack p
ressed. “You sure as hell don’t talk much.”
“No need to,” Tanner replied without looking up. After a long moment, he glanced up and gave Jack one of his infrequent smiles. “I’ve got you to take care of that.”
“What are you aimin’ to do after you find this Leach feller and kill him?” Jack asked.
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.”
“Well, maybe you’d better. In the first place, folks in Virginia City got tired of folks killin’ each other in their town, so you’d best be particular about how you’re gonna do it.”
“When I find him, I’ll kill him,” Tanner stated simply. “Where I find him is where I’ll kill him.”
“Huh,” Jack snorted facetiously, “That’s a real complicated plan.”
It was early afternoon when they stopped on a hill overlooking Alder Gulch. Below them, the winding creek made its way down the center of the gulch, staggering drunkenly out of sight, its banks crowded with men laboring to harvest the precious pay dirt. Before starting down the slope to Virginia City, Tanner advised Jack that they might want to separate, since he wasn’t sure what was going to happen. From where they now sat, Virginia City looked like a sizable place, bigger than Tanner had imagined, even though Jack had told him it was a town of ten thousand or more. A town that size was bound to have lawmen. Tanner thought it best if Jack stayed clear of him.
“Shit fire, son,” Jack scoffed. “I expect I’ll ride right along with you. I’m too damn old to worry about the law.”
Tanner looked at his partner for a long moment, thinking. Finally he decided he’d be wasting his time to try to talk the little man out of it. “Suit yourself,” he said, and pushed off down the slope.
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