by Vivi Holt
A few hours later they made camp, but he still hadn’t let down his guard. A fire flickered in the center of the small clearing and Claudine and Gracie huddled close for warmth. He could hear the wolves pacing in a circle just outside the light of the fire. In the distance, a howl penetrated the night’s quiet and he shivered. Gracie cried out softly and buried her head in her arms. Claudine gently patted her back, murmuring words of encouragement into her ear.
They’d ridden all day back toward Cheyenne, taking a circuitous route in the hopes of throwing Kellogg’s men off their trail should any of them take the initiative to follow them. He was certain they would, but now, having seen no sign of pursuers, he was puzzled.
He cleaned his rifle, shoving the rod down the barrel with a small cloth attached to the end. He pumped it up and down, pulled it free and examined it. When he was done, he wiped the outside with another cloth until it shone, then loaded it and his six shooters. Standing, he stretched his hands above his head, picked up his weapons and wandered closer to the fire.
He sat across from Claudine and Gracie, watching them as he tugged a piece of beef jerky from his shirt pocket and took a bite. He wondered about them. So far, Claudine hadn’t opened up to him much, but he hadn’t told her a lot about himself either, so he guessed they were about even.
Soon Gracie said her goodnights and climbed into the bedroll, covering it once again with their extra coats. She didn’t take long to fall asleep, but Claudine remained seated, staring into the flames. After a while, she stood and wrapped her arms around herself, turning in circles and studying the darkness on all sides. “Do you think they’re gone?”
Dan chewed on a piece of dry grass. “Nope.”
She shuddered and wrapped herself more tightly in the dark shawl draped around her shoulders. “What will they do?”
“Can’t say for sure. But in my experience, they’ll give up eventually and move on. We just gotta keep the fire burnin’ and stick close to it.”
She circled the fire and sat down beside Dan. “You’ve been hunted by wolves before?”
He chuckled. “Sure. It happens when you spend enough time out here.”
She shook her head. “Well, it’s the first time for me.”
He studied her through narrowed eyes while he chewed, leaning back against his saddle. He noted her wide brown eyes and soft lashes. He was a country boy, and where he’d grown in upstate New York, Negroes were rare as hen’s teeth. He’d never really met someone like Claudine before. She was beautiful. But not in an obvious kind of way. She wore a simple dress, and her hair was pulled back into a plain knot behind her head. Yet the lines of her face were elegant, and smooth, and he wished he could trace them with his fingers.
Another howl swept the dark prairies, and Claudine shuddered and shifted closer to him, then laid a hand on top of the thick blankets that covered Gracie’s feet.
“So what were you and Gracie doing at Augustine Kellogg’s house?” he asked.
She sighed. “Gracie lived there. She worked there …”
He frowned. “She worked there? What about you?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I got all night.”
She shrugged and huddled in her shawl. “When Gracie was a baby, we lived in Memphis. I was a slave to the Williams family. They were going to take her from me and sell her, and I couldn’t let that happen. So I ran away.”
He nodded, his eyes narrowing.
“We got across the river to Arkansas, but a bounty hunter named Jack caught us and made me walk all the way across the state, carrying my baby in my arms.” She shivered and took a long, slow breath. “When we got to Fayetteville, he took her from me, and sold me to a man who sold me to another family. She told me the same thing happened to her. That was eight years ago, and I didn’t see her again until yesterday at Kellogg’s.”
He held his breath.
“I’d been looking for her that whole time. When the Grand Army came to Fayetteville, I got away and ran off to Denver to start over again. When I saved enough money, I hired a detective and he told me there was a Gracie Hopkins at Kellogg’s. So I took the train to Cheyenne and walked up to his place. When I got there, I told Gracie she was my daughter …” She wiped her eyes with the corner of her shawl. “We were running off together when Stan Hannigan stopped us. He was going to shoot me … we fought, and the gun went off …”
“… And you shot him,” Dan finished after a long pause
Claudine covered her eyes with both hands and sobbed. “It was … either him or us.”
Dan frowned and laid a hand gently on her back, but she winced beneath his touch and her eyes darted to his face. “I’m sorry,” he said, removing his hand.
“No, it’s all right. I’m just not accustomed …”
He nodded. “Sounds like you’ve walked a rough road.”
Her eyes glistened with tears. “There were times I didn’t think I could bear it, not knowing where she was and me all alone in the world. But now …” She studied the bedroll beside her, where Gracie lay hidden from view. “Now she’s here with me and I can scarce believe it. It’s like a miracle.”
Dan swallowed hard and ran a hand over his face. He’d been so bent on exacting revenge for what O’Leary had done to his own sweetheart, he hadn’t stopped to think about the pain Claudine and Gracie might have been through to get where they were, sharing his campfire. It sure made a man think.
7
Dan woke with the dawn and quietly packed his saddlebags with what he’d need for the trip to Kellogg’s that day. He hoped to do what he came for and get back to camp before sundown.
He’d already stoked the fire and added a few bison chips to it by the time Claudine and Gracie finally roused. Claudine had fallen asleep against Dan’s shoulder, and he’d urged her gently into the bedroll she shared with Gracie, then fell into his own. Sleep overcame him quickly, but he only managed a few hours’ rest before the first creeping rays of sunrise tugged him out of the warm covers. The wolves had slunk silently away sometime in the night.
“Packed already?” asked Claudine with a smile, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
He nodded.
“We won’t be long. Just give us a minute to get sorted,” she said.
He frowned. “I’m headin’ out on my own, back to Kellogg’s.”
“What? Why would you do that? I know you said you were going into Cheyenne, but I’ve been thinking about it…”
“Unfinished business.”
She frowned, her nostrils flaring. “Unfinished business … but what about us?”
“Stay here. I should be back by sundown.” Dan felt torn – he’d come all this way to go after Kellogg and Angus, but he didn’t want to leave Claudine and Gracie on their own. Still, they should be able to make it for a day without him. They were camped beside a narrow creek on the prairie, hidden by a few squat trees. He’d left them food, the gun and the extra bedroll, and he’d be back before long if all went according to plan.
She nodded curtly and looked away. “Do what you have to. We’ll be here when you get back.” Then she caught his eye, her own wide and dark with emotion. “Stay safe.”
He nodded and mounted. “I’ll see you both soon.” He frowned as he steered Goldy east, then urged him into a gallop. As he rode away across the prairie his thoughts whirled. He didn’t know what he’d find at Kellogg’s, didn’t even know what the man looked like. How would he draw him from the group of gunslingers he was likely to have around at all times and do what he came to do?
He plunged into a hollow and found himself in the midst of a herd of bison, taking him and Goldy by surprise. The horse skittered sideways, but he held the reins tighter and urged the horse forward, forging a path through the herd. “Git on, Goldy.” As Goldy recovered his purpose, the animals moved out of his path, heads held high and shaking their short horns in his direction.
He let his gaze wander, marveling at the magnificent creatures. There were hundreds o
f them, scattered south across the wide plains until they looked only like brown dots in the distance. Those closest to him trotted away, their thick coats trembling with each step. Soon he was free of them and back on track.
By noon he’d reached Kellogg’s. It was difficult to approach the ranch without being seen, given the lack of ground cover or trees, but he managed to reach the barn that hugged the front of the property without anyone raising an alarm. He dismounted and settled himself behind a corner of the structure, where he could peer around toward the ranch house.
It was at least an hour before he saw movement – two men led three horses each out from behind the house. Four more men strode down the front steps and across the yard to the waiting animals. One of them, who had a thick black mustache and wore a red bandana around his neck, took the lead – his swagger made it clear he was in charge. He pointed this way and that, barking orders, and the rest of the group complied with nods and murmurs.
The leader mounted a tall black horse and led the pack down the driveway. As he passed the barn, Dan shrank back into the shadows, watching them from beneath the brim of his Stetson. That had to be Kellogg. His black ten gallon hat was pulled low so it was difficult to see his face, but he could tell the man was a strong and determined just by how he interacted with the others.
Once the dust from their horses settled again on the road, Dan remounted Goldy. They’d headed toward Cheyenne, so he was certain he could find them without too much trouble. The town had maybe fifteen hundred people, but even there he wasn’t likely to lose a posse like that one.
After checking his guns with the deputy at the sheriff’s office, it didn’t take Dan long to locate Kellogg’s crew. He found their horses hitched outside a building where a chipped sign announced the Lucky Horse Saloon, the words painted across the outline of a horseshoe. He hitched Goldy around the corner and wandered back.
When he entered, the dim lighting made him blink and it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust. He found a place in the corner against the bar and let his gaze wander.
The bartender was polishing glasses with a dish towel. He nodded in Dan’s direction and stepped closer. “What can I getcha, stranger?”
Dan tugged his hat off and set it on the bar. “I’ll have a whiskey, straight up.”
The bartender nodded again, poured the amber liquid into a glass and slid it across the bar to Dan. “That’ll be a nickel.”
Dan fished in his pocket for the coin, then set it on the counter.
“What brings ya to Cheyenne?” asked the bartender.
Dan lifted the glass to his lips, downed the shot in one gulp and set the glass back on the counter. “Here to see someone.”
The bartender nodded. “Who’re ya here to see? I know everyone in town – might be able to help ya find ‘em.”
Dan glanced around the bar. Two men played cards in a corner. Another snored loudly, his head resting on a table. Three more sat at another table, talking and laughing loudly as they drank. A woman leaning against a piano laughed with them, a feather boa hanging loose around her neck above tight stays and lacy petticoats. No sign of Kellogg or his men, though. Had they gone into some back room? There was a rear door, and he eyed it with interest, wondering if there was a way he could get back there without drawing attention.
He was about to reply when two men burst through the saloon’s swinging doors and staggered toward the bar. The first man leaned his hands on the bar to steady himself. The second man tugged a knife from his belt and waved it toward the bartender. “Hey, barkeep!” barked the first man, pulling out his own knife and holding it high. “Give ush yer cash.”
The bartender looked at them warily. “Now, hold on, fellas …”
“Give us y’money or we’ll stick ya!” cried the second man. He spun to face the rest of the patrons, waving the knife back and forth in front of his reddened face. “All o’ ya!”
Dan rested a hand on his own knife sheath. He didn’t intend to engage the men, but wanted to be ready in case they forced him to. He watched with narrowed eyes as the second man lurched around the bar, shoving his knife at each of the patrons in turn. When he reached the saloon girl, he leered. “Helloooo, sweetheart,” he said, then belched loudly.
She shot him a contemptuous look. It seemed to enrage the man, and he grabbed her around the neck and held the knife to it. “Think ya too good fer ‘ol Larry here, do ya?”
She tried to pull away. “Let me go!”
Dan pulled his knife slowly from its sheath and stood.
The first man waved his knife at the bartender. “C’mon now, barkeep, I don’ have all day! Get yer lazy self movin’.”
“Yer in deeper than ticks on a hound, son,” the bartender growled. “Don’t ya know whose place this is?”
The man’s face flickered with indecision. “Whaddaya mean?”
The second man was pulling the saloon girl by the hair toward the doors. “C’mon, Frank, let’s go.”
“Hold ya horshesh, Larry. This barkeep’s bein’ willful.”
“Stick him, then!” cried Larry. He yanked harder on the girl’s hair, and she screamed.
Dan’s gut burned. He’d wanted to keep a low profile, but these men had pushed him too far. He strode toward Larry, and the man glanced up at him in surprise as Dan plunged his Bowie knife into his side. “He stuck me, Frank!” he keened as he landed in a heap in the sawdust, releasing the woman’s hair. She scrambled away, still sobbing.
Frank spun around, his eyes wild – and right into the edge of Dan’s knife. It glimmered at his throat. “Don’t move,” Dan warned. Frank smartly dropped his knife on the bar and raised his hands skyward.
Slow clapping sounded behind Dan. “Well, thank ya, stranger,” Kellogg said as he emerged from the door behind the bar, followed closely by his five men and an older man with nervous eyes and gray hair. Two of Kellogg’s men hurried forward, grabbed Frank and Larry and carried them outside.
Dan assessed Kellogg through narrowed eyes. Should he take the chance? There were too many men for him to manage on his own with one knife. He wiped it clean on his pant leg and slid it back into its sheath. “No need.”
Kellogg chuckled. “No, you did me a service. I wouldn’t want to have to replace Charlie here.” He nodded toward the bartender. “Not to mention Gerri – she really is a sweetheart.” He winked in the girl’s direction, and she managed a wobbly smile.
“Don’t mention it,” replied Dan, reaching for his hat. He should slip out of there quickly and wait on the outskirts of town for the group. Meeting Kellogg without his guns hadn’t been part of the plan – he’d intended only to observe from a distance.
“I’m Augustine Kellogg. And you are?”
“Dan Graham.” Unable to just slip away, he held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
Kellogg shook it, studying Dan carefully. “A pleasure. Say, I could use a man who can handle himself in a tight situation. Are you lookin’ for work?”
Dan’s heart thundered. “Work?”
“I lost a man recently and need someone to take up the slack. What do you say – reckon you could help a man out? The pay’s good.”
Dan studied Kellogg’s face. His eyes were cold and calculating, but his smile was genial. “I could use a job …”
Kellogg’s grin spread wider. “That’s good to hear, Dan. Why don’t you come along with me, then? You can shadow me and we’ll see how things work out. I hope you can shoot.”
Dan nodded. “I can hold my own.” He noticed Kellogg still carried a gun in a holster attached his belt. He checked the rest of Kellogg’s men – they were all carrying. Apparently the rules didn’t apply to everyone.
“We’ll have to take those two up to the sheriff’s office now, but then there’s some work to be done around town. Let’s go.”
Dan put his hat on and followed Kellogg and the others out of the saloon, as the barkeep began cleaning up the mess they’d left. He fell into step just behind the last of t
he men, having to hurry to keep up with Kellogg’s clipped pace. The two men that had dragged the would-be thieves from the saloon earlier were just ahead of them, driving a wagon. Larry and Frank rode in the back, one of Kellogg’s men sitting across from them with a gun pointed at them. Frank sat with his head in his hands.
They reached the sheriff’s office within a few minutes. Inside, the Laramie County sheriff was studying a wall covered in wanted posters. He chewed absently, his brow furrowed, then spit in the general direction of a spittoon, the tobacco juice mostly splashing the floor. When he saw Kellogg, his entire countenance shifted. “Augustine! Did we have a meetin’?”
Kellogg frowned. “Nope. We got two thieves for ya, Willie.”
Willie saw Kellogg’s men carry Larry inside, then shove Frank in behind him. “That man bleedin’?”
Kellogg nodded. “Sure is. This here’s Dan. When these men tried to stick up the Lucky Horse, he stepped in. Handy with a knife.” He slapped Dan hard on the back.
The sheriff’s beady eyes appraised him. “Is that so?”
“I wouldn’t have done it, except that Larry here threatened a young lady’s life,” Dan explained. “I couldn’t abide that.”
Kellogg laughed heartily. “You see, Sheriff? We got ourselves a gentleman.”
The sheriff followed his lead and chuckled. “Ain’t that grand. Hey, Abe!” A young man with a thin mustache ran to the sheriff’s side. “Go fetch Doc Harrison, will ya?”
Abe nodded and jogged out the front door and down the street.
“Can’t have him dyin’ on me here in the sheriff’s office, now can I?” said the sheriff to nobody in particular.
Dan glanced at the wanted posters on the wall – black-and-white sketches of men and women on yellowing paper, all grim-faced and hunted by the law. None of the faces, thankfully, bore a resemblance to either himself or Claudine. Either Angus had died and Mrs. Tilly hadn’t reported them, or Kellogg had decided to deal with the issue himself and leave the law out of it. Either way, he was relieved to know that at least they weren’t on the lam – yet.
