by Duane Boehm
“We were robbed about an hour north of here. They killed Ray before we even caught sight of them. Never gave him a chance, just shot him right off the seat. There were three of them,” the driver stammered.
“Were your passengers harmed?” Gideon asked as Abby darted to the stagecoach door and threw it opened.
“One of the robbers got kind of familiar with the young lady onboard and was going to have his way with her until one of the other outlaws put a stop to it,” the driver answered.
The first thing that Abby saw when she opened the door was the dead man propped up in the corner. The corpse was a grizzly sight. The front of the man’s shirt was covered in blood and all the color was gone from his face that stared back with eyes still open. Sticking her head into the coach, she found Joann cocooned up in the opposite corner with her hands covering her face. The girl was crying uncontrollably.
“Joann, it’s Abigail. Come here,” Abby said.
Joann shot up from her seat and Abby helped her off the stage where her daughter fell into her arms. “Abs, it was terrible. They killed that poor man and then they made us all get out of the coach. They stole the locket that Momma gave me and one of them pulled me up against his body and felt my bosom and grabbed me between the legs. I was so scared. I just knew what was going to happen, but it didn’t. He told me that we would meet again and that the pleasure would be his,” Joann said through her tears.
Abby held her tightly and patted her back. “That was an awful thing to go through, but you’re going to be okay. I’m here for you now. You are strong and will get through this,” she said.
Gideon had walked up to them and heard the whole exchange. He could barely contain his fury and wondered why life had to be so hard. Joann was traumatized and a monumental day for him and her was now hopelessly ruined. Under his breath he swore vengeance when he found the outlaws. Robbers were bad enough, but men that forced themselves on women were the worst of the lot and if given the chance he would make that man pay dearly.
Abby looked up and saw Gideon. “I’m going to get her home. The rest will have to wait. I’m sure that you have plenty to do here anyway,” she said.
Gideon only nodded at her. For the briefest of moments, his and Joann’s eyes locked onto each other’s before Abby whisked her and Winnie away towards their home. Her eyes were like looking into a mirror at his own and it gave him an added jolt. He yearned to go with them and try to be of some comfort, but knew that he had a job to do. His newly sworn duty would have to take precedence.
He hailed some men to carry the body off the coach and then got all the information he could glean from the driver and other passengers. The outlaws had worn mask and nobody had any idea of their identity or much else. The only useful information that Gideon received was where the robbery occurred and which direction they had rode. The fact was that he did not really need much information; he just needed to go find them and bring them back.
Gideon gathered up the supplies that he needed to be gone a few days and put a sign up on the jailhouse door. Last Stand needed a deputy for times when the sheriff had to be gone and it pained him to know that the town council had no desire for the added payroll. There had never been a deputy before and they saw no reason to change now.
Feeling the need to let somebody know what was happening, Gideon walked across the street to Doc Abram’s office. The doctor was one of the few people that he considered his friend. Telling any news to Doc was as good as having a town crier. He was the biggest gossip in Last Stand, parlaying his skill into free beers at the local saloons.
“Doc, the stagecoach was robbed and they killed the shotgun rider Ray Tibbs. One of the son of a bitches was going to rape Abby’s cousin, Joann, until one of the other outlaws stopped him. I’m headed out to find them. I guess if anything gets out of hand you can see if Sheriff Fuller can put his fishing pole down long enough to come out of retirement and help,” Gideon said upon entering the office.
Doc Abram pulled his glasses off and rubbed his chin. “I’m sorry to hear that. We haven’t had one of those in years,” he said.
“I guess it’s my luck that we have one now that I took the job,” Gideon said.
“You know, reputation aside, that I can keep a secret when I want to do it. I’ve known since Abby came back from Wyoming all those years ago that she had had a baby. I am a doctor after all. And the first time that I saw Joann, well I knew that she was yours and hers. I expect that she was coming to meet you for the first time today. Am I right?” the doctor said.
Gideon was taken aback at the revelation. He stuttered for a moment and rubbed the one–inch long scar on his cheekbone that was the result of a rebel saber that had almost split his head in two. “Well, it’s a damn good thing that Abby did tell me. I would have hated to have the news broke to me the way that you just did, you old codger. But yes, like always, you are right,” Gideon said.
The doctor smiled at Gideon and rubbed his chin some more. “I’m glad that you are finally going to get to meet your daughter. I thought about that a lot over the years,” he said.
“I was looking forward to it, but the poor thing is traumatized right now. I hope that she bounces back. I better get going,” Gideon said.
“You’re about to earn your pay for the first time since you put on that badge. You be careful out there. I’ve thought that you were going to die on me twice already. Let’s not try for three,” Doc said.
“I sure as hell don’t plan on it. I’ve come too far to die right now. That’d be a real pisser,” Gideon said, plopping his hat back onto his head.
“Yes, it would. I’ll see you when you get back,” the doctor said as Gideon headed out the door.
Gideon mounted his horse and headed north out of town. He was ready to find the robbers to unleash his wrath upon them and had to hold himself back as much as he did his horse. The animal had a tendency to run if allowed. “Slow down, Buck. We’ve got to pace ourselves,” he said to the horse.
Chapter 2
As Gideon rode out to the scene of the robbery, he could not stop worrying about Joann. Some people were just not strong enough to get past a devastating event. For that matter, he could say the same thing about himself and after all, Joann was his child. He had carried the vision of the staring dead eyes of the little boy that he had killed for so long that it had become a part of him. That had all stopped when he rescued Benjamin, but he still closed his eyes uneasily every night to sleep. Abby was a strong and free spirit and he hoped that some of that had been passed down to Joann or that she would at least be a reassuring presence to help the girl move on with her life.
Gideon’s mind drifted to his and Abagail’s relationship. He thought back to the first time that he had seen Abby again at Ethan’s cabin while he was recovering from his gunshot wounds. He had not even recognized her, but her voice had hit him like a bolt of lightning and made him realize that he still loved her after all their years of separation. Love was an emotion he had not believed that he even possessed any longer. She was now in the process of divorcing her husband and Winnie’s father, Marcus. Marcus was a good man, but had a personality about two shades more engaging than a cigar store Indian. Gideon felt no remorse over the divorce. He had not been the cause of it, but merely the catalyst that put it into motion. Abigail had told him of her decision to divorce Marcus before he had even decided if he was going to stay in Last Stand. She had made it clear that she would wait for Gideon until he told her otherwise. His fear that his past would yet come rushing back and send him running again had prevented him from declaring that he was staying for good, but they had begun spending time together around town.
His romancing a married woman had caused a bit of a scandal in Last Stand. Gideon had become a legend by simply disappearing for eighteen years and thus allowing people’s imaginations to make him a near mythical figure. His character was taking a beating around town now and there had been some pressure on the city council not to hire him as sheriff. T
he council had been so relieved to get the ancient Sheriff Fuller willingly to retire on Gideon’s behalf that they had ignored the complaints and unanimously appointed him. Many of the town’s women were also ostracizing Abby for their relationship. Abby, with her take no prisoners attitude, could have cared less about what people thought.
Gideon found the spot where the robbery had taken place. It was easy to see the marks in the dirt road where the stage had come to an abrupt stop, footprints, and three sets of horse tracks coming out of the woods. Back in the brush, he found the smashed lock box.
After the robbery, the outlaws had brazenly stayed on the road riding north. Their tracks indicated that they were going at a steady trot that a good horse could maintain for hours with an occasional rest, but they certainly weren’t hightailing it. The outlaws seemed as if they had no fear of being tracked down by the law or were confident that they would stay ahead of it.
The road north ran between mountain ranges on either side and was easy travel. It would have been an enjoyable ride if he had had some company. The mountains up this way were stark and bare of vegetation with shear white cliffs that the sun angles made an ever–changing panorama of shadow and light, allowing the imagination to see whatever it could dream up in the view. The highest peaks were starting to get their first snows of the season, reminding Gideon that winter was not far away. He loved the mountains, having traveled to most of the ones near Last Stand in his youth and these were some of his favorites.
Gideon forced himself to concentrate on the road ahead and ignore the mountain’s beauty. On his last tracking endeavor, he had gotten careless and ambushed. That experience had left him dying near Last Stand where Benjamin had found him. In his mind, it was nothing short of a miracle that he had survived and turned his life around. He had no intention to let history repeat itself. The hands of fate would probably not be so kind the next time.
He gave Buck rein to go at an easy trot and followed the tracks for the rest of the afternoon to where they cut northeast off the road, headed towards the mountain ranges. Gideon had no idea of their destination. His only guesses were that they were planning to lay low at some hideout or were planning to ride clear to Denver to spend some of their newly procured wealth. Tracking became more difficult, but it wasn’t as if the outlaws were making any effort to conceal their path and he knew this area from the days when he and Ethan would go off on hunting expeditions.
He and Ethan had taught themselves how to track as boys barely big enough to carry a gun. Gideon had keener eyesight and had been the better tracker of the two, but they both had gotten to the point where they could track elk and deer and usually find their target. They had spent a lot of time hunting all around Last Stand, furnishing both their families with a supply of fresh meat.
It wasn’t until Gideon became a deputy in northern Colorado that he had really honed his skill at tracking. The sheriff there would hire an old mountain man to track for him. The mountain man had given up the trapping trade when the beaver had played out. The old codger was quite the character. He was extremely proud of his flatulence, expelling loud nauseous farts constantly.
“Whoa, that was a good one,” he would say as those around him would scamper.
The mountain man had shown Gideon how to spot a single blade of grass out of place or a leaf oddly turned. Gideon had learned the lessons quickly and the old man had begrudgingly complimented him on his new skills. They had served him well over the years in tracking both man and animal.
Gideon rode for another hour before deciding to make camp. Unsure of how close he was to his quarry, he made a cold camp and dined for what seemed like the thousandth time in his life on hardtack and jerky before bedding down for the night.
∞
The outlaws rode until dusk before making camp. The two brothers, Tom and Ted McClean, and their companion Shaggy Brown, built a fire and dined on a couple of rabbits that they had killed on the trail that day. Afterward, Tom inventoried the loot while Ted retrieved a bottle of whiskey and took a drink.
“How much did we get?” Ted asked.
“The box had five thousand in it and we got another two hundred and twenty–one dollars from the passengers, four pocket watches, two necklaces, and a ring. It’s our best haul yet,” Tom said.
“Hot damn. I told you it would be a good one. We’re rich now,” Ted said.
“Let’s divvy it up,” Shaggy grunted.
“I’m getting to that now,” Tom said as he grabbed the bottle and took a swig.
“I don’t know why we have to ride clear to Denver or why we can’t ride east and get out of these damn mountains to get there. There ain’t nobody on our tail. That old sheriff in Last Stand sure can’t keep up and by the time anybody else comes looking, the trail will be cold,” Ted said.
“It’s time to kick back for a while and enjoy our money and Denver is the place to do that. We’ve been down this way long enough. It’s best not to make too much of a nuisance of ourselves in one place,” Tom said.
“I get so sick of all your damn rules. I still got that girl on my mind. You should have left me alone and I could have broken that pretty little thing in right. Showed her how it’s done. You know you don’t come across one like that every day, and God, I wanted her,” Ted said, grabbing his crotch.
“People tolerate a shotgun rider getting plugged every now and then. It comes with the job. But if you start making them and their womenfolk feel threatened, they get mean real quick and come looking,” Tom said.
“That’s why I tell you that we should kill all of them. It’s hard to testify when you’re dead,” Ted said and took a guzzle from the bottle.
“You just don’t get it. You’ve never had a posse hot after you like I have. You don’t forget that if you’re lucky enough to live through it,” Tom said.
“Yes, I’ve heard a thousand times how you were the only one to escape when you rode with the Wheeler brothers. I’m smarter than that,” Ted said.
“You two talk too much,” Shaggy said and yanked the bottle from Ted’s hand.
Chapter 3
In the morning, Gideon awoke cold and hungry. The nights were chilly at this time of the year, especially at the higher altitudes. His belly was growling and he would have given anything for some good hot coffee, eggs, and biscuits. Instead he feasted on hardtack and jerky washed down with canteen water. He resisted the urge to get his bottle of whisky out to have a snort to knock off the chill.
Gideon moved stiffly around the camp, groaning as he bent down to pick up the saddle. Once ready, he resumed tracking the robber’s trail, following it as it weaved around a mountain range. He was now in unfamiliar territory, having only ridden the road this far north or traveled farther to the east with cattle drives. After winding around the mountains, a sandstone flat came into view that looked to stretch for a couple of miles before the next mountain range began. From the knob where he was resting his horse, Gideon could barely make out what looked to be a horse with a body lying beside it far out in the middle of the flat.
His first inclination was to surmise that the outlaws had probably decided to cut one of their bunch out of the split of loot and killed him. It didn’t seem likely that anybody else would be in this remote area and he had seen this happen before – honor among thieves be damned. Nobody would ever find the body out in this wilderness except if the law was tracking them and Gideon believed that the outlaws did not suppose that anybody was on their trail.
Gideon put Buck into a trot on the jarring sandstone towards the horse, making sure to keep his eyes peeled in all directions and his rifle resting across the saddle. If he were ambushed out on the flat, his only defense would be spotting the attackers well before they got to him in hopes of picking them off as they charged. He made it to the horse and body without seeing so much as a jackrabbit.
The man was lying on his side with his legs curled up and his arms stretched above his head, palms touching the ground. A small trickle of blood had
dripped down from his temple onto his face. Gideon assumed that it was a head shot and climbed down from his horse to have a closer look. As he neared the body, he saw that the man was breathing and removed his hat to find a goose egg lump on the side of his head. Rolling him onto his back, Gideon realized that he was no more than a boy barely out of his teens if that old. He was long and skinny with dark hair and features that would make the girls swoon for the fellow. As Gideon walked to his horse, he began to doubt his theory that this was one of the outlaws and more than likely a victim of theirs. He untied his bandana from around his neck and grabbed the canteen. Pouring water onto the kerchief, he bathed the boy’s face.
“Hey there cowboy, it’s time to wake up,” Gideon said as the young man started to stir. He slowly opened his eyes, jumping at the sight of someone leaning over him.
“It’s okay. I’m a sheriff. Just take it easy,” Gideon said.
The boy blinked his eyes a few times and reached up to feel his head. “My God, that’s a knot and a half. My whole head feels like it was kicked by a mule,” he said.
“Somebody waylaid you good. What’s your name, son?” Gideon said.
“Zackary Barlow, sir. I’m from up around the Laramie area,” Zackary said.
“Well, Zackary, what are you doing this far down in Colorado?” Gideon asked.
“You can call me Zack, sir. There were rumors that Big Nose George Parrott had headed down this way and I’m going to find him and kill him. My daddy was a stage driver and Big Nose robbed his stage and killed Daddy and the shotgun rider,” Zack said.
Gideon offered a hand and pulled the boy into a sitting position. “My name is Gideon Johann, by the way. I’m sorry to hear about your loss. I have a poster on Big Nose, but haven’t heard anything about him being down this way. He has always stayed in Wyoming and Montana as far as I know. Aren’t you a little young to be out here tracking a killer by yourself?” he said.
