The Devil's Posse

by Charles G. West

  With his adversary flat on the floor, Logan turned to face the man’s companions. With a glance at the menacing figure before them, and another at his brother coming toward them now, carrying a rifle in each hand, their decision was simple. “We ain’t got no quarrel with you, mister. Jake’s the one with the problem.”

  Logan, still in position to attack, took a step back. “Well, get Jake outta here, and go sober up.”

  He took the Winchester Billy handed him and stood aside to give the two men room to drag their partner toward the door. Billy followed them and watched while one of the men settled up with the bartender. Then they picked up their empty guns and helped Jake outside. Billy remained in the doorway to make sure they got on their horses and left.

  “Are you all right, ma’am?” Logan asked Gracie as she gingerly touched her cheek with her fingertips.

  “Now, that’s gonna be a pretty bruise,” she complained, her face flushed with anger. “Yeah,” she said. “I’ve had worse than that.” Realizing then that she owed him a word of thanks, she said, “I appreciate you and your friend stepping in to help me.” She managed a painful grin as she felt her face again and added, “It’da been even better if you’da stepped in a minute sooner.”

  “Sorry,” Logan said.

  “Least I can do is give you and your friend a free ride,” Gracie said.

  “Well, now, that’s mighty sportin’ of you, ma’am,” Logan quickly replied. “And I’ve got to say that it’s a temptin’ thing to think about. But I’m here to meet a man about a job, so I’ll have to take care of that. I truly wanna thank you for the offer, though.”

  “What about your friend?” Gracie asked, actually more interested in the tall, sandy-haired young man.

  Logan smiled. “I reckon you’d have to ask him. He ain’t my friend, though. He’s my brother.”

  “Oh,” Gracie responded. She shot another glance in Billy’s direction. Without thinking first, she blurted, “You sure you had the same daddy?”

  Logan couldn’t help laughing. “You ain’t the first to ask me that.”

  Roy, who had been standing there listening to the conversation between the husky stranger and the prostitute, was prompted to remark, “Gracie, you ain’t got a lick of sense.”

  Realizing then how unkind her words must have sounded, she tried to make amends. “I hope you didn’t think I thought you weren’t handsome, too,” she sputtered, causing Logan to laugh again.

  “Think nothin’ of it,” he said. “Billy always was the pretty one. I’m the one with the brains.”

  Gracie turned her attention toward Billy, and Roy took the opportunity to thank Logan for ridding him of the three drifters. “You’d best be careful,” he warned. “They came in here a couple of days ago. I never saw ’em before that, and I just don’t like the look of ’em. That one you had the fight with especially. He looks like he’s just got a natural mean streak.”

  “I wouldn’t doubt it,” Logan said, “but I don’t plan to stay in town long enough to have another go-round with him.”

  Two men seated at a table on the other side of the room got up from their chairs. They had sat, silently watching the altercation, waiting until the fight was over. One of them, a man of slightly more than average height and slender build, walked up to Logan. “Is your name Cross?” he asked.

  Surprised, Logan said that it was. “Yes, sir, I’m Logan Cross.”

  “I was pretty sure that you were. I’m Matt Morrison. Oscar Bradley said he’d send you over to talk to me about helpin’ me move some horses to Sturgis.”

  “Yes, sir,” Logan said, somewhat taken by surprise, since Oscar had told him it would be an hour before he could expect to meet Morrison. “I’m sorry you had to see that little scrap we just had with those fellers. Me and Billy ain’t normally troublemakers.”

  Morrison smiled. “To the contrary, seein’ how you handled that son of a bitch made me sure I wanted to hire you and your brother. Tell you the truth, I got here early so I could look you and your brother over before we talked.” He turned to a gray-haired man behind him. “This is Red Whaley. I reckon you’d call him my foreman. He’s been working for me for so long I don’t know what his job is.”

  Red smiled at his boss’s attempt at humor. “Logan,” he said and extended his hand.

  Billy joined them and the introductions were repeated. Morrison got down to business then and made his proposition. “I’ll pay you three dollars a day, each, for eight days’ work. It shouldn’t take longer than that to make the drive. Whaddaya say?”

  “What about grub?” Logan asked.

  “We ain’t got a chuck wagon,” Morrison said, “so you’ll provide your own grub.”

  Logan glanced at Billy for his reaction, knowing already what it would be. Compared to their usual pay while working for Oscar Bradley, Morrison’s offer was almost a month’s pay for eight days’ work. And they would have to feed themselves whether they took the job or not. Since leaving Oscar’s employ, they were drifting anyway, so he said, “Looks like you’ve got yourself a couple of hands.”

  “Good,” Morrison said. “Let’s sit down and have a drink on it and I’ll tell you all you need to know.” He went on to explain that he had come to Fort Pierre to pick up twenty horses, which he thought he and his two men could manage. But thanks to Oscar Bradley’s ridiculous offer, he found himself the owner of over twice that number. After examining the remuda, he decided the deal was too good to pass up, but he felt more comfortable with a little more help.

  Before they had finished their drinks, Morrison’s other man joined them. “They’re all bunched up in that lower corral,” he said to Morrison as he walked up to the table. “We’ll be ready to push ’em out in the mornin’.”

  “This here’s Percy Walker,” Morrison said. “Percy, say howdy to Logan and Billy Cross. They’re gonna help us take those horses home.”

  “Glad to meet you, boys,” Percy said with a cordial grin. “I could handle ’em all by myself, but I’m always glad to have a little help.” He pulled a chair over from another table and pushed in beside Red. “Move over, old man, and pass me that bottle.”

  “Why, I didn’t know you was a drinkin’ man,” Red joked. He looked at Logan and said, “Boss forgot to tell you that Percy’s so full of hot air and horse shit that we have to tie him down in the saddle to keep him from floatin’ off.” Red’s remark brought a chuckle from Percy. Logan and Billy could see right away that they were going to fit in just fine.

  “Tell you what, fellers,” Morrison said, “meet us over at the hotel after you’ve got your supplies and possibles ready to ride, and I’ll spring for supper. About five o’clock, all right?”

  “Yes, sir,” Billy said. “That suits me.” He winked at his brother, already thinking that by the end of this short drive, Morrison would possibly offer them permanent employment. Logan smiled and nodded.

  “Well, I reckon we’ll see you at suppertime,” Logan said, getting to his feet. “Come on, Billy, we need to buy a little grub to take us to . . .” He paused to ask Morrison, “Where’d you say we were goin’?”

  “Sturgis,” Morrison said.

  “Right. Come on, Billy.” They left their three new partners and headed for the door.

  “Much obliged,” Roy, the bartender, said as they passed by the bar. Both brothers nodded in reply.

  With Billy following, Logan stepped out the door onto the small platform of planks that served as a porch. He paused to stretch his arms in an effort to ease a stiffness in his back, the result of his brief tussle with the brute called Jake, he supposed. His arms were stretched up over his head when he was suddenly knocked off his feet by a driving tackle by Billy that sent them both sprawling. A moment later, he heard the rifle shot that sent a slug whistling over their heads.

  “Son of a . . . ,” he blurted, cocking his rifle as he rolled over beh
ind the low porch. “You see him?”

  “Up the street,” Billy exclaimed, “by the stables!”

  It was pure luck that he had happened to glance in that direction, and his lightning-fast reflexes might have saved his brother. The bushwhacker had time for one more shot before both Billy and Logan were able to bring their rifles to bear on the corral, but he stepped behind the corner post in time to keep from being hit by the slugs that tore into it.

  “He’s runnin’!” Billy cried when he got a glimpse of the shooter through the rails of the corral. Both men scrambled to their feet and ran across the street to take cover in the doorways of the few buildings between them and the stables, dodging the few people scurrying for safety.

  Running from building to building, they made their way up the street as quickly as possible. While it had been impossible to identify their assailant in the short time Billy had to see him, there was little doubt who he was. They had to assume that Jake’s two friends were in on the attempt and would have to be dealt with as well.

  When they reached the hotel, which was the last building before the stables, they stopped to decide how to proceed.

  “Front or back?” Billy asked, for they figured the three had probably taken cover in the stables.

  “I’ll take the front,” Logan said, thinking the gunmen would be expecting them to come in that way, and he preferred to take that risk. Giving Billy no time to argue, he said, “Let’s look out we don’t shoot each other!”

  He took off at a sprint for the front door of the stables, his rifle cocked and ready to fire. Billy stepped out of the hotel doorway and ran down the alley between it and the stables.

  None too anxious to go charging into the front door of the stables, Logan pulled up before the door and flattened himself against the wall. He hoped the three men had not had the opportunity to sober up. He had to assume they were still a little drunk to have taken a shot at him in broad daylight in the middle of town.

  Without knowing where Billy was positioned, he eased up to the crack between the door and the frame and peeked in. In contrast to the bright sunlight outside, his eyes didn’t focus at once, but just in time to jerk his head back from the crack before a chunk of the door went flying. Two more shots ripped into the door before he heard Billy’s Winchester speak from the rear of the stables. Seconds after, he was surprised by the three men charging out of the stables at a gallop, lying low on their horses’ necks. Straight across the street they fled, between the harness shop and dry goods store, intent upon riding behind the stores for protection.

  Knowing that he had time to knock at least one of the assassins out of the saddle, Logan pulled his rifle to his shoulder and took aim, but he did not pull the trigger. As he had rested the front sight on the departing rider, a woman with a small child suddenly appeared in the frame, causing him to hesitate. Terrified by the three horses suddenly charging toward her, she ran, pulling the child, across the alley, barely escaping a trampling under their hooves. At first alarmed that he had almost endangered the woman and her child, his next emotion was anger for the missed opportunity to dispose of one of the assailants who had sought to murder him. He was still standing there when Billy ran out of the stable.

  “You all right?” Billy asked, relieved to see Logan standing there apparently unharmed. “I heard them shootin’ at you, and they were already on their horses by the time I crawled in a back window. I got off a couple of shots, but I don’t think I hit anybody. I didn’t have time to get in a good spot to shoot. I was worried about you, ’cause I didn’t think I heard you shoot.”

  “I didn’t,” Logan said, then explained the circumstances that prevented him from taking a shot. “By the time the woman got out of the way, they were behind the buildings and gone.” He was about to further express his regrets when he and Billy were joined by the owner of the stables. “Damn,” Logan said in surprise, “where’d you come from?”

  “I was holed up in the tack room,” the man said as he stood staring toward the end of the street. “That right there is why I ask for payment in advance. Those fellers got away from here in one big hurry.”

  “I reckon,” Logan replied.

  “Well, I reckon that’s that,” Billy said. “I expect that’s the last we’ll see of them.” There was no thought on either man’s part to go after the three dry gulchers. Their horses were at the far end of the street.

  “I think you’re right,” Logan said. “At least neither of us got shot, so I reckon we’ll just be glad we were lucky.” He thought of the anger he had felt when he had to pass up an easy shot, but after thinking about it, he decided it was just as well. He had never shot a man. Maybe it was better that he still hadn’t. “Let’s go get the horses. We’ve got a few things to pick up at the store if we’re gonna have anything to eat for the next week.”

  Now that the danger was over, Billy returned to character. “Since Morrison’s payin’ for supper, we’d best eat enough to take care of the first couple of days.”

  “Maybe so,” Logan said. “And one other thing. Next time, don’t smile at a woman when she’s with another feller.”

  “I’ll try,” Billy replied with a grin, “but it’s a natural reaction.”

  Chapter 2

  It seemed a good bet that the three drifters were gone for good from Fort Pierre. Logan and Billy ate their fill at supper while answering all the questions regarding the shooting incident.

  “I hope I ain’t made a mistake hirin’ you boys on,” Matt Morrison said in jest. “You might have a natural habit of drawin’ trouble.”

  “Just as long as you keep your shootin’ parties private,” Percy chimed in, “it’ll give the rest of us somethin’ to watch. It gets kinda dull just herdin’ horses.”

  “I’ll throw a sack over Billy’s head,” Logan joked. “That oughta help.”

  “I know how you feel, Billy,” Percy said. “I’ve always had the same trouble with women.” His comment brought a laugh, especially from Red. Percy had not been gifted with a handsome package to present to the world. Thin as a knife blade, with an oversized hawk nose and ears too large for his small head—it was a blessing that he had been compensated with a healthy sense of humor.

  “Helluva thing, though,” Morrison said. “Come into town for the first time and somebody takes a shot atcha.”

  Logan shrugged. “Well, it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t stuck my nose into that little spat that fellow was havin’ with the woman.” He paused to give it a thought. “But if I hadn’t, Billy would have, so I reckon there was no way to avoid it.”

  The suppertime conversation went on for quite some time with the two brothers feeling right at home with their new companions. Afterward, they said good night and retired to the stables to sleep with their horses, feeling no need to spend the money for a hotel room.

  At sunup the next morning they were saddled up and waiting for the others by the corral, which pleased Morrison, although he made no comment to that effect. When all were ready, he opened the corral gate and began the drive to Sturgis, leaving the little settlement of Fort Pierre still rousing itself from sleep.

  * * *

  They drove the herd of horses west, following an old buffalo trail long used by the Indians. Morrison told them that up until a year before, they had been warned not to use this, or several other trails, since they cut right across the Great Sioux Reservation. But in ’seventy-seven, the government opened the Black Hills to settlement and provided the funds for three wagon roads from the east.

  “Most of the traffic is headed to Deadwood, up in the hills, since the gold strike. The Injuns don’t like it too much, but they ain’t able to do much about it since they got whipped by the army after Little Big Horn.”

  “So you don’t expect any trouble from the Indians?” Logan asked.

  “No, not no more,” Morrison said. “Couple of years ago, though, I mighta
needed twice as many men to make this drive.”

  Long before the first day was over, Morrison decided that Oscar Bradley’s recommendation had been valid. He was well pleased with both of the Cross brothers’ skill as wranglers, soon realizing that they knew how horses think.

  As far as Logan and Billy were concerned, pushing a herd of horses was a relatively simple matter, much more so than herding cattle. Horses were basically animals of prey, so they gravitated to the herd where there was safety in numbers, and their natural reaction to danger was flight. There was a lot less tendency to wander off from the herd as strays, as cattle were prone to do. Horses also needed to graze every so often during a drive. Even so, Logan wondered why Morrison figured to take seven or eight days to travel one hundred and fifty miles. This was especially puzzling when he told them that he wanted to push the herd almost forty-five miles the first day in order to reach Plum Creek, the first good water.

  “It’s liable to be a long day,” Logan said to Billy. That turned out to be the case, as they kept the horses moving most of the day over a wide, rolling prairie with only a weak stream here and there. At dark, when they finally reached Plum Creek, Morrison told them that he planned to stay there the next day to let the horses drink and graze. “Sounds like a good idea,” Logan said. “I know Pepper will appreciate it.” Logan was a sizable man, and halfway through the day’s drive he had transferred his saddle to a sorrel to give Pepper a rest.

  As Morrison had predicted, there was no sign of trouble on that first long day, and none on the following days as well. By the time they reached the Cheyenne River and followed it west, the two brothers had come to know their companions pretty well, and decided they could see themselves working for Morrison permanently if there was an offer. They drove the herd of horses onto the Lazy-M Ranch, just short of the foothills east of the dark, mysterious mountains on the horizon before them. It was easy to see how the Black Hills got their name. From a distance, they stood out in stark contrast to the prairie around them. Morrison explained that their dark color came from the ponderosa pines that covered almost all of the slopes.