by Lou Bradshaw
Using a candle from my pack, I found a place to make a cold camp. I sat there in the dark listening to gunfire over a mile away, as they shot my cabin all to hell. The only thing I could think to do was sit there and finish eating that bacon.
Chapter 16
I was awake as the sun was only a faint glow of the lightened sky and was starting to give form and figure to my surroundings. I didn’t know exactly where I was, but I had an idea. According to my calculations, I should be somewhere on the east wall of the canyon west of my canyon. As the light grew brighter, I was able to make out more and more of the landscape, and I found that I was correct.
Having only been in this canyon once, I had very little knowledge of it. I knew that the walls were quite a bit steeper and more rugged than my own. Also, there were fewer trees and vegetation here than in mine. When the sun was high enough for me to get up and walk around without fear of taking a long first step, I got off the ground and started moving about.
I found that I was no more than four or five yards from that long first step of about two hundred feet. It wouldn’t have been a drop and splat, but a drop and bounce off stuff all the way… not something I’d have enjoyed much.
The hole I’d crawled out of was near the top of the canyon wall, so I tied my rope around a stout cedar that looked to be ten inches thick and maybe seventy or eighty years old by the way it was twisted and knotted. Chances are it would be here for a while longer. Then I dropped it into the hole for future use if ever needed again.
Above me, the canyon wall became more of a slope, and the vegetation grew thicker. There was a good stand of pine that covered the shoulder of the mountain for several thousand feet. So I moved up into the cover, where I could build a fire, have some coffee, and take stock of the situation.
After a bit of food and coffee, I felt good enough to take on the world, and it seemed like that was what I was going to have to do. Since the timber was close growing to the cabin, I’d have cover to within a few yards from above. Below would be another story. It would be every bit of five or six miles back to the cabin by the overland route, whereas it would be less than a half a mile by way of the cave. If they had found my rat hole entrance, I’d be likely to meet up with someone down there. A shootout in the dark with lead bouncing off all that rock wasn’t an appealing thought.
It took me several hours to reach the pines on the upslope above the cabin. I could see the roof and the chimney. There was smoke coming from it. Looked like I had at least one guest, and he was using up my firewood. Guess I was gonna have to go down there and do some scolding. I always figured that a person wasn’t a guest unless they were invited in, and I didn’t remember sending out any invitations.
Working my way around behind the stable, I saw that my horse was gone, but a good looking sorrel with three white stockings had taken his place. I didn’t see any sign of the man who would belong to that animal, and I didn’t see any other horses. I figured on two outlaws to be stationed here. That way, I wouldn’t be caught by surprise when a second man appeared. Underestimating your enemies can cost you your life, but it’s no cost at all to overestimate them.
Vaulting the low corral fence I moved past the sorrel to the outer part of the hearth and chimney, and then along the east wall to the front wall. I took off my hat and eased my head around the corner. With only my left eye looking along the wall, I could see nothing except that the shutters on both windows were open. So I came around the corner and flattened myself against the wall beside the window. Very carefully, I looked through the window.
At first, I couldn’t see anything out of place. Then I saw that my rat hole was open, so they must have found the cave. No matter. When they got to that first room, they’d have figured that to be my escape hatch. Most likely they’d think that I’d covered it up from the outside… or at least that’s what I wanted them to think. I wanted that other hole to remain a secret.
Moving my head a little farther into the window, I could see a pair of boots propped up on the cot with the feet crossed. I knew where he was. He was just below the other window, and he looked comfortable… maybe too comfortable for his own good.
Ducking under the window, I moved cautiously toward the other window. All the while I was moving; I kept watch in all directions for that possible other man. I let my hearing and even my sense of smell help me out. Easing my head over the bottom of the window, I could see that my guest was propped against the wall in one of my homemade chairs with his hat pulled over his face. He must have been guarding my rat hole and dropped off to sleep.
I crushed the crown of that hat with my pistol barrel. His sleep suddenly got deeper. Before he hit the floor, I was in the cabin and taking his vest and shirt off. He was about my size, and this buckskin shirt stood out like a dance hall gal in a church choir. As soon as I got his shirt off, I took some rawhide and bound him up real good.
Then I went over to the fire, stirred it into a few flames, added some sticks, and warmed up the coffee. There was a chunk of meat on the spit, so I helped myself. After all it was probably mine anyway. Picking up that crushed black wide brimmed hat, I took that with me too. Next I went out to the corral and saddled his horse, stuck his gun and gunbelt in the saddle bag and tied his rifle behind the saddle… that boy was having a bad day. I should have taken his boots, but I’d already tied his feet together, and I didn’t want to mess with it.
I should have had some pity on that boy, but it’s like my pa always said, “Shad, if a man strays from the path of righteousness, he’s most likely to get his butt shot off.” Pappy had a way of getting his point across. Well that fella didn’t lose any part of his butt, but I’m sure the other end is going to give him some grief.
Stepping into the saddle, I turned that good looking animal north toward Creede. It was still early, so I figured I could get there by nightfall. On this horse, I was pretty sure I could.
When I rode into Creede, there were a few places that had turned on their lights. One of which was the general store. I tied my new horse at a hitch rail in front of a darkened feed store between the general store and the saloon, where it wouldn’t be easily recognized if there were any Daveys’ men in town.
I stood outside the store until the lone customer paid for his purchase and left. As soon as he was gone, I walked in with my hat pulled down. The normally friendly storekeeper didn’t say a word until I got to the counter and looked up.
“Why, Mister Cain, I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else… I thought you were one of them.”
“Yeah, this shirt, vest and hat belonged to one of them… that’s pretty much what I’m here for. I need a shirt and few other things.” I laid that outlaw’s rifle on the counter and asked, “Would you take this in trade for some supplies and some new clothes?”
“You can sure bet I would.” He said, eyeing the almost new Winchester 73. “I could sell that real easy if you wanted to run an account against the balance.”
“No, thank you though, I’ll just take what I need for now and you can consider yourself a shrewd businessman… I got more rifles than I can shoot… I’m kinda rifle poor.”
Even though the store was empty, he looked around to make sure and whispered, “You know they’re looking for you.” I nodded that I knew. “They’re offering a reward for anybody that can kill you… Daveys himself let it be known that he’s sending over to Durango for anybody that can use a gun and payin’ fightin’ wages… he wants you real bad. You’ve tore up his gang to the point that he’s got to kill you or get out.”
I told him that I appreciated him telling me all this and that he was taking a chance just having me in the store.
“Not really,” he said, “with that green and white stripy outfit on, and in this poor light, I thought you were that other feller, Kagle.”
He went ahead and filled my order and thanked me again for the trade of the rifle and for taking on that gang. As I was leaving he said, “Oh, Cain… there was a Mexican in the other day
and his people seem to think you’re pretty much a hero. You can trust ‘em, but be careful trustin’ all the whites. Most of them are pullin’ for you, but with reward money on the table… Well you know what I mean.”
I nodded and walked out onto the boardwalk. Looking up and down the street, the only soul I could see was a solitary man standing in the light of the saloon rolling a cigarette. As I walked around that sorrel, I saw the flare of a match and then the glow of the cigarette. I went on about my business and hoped that the smoker would go on about his.
Then I heard his boots on the boardwalk, and they were coming my way. He was only about fifty feet away and my back was to him… I continued tying my package behind the saddle. When he got to about twenty feet, I made a show of doing something to my cinch and turned my back on him completely. He stepped off the boardwalk and I could hear the sound of his boots in the gravel and dirt. I already had my sixgun in my right hand.
“Kagle.” He said in a hoarse whisper. “You fool, Frank left you out there watchin’ that cave. If he finds out you’re in town… man he’ll beat you to death.” With that, he took my arm and turned me around.
It was Sandy, the one Angelina had gelded. It took all of two seconds for him to realize that I wasn’t Kagle. He took a step back and looked at me and then the horse. “Sorry, I thought you were someone….”
I shot him point blank in the chest. A .44 slug at that range would make a hole coming out big enough to drive a buckboard through. If he wasn’t already dead, he would be within a few minutes.
Chapter 17
I rode out of town heading southwest hoping to cross the river. I’d not been through this part of the country before, but I’d heard that the Rio Grande wound its way through there. I crossed it many times coming from the south, but never to the west.
After crossing the river three times I moved back into a deep canyon on what I thought must be the west side of Snowshoe Mountain. Snowshoe was a big round dome of a mountain that covered a lot of ground, but wasn’t too good as a hideout. It would do for tonight, but I’d be heading for higher country in the morning.
At daybreak, I was up, saddled, and wishing I’d had some coffee, but that would have to wait. As I rode out of that canyon, I gave some thought to how I’d dealt with that man back in Creede… the one they called Sandy. I should feel some remorse, I suppose, but the man was no better than a coyote or a rattler. He would have shot me without a second thought. I was in a war and that meant I had better do unto them before they could do unto me… and they were for sure trying to do it unto me.
I’m known as a pretty hard man, but that ain’t my nature at all. My nature is to get along with those who want to get along… that’s my good side. My other side is, if you don’t want to get along, well then stay the hell out of my way. It can’t get much simpler than that.
Silverton was west of here, and there were some tall mountains between me and there. I had a notion to go up into those peaks and sit tight for a spell. If a fella ain’t making tracks then it becomes a might tougher to track him.
One big old lump of a mountain came into my line of sight among a bunch of others, so I decided to make it my temporary home. It wasn’t the most beautiful mountain in Colorado, but it served my purpose just fine and dandy. Actually, I don’t reckon there is a most beautiful mountain in Colorado, each one I’ve seen was sure enough good looking.
I estimated that mountain to be scratching the clouds at around fourteen thousand feet. When you got up to around ten thousand of those feet, a person would need pretty strong reason for being that high because it was no Sunday School picnic up there.
Horse and I made our way up to about eight thousand feet, where we still had cover from the pines, but not thick like it was down below. I found a little hanging valley where there was enough deadfall for fuel, and more grass than horse could use in a year. I found a sheltered overhang where I could have a fire and not worry about it being seen for more than a few hundred yards in any direction.
I settled in and unrolled my bedroll. Taking stock of my weaponry, I found I still had two rifles and two sixguns. The one I’d taken off that fella snoozin’ in my cabin, was a darned good pistol, so I strapped it and the gunbelt on and put my old rig in my saddle bag. Besides the firearms, I had a bow with ten arrows, my trusty sheath knife, and my old friend the tomahawk. With four boxes of ammunition, I was a ready as I was gonna be. Although I would kinda like to have a couple of those cans of blasting powder Ben Blue was partial to, but this would have to do.
The arrows I would use primarily for hunting, but if it came down to a last ditch battle, I’d use rocks and sticks if I had to. After taking care of the sorrel and getting him picketed on some of that grass, I built a small fire and fixed a meal…. Survival, whether by weapons or by food in the belly was my goal.
* * *
My first week up there was pretty much pleasant and plenty restful. I’d brought down a nice fat buck and had plenty to eat. There was a nice stream flowing through that little hanging valley, so water wasn’t an issue. So I spent my first week exploring my domain, whittling, eating, and in general just taking it easy.
About midway through the second week, I began getting a little anxious to get moving. I know, I’d promised myself two weeks of staying put, but there was still some work to be done. The only way out of all this was to go after Frank Daveys himself. As long as he was alive, the rest of them would be coming after me. I doubted that many of them would bother if there wasn’t a paymaster. So my next move was to find Daveys and eliminate the paymaster.
As I pondered that, it sounded like a real easy solution… find the man… shoot the man… live happily ever after. The biggest problem with that plan was I didn’t know where to start looking for … the man.
I sat there for several hours, just whittling, chewing on my pipe stem, and letting my mind chew on that problem where to find the Daveys bunch. The one thing I knew was that old Barrel had said they had a place over toward the west. That could cover maybe a thousand miles of territory, if you took it all the way to the western ocean.
Working out what I knew of them, wasn’t all that hard because I didn’t know much about them. I knew they hung out west of my place and west of Creede. So what, beyond a bunch of mountains was west of me… Silverton. What then could keep that bunch tied up together? That was easy… money or loot, easy living, whiskey, and women.
Now, you can find whiskey, money, and women in most towns, and sometimes easy living. But if you was to go and just take some money or some women without it being yours, sooner or later folks would start sizing you up for a noose. So what you do is stay out in the wilderness someplace, and then grab the money from outlying miners or silver shipments. You can likewise grab your women from lonely sheep ranches and the like. In most cases if you take a Mexican woman or an Injun woman, the law never even hears about it.
That leaves Silverton and Creede to take your money for some whiskey and a hooraw, and maybe some saloon gals. As long as you stay away from causing trouble in the settlements, most folks are willing to look the other way.
After having that conversation with myself, I worked it out to head on over to Silverton and start sniffin’ out a trail. If they came and went to Silverton, like they did to Creede, it wouldn’t be long before they’d show up. I could wait.
After taking my horse down to the stream where I’d found some clay based rust colored soil, I rubbed it thoroughly into the hair on his three white stockings. It wasn’t a perfect match, but it was good enough to keep him somewhat disguised. Then I put on my new shirt and hat, and I felt sure that I’d fool most of them, since the only ones left who had seen my face was Baites and his partner.
Taking my time getting down off that mountain and going to Silverton got me there in mid afternoon. I didn’t want to go into town until almost dark, so I found me a place to stretch out and take a rest. If things worked out right, I’d not get any sleep this night.
When
the shadows were growing long and the sun was dipping behind the mountains to the west, I saddled up and made my way into town. By the time I got there, it was twilight, and I was just another hat without a face. Tying my horse to a rail outside the town corral, I loosened the cinch and walked to the nearest saloon.
I stood outside and looked through the window hoping to see a face that I might recognize, but none looked familiar, so I moved on to the next den of iniquity. It was full of miners and those who made their living from the good fortunes of the miners. Unfortunately, some of those fortunes would change hands this evening.
I crossed the street to the Glory Hole saloon, and once again, I stood in the gathering gloom to look for faces that I might know. This time I hit paydirt. There at the bar, was my old pal Baites. He looked a little unsteady on his feet, and the bottle in front of him was far enough down to give him reason to be a little wobbly. He was standing there just sippin’ his whiskey not talking or looking at anything but the bottle.
Presently a stranger came along and said something to him. Baites pushed the bottle toward him, and the stranger refilled his own glass. Then he said something and went back to a card game, where he put the glass in front of one of the players. The player threw down his cards, picked up the glass, downed it, and got up.
Both men were strange to me, but they both wore their guns low and they both looked like hardcases of the first degree. They walked back to the bar where Baites waited. With one on either side of him, they seemed to be trying to sell him on an idea, but he kept on shaking his head no.
It looked like they were trying to get him to go upstairs with them… I presumed that was where the ladies were. The taller of the two slapped him on the back and laughed, and then picked up the bottle and both strangers went upstairs. Baites was mad clear through. He must have had some grudging respect for one of those gents because they both treated him like dirt, and he took it.
